#so the work keeps coming in month to month

[thecoochiefairy]

soon az i get home. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.8K word count. blackfem!reader, r&b artist coded! onyankopon, grumpy! onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, size kink, black woman, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, lil bit of aggressive talk, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ reference to the title, this song did inspire this fic. teehee.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon pays you a visit when he touches down in the city.

visual. visual. visual.

SHINE N’ JAM LATHERED YOUR FINGERS AS YOU TOOK A FINAL SWIPE TO YOUR CLIENTS HAIR. Bohemian box braids had been the style of choice, 613 the full color from her permanently dyed scalp. It wasn’t a color you would’ve chosen for yourself, but it looked beautiful along her chocolate brown skin. She pulled it off flawlessly.

“Niggas wouldn’t know what to do with me if I could pull off being a blonde,” you sigh, giving a light smile as you’re on the final braid, your fingers moving effortlessly against the hair being pulled between your knuckles.

“They barely know what to do with me as it is,” she playfully rolled her eyes, “How much longer to go?” 

As she held her phone up, you took a peek in the mirror, able to tell she was on FaceTime. No doubt with her man again.

“I’m on my last braid, babe. Promise,” you reassure, knowing you’d said that before. You had a habit of creating more spaces along your clients scalp, unable to finish your work until you felt that the hair looked entirely full.

“You sure?” 

She smirked at you through the side view mirror, her brown eyes twinkling, “The last time you said that, I had to call off work.”

It had only been about six months since you began doing house calls, meaning you were more relaxed in the comfort of your condo—but that didn’t mean you had to drag with your appointments.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I went over my time a bit. I just want you to feel…” you turn her chair towards the illuminating mirror, mahogany brown wood wrapped along the outside of the LED lights, “Pretty, hm? Tell me you like it since you wanna complain so much.”

“You want to hear that I love it so desperately,” she smiled, standing up from the chair to inspect herself. She didn’t bother with a cape anymore, her black tank showing off her collarbone and arms. The braids fell just behind her shoulders, “You know I love it. Always do.”

She glances back as you begin sweeping strands off the floor, raising an eyebrow, “You’ need help cleaning up for the night?”

“No, no—you’re fine,” you shake your head, “I got one more client coming. Asked me to squeeze him in,” you briefly explain. 

You can feel her gaze against you, raising your eyes to a smirk as you say, “What, girl?”

“One more client, huh?” she folded her arms over her chest, the smirk still there, “Girl, please. It’s after ten,” she lightly laughed, “Who is it?”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. She was one of your regular clients, and you talked like sisters. You couldn’t help but be honest. 

“Look, don’t go opening that big ass mouth. It’s Onyankopon, okay? He still comes back down to get his hair braided by me.”

Everyone in New Orleans knew him—he’d actually been successful in making it out of the city, becoming a world renowned R&B artist. You’d been braiding his hair up for years, keeping the relationship you had with him extremely private as he didn’t want anyone ruining your privacy.

“Onyankopon?—You lying right now,” she gawked, slapping a hand over her mouth, “Nah, I got to take a picture—I promise you I won’t tell nobody,” she bit her bottom lip, “I promise!”

You rolled your eyes, “Girl, no. He doesn’t want people to know his location in the city—he hates that,” you take some Lysol, spraying down the chair.

“Just one picture, beloved, please? I’ll give you—I’ll pay you,” she took her wallet out, shuffling through her cash, “I know the man is finer in person. You be trying to be so secretive with these Niggas—“

She pauses, “Hollon’—y’all got something going on? That’s why I can’t get no picture?”

“Girl, what? No,” you scrunch your nose, “I just do the man’s hair,” you began pulling out the products you needed for the upcoming appointment, now hiding your face from your client.

You wouldn’t say you had a thing with him. Your relationship started the moment he DM’d you. He said he remembered you from high school and asked you to be his braider—he also mentioned you were pretty—but that wasn’t relevant to the situation. With each appointment, you never treated him as if he was some celebrity. He was just…Onyankopon. He liked that about you.

“Aht, aht,” she shook her head, “If it isn’t nothing with that man, lemme’ get a peek then!”

You rolled your eyes, “Now you ain’t getting shit. I’ll see you in five weeks,” you shooed her behind with your hands, pressing the elevator within your condo.

“Whatever, hoe.” 

She stepped on the elevator, looking back at you with a smirk, “You can kiss that tip goodbye!” 

Then she was off, the doors closing behind her. You finally had a moment of peace. You allowed the instrumentals of Brent Faiyaz’ Wasteland to thrum along your living room as you cleaned, suddenly feeling a sense of anxiety. You don’t know why you feel yourself becoming so nervous due to the previous conversation you had—but you felt your stomach bubbling at the thought of the elevator doors opening with him on the other side. You’d never felt like this before.

Then, your phone rings. Your eyes glance down—ONY—it reads, and you have to swallow down the racehorse running within your mind as you mindlessly answer, “Hello?”

“You know I’m coming, right?”

 A deep, monotone voice that’s smooth like butter spoke through the phone.

You almost roll your eyes, “I’m aware, Onyankopon. C’mon, boy. I’m getting sleepy.”

A deep chuckle fills your ear from through the phone, “I bet yo’ ass gon’ stay up for me though.”

You hear the elevator ding and a slow creak as the two metal doors begin to open, the phone and your hand slightly falling as you glance over to the tall figure entering your condo. He’s dressed in a sable jersey with cargo pants, the oversized top still able to show the silhouette of his muscular frame. The tattoos that litter across his arms pop under the lights of your home, silver chains along his neck that match with the watch on his wrist. He smells like a mixture of musk and tonka bean—his fro is sprawled around his head, jaw locked as mint gum is trapped in between his full dark pink lips. 

You sigh in reply to his words as you hang up the phone, “Imma’ do what I need to do to make my money, you know that.”

He shut the elevator doors behind himself, “I know your ass finna’ charge me extra for me being late,” he chuckled, walking towards the chair. He paused in his steps for a moment, eyes raking over your body, “What’s up, baby?”

Baby. It was a simple term of endearment he used, an accent prolific with that specific word. Your eyes run over him—the ink on his face, the goatee and facial hair along his jaw and cheeks, even with his hair sprawled everywhere— he still looked good. 

“Hey,” you give him a faint smile, “Was getting here okay? No paparazzi?” You tease. 

“Nah, not tonight, at least. They been on my ass though,” he huffed, “A nigga can’t even go get a carton of milk without somebody following me.”

“They’re just excited, Ony,” you give a soft laugh, reaching into your drawer of supplies as you pull out a rat tail comb, “Did you wash your hair already?”

He nodded to show you he had, sitting down on the forest green chair. You never understood how someone like him could be so intimidating, his gaze being enough to make you crumble on the spot.

On the other hand, sometimes he wondered if you knew what you looked like. Strawberry red hair falling in layers down your back, no middle or side part within the style—it just flowed wherever you went. Your army green baby tee and matching drawstring yoga pants that clung to your body, and you always scented bergamot with a milky vanilla. The cute way your black square glasses always tipped at your golden nose ring, it made you so— pretty. 

“Why are you in town anyways? You got’ a show or something?” You ask him, going over to your kitchen island, washing your hands of the previous grease and hair products used on your last client.

“Doing a lil’ sum’ at the Smoothie King center, nothing too crazy. I’m surprised you ain’t hear about that,” he glanced towards where you’d been, only able to see the back of your head along the mirror, “But you stay under the rock. I ain’t even gon’ hold you.”

You come up behind him as you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I ain’t mean it like that— I just hadn’t checked your socials since you texted me asking for an appointment,” you apologize, not trying to seem indifferent to his status, even if you knew he didn’t care about that.

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a small smile, “You always apologizing,” he muttered, reaching his hand into his pocket, “You needa’ stop doin’ that. I know you got me when I come here. I ain’t tripping on that.”

Your dark lashes flutter, your reflexes pushing your glasses closer up against your face as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. You instinctively dig your fingers into his scalp, pulling at the soft coils to assess his hair, “You’ still tender headed?”

He smacked his teeth before giving a small wince at the sting, “You’ don’t see me about to cry?” He glared, “You a pain,” he huffed, tilting his head to look back up at you, “Why you always tryna hurt a nigga?”

You roll your eyes, “Ony, please. It’s only been two months since you last saw me,” you stare blankly through the mirror, mentally preparing for the fight he always gave before you actually started.

“I don’t like you no more. You hate me. You tryna test me,” he began, going down a small list of your wrongdoings, “I’mma’ find another braider. You want me to feel pain.” 

He saw the look in your eyes, his large hands already gripping the handles of his seat. Every appointment was like this, and you knew it. He got comfortable around you—more than he should’ve—maybe it was because you grew up around each other in high school. He knew you—and you knew how to be patient with his ass.

You flip the rat tail comb in your fingers, “You need the teddy bear I give my babies that can’t handle getting their hair braided?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ getting on my nerves already, boy.”

“I ain’t no damn boy,” He gave you a stern look—but it only got you to smirk. He grumbled under his breath, turning his head back towards the mirror, “Do yo’ thang.”

You begin parting his hair into six straight backs, PARTYNEXTDOOR 4 now playing each song throughout the album, humming quietly in the background. You were always efficient with your fingers, swapping product in between his scalp the millisecond after you parted. He was sensitive when it came to his head, but after about ten minutes, his jaw clenched as his eyes closed, relaxing under your touch. Sometimes he’d even fall asleep, and you’d just adjust to how he laid in that moment. 

You ask him, “You’ excited for the show?”

Though his eyes were closed, he nodded his answer, a low hum in his throat. You honestly loved when he got like this—his head would drop to the side, allowing you to braid easier. He trusted you. 

“They gon’ go crazy,” he mumbled, the corner of his lip lifting up in a smirk.

“I’m sure,” you muse, “The women love your big headed ass.”

“The niggas fuck with me too,” he smiled, opening an eye to look over at your reflection in the mirror, “You don’t like me?” 

You glance at his opened eyes through the mirror, still continuing to perfect the parting spaces in his head, envisioning the style as you softly reply, “I like you. You know that.”

He was always able to see the way you held back your smile, but his grin only widened as he looked at you. 

“I know yo’ ass love me,” he began, “All up in my hair, touchin’ me and shit.”

“Not too much,” you laugh, “I touch you cause you pay me to. Them’ girls outside would braid you’ up for free, I don’t play like that,” you smack your lips, “You’ seen your family since you been here?”

His grin faltered in the slightest, the question souring his mood. You’d grown to learn it was a sensitive subject—especially for a young man who wanted the world, but only had a couple people in his corner. You could see the way his facial features turned stern, Onyankopon chewing on the gum in his mouth before he opened his eyes, looking in the mirror to answer. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “Spent some time with momma before she had to go to work. I got to visit my grandma for a little bit too. She always askin’ about you.”

“Bout’ me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I thought you ain’t tell nobody you came over here?” 

But that wasn’t what you really wanted to say. It made your face a bit warm to know he’d mentioned you to his family. So you clear your throat, knocking the warmth of your face away as you correct, “I ain’t know your mawmaw remembered me.”

“‘Course she remembered yo’ ass,” he grinned at the sight of you blushing—he always did manage to make you do that. 

“Always said you was built like a grown woman, pretty in the face. Real smart, she knew you’ was gon’ be somebody.”

“She’s sweet,” you giggle, “I’m sure she thought I was one of them’ fast tailed girls tryna get your attention.”

“She knew better than that. When did you ever try to get my attention?” He challenged, staring you in the eye. It was a question he’d always had on his mind, but the fact that it finally came from his mouth made the words almost feel tangible.

You think about the question for a moment, beginning to work on the braid closest to the shell of his ear. You pull his head back a bit to start at the root, your scent wafting along his face as you hum, “Mmm, I always thought you were cute. But you know you’re cute, you didn’t need another girl in line to tell you that. I wasn’t tryna’ be a groupie. But you always had a nice voice, and loved the spotlight. It was meant for you.”

He was a grown ass man—nearly nearing thirty, which had passed the age of embarrassment. But you could see the slight tinge on his cheeks, his ears flushing red for a moment before his mouth curved into a grin. 

“You like me, huh?” He raised a brow, looking down into his lap to hide the smile on his face. That’s when he noticed the time on his phone, glancing up into the mirror, “Damn,” he huffed, “I’m bout’ to be here all night wit’ you. You needa’ get faster.”

“If I go faster it’s gonna hurt,” you remind him, looping the hair in your fingers just a tad bit tighter, watching as he grimaced in response.

"Ayo!" He flinched, reaching back to try and pry your fingers off his head. You were quick to let go in response, but it proved your point. 

“You don’t got’ to pull like that…” he groaned.

“You gon’ let me do my job?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ being irritating. I’m not the one who came over ten at night, Onyankopon. You’ got somewhere to be?”

He smacked his lips again, “I was just sayin’...“ 

In truth, he wasn't trying to leave your place immediately—he wanted to be around you. You always seemed to know exactly where to touch him. That, and your perfume always made his head spin.

"You gon' tell me who you dating, or you got a line of niggas?" He countered, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror.

“Nobody at the moment. I’ve been too busy with work,” you reply shyly, finishing up his first braid with a tight end, moving on to the second patch of hair, “My male clients usually have girlfriends—who want to be on the phone the entire time to watch me,” you chuckle.

“So that means you ain’t gon’ give me no love?” He grinned, reaching a hand behind him to press against your thigh, squeezing it gently. Your entire body shivered at his warm palm along your skin, the hand nearly wrapping against your entire leg. 

"A nigga just want to talk to you, be on you. You be’ all shy and shit," he grumbled, "Maybe I will find another braider for real, yo' ass stay bein' mean to me."

You giggle at his touch, even if it makes you nervous—maybe a little horny. You smacked his hand away, “So you flirt with all the people that work for you? That’s what I’m getting from this.” 

“Nah. Just you,” he replied without missing a beat, a confident smile on his face. “C’mon, say somethin’.”

You didn’t even need to look into the mirror to know he was staring at you—that alone made your insides twist. 

A loud sigh left your lips as you shook your head, “You’re gonna mess around and get yo’ feelings hurt. I’m just doing your hair, Onyankopon. You’ll have thousands of girls to choose from at your show tomorrow.”

“We ain’t talking about them. We talkin’ about you.”

He wanted you to look at him. But he knew you wouldn’t do such a thing until you finished his hair. 

So he relented, pulling out his phone to check his messages—there wasn’t much to see, though. A silence had become between the two of you, comforted by the music playing in the back. His fans had been bombarding his team for the past few days, ever since the news of his new album came out. And, sure, he’d be surrounded by girls tomorrow. But those girls weren’t going to be you.

“You gon’ be at my show since you know about it now, right?”

You were now on the fourth braid, pulling his head back a bit to look at his face. Your eyes narrow, almost having the urge to roll them as you say, “You know I don’t have a ticket, Ony. I’ll watch it after it’s posted.”

He looked up to see the scowl on your face, a laugh escaping his lips, “Don’t even worry about all that. I don’t want you watchin’. I need you there.” 

When you reach out to knock the side of his head, he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips to plant a sloppy kiss there. Your heart hammered beneath your chest, an unsteady thump resounding through your ribcage.

“You smoked before you got here?” You question, “You’ real touchy—feely today.”

He grinned in reply, “Nah I didn’t, maybe you’ just real fine today. Every day.”

He was laying it on thick. The worst part? That it might’ve been working. You’re now on the final braid, your body unfortunately hot, and a throb between your legs at the sight of him. He was murmuring the music to himself, his deep voice now ringing in your ears.

“You want me to line you up after I’m done braiding, or are you gonna do it yourself? I bought new clippers,” you ask softly, fingers swiftly pulling his hair into a neat bind.

He looked at your reflection, watching as your fingers moved swiftly through his hair. The feeling was pleasant, the sound of your voice even more so. 

“You always do it fine, so yeah,” he murmured. 

The next time you’d reach for his hair, he’d stop you—his hand cupping your wrist to bring it down to his chest. 

“I appreciate you, you know that right?” His voice was low, but you could still hear the sincerity beneath his words. He was staring at you now, his eyes warm.

You blink a bit at his words, and the sincerity makes you smile innocently. 

“I know that,” you nod, “I’m glad you trust me enough to keep coming back.”

His free hand came to cup the side of your cheek, feeling your soft skin beneath his tough palm, "You got some soft skin," he murmured as he stroked your cheek. His thumb lightly brushed your lips, "Pretty lips too, y'know that?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest at this point. He’s fine, full lips moisturized, goatee and facial hair aligned perfectly along his face, jaw structure deadly for him to have his hair braided back. His brown skin was clear—fucking hell. 

You give a nervous laugh as you try to pull yourself back, “…You’ still got one more braid, Ony.”

"You sure you wanna keep going?" He questioned, "You lookin' like you want something else right now."

Your mouth parts a bit at his words, but quickly closes as you try to figure out your reply. You then say, “Yeah, I’m almost finished. I know you’re getting antsy in my chair,” you pull yourself back behind him, quickly maneuvering into finishing off his final braid.

He had to give it to you—you were hard to crack. But that didn’t mean you were good at hiding it. You watch his face become more serious than you’d ever seen, it’s a mixture of something—admiration, lust, need. 

"Yeah, aight. Line my shit up. We gon’ talk.”

You can feel your nerves bundling at the pit of your stomach as you finish off—a tension now palpable in the air. Clippers buzz along his hairline as you lean yourself  close to his chest to get a good angle, your body feeling warm as you’re close to him—you adjust yourself as you softly say, “…Sorry.”

“Nah, you good. Come closer,” is what he says instead, reaching a hand out to grasp your thigh. He grips you gently, but firmly, to get you closer to him. You’re in between his legs now, which he spreads a bit further so you can settle in.

Your hands are trembling. You usually had no issues with this part of your service, but the tension was becoming heavier second by second. You exhale a bit, breathless in your nervous giggle as you confirm, “I’m gonna put some oil on once I’m done—loosen up your braids a bit, okay?”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice smooth and low. 

Slowly but surely, he begins to rub his hand back and forth against your thigh. Eventually, it begins to move towards the inside of your thigh, rubbing at the flesh there. You bite your lip, trying to fight back the desire to whimper. 

“You’ quiet now, what’s up with that?”

He’s really getting to you. The simple touch makes your eyes want to roll back. You admit, “Just tryna’ focus while you’re being distracting.”

“I ain’t done nothin’ but rub on you, you’ really that sensitive?”

His lips brush the side of your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. “How I look, mama?”

You wanna pull back from him, but you’re unable to. You quickly snatch the clippers back as you sit them on the small table beside the chair, giving him a warning look as you caution, “Ony.”

“Why you sayin’ my name like that?” he grunts, fingers gripping the back of your thigh, holding you there. 

“C’mere—Lemme’ taste you.”

You breath hitches at his words, and your mouth is only centimeters from his. Your hand finds its way to the fabric of his shirt, gripping the cotton fiber as your voice is weak, “C’mon, Ony. Stop playing.”

His eyes are hooded at this point, “Who playin’?” 

His mouth captures your bottom lip, slowly dragging it between his teeth. You actually whimper at the feeling, your thighs squeezing together beneath your shorts. Pulling you fully onto his lap, he kisses you, not letting you pull away as he cups the back of your head to keep you there. His tongue is rough inside of your mouth, a satisfying hum heavy against your lips as he makes out with you.

You’re shuddering against his mouth, a frown pulled at your eyebrows at how good his kiss is. It makes your entire body thrum, clutching the material of his shirt even tighter. It’s like you’re having an orgasm—all he’d done was kiss you. 

The heat of his skin, the smell of his cologne is all intoxicating. He’s pulling your head back so that he can kiss your throat. His lips are smooth as he’s sucking the skin—your body feels like jelly. 

Your hand clutches the side of his neck, “W—Wait Ony…mmph,” ” you pant. 

When his mouth comes back down to meet yours, he kisses you deeper, groaning into your mouth. You attempt to keep him in one place, but you know you don't have the strength to keep him from having his way with you.

You gasp softly as he tugs up your baby tee, brown nipples dropping straight into his mouth the moment he drags his tongue out to catch them. Your eyes lock down to the way his mouth moves—it’s effortless. 

You’re latching along his hair, trembling above him as you suck air down your throat, “T—They’re s—sensitive…” he’s lapping your breast into his mouth, your skin becoming hot on his taste buds.

“Got a nigga acting greedy as fuck.” 

He’s almost mad at the sight, sucking harshly and letting your nipples drop out his mouth, milliseconds later catching your entire breast back in between his full lips. The skin is starting to bruise, your legs squeezing against his lap as a deep relaxation comes over you, a warming tingle in your spine.

You were writhing on top of him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipples— you’re trembling, “Oh god... oh fuck..." you’re panting as if you’d run a marathon, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter between your legs, “Don’t…stop…”

His mouth was almost aggressive at this point, a loud popping sound leaving his lips each time he pulled away. The music within the room is dousing your brain. 

His voice was low and raspy, "You look’ soooo muhfuckin' sexy right now. Take all this shit off. Need you naked as fuck.” 

He reaches down between the both of you, pressing his palm against the front of your shorts, the contact making you whimper as he groans, “Ooh shit, pussy drenching them shorts—I know that shit glistening all pretty. Nasty ass bitch,” The heat continuously develops in between your legs, wetness creating more and more by the second. 

He starts rubbing his hand against you, back and forth, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. It’s making your head spin, your hips move with his hand, whining softly as he starts kissing you again, lips soft against yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Dark brown eyes stare into yours, his expression serious—intense. You jump as he slams his palm down on your ass, grunting, “Up,” your body complying as you stand halfway above him to remove your shorts, allowing your top to quickly follow— you’re now completely naked on his lap.

He’s nothing like you had before. With that, he dips his hands in between your legs to pull you back up in a standing position against the chair, palms locked against the back of your thighs as he scoots himself lower, tugging your body down so quickly that your entire pussy rubs against his jaw. 

A mixture between a deep chuckle and groan comes from his mouth as he’s already running his tongue chaotically against your clit. Your lower lip drops open as you gasp, pressing yourself into his arm to not fall, riding his face within the air.

His mouth was a mess as he grinds you down on his tongue, so deep in between your folds that he’s tasting himself. His tongue was strong, heavy, eyes closed as if your body was a rarity. Onyankopon’s facial hair was coated, dripping against your thighs as he eats you out. He was being lazy with it, almost too comfortable within the chair, hands digging into the back of your thighs as he forced himself deeper, nose pushing against your mound. He was choking on your pussy—but he was enjoying every single bit of it.

“Oh— my g—god!” you pant out, gasping in between, “Ony…ohshi—Ony!…” he’s bouncing you against his face, using his free hand to spank the skin of your ass, flesh shaking in his palm. You’re losing nerves in your brain, dropping your face down as you whimper, “You’ in my pussy, baby…fuck…”

“‘Could tell you ain’t never had a nigga eat you like this—shit a muhfuckin’ delicacy, I’m just slurping this shit the fuck up—fuckin’ love this shit," he said, moaning it, slurping, slurping, his voice was almost like a murmur, "Fuckkk, imma’ have you squirting on this big ass dick."

Onyankopon was growling against your clit, a wet noise coming from his lips as he sucked on you, his mouth covered at this point. His hands were grabbing at your thighs, spreading them apart so he could see your juices rolling down the skin.

There was a rhythm to it—his mouth moved like a metronome as if he were making a song, a steady beat as he eats you out.

He was almost high from the taste, his mouth watering as he lapped up everything you were giving him. His chin was daubed, tongue flicking up to catch a bit of the spit as he was using it to lubricate your pussy, trying to make it easier for his tongue to slide inside. Again, again. 

His tongue is long, rolling around from the bottom of your entrance all the way up to your clit. He's eating you like he loves you, mouth open, tongue sloppy, just groaning,  licking—you’re feeling faint. 

He was making a mess of your pussy. 

Your eyes are rolling at this point, a discomfort beginning to form in your legs from the way you’re hovered above him. But it’s all so good—you’re spinning. Shaking. Trembling. All of the above. 

“Ony….I t—think I’m cumming,” you softly cry, beginning to rotate your hips in a circle along his face as you weakly whine, grasping a hold of his hair as you whimper, “I—I’m c—cumming…”  

“I hear that gushy ass pussy, that bitch singing to me.” 

At that second—you hear yourself gush against his face, squeezing your thighs against his head, body shuddering like a harsh chill had taken a marathon against your spine. You’re robbed of time to come down from the orgasm, Onyankopon pulling you back down to sit along his lap as he grunts, “Come pull this dick out.”

You whimper in response, dipping your fingers into his pants nonetheless. Your acrylics graze against the hefty weight of his tip you feel for—and it’s big. 

You’re pulling, pulling for more than two seconds, watching as it slaps a little over his belly button. Dark pink, a beautiful brown matching his complexion. Your eyes widen a bit, the gasp your throat that wanted to release now caught in his palm as he’s holding you by your neck. 

He tugs you forward, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s nasty. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, letting your saliva run against the tip of your tongue, meeting with his mouth that makes him glare at you, “Freaky ass lil’ bitch, huh? I’m finna’ do you in witcho’ pretty ass. Come sit on this shit.” 

“Too big, Ony…” you whimpered before you thought about your words, knowing he was already arrogant. 

And you weren’t wrong for thinking that. His mouth twists in amusement against the shell of your ear, hand rubbing along the curve of your ass before smacking it, “You either gon’ bend over so I can watch my dick go in and out this pretty ass pussy, or sit that shit on me.”

Your eyes glance back down—his dick was standing straight up, swollen at the tip, thick veins running across the shaft, and a toned belly for you to grip onto. But you knew he wasn’t repeating himself. 

He murmurs, “Go slow, baby. I got you,” easing your anxiety, moving his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you into the softest kiss he’d given you this entire time.

You adjusted your hips as you rubbed his tip along your folds throughout the kiss, mouth falling open as you whimpered again, his throat humming, nodding gently for you to continue. Your folds stretch apart as you begin sinking down, keeping yourself kissing him to distract from the immediate discomfort you feel. You pull your mouth back slightly to press your forehead against his, also holding the back of his neck as your breathing becomes chaotic, chest heaving a bit as you whisper, “…Oh my…” you suck in a breath, “goddd…” you drag your words so lowly, and he hears every syllable.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Why you’ squeezing’ my shit like that?” 

He’s cooing to you. His balls slap lightly against the weight of your ass, hearing the slick of your pussy as he pulls you back up. Onyankopon dips his fingers into your mouth, coating them before he lowers his hand to massage your bruised walls for a millisecond, making it easier to push his dick back in.

He helps ease you back down, fingers rubbing at the back of your hips as he drops you fully down his length. Your eyes clamped shut as you cried out, eyes rolling as you dragged out a whine, “Onyyy…” all while he sucked on the spot between your neck and collarbone, moaning into it to keep you open. 

You pull your face back to meet him, keeping your foreheads connected as he begins raising you halfway up, dragging you back down, dick disappearing between your thighs. Your arousal is splattering in between your skin stuck together, ripping apart each time you’re pulled back up, clapping as you come back down.

“This all you needed, needed this pussy played with. Shit pretty as fuck. Makin’ art on my dick.” 

He was getting used to the rhythm, leaning his head back against the seat to look at you. His hands were planted on the back of your thighs, the muscles rippling as he helped pull you back up before slamming you back down, his mouth open, eyes half-lidded.

He was watching you—The way you were crying out, the way you were cursing him out, the way you were begging for more, and the way you were fighting for breath.

He was watching it all—taking it all in. You were perfect. 

Each time you protested, “Babyyyy,” he tugged you down harder, the pressure rubbing against your pussy, the warmth of it making you shudder. He’s talking, “I hear you, Mama. Fuck, you drenching my shit.” 

His hands were firm against your hips, helping to guide you up and down. He was almost wrestling you, a dominant nature he had coming out the longer he fucked you. Your ass is applauding against his thighs, breasts bouncing, your mouth releasing breathless sounds you’d never heard before. It makes you feel like those final nerves within your brain were no more, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let him take you—pouting as you talk to him, “This your pussy baby…” you whine, softly crying, mewling the words to him. You’re making promises.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

He slides his palm against your asscheek, gripping the skin there as he moves his index finger over your hole, the feeling making you tense. You lean yourself forward a bit as he’s nudging the tip of it into you, using the rest of his fingers to keep you bouncing down. You whimper deeply, the pleasure and pain knocking you every which way as he’s filling you up in both places—he was trying to kill you.

Nonetheless, you keep yapping, “Your fuckin’ pussy, Daddy…gonna come to your show…”

You drag your tongue along his neck, sucking there petulantly as you look down, seeing as you cream on his length, coating the shaft white. You’re so horny, even if he was fucking you at this exact moment.

“No you not. Finna’ be sleep all day after this,” he grunts, “You creamin’ on my shit. Pretty as fuck.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck to pull you down for another heated kiss, sucking the taste of yourself off your tongue. His other hand held you by the hip, moving you faster, finger thrusting in your hole deeper.

He’s strong—in lost time, he stands from the chair as he places your legs over his shoulders, taking a step forward to place you right along the mirror you used to show your clients their finished hairstyle. He was tugging at your neck, making sure you were locked in his arms as he began dropping you on his dick, making you squeal, a moan spilling from your lips as you whine, "Oh shittttt.” 

“Look at you, fuckin’ bad girl. Yeah, look at me, look at you, look at that shit gushing for me.”

He was pounding you from the bottom, his balls slapping between your folds, your arousal making the sound reverberate through the room. A feeling you never felt before surrounded your aura, a pleasure so good that you felt emotional, your eyes beginning to form tears as you suck in a breath, releasing as you sobbed, “Ugnh, fuck.”

He’s fucking you so hard that the mirror across began steaming up, showing only a faint outline of your body. You flick over to it, seeing the strawberry tresses of your hair sticking to your face, your expression ruined. 

Your mouth was dangerous as you writhed, “Ony,” a way that was close to a shout, talking through each thrust, “Love. This. Dick. Baby…”

His mouth came to yours to stifle the sounds, hand clamped around the back of your neck. His teeth were scraping your lips, his tongue slipping inside to fight yours as he’s pounding you in place, the sensation making you shake.

"You gon' cum? Gonna squirt all over his dick? Pussy gettin’ tight as fuck…damn…” he groans, locking his eyes down to see himself go in and out, in and out, in…and out.

“Gonna squirt all over you,” you sniffle in a small gasp, unaware of your own mouth at this moment, “Harder—please…” 

His mouth was a mess, tongue thick and long, lapping against your neck and collarbone, sucking the skin there, his mouth wide open, slurping the taste of you up. He squeezed your hips so hard that you were crying out. He was slamming himself into you, a groan of pleasure spilling from his lips as he buried his face against your throat, sucking it up as he grunted, “Finna’ have you at every fuckin’ show. Up in the private rooms, gon’ fuck you after every song.”

You’re gone, becoming entirely silent as your eyes are filled with tears that wouldn’t stop, nodding your head to every word as you hold onto him. The silence, listening to the sounds of your skin coming together in music, a sound rips from your throat before you could realize—pure bliss, a scream projecting out as you squirt, the arousal spouting, pushing him far enough for his tip to now be halfway in. Your body feels exhausted, eyes back into staring inside your head as you cum. 

And it broke him, he was moaning into your throat—mouth open, eyes closed, pulling himself out as his tip rubbed against your inner thigh, cumming against the warm skin. Your body was tired, exhausted, satisfied. 

You struggled to keep yourself wrapped along his neck. As the both of you caught your breath, you brought your eyes up to him, using the last bit of strength you had to give him a soft peck against his lips. Onyankopon couldn’t help himself—You looked so pretty at this moment, yet the innocent kiss makes him chuckle lowly, holding you up more as he questions, “You aight’?”

You press your face within his neck as you murmur, “Mhm,” your eyes feeling heavy, “Don’t think imma’ make your show, Ony…” you pout sleepily.

He laughs at how cute you were being—it’s a stark difference from your usual reserved demeanor. 

“It’s straight, baby. You’ll be on my mind the moment I get there—that’s fasho.’” 

He pecks your forehead, “You want me to stay tonight?”

Your eyes won’t open at this point. You could figure out the meaning of this moment later. You just wanted to be wrapped in that damn scent of his—tonka bean.

“If you’ actually plan on sleeping, you can stay…” 

“Damn, no late night nookie?” 

“Onyankopon.”

“My fault. Night, shawty.”

[sugucide]

two weeks.

it's been two weeks since kento has been inside of you. He's gone months, hell even years without sex before he met you and he was fine. he didn't even wish for it like most of his bachelor counterparts did.

but now that he's had a taste of you? two weeks may as well be a death sentence. which is ironic, giving the nature of this sex ban. everything you do is inviting: maybe it's just his underworked sex drive or maybe he's reverted back to his teenage years because he sure does feel like an impatient, entitled brat whenever you walk past him.

he can smell you. not the smell of your perfume you spritz on each morning. not the product in you hair. not the moisturiser you use. but you, the scent of your self, your body, the skin he's so often inhaled as he bit down between your thighs or up the column of your neck. he can smell the memories of sex, sweaty and tangled in pheromones and all things primal.

he can hear you. not your words or laughter or the way you hum absentmindedly when you're pottering around the house. he can hear that sharp little intake of breath when you accidentally, or not-so-accidentally, brush against him. he can hear that whining tinge to your voice when you tell him you won't sleep with him, that you're punishing him, as if its moreso a punishment for you than him. he can remember the way you'd moan for him, desperate and glassy eyed and oh so perfect for him as he ruins you from the inside out.

he can't take it anymore.

"two weeks is more than enough time for me to think about my actions," he tells you over dinner one night, eyes cast downwards at his plate. "...and to come up with a suitable apology."

you place your chopsticks down at his last words and look up at your husband. "oh? let's hear it then."

over the frames of his glasses, kento's eyes meet yours. "i apologise for worrying you and risking my life for my work."

you tap your fingers against the table. "and will you continue to do it?"

"yes," he admits. "it's my job, one that i do well. if i die doing it, i hope it's in place of someone who didn't sign up for it, like you."

kento reaches over the table and takes your hand. "i can't just stop being a sorcerer. that would be too selfish of me. but i do promise that i will make more of an effort to reduce my chances of getting hurt from now on: no more unnecessary risks. okay?"

though that was all you needed to hear from him, you start to wonder if lifting the sex ban was a good idea when your pent-up husband is swiping plates from the dinner table to make room for you to lay back on it. claiming he can't wait the few extra second to carry you to the bedroom, he has you stripped and laid bare on the dining room table in no time, and he's ready for his meal.

"missed her," he mumbles as he parts your legs with a strong hand and bends down to kiss once at your clit. that's about and gentlemanly as it gets, though, because soon after he's making out with your pussy like he's a virgin. no technique, no precision, nothing but unfiltered need and its so much hotter than you'd imagine it to be.

eyes locking onto yours from between your thighs, he adds two fingers and works you open. two weeks was a long time for the both of you, so he'll need to get you used to the stretch of him again. he scissors his fingers inside of you, curls them upwards to hit your g-spot and smirks like a saint when your back arches off the table in response.

"missed you ken," you ramble on as your climax nears. "missed you so much. hated doing this. love you. loveyouloveyou god i love you."

you cum hard, harder than you've cum in a long time and kento laps it up like he's never tasted anything so good. he savours your taste on his tongue like he would an aged wine, something expensive and delicious and worth keeping bottled. though he's harder than diamond and worried he'll cum in his pants if he doesn't sink inside of you soon. so he stands and undoes his belt in record time (with those lovely hands of his) and repositions you at the end of the table with his leaky cock already pressing against your wet entrance.

he leans over you and shares a kiss with you as he pushes in. he inhales the gasp you let out at the stretch and moans into your mouth as a gift in return. he pulls out almost entirely, so it's just his head nestled in your tight pussy, and then slams in again. hard.

"god kento—" you start, about to chide him for being so rough with you when you notice his face dip into your neck and the sudden warmth filling you from the inside. kento's hips stutter and he bites at the skin of your shoulder to muffle the heavy moans that ache to free themselves from his chest.

"did you just—"

"don't," he cuts you off, cock twitching inside of you with his release. he's plugging you up, keeping you full of him and his cum. "give me a minute and i'll fuck you so stupid that you forget that just happened."

"you just—"

"don't laugh."

"im not laughing! it's just, you know like our first time..."

"shut up." kento's hips pull away and then slam back into yours as he starts a brutal pace with you.

that shuts you up good.

[lookingforuravity]

THE ONLY EXCEPTION

♫ now playing - the only exception by paramore

bakugou x reader

word count: 1,827 words

IN WHICH each time your friends caught bakugou only being nice to you.

a/n: still 'fool for you' just changed the title (≧ω≦)

“i've never seen him so.. calm.”

“right? he's always so uptight.”

the two friends were peering over the couch as they watched bakugou and y/n sleep soundlessly. there was a serene look drawn on his face while he held y/n closely to him, her hand resting softly on his chest as their chests rose up and down simultaneously.

“how come he's so much nicer to her than any of us?” kirishima complained with a pout stitched on his lips. he'd been friends with bakugou way before (two months) him and y/n got together. where was his special treatment?

“they're dating duh. why wouldn't he be nice to her?” mina replied as gazed at the couple with a soft gaze in her eyes. their young, teenage love was truly admirable.

even if bakugou seemed to have a stick up his ass 24/7.

the couple twitched softly in their sleep. it had been a long and stressful day of endless amounts of training, and lord knew that they both needed a break. a thin blanket was all that covered their bodies, but anybody could make out the way bakugou held her waist and the way y/n laid her hand on his chest underneath the sheet.

the usually quiet library turned into a circus as it filled up with bakugou's grumbling, denki's whines, and y/n's giggling. the sight of bakugou repeatedly smacking denki on the head with rolled up paper was an entertaining sight to distract her from her note-taking.

“are you seriously this stupid?” bakugou growled as he peered over the blonde's notebook, erasing and scribbling over any mistakes he made. denki pouted while rubbing his head on the spot that bakugou smacked. “c'mon.. it's really not that easy!” denki whined.

bakugou's vermillion eyes narrowed at denki. “it's basic algebra! how did you even get this far if you can't do simple math?!” he snapped.

denki continued to pout as he grumbled under his breath, something about bakugou lacking basic respect.

“uh.. katsuki?” y/n called out hesitantly.

though he still kept the glare on his face, the way his body language softened was visible, and how his tone contrasted from denki to her was plain obvious. “what?”

she turned over her notebook towards him so he can see her work. “i think i did it wrong.. can you check it?”

bakugou grabbed her notebook and skimmed over her work. “yeah.. here, let me explain.” he leaned over closer to her, close enough to where she can smell caramel on his skin.

denki's mouth fell agape as he watched how the guy went from raising hell on him to looking like he was practically skipping in a field of flowers inside his head. “that is SO not fair! how come you're so much nicer to her than me?!”

“cause she's not an idiot! keep working!”

it was far past midnight, and it was already one thing that izuku couldn't sleep, but on an empty stomach? it made it far much worse. he tried everything in the book from counting sheep to counting his breaths, but nothing could beat his racing mind and the sound of his stomach growling.

izuku didn't want to disturb anyone, but would it really hurt if he just tip-toed to the common room? he sighed as he ran his hand through his curly green hair, quietly making his way to the kitchen to not wake anyone.

but as he walked through the common room, a taller figure appeared in front of him.

“GAH!” he yelped, hastily smacking a hand over his mouth as he realized how loud he'd screamed. “shoto!” he half-whispered. “what are you doing?!”

todoroki stood still, his expression unwavering. “i couldn't sleep.” his direction turned towards the kitchen. “i wanted to get a snack, but i think someone is in there.” he said.

that's odd. it was almost one in the morning, and the only people that izuku thought could be awake fell asleep ages ago. he asked todoroki who it was but he only shrugged, showing he only heard the person but never checked who it was.

he never thought he'd be met with the sight of bakugou resting his chin on y/n's shoulder as she made them snacks.

“at 12:47 in the morning? that's way past bakugou's bedtime…” todoroki muttered under his breath.

bakugou's tone was softer, softer than anyone had ever heard besides y/n herself. “you better not burn it.” he huffed.

y/n giggled, slightly turning her head to face his side profile. “i'm not going to burn our snacks,” she assured. “i'm an expert.”

“expert my ass.”

“hey!”

izuku and todoroki looked like a deer in headlights looking at the scene before them. they wanted to walk away, believe them, they really did. but the sight of bakugou being so domestic was such a rare and amusing sight to see.

“do we… leave?” izuku suggested.

“i don't know…” todoroki answered. “this is really weird.”

bakugou’s head shot up from her shoulder and turned to look at the two voices faster than the speed of light. his ruby eyes were narrowed as he glared them down as his lips curled. “the hell are you guys doing?”

izuku's hands flapped around in a panic. “w-we were just about to leave! i swear-”

“you're very affectionate, bakugou” todoroki said, as blunt as ever.

“shut up!” he yelled, his face turning as a red as a tomato and his hair puffed up. y/n giggled once again at the dramatic scene that laid in front of her. “do you guys want snacks too?” she offered.

“why are you giving our food to extras?” “suki!”

brutal wasn't even the word to describe today's training session. everyone was curled up on the ground, hands over their stomach as it even hurt to breathe. the sounds that filled the room were heavy breathing and complaints. and y/n— was nowhere to be found.

mina, jirou, and ochaco all wandered the hallways, a worried look etched on their face as they searched for their friend. “i'm really worried about her y'know.” mina was the first one to break the silence.

both girls nodded in agreement.

“so am i,” ochaco said. “she just disappeared right after training ended.”

the trio kept wandering the halls, looking in every corner and every turn where y/n could be hiding.

suddenly, through the glass window, they see their little y/c haired friend sitting on the bench, with her fingers intertwined on her lap and her head hung low.

“there she is!” jirou yelled, quickly running to the nearest door to go outside and get y/n while the other two girls trailed closely behind her.

but something made them stop dead in their tracks. the closer they got to the window, the more they were able to see someone elses silhouette sat next to her.

“is that bakugou?”

bakugou's arm was wrapped securely around y/n's shoulders, intently listening to her rambling about whatever she needed to get off her chest.

“i did really bad today.” she mumbled, her voice filled with sadness and frustration.

“and that’s okay.” bakugou comforted her. “one bad doesn't mean you suck. everyone has bad days.” he reassured her, rubbing light circles on her shoulders.

y/n shrugged, playing and picking at her fingers as they rested on her lap. “i just think i’m weak, y’know?” she mumbled once again.

“you're not- hey. look at me.” bakugou squished her cheeks and turned her head to face his. “stop. you think i'd be talking to you like this if you're so weak? hm?”

“no?” she muffled due to how much bakugou was squishing her face.

“exactly. you're strong, so stop putting yourself down because of one off day and keep training.”

“you're hurting my cheeks.”

bakugou let go of her face, lightly patting her cheeks as an apology. “my point is, one bad day doesn't mean you're weak. think about every other time you've kicked ass.”

y/n laughed softly, her face changing from what looked like a kicked puppy to her usual grin. “thank you suki.” she said.

“this is the cutest thing I've ever seen.” mina whispered while clenching her shirt where her heart is tightly.

“who knew the pomeranian could be such a romantic?” jirou teased as ochaco and mina giggled along side of her.

bakugou lightly ruffled the top of y/n's hair, lightly blushing from the way she looked at him with such a lovestruck glance. “you're strong. don't start with that ‘i'm weak’ shit cause i won't hear it.”

“you're so sweet when you want to be.”

“now you're pushing it.”

“why are you only nice to me?” the question caught katsuki off guard.

the couple had been in y/n's dorm room simply sitting in silence, with their legs entangled together and the light noise of the TV playing in the background.

he turned his head slightly to face her, their eyes meeting instantly as she was already looking at him so softly. “why wouldn't i be?” katsuki questioned as his fingers lightly played with her hair.

y/n shrugged, not having a response to his question. it just seemed out-of-character for him. he was the type of person to not let anyone change him, good or bad.

but the crude boy would come to be a puddle of sap when it came to her. even if it wasn't obvious verbally, the ways his eyes softened when they laid upon her was enough said.

“i asked you a question first.” she retorted.

katsuki exhaled sharply, his gaze turning from her to the ceiling as his heart rate sped up a bit. “you're just.. different.”

y/n's eyebrows raised slightly as a smirk stitched itself onto her face. she scooted closer to katsuki's side, leaning her head on his bicep as she stared lovingly at his side profile. “i'm.. different? there's more to that, isn't there?”

“of course there is. you just don't get to know that stuff right now.”

y/n knew that katsuki wasn't one to talk about his feelings. she wasn't looking to change that. but the simple thought of him just looking at her differently from the rest, like shes the only person in every room, made her heart flutter.

“don't think i'm getting soft though.” katsuki grumbled, an arm slipping around her waist as he pulled her impossibly closer.

“you're just… the only exception.”

©LOOKINGFORURAVITY 2024 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other

TAGLIST: @kaerotica @sweetlike-sugarplum @misfortvne @iridescencefae @awesomesauce-oo @kalulakunundrum

[hannieehaee]

CREEP

18+ / mdi

summary: jungkook's in love. finally, after years of waiting for that perfect romance, he finds himself utterly infatuated with the perfect girl. too bad she has no idea who he is. but it's okay, he knows enough about you for the two of you, and he'll make sure to work his way into your life.

content: stalker!jungkook, clueless!reader, lowkey inspired by you from netflix, stalking, reader is surveilled by jk without her permission, smut, afab reader, masturbation (both m and f receiving), jk watches her have sex and masturbating, penetrative sex, creampie, finger sucking, etc.

wc: 10.2k

a/n: my first sort of dark toxic fanfic everyone say yay!!! also please do not read if these themes offend you thank youuuu

masterlist

You'd gone on another date tonight.

This was the fifth one this month.

Always a different guy. Jungkook had been keeping count.

It was hard to not let it get to him. Sure, he was aware that you didn't owe him anything, and much less did he feel as if he held any sort of ownership over you, bu the more men he beheld in your presence, the less patience he had.

Jungkook knew you to be a smart girl. You were a well put-together adult, an incredibly confident and intelligent woman who needed no protection from anyone. It was one of the many things that made him fall for you. It was just the decisions you took in regard to your love life that left Jungkook bothered.

He tried not to judge you, truly he did, but seeing you go from one idiot to another pained him. Intimately so. While aware that you needed to get all these idiots out of your system, Jungkook just wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back as he watched you with this week's respective idiotic bachelor.

This time around, it was some idiot named Liam.

To the naked eye, he might've been a good pick — which is why you'd even given him the time of day, Jungkook assumed. He was tall, — but Jungkook was taller — he was fit, — but Jungkiok fitter — he had okay money — except it was none compared to Jungkook — he had everything the average woman would look for in a man. Truly, Jungkook could not blame you for thinking this might be the right guy.

But, at the same time, you sometimes had the tendency to rush things. Or at least that was what Jungkook had noticed after the past few months of watching you.

The same had happened with Liam.

After messaging for about a week, you'd found yourself at a late night date.

It was the usual. Dinner, walk around a nearby park, and finalizing with a solicitous invitation to your apartment. That much was fine with Jungkook. He didn't care (well, he very much did). A man vying for your affections was not shocking to him. You were perfect. Jungkook was certain of it.

It was what happened behind closed doors that churned his insides out.

Maybe it had been a bad idea when Jungkook decided to install a camera in your apartment, but he couldn't help himself. It had seemed inviting at the time. You had been gone on a family vacation for a week, leaving your place completely vacant, too inviting for him to not take the chance to look around.

And look around, he did.

Out of all the time in which he'd known you, that had been the best day of all. Getting to be in an environment tailored to you and by you had been heaven.

He laid on your bed, letting himself be engulfed by the scent of your shampoo on your pillow. He'd chuckled at all the adorable plushies scattered throughout your place. He'd installed his cameras, ensuring the ability to supervise in case the occasion were to come up.

But his most favorite had been the souvenirs he'd taken with him. The pretty lace set he'd taken as a memento to ensure he had a little piece of you with him at all times.

Currently, as he went over today's events whilst in bed, that pretty set sat on his pillow — on the side of the bed he decided would be yours as soon as he made you his ...

Going back to more pressing matters. That idiot, Liam.

God, even thinking about how the night had ended made him angry. How did you pick these guys? Well, Jungkook knew the how (usually some shitty dating app), but he just couldn't understand the why.

Your dinner had been subpar at best. Liam had picked the shittiest 'fancy' restaurant available. He had ordered for you (whilst picking the cheapest options available), hadn't even bothered to buy you quality wine, and took a ten-minute bathroom break halfway through dinner — which he had spent on some stupid phone call to a buddy of his. Talk about priorities.

Going back home, he parked too far from your apartment for some stupid reason or other, choosing to walk you under a thinly-veiled pretense to make sure you arrived home safely. Instead, he went home with you despite not deserving such privilege.

This time around, Jungkook could tell that you weren't too enthusiastic to allow him in, but it seemed ritualistic to you by now. He argued that maybe you wanted at least one thing to come out of the date, even if that was just some meaningless sex.

Except that the sex had been even worse than anything that came prior.

At first, Jungkook felt morally ambiguous as he watched the live feed of the camera he'd installed in your apartment, but considering that he had already followed you to your date (under disguise, of course), this wasn't all that bad.

The foreplay had been nonexistent (his first mistake, Jungkook was very well aware), leaving you dissatisfied before it all even began. Barely wet and not stimulated at all, you laid there, letting that undeserving idiot do a novice's job at fingering you. Jungkook caught onto the winces on your face as the dumbass worked you with zero finesse. It was a complete disaster that left you just as dry as you'd been since walking through the door.

The worst part of all had been the actual sex itself. Jungkook was genuinely appalled at Liam's ability to get gradually worse as the night progressed.

For starters, you didn't cum. Jungkook would've been able to spot a fake orgasm from you from miles away. You gave a great performance, he had to admit. Had he been any other idiot (re: Liam), he might've believed you. But he knew all your tells. Despite how pretty you looked, how ruinous you sounded, he knew that you'd fabricated that scene to get Liam to stop trying to make you cum to no avail.

Liam, though, had the night of his life. Of this, Jungkook was sure. He needed no confirmation for it, but he received it in the form of many incoming messages you got the following morning. After kicking Liam out the previous night, — under the premise that you had work early the next morning (because you were far too nice to tell him to get fucked) — you awoke to messages from the idiot wondering when part two would come.

Jungkook scoffed at the messages, itching to respond but knowing that if he did, he'd give away that he'd hacked into your accounts. However, he was happy to see that you'd let him down, using one excuse or another as to why you shouldn't go on a second date.

This was the usual routine you followed.

Or at least in the past three months in which Jungkook had been watching you. But now things would be different.

Because Jungkook had finally had enough.

It was time for you to meet the love of your life.

Jungkook's decision to finally make his way into your life was inspired by a message exchange you'd had with your friend slightly prior to your escapade with that idiot.

You'd been frustrated, unwilling to continue with this stupid back and forth with guys who did not deserve you (your words, though Jungkook fully agreed). This was your last attempt, you'd sworn. You'd give up on dating sites from then on, thus giving up on dating in general, because, according to you, the current state of dating did not exist in real life. Romance was dead, you'd claimed, disheartened by how many failed talking stages you'd been through and by the amount of men disinterested in more than simple one-night stands.

So, Jungkook swore something to himself.

He swore that he'd be the man to change your mind. He'd let you exhaust yourself with worthless men and come swoop you off your feet.

For months, he'd prepared for this. Everything about you, he knew. If there was any man perfect for you, it was him.

He liked to think that he was your type already — tall, handsome, smart, financially intelligent, romantic. He had everything you wanted in a man. All he had to do now was swoop into your life and make his interest be known.

But there was a problem.

As much as Jungkook liked you, — and as much as he believed you'd like him back — he was scared. Among all his attributes was a shyness that appeared to only show up when it concerned you. There'd been various instances in which he'd been itching to meet you, to cut his research short and kneel before you, begging you to give him a chance. But this had proved impossible to him. It was one of the reasons as to why he hadn't just grown the balls to speak to you in the first place.

Under his logic, it was better to study you from afar. To learn everything about who he was sure would become the love of his life. Everything about you was perfect to him from the moment he saw you. He could not risk letting you get away; disappointing you by not being the man you needed.

So he watched you from afar. He learned what to do, what not to do.

By now, he knew everything he needed to know. He knew in which ways to impress you, in which ways to ensure he wouldn't drive you away. It was just his constant anxieties about meeting you that prevented him from approaching you sooner.

Though, technically, you'd already met.

It had been brief. He was sure you didn't even remember it. Yet it was a life-changing moment for him.

It had been his turn to do a coffee run at the firm he worked at. Despite holding an important position within the company, his department had been looking for a replacement assistant for a while, leaving the more menial tasks up to the higher ups (re: Jungkook and a few others).

Upon arriving at the nearest coffee shop, there you were.

Jungkook remembered every detail about you on that day. Your hair had been done the way you usually did it, but your lipstick had been a particular shade of red he'd been itching to see you wear again.

Speaking to you had been a feat. His eyes remained on the counter the whole time, stumbling over his words a bit when you'd cracked some joke that you'd likely practiced for new customers. Jungkook wasn't usually like this. Your beauty had just caught him completely off-guard, leaving him looking like a gaping idiot.

You were beautiful, charming, and overall just a goddess in Jungkook's eyes.

It had been on that day that he'd decided that his life would now revolve around getting you to be his.

Jungkook had a tendency to get everything he wanted anyways. Wealth just happened to do that to a person.

~

The day that he'd meticulously planned for months had arrived.

Jungkook had practically jumped out of his seat when Jimin stepped out of his office to inquire as to who would be getting their usual drinks this time around. He tried not to be obvious about it, but he couldn't let this day go to waste. He'd even done his hair in a way he knew you liked (at least based on your prior dating history), donning a suit that perfectly showed off his body line, accentuating his muscles while also letting the dip of his waist show.

He felt frivolous, but the mere thought of you enjoying his appearance made him appreciate himself all the better.

Stepping out, there was a pep in his step. The knowledge that he'd finally — officially — meet the girl of his dreams had him over the moon. Taehyung had even eyed him weirdly when he noticed his uncharacteristic enthusiasm on a random Tuesday morning. Jungkook simply brushed him off. Nothing was going to derail him today.

Today would be the start of the rest of his life. Nothing had mattered as much as this moment.

As he stood in front of your place of work, he hesitated a bit.

The glass doors gave him a perfect view of you working behind the coffee bar. He stayed there, watching you from afar, for a few moments. Not minding the buzzling in and out of the coffee shop, he remained there, attempting to psych himself up to finally make a move.

Would you remember him?

No, of course not. Why would you?

Your one and only meeting had been three months ago. It had been such a fleeting moment, yet it had left such a long-standing effect on him. Jungkook hoped maybe that had been mutual, but according to your messaging history, that was not the case.

Shaking his head of any irrelevant thoughts, he finally stepped forward, hand landing on the door to push it open. And then, there you were.

You weren't paying attention to him as he stepped towards the counter. No, you were wiping the table — always doing something, always working. Jungkook knew this about you. You had a habit to keep yourself busy at all times. You liked feeling useful. He really liked this about you.

When he finally settled his feet right across from you, you looked up with a slight jump. Jungkook even noticed you do a quick double-take at his appearance.

"Oh, uh hi! Welcome. What can I get for you today?", you cleared your throat with a smile.

"Morning," he smiled back, sheepish, "Sorry, it's a bit of a big order. I'm on coffee run duty today," he said as he handed you the slip of paper containing his floor's orders of choice.

"Oh, yeah for sure," you grabbed the note, incidentally brushing your fingers.

Jungkook had to do a double take himself when he noticed a slight blush on your cheeks at the contact. He couldn't let his confidence falter, but the internal satisfaction at even the slightest reciprocation already had him beaming.

Was it really working? He hadn't even done anything yet. Maybe catering his looks to your liking really did have its intended effect.

You excused yourself from the counter and walked over to the side to begin preparing the drinks. Jungkook, being as determined as he was, trailed along, not minding the glass above the counter separating customers from baristas. Dumbly, he watched as you made the drinks, occasionally catching your eye and chuckling when you'd giggle.

"Is coffee making that interesting to you?", you chuckled, head tilting in curiosity but not once stopping your work.

"The sight is fascinating for sure," he hummed.

You faltered a bit after that, grip on the cup needing readjustment due to his unexpected flirting. Jungkook, on the contrary, maintained his posture. His eyes remained on yours and a small smile graced his lips.

"Okay, damn," you murmured under your breath. You tried to suppress a flustered smile, but Jungkook still caught it.

"Too forward? I thought maybe it was too subtle," he chuckled.

You set aside one of the drinks, moving onto the next one. If Jungkook didn't know any better, he might've thought you were taking your time.

"Do you do this to all service workers or am I just special?"

"Maybe you're just special," he began, "I can't lie, you might've caught my eye last time I was here," he admitted.

Half-truths were okay.

"Oh? I don't remember you. Remind me?"

Your tone had turned higher, maybe even flirtatious. Luck was on Jungkook's side today.

He'd known you to like guys who were a little forward — or at least that's what you'd texted your best friend after another failed date with a guy who couldn't mumble his way out of a single compliment. Apart from attempting to physically embody your type, he'd also decided to act in every way he knew you'd be extra responsive to.

Luckily for Jungkook, it appeared as if your type was pretty much just him.

"Hmm," he pretended to ponder over it, "Too little time. Maybe I could stop by after your shift and remind you then. It was a life-changing experience, I have lots to say."

A truth hidden behind a joke. He was doing good at this.

Another giggle left your lips, almost dropping the pen you were currently using to write the names of each recipient of the drinks.

"Your suit looks more expensive than my monthly wages. Are you sure you wanna spend your time waiting for a lowly barista, Mr. CEO?"

If only you knew just how much time he was willing to invest in you. How much he'd already invested.

"Not a CEO. And I'd be willing to stand here for hours if that's what it takes."

"Okay, damn. You're serious, huh?", you laughed, "I'm off in three hours. But I'll look a mess by then. If you really want to tell me how I changed your life, here's my number," your hand crossed the threshold of the small divide between the counter and the bar, grabbing onto his own and scribbling your number on the back of his hand.

"I hope you know I'll be making liberal use of this," he warned lightheartedly.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you grinned one last time before handing him a cup holder with all his drinks.

Jungkook had to force himself and be cool as he exited out of the establishment, attempting to conceal the huge smile on his lips at his success.

Things had gone way smoother than he'd ever fantasized. The nerves he was sure would surge as soon as he saw you simply never made an appearance. He'd been able to wow you, to make you laugh. Fuck, your shy giggle at his dumb flirting would likely replay in his brain for the rest of the day.

There was a brand new pep in his step as he made his way back. It had taken herculean self-control to not look back and check if you were looking back at him as he left. He needed to play it cool. You liked guys who were down, horribly bad for you, but that would come later. For now, he needed to preserve an image of coolness.

Jungkook made his way back to his building, multiple cups in hand aided by the cup holder. He'd made sure his hand remained untouched, unwilling to risk losing your number (despite the fact he already had it — and way more than just your number).

It was the cutest thing to him, seeing you scribble your number on his hand as your hand held his firm for the pressure of the pen. The shadow of your touch remained on him, something which he would preserve in his mind until the moment he got to feel your touch again.

Jungkook's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden voice. Though not too sudden, as he was now surrounded by people, not having realized he'd arrived as he was deep in his thoughts.

"You look very happy."

Turning to his side, he found Taehyung standing there, hands on hips before he walked over to Jungkook and took his coffee from the beverage holder he had at hand. He had that same look on his face he always had when he was teasing him. Jungkook felt slightly embarrassed at how obvious his feelings showed through his face.

The smile on his lips simply couldn't be helped.

"Oh, I-"

"You have that dopey smile on your face. I haven't seen that in a while," Tae noted, "Who is she?"

Jungkook did a combination of a choked breath and a scoff, resulting in a very unpleasant sound. Clearing his throat to properly respond, he took a sip from his own coffee, setting down the rest on a table nearby so they could be up for grabs.

"What makes you think it's a girl?", he attempted to evade.

"C'mon, man. Humor me," Tae nudged.

Jungkook sighed, knowing that Tae would probably not let this go. Jungkook was known as a man adverse to the dating scene, constantly pushed and pulled in every direction possible to get him to give dating a chance. What no one had known was that his heart was waiting for the perfect girl, which he'd been lucky to have found a few months back and had locked his mind and heart on.

Since things with you were pretty much settled now, Jungkook supposed that mentioning his upcoming date (the one he'd ensure to schedule with you as soon as humanly possible) wasn't too out of the question. He was too giddy to keep it in.

"Uhm, I might've asked a girl for her number."

And it was like those words sounded an alarm at the office.

Suddenly Jimin was standing next to Taehyung, with Hobi stopping on his tracks to join in on the conversation, all with their ears practically perked up in Jungkook's direction.

"You what?!"

"A girl? Since when? Who?"

"Fucking finally. I ran out of girls to set you up with."

All congratulatory and accusatory messages were delivered all at once, making Jungkook roll his eyes at the collective.

He was known as a hopeless romantic, which was known to make him incredibly picky — or anal, as Taehyung could say — about who he dated. So, yeah, maybe the fact that he'd asked a girl for her number was a big deal. But Jungkook didn't want his friends meddling with it or asking too many questions before things even started.

Especially when Jungkook couldn't really let anyone in on how he'd met you or how he'd ended up in this situation in the first place. Not even his friends could become privy to the liberal freedoms he'd taken to get to know you and ensure he'd get a chance at being with you.

His master plan was a secret he'd take to the grave.

"Just a girl. It's not a for sure thing yet. Don't wanna jinx it," is what he settled with to avoid any specifics.

"C'mon. Nothing else? It's been years, man. Give us something more," Hobi goaded.

Jungkook couldn't help the slight smile that threatened to break through at the thought of you. At the thought of what was to come.

"I'll keep you guys updated after I actually ask her out."

He received some 'boo's for that, but the shrugged them off with a lighthearted eye-roll, taking his coffee and walking over to his office after a few more minutes of teasing from his friends. They'd pointed out the phone number on his hand, awing and cooing at him in jest before he took his leave. His friends left his mind as soon as he stepped into his office, uncharacteristically putting work aside so he could put his mind on more important things — you.

Pulling out his phone, well, his burner, he decided to course through your social medias just out of sheer curiosity. Had you said anything about him? Maybe texted a friend? It'd only been a few minutes, but he knew you were usually due for a break soon and the curiosity was killing him. He needed to know what your first impression of him.

He checked your twitter, your private twitter account, even your instagram, and nothing. Which was to be expected. You weren't really the type to post your every move. But still, Jungkook was hopeful that maybe he'd invaded your mind in the same way you did his.

And then he suddenly got a notification. It was a text message from your friend, instigating him into opening your messaging app.

Upon opening it, he found an ongoing conversation, leading him to scroll up a bit to see how it'd started.

you - omfg i met the cutest guy just now you - he asked for my number im going insane you - he smelled so fucking good fuckjhdgfhskd

bestie - wait bestie - what ??? bestie - WHO bestie - PICS

you - i dont have pics u freak you - we barely just met. he's hot as fuck though !!!! you - im in over my head he's perfect

bestie - so whats the plan !!!! bestie - are yall meeting or what ?? bestie - r u fucking him bestie - i thought u were over dating bc of last time ...

you - dont bring that demon up !!! you - we didnt make plans. i just gave him my number but he kept flirting so im hoping for a call soon you - (or else ill go looking for him hes too fine to let go) you - ill make an exception for him he's just my type

Jungkook was practically kicking his feet like a teenage girl in love at every single message.

It was odd watching the conversation play out in real time, but he couldn't be too bothered about that. Not when he was so enamored with the way you spoke about him.

You wanted him!!! You wanted to fuck him!!! — a thought that made him both blush and his skin heat up. You were interested and willing to give dating a chance just to get to know him.

He was beyond fucked. But in a good way.

The excitement brought goosebumps to his skin and the itch to contact you immediately and confess his addiction to you grew more by the second.

But he had to play it cool.

He exited out of the conversation after that, wanting to give you some privacy to gush over him with your friend (it was really the least he could do).

However, the itch to message you persisted, which is exactly what he did next.

He went through many reiterations of what to send, thinking back to prior conversations you'd had with previous partners and the subsequent conversations you'd had with your friends about said partners. If Jungkook was anything, he was an expert on you. If he had to take on another PhD, his thesis would undoubtedly be about you.

In the end, he decided on being true to himself while also following the self-given advice he'd gathered through the months of knowing you.

Jungkook - let me take you out. Jungkook - this is jungkook btw Jungkook - (the love of ur life in case that wasnt clear)

Okay, sure, he wasn't as suave as the average person would expect. However, he was very well aware of what your type was. You liked to be chased, to have a guy on his knees begging for a chance — but not in a creepy way. Those had been your exact words the multiple times in which you'd vented to your friends both via text and facetime.

To your luck, Jungkook was exactly that. He had already gone way more out of his way than the average person did (or should) just to get one chance to get you to consider him as a suitor. Being down bad, or perhaps even a loser, was not a feat for him.

Your response came after a few minutes, with an excited acceptance to his offer (thank god) and a plan ultimately set up for the upcoming weekend. Jungkook could barely continue his work day after such news, too giddy to concentrate and wanting to huddle under a blanket and kick at his feet like a teenage girl.

The rest of the day was spent with thoughts of you, pushing his work aside while he mentally prepared yet another gameplan for what was to come. He needed to think of a date, arrange it, maybe even plan for what would come after it — because there would be another. He'd ensure it.

It was a few days away, yet Jungkook continued to think about it up until that very day, thankful he no longer had to wait and watch back as you dated dumbass after dumbass. Jungkook had already forgotten about every undeserving idiot he had witnessed come before him, knowing himself to be on a whole entire level to them.

As the days towards the date passed, Jungkook continued casually texting you, making good on his promise to make liberal use of your phone number (despite having already made good use of all your other information without your knowledge). He shared reels with you, tiktoks, messaged you jokes, 'good mornings,' flirtatious back and forths, anything that could get the two of you talking in the meantime. Jungkook wanted to share his genuine personality with you, hopeful that you'd like him as he was and that your personalities were as compatible as he'd predicted.

And he'd been correct. Your conversations never halted abruptly, flowing through the days and never having awkward lulls in between. It felt like talking to an old friend, except that this time around it was who he believed would become his soulmate.

Despite wanting to give you more privacy now that he had actually met you formally, Jungkook still occasionally fell for the temptation of checking your messages through his burner phone. He'd made a deal with himself that he'd stop, that he'd do things right and not mar things between you by reading your private conversations or spying on you as he did before. But sometimes it was hard. Especially when he needed to ensure things went well enough for him to be able to ask you to be official.

And so he checked, and was very pleased by what he found.

Your words about him towards your friends were blush-worthy, to say the least. You'd shower him with compliments, with some being PG while others leaning towards more R rated territory. He'd blush and flush and go crazy at those comments, itching to get you alone and show you even more things to gush about to your friends.

But for now, he prepared for your date. He'd have time to rock your world later, all in due time. His cards needed to be played right, and he was more than prepared to win this game.

Unsurprisingly to Jungkook, the date went amazing.

From the moment he picked you up, to the moment he offered to walk you from his car to your door, everything went better than he'd fantasized night after night.

He'd picked an expensive restaurant, offering to take up the entire bill (as any gentleman should, but he knew you weren't used to such treatment) and even brought you what he knew to be your favorite flowers. He picked you up, of course, earning the reward of seeing you walk out of your apartment with the most life-ruining dress he'd ever seen. A few stammered compliments were given, leading to the price that were your shy giggles in return.

At the actual date, everything ran smoothly. Jungkook's knowledge of you proved useful to wow you, but truly, he didn't need to pretend or lie to you at any moment in order to impress you. He was himself, and that was something you seemed to adore (but not as much as he already adored you). Every joke was met with a giggle, and every train of thought was reciprocated and entertained by you. You'd even played footsie with him at some point, sharing the teasing physical contact with him in return to his occasional flirtation.

When it came time to leave, he drove you back home, parking a little further away under some lame pretense just so he could spend a little extra time with you to walk you home. You caught on to this, but to Jungkook's joy, you entertained his idea, not wanting the night to end just yet either.

Once at your door, Jungkook felt conflicted.

Preferably, this would be the moment in which he finally shared his first kiss with you, a moment he'd imagined too many times to be able to admit. Yet, he found himself hesitating.

As far as he'd known you, you'd disapproved of moving too fast in relationships. It just wasn't you, you'd say. The only occasions in which you allowed for things to move forward within short periods of time were for one-night stands or when you already knew there would be no further dates.

Jungkook, however, wished to not be lumped into neither one of those categories.

So he stood there, smiling at you, holding onto your hand and unwilling to let go as his thumb graced your knuckles in a soft manner. It was silent, but it wasn't awkward. The best way to describe it was enamored — and to Jungkook's delight, it seemed to be a mutual sentiment!

But then you threw him off completely.

Not bothering to warn him, you stepped forward, putting your hands on his jaw and pulling him in as you stood on your tippy toes to reach him.

He had no time to react, eyes widening and mouth opening as you connected your lips to his. It took him a second to respond, with his arms still limp and awkward between you before he stepped into action. If you wanted a kiss, he'd deliver the best one of your life.

Taking control of the situation was easy. The shock of his long-time wish finally coming true only had him in dreamland for a few seconds before he finally snapped and reciprocated. He began to lead you, lips overpowering yours and tongue slipping out of his mouth and into your own.

He couldn't let himself think about the kiss too deeply. It was already torturous, hearing your sighs muffled by his lips and swallowing every tiny sound you made at the aggressive way in which he'd begun to kiss you. He had all the power, and much to his mental dismay, you seemed to really enjoy it.

But he needed to control himself. He couldn't let this move too fast. Couldn't let himself give in to desire and have his long-awaited day with you. Even if his body was itching for him to get on his knees and beg for a chance between them, he had to hold himself back.

However, this did not prevent him from indulging in your touch at least a little.

Pushing you up against your front door, his lips trailed down your neck and into the expanse of your chest that was bared (courtesy of the cleavage you'd decided to bless Jungkook with). His lips were indecisive, going from your sternum and up to your neck, nipping lightly at times and easing the sting with flicks of his tongue. The pretty sounds you let out were more than reward enough for his efforts.

His knee ended up between your legs, itching closer and closer to your middle and digging itself there with a practiced precision that had you keening under his hold.

"Please," you sighed after some time, begging for something your dazed state likely didn't even know.

"Please what, baby?"

Your head turned, catching his lips again, but not in a kiss. It was too messy to be deemed a kiss, consisting of open mouths and too much spit to be considered sanitary.

"Come in? I wanna- Please come in," you pleaded, effectively killing Jungkook.

It took herculean effort for Jungkook to stay put. It was the hardest thing in the world to reject you when you were so desperate, when your voice was a mere breath of desire landing right against his lips before dipping into yet another kiss.

He couldn't help the groan that left him, but he replaced it with a chuckle when you whined at the separation of lips.

"You know I can't do that, baby."

"But I want you to!" you pouted, petulant and way too convincing.

His hand went up to your chin, turning your head towards him. It could've been considered a cute gesture, but his knee remained digging into your cunt (which was pulsing against him, driving him further into insanity) and your bodies were still too pressed up to be considered proper.

Looking up at him, you pouted, eyebrows hunched together in a way that let him know you were left wanting more. He thumbed at your chin in a soft manner, cooing at the adorable sight before him.

But you just had to pay him back for his teasing — though it was fair, considering his knee continued to dig into your cunt, earning tiny gasps from you and an eye-roll of pleasure.

You tilted your chin back, landing his thumb on your bottom lip and subsequently pulling it into your mouth (not that Jungkook put too much of a fight). Still staring into his eyes, you suckled at his thumb, wide, empty eyes making him lose himself.

He stood there, dumb and gone as he watched your cheeks sink in as you licked and sucked at his thumb, moaning when he pressed at your tongue. It was filthy and depraved and he loved it.

"Are you sure you won't come in?" you tried one last time, seduction in your voice.

It took everything in him. Every last ounce of self-control and survival skills in him to be able to deny you after you'd put on that little show for him.

But he'd worked too hard to fuck you within one day of having you. He needed to take his time and romance you as you'd always wanted. Sometimes he just knew you better than you knew yourself.

"I'm sorry, angel. I need to kiss you goodnight, okay?", he pouted back at you, chuckling when you mirrored his pout.

But then you smiled at him. Warm, accepting and especially enamored.

He had done good.

"I'll be waiting for a goodnight text from you," you said after he'd pecked your lips a few times, finally giving you enough space away from the door.

"I'll even text you good morning first thing tomorrow, beautiful," he smiled at you.

When you left (after even more chaste pecks), a smile overtook him. The half-forming boner was the last of his worries when he felt so happy at the outcome of tonight's events. He might've even skipped on his way to his car.

~

What happened next was slightly predictable to Jungkook.

He had sworn to himself he wouldn't. Had sword he'd give you privacy from now on. That he'd let things play out naturally now that he had you to himself, ready to fall in love with him.

Yet curiosity got the best of him once again.

He'd rushed his way home, even driving through a few red lights on his way. It was a life-or-death matter to him (or at least to his boner).

As soon as he was home, he ran to his macbook, opening up the tab that would display the only sight that would leave him satisfied when he was so pent up and needy for you.

And when he caught sight of what he'd been looking for, a groan couldn't help itself but to escape his lips.

There you were, busy with your hand between your legs as you sighed out Jungkook's name in between flicks of your clit. The sight was sinful, leaving Jungkook a lifeless version of himself as he groaned and cried out at the view.

Joining you in your touches was a given. He wished he could be there right now, working you to his desires, but he was still content with the current state of affairs. His hands undid his pants faster than they'd ever before, freeing himself from any clothing concealing him before losing himself in you.

He'd seen you touch yourself countless times, already well aware of what you'd do, how you'd play with yourself. But this time was different. This time it was rushed, desperate. It was a desperation he easily mirrored, completely empathetic to the feeling.

It didn't take him much to make himself cum, having already been on the brink whilst driving himself home. The effect some mere kissing and fondling had had on him was somewhat embarrassing, but he couldn't blame himself. Not when you'd been the cause.

Watching you cum, back arching and breath hitching at the overwhelming feeling. Even as he watched you, he felt pained. It was a depraved feeling he'd never experienced before, with the incessant need to be the one experiencing these feelings with you, cursing at himself for depriving himself from the experience.

Once the sensations seized, Jungkook closed his computer, setting it aside so he could ruminate on that day's occurrences.

Before going to sleep, he made sure to give you that 'goodnight' text he'd promised, smiling at himself when you replied, even adding a few heart emojis in tandem.

The development of your newfound relationship continued just as Jungkook had hoped.

More dates went by, with frequent stops at your cafe any time he had a short break during work (meaning, often). It was easy to tell that you were as enamored with Jungkook as he was with you. The many flirty texts and delivered flowers paid off, and it all felt very natural to him. Treating you the way you deserved, the way he'd been itching to treat you, it was like a gift to Jungkook.

It'd only been a month, yet it felt like an eternity to him.

He'd stopped keeping tabs on you by then.

Well, for the most part.

The curiosity after every date remained in him. Every time he held back and dropped you off without anything further than some kisses, he itched to know how you felt afterwards, instantly checking on his camera and even looking for any feedback you may have given your friends.

It was safe to say that you wanted him just as much as he did you.

Which made it all the more difficult to hold back from letting you pull him into your apartment and finally having his way with you.

But after this month of pure bliss, Jungkook finally decided.

He'd finally let himself have you in the way he'd been thirsting after.

Tonight, he'd planned yet another date. After that first one, it was virtually impossible for the two of you to stay away from each other. Not only did Jungkook want to spend every available second with you, but you were very responsive to that fact, always accepting and even suggesting dates.

But tonight was different. When you'd suggested some ice cream and a walk in the park, Jungkook took a risk and asked you if you'd rather come over, maybe watch a movie and eat some pre-bought ice cream (of your choosing, of course). It was a thinly-veiled excuse to get you in his apartment (and completely alone) for the first time.

And unsurprisingly to Jungkook, you accepted. There was a suggestive smile in your lips when you did so, leading Jungkook to believe that you were aware of his desires and even shared some of your own.

He couldn't help the anxious feelings overtaking him as he waited for you to arrive. He knew what was coming, knew that tonight would be the culmination of all he'd ever wanted since laying eyes on you. His skin burned at the thought of what was to come and his body shook in anticipation, goosebumps forming as the minutes passed.

When you knocked on his door, he couldn't help but run to it like a dog awaiting its owner's return. He didn't want to appear too giddy, like some freak only wanting to jump into your pants, but that fact was half reality. He was depraved for you. He was desperate, only having held back for so long because he had wanted to do things right, to win your heart before getting access to your body.

And finally he'd have both.

"Hey," you smiled up at him at his doorstep, front teeth digging into the plush of your bottom lip. You leant against his door frame, casual yet slightly nervous.

Looking down at you, he noted your cutesy pajamas. A matching set of tiny shorts and a tank top currently covered by an oversized hoodie, unzipped and letting him in on your outfit.

"Ready for our sleepover?", you giggled.

It was impossible not to be enamored by you.

When he'd suggested a movie and some ice cream at his place, you'd adorably suggested a sleepover, insisting on some movie marathon of his choice and all the snacks you could wish for. You'd said that it was an excuse to 'be domestic and shit,' as you'd put it. You also adamantly claimed you needed to check whether or not he snored in order to continue the relationship (all whilst blushing at the 'r' word, not having labeled things yet and unknowing that Jungkook would do so tonight).

He smiled back at you, doing his best to hold back from aggressively attacking you with the affection overflowing him. His mind battled between finding you adorable and wanting to lock you down and keep you in his bed for weeks to come.

"Come in, pretty. I got all your favorite snacks," he welcomed you in with a bear hug, humming loudly as he nuzzled into your neck.

"Hmm, you give the best hugs, I hate you," you grumbled when he let go.

Then you walked in as if you owned the place, practically skipping over to the couch nearby and eyeing all the snacks Jungkook had grown to recognize as your favorites — though he had known this from the months of watching you.

"Come on! Sit. I demand my sleepover," you whined, getting up from the couch and pulling him to sit right next to you.

He chuckled, finding you adorable yet again.

~

Only one movie was watched before things began leaving the PG-13 realm Jungkook had invertedly found himself in.

After a bit, you'd cuddled into him, with his arm enveloping you and accepting you into his chest as you continued to watch the movie. But the movie was the last thing in his mind. What he wanted was to see in person that body which he'd so often watched through a screen without your knowledge.

He had theories of what you'd feel like under his touch, of how you'd react to his. But ultimately, he knew that imagination would never compare to reality.

By now, neither of you were paying attention to the movie. Jungkook had been unfocused since the moment you walked in. However, you'd kept up the pretense of an innocent sleepover for a little longer than he did. While he'd been ready to jump you since the date began, you'd played dumb and cuddled up to him as you watched the movie, though not once rejecting his attempts to get closer and closer.

And now, after the first movie of the night was finally over, his hands became braver. Sensing your equal desire for him, he let his hands find your bare thighs, knuckles running up and down their expanse as he subtly looked to his side, watching you squirm at the touch.

You pushed yourself closer, legs pressing together a bit when his hand began to dip into the middle of your legs. With a giggle, you turned your body to face this, a failed attempt at concealing a smile showing on your face.

"Slick," you chuckled. You might've meant it to mock him, but you still began giving in, putting your own hands on him.

Naturally, he took advantage of this, grabbing onto your hips and pulling you to straddle his lap. Your hands found their place on his shoulders, sliding from his shoulders to his jaw while his did the same on your waist and hips.

Kissing you came just as naturally, pulling you in and trapping your bottom lip between his own two, making the kiss deeper than you'd ever kissed each other before. You instantly hummed into his mouth, hands reaching to his head and pulling him closer. His own remained on your hips, having fun squeezing at the plush skin there, bare due to your shorts having ridden up while straddling him.

With a self-prescribed oral fixation, Jungkook would've had fun kissing you for hours on end. He had already fostered a tendency to bite at his own lip ring, but the satisfaction he got from it only intensified when you did it — which was exactly what you were doing at that moment.

As you nibbled and sucked at his bottom lip, occasionally pulling at the silver ring with your teeth, Jungkook's hands began feeling you up, slowly losing their hesitation in grabbing at any curve he could reach. Your hands eventually came to do the same, finding his arms and sighing into his lips when you felt the stiff muscle under your hands.

When Jungkook got tired of feeling you up through your clothes, his hands reached the hem of your top, slowly reaching underneath it to ensure he gave you time to pull him away if you didn't want him to do so (which he was very certain was not the case, at least going off your own hands doing the same to him). Pulling off your top, he disconnected your lips, moving onto your neck and letting his thumbs feel at your bare nipples, chuckling at the low whine you let out at the action.

"You're so pretty, baby," he murmured.

His eyes were closed and his face nuzzled into your neck, kisses being left in his wake. But despite having not seen the expanse of your torso yet, he knew you were the prettiest thing he would've ever laid his eyes on. He'd seen you countless times. Maybe through a screen and maybe without your knowledge, but he'd seen you enough to have every inch memorized. Now was time to memorize it all to the touch.

"Yeah?", you sighed, numb, thoughtless, just like he wanted you.

"Mhm," he hummed in affirmation, "Already so needy, huh?"

His lips went lower, hand flat on the middle of your back to hold your body up and finding his way to your breasts, covering in licks and kisses as you sighed along to every single one. He was in cloud 9, finally able to touch you as he'd always wanted. In every way he saw useless men attempt to.

You became antsy quickly after that. He was sure you could feel his hardness under you, especially when you'd readjust yourself on his lap, huffing when his hold on you gave you no freedom to move and find some friction against him. It was unspoken, but he was in charge here. Your pleasure was entirely his responsibility, and he'd choose exactly how he'd give it to you.

After all, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

"Take me to your room," you mumbled in between heavy breaths, already exhausted with lust.

Without a second to hesitate, Jungkook's hands went under your thighs, standing up as he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. The trip was a short one, ending with you sitting at the edge of his bed while he stood before you, hand on your chin to ensure you'd look up at him.

And the sight made him crazy.

There was not a single thought behind those eyes, only unadulterated lust staring up at him.

He mindlessly thumbed his way up to your lower lip, clawing at it softly in a silent command for your mouth to open and allow him in. And to no one's surprise, you took him in, suckling lightly at the digit as you continued looking up at him, faux innocent look in your eyes.

A silent groan left him at the act, knowing that this would be what you looked like if you were to be good for him and get some other part for him in your mouth. But even the mere finger sucking had him fighting for his life. He pressed his thumb into your tongue, pushing back a little and getting a slight gag out of you before you continued in your adamant sucking.

"Fuck," he muttered.

Then he used that same hand to pull your face towards his own, leaning down a bit to meet you in the middle.

While the kiss in the living room had already been nasty enough for his liking, this one was nothing if not depraved. Your tongues met in the middle, before any lip action could actually happen. It involved a lot of teeth knocking and needy sounds released against each other, but Jungkook thrived off this neediness. Knowing you wanted him so badly that you lost all inhibitions, all sense of self — it made him dizzy with desire.

Mid kiss, he began lowering himself on the floor, pulling your neck down with him so you'd angle down, keeping your lips connected despite the newfound discrepancy in height. When the kiss finally had to be broken, he immediately latched onto the bare skin of your legs, hands itching to pull off your shorts and panties down (thankfully, you were still lucid enough to lift your hips and aid him in this). And then he was finally met with the sight he'd been craving to bury himself in for months.

It was plush, slightly swollen with desire and dripping with arousal, staring back at him as he attempted to hold back.

He dove in without a single second-thought, hands opening your legs far enough to find himself his rightful spot between them.

This. This was all he'd think about as he'd watch you date dumbass after dumbass, left displeased by every single one no matter how hard you tried to find at least a single competent one.

He gave you everything he had in him, licking at the expanse of your cunt before stopping at your clit and giving it special attention. His hands gripped at your thighs, angling you so you'd lay back on the bed as he had some alone time with your pussy. Your hands pulled at his hair, maybe too harshly, but he couldn't feel anything but bliss at that moment.

Your taste, your smell, your touch, it was all taking over his mind. This had been all he thought about night after night, watching your failed dates and hoping he'd be the next one on the list. He knew exactly how to please you, both from innate knowledge and from how much he'd studied you these past months.

"F-fuck, you nose ..." you cried out when it accidentally rubbed at your clit, intensifying its movements after your reaction.

"Taste so good, baby," he mumbled.

It was impossible to ignore his own arousal now, allowing himself to rub against the side of the mattress while he continued to lick and suck at you. His mind was fuzzy, completely overtaken by the pleasure your touch, your taste, your smell, your sounds, you were giving him.

When you came, he still couldn't stop himself. He continued lapping at you, drunk in the taste and far too blissed out to process that the current pulling of his hair meant you were too sensitive to receive more.

When your whines got louder, he finally let you go, sitting back on the floor as he caught his breath.

Worth it.

"You're insane," you gasped between heavy breaths.

But he was too busy licking at any leftover essence dripping on his chin, smirking when you gaped at him.

"You did this to me," he rebutted, "Maybe don't seduce me next time," and then he climbed back on the bed, taking his rightful place above you as he kissed you once more, tongue in first to ensure you got a taste of yourself.

Immediately, your legs wrapped around him, forcing him down onto your bare center and encouraging to bump his hips against yours. His hands intervened, working at his sweats as fast as he could so he could finally get that skin-to-skin contact he'd been craving. With your feet, you haphazardly tried to aid him in pushing them off, with them ending up at his ankles and ultimately pushed off by his own feet. Separation seemed to be offensive to him, refusing to disconnect his lips from some part of your body at any time.

"'m gonna fuck you now, okay, baby?", he muttered, landing one last kiss on your lips.

"Like this? Or do you wanna-"

"Mm, like this. Wanna see you," he said as if it was the most obvious thing ever (which, fairly, to him it was).

He didn't bother with a condom, knowing you were on birth control after one of the many flirty late-night conversations you'd had leading up to this night (though he already had this knowledge through his secretive means).

Entering you could not be measured nor compared to any other experience. He'd known the event would be ruinous, but his mind could not have ever come close to reality.

Your eyes practically rolled back when he bottomed out, giving him a sight that he could never forget. Part of him wanted to reach down to his sweats and pull out his phone from his pocket, maybe take a picture, set it as his lockscreen and utilize it any time you weren't around.

But the thought left him when you whined at him to move, claiming you needed him.

Your nails dragged down his back as he began hammering in, making him wince at the painful pleasure. Burying his head in your neck, he kissed at the skin there, groaning when you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling yourself as close as possible whilst attempting to move against him.

"Feel so fucking good," he grunted, "Made for me, huh? You were just waiting for me to fuck you, huh, baby? Needed someone who knew how to make you feel good."

He was telling on himself a bit, but he didn't care. He needed to assert his place over every man that'd ever touched you before. Needed to confirm it for both you and him.

"Yes!," you cried out, "So good, fuck."

Your words were mostly nonsensical babbles after that, with the occasional curse or sigh of his name mixed in.

Jungkook was in paradise. This was all he'd wanted ever since his eyes landed on you. The feeling of your pulse surrounding his cock made his eyes roll back, making him struggle to keep up with the euphoric sensations you were giving him. He now understood why every man that landed on your bed was unable to please you. You simply rendered them boneless vessels of bliss.

"God, never letting you go after this. You know that, right? All mine," he rambled, truth spilling from his lips.

But you liked it. Your nails dug into his back, head nodding feverishly in agreement at his words.

"Mhm. Yours, fuck. Please don't stop ..."

He groaned, further burying his head in your neck and pressing himself up as close as humanly possible. Any distance between you felt like a burn to him.

His orgasm approached, but he knew the telltale signs of your own by memory. You were right there with him.

"Feels so fucking good, gorgeous. She's gripping me so hard, fuck. She's gonna cum for me, hmm? Wanna see you cum, pretty," he panted out.

You wailed when his thumb made its way between you, nudging at you lightly and teasingly enough to have you seeing stars. The movements of his hips never seized, barely able to move with how tight you were but still working you to completion.

When you came, you dragged him down with you, sighing out words that made him lose his mind.

"Cum inside ... Please. Wanna feel it," and just like that, Jungkook lost himself in you, filling you to the brim with no shame.

His hips kept slapping against the back of your thighs, chaffing skin forming due to the friction. But the feeling took the backseat in the midst of bliss.

Jungkook allowed himself to lay his body next to yours afterwards, giving you the role of little spoon as he pulled you as close as possible, with your head lying happily on his bicep.

Multiple pecks landed on your lips, chuckling when you groaned at him pulling out.

"You're crazy," you giggled, kissing his nose and simultaneously melting his heart in the process.

He shrugged, playing it off, "Had to make my girl feel good."

"Oh? Your girl?", you teased.

He engulfed you in his arms, flipping you so you'd lay under him, both arms caging you beneath him, "You're kind of mine now, in case that wasn't clear."

It was voiced as a joke, but he meant it.

"No complaints here," you giggled, kissing him as confirmation.

Pleased, he sat the two of you up, patting your hip in a comforting manner.

"C'mon, baby, go pee. I'll be waiting here with a clean change of sheets, okay?"

And with that, you practically skipped away, giving him a few kisses in that post-coital bliss before losing him to the other side of the bathroom connected to his bedroom.

Before bothering to throw off the sheets, Jungkook looked over his shoulder, making sure you were out of sight. He reached under his mattress, collecting the old phone and tablet through which he'd grown accustomed to surveilling you with, chuckling to himself as he turned them off, giving them a silent goodbye before throwing them into the trash.

He wouldn't be needing them anymore.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, stalker!jungkook, afab reader, jk watches reader masturbate without her knowledge, masturbation (both f and m receiving), oral (f receiving), cumming in pants, etc.

wc: 297 (teaser); 1869 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

Jungkook had planned to stick to his word.

When he swore to himself that he'd give you privacy, trust you and let you exist without his constant supervision, he had truly meant it. However, as it usually happened, he was able to create nonsensical logistics in order to go back on his word.

It's not like he watched over you as he did before meeting you, though! He truly did give you your privacy — well, to some extent.

Any time you left his apartment, landing a sweet kiss on his cheek and informing him you'd be out with some friends, he restrained (despite the tiny dress you'd be wearing, letting him know you'd be garnering far too much attention from onlookers), wanting you to have fun with your friends without his watchful eyes (even if you wouldn't realize he had the ability to track you anyway). But he held back, trusting you to go and head back to your own bed afterwards, sending him a text goodnight with a cute kissy emoji attached.

When you'd be too preoccupied with your phone, rather than checking your texts through his burner phone, he'd nuzzle into your shoulder, happy at your indifference of him eyeing your screen (where he'd usually just find you playing some silly phone game or texting your friends).

However, it was under the dumbest circumstances possible that Jungkook just couldn't help himself in invading your privacy.

And this was any time you spent the night alone in your apartment rather than in his.

Any time you slept away from each other, he just needed to take a peak, to access that hidden camera he just refused to get rid of and get a look at the little show you'd put for him (all without your knowledge).

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 5

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Aftermath - Chapter 4 Master List

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way.

pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader

word count: 4k or something like that?

(Everyone say ‘thank you’ to @lestapiastrisgirl for beta reading and helping me through late night plot crisis so this can come out today!!)

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source It's been months since @/Lando and @/MissLeClerc have been spotted togtether and we're starting to wonder...are they even together anymore?! Lando was spotted out alone in Monaco, looking annoyed at fans calling his name while his (ex???) girlfriend was papped out and about with none other than...Max Verstappen. Again. Rumors about the LeClerc sister and Dutch driver started to swirl right around the time her and Lando stopped being seen out in public...What do we think, chat??? Has little miss leclerc finally ditched the cocky British pilot for a new Dutch beau??? user029 maybe she got tired of having to parent her boyfriend??? user220 if it's true, she's really upgraded. 4 time world champion vs...what??? 4 time race winner. please. user0298 he never supported her art or anything, i'm not surprised she's moved on. max always looks smitten with her.

“Lando, you have got to get this under control.” The head of McLaren’s communications team hisses, her glare shooting daggers at the driver who’s just walked into the the hospitality building ahead of the race in Belgium. 

Lando glances up from his phone, face pale and eyes worried. “How the fuck am I supposed to control what the gossip pages post?” 

Marina throws her hands up in the air as she paces, her McLaren team kit wrinkled from lack of sleep thanks to the British driver. In the four weeks since your argument with Lando after Austria, things have only gotten worse. You’re still not talking to him and he still hasn’t figured out where the hell you’re living. You’re not staying with Charles and Alexandra or Jade, he’s been subtly watching both buildings. He knows you’re still in Monaco because you’ve been papped out with your family and friends but most maddeningly Max Verstappen. 

Everyone seems to have noticed you’re not living with Lando anymore, your appearances in his streams have dwindled down to nothing. Fewtrell has had to start banning people form his chat because they won’t stop asking about you and what’s going on. Everyone knows that something went down but you’re straight up refusing to behave like an adult and come back to Lando, where you belong and it’s infuriating. 

“You can’t, obviously.” Marina sighs, sitting down at one of the high top tables in the middle of the suite. 

Around her, the Thursday afternoon crew of engineers and communications people buzz, all prepping for their weekends. Everyone seems to be acting normal but Lando can feel their glares on his back as he walks through the building. They all know he’s causing the entire team grief by causing so much drama with you, taking the attention away from the decent start to the year they’d had before all hell had broken loose a few months ago. 

“But,” She continues, leveling a glare at Lando. “You either need to bite the bullet and release a joint statement with her announcing your breakup or you need to get her to the track this weekend and make a big show of a united front. It’s up to you Lando, but you need to do something. I can’t keep saying ‘no comment’ whenever we’re asked about the distraction this is causing the team.” 

Lando pulls at his curls, like hell he’s going to admit that you’d left him. He supposed he could go rogue and release a statement without you. That way he could control the narrative and try to get the fans back on his side if he made something up like a cheating scandal or something. The moment that the thought flutters through his mind, he forces it out. For some fucking reason, the fans seem to have a soft spot for you and it’s maddening. Lando knew there was no way he could get public opinion on his side, not with how he was getting ripped apart on socials right now. 

“We’re not broken up.” He bites out, taking a sip out of his water bottle as he contemplates what he can do. 

Marina glances up from her phone, brow lifted in question. “That’s not what it looks like here.” She turns her phone towards Lando and shows him a photo of you descending the stairs of a private jet that’s just landed in Belgium. In front of you, already down the stairs and waiting on the tarmac for you is your brother with Leo cradled in his arms. 

And behind you? A fiery rage burns bright and hot in Lando’s chest when he sees who’s behind you. 

Fucking Max Verstappen. 

The look you’re giving him makes his heart twist and for the first time since this entire thing began, Lando actually misses you. He misses the way you used to smile up at him like that, like your entire world revolved Lando and no one else. He missed the way your eyes would follow him around a room, how your body would center towards his. The way you looked at Max was how you used to look at him and it made jealousy twist violently deep in Lando’s gut just looking at the photo. 

“I’ll take care of it.” Lando spits before stalking off to the privacy of his drivers room. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source Alexandra, Charles, and his little sister were seen arriving in Belgium this afternoon on Max Verstappen's private jet. It's yet another instance where the LeClerc sister was spotted without boyfriend Lando Norris, sparking new breakup rumors. Neither party has confirmed if they're still together, with McLaren PR insisting that the personal lives of their drivers are off limits. user019 honestly, I'm here for a LeClerc sister & Max relationship. >>>user028 me too. at least Max seems to actually like her, unlike Lando user0029 I mean, we all can see it. Why can't they just confirm it already??? user2333 fully on board the 'get her away from Lando train' ROOTING FOR YOU MAX!!! Get your girl!!! user029 my friend was out at the restaurant they were all at a few weeks ago and said that Lando crashed the dinner but left after a few minutes looking PISSED. >>>user029 honestly, Lando is kind of unhinged rn. get over her my man, move onnnnnnn!

“I can’t believe you got me to agree to come this weekend.” You grumble as you follow Max towards the paddock gates Friday morning before practice. 

“You’ve barely been to any races this year and it’s almost the end of July!” Max shoots over his shoulder, grinning like an idiot he’s so happy you decided to come this weekend. 

“I was at Monaco!” You protest lamely, shoving your elbow into your brother’s ribs when he laughs. 

“You live in Monaco, that doesn’t count Little Dove.” Charles chuckles, rubbing at the sore spot where you’d just assaulted him. 

“Whatever.” You mutter, rolling your eyes. 

After arriving in Belgium last night, you had gone straight to your hotel room, needing a bit of alone time ahead of what you were sure was going to be a stressful weekend. As usual, you’d been papped arriving on Max’s jet, which you were certain Lando had seen because the moment you had checked your messages in the SUV Max had rented for your little group, there had been a text waiting for you from him. 

I know you probably don’t want to see me and I get that. I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart. Can we please get together this weekend and talk? Somewhere neutral if that’s what you want…

As you settled into the hotel room that was yours for the weekend, a war was being fought in your brain. On one hand, you didn’t trust a single thing coming from Lando’s mouth. Not a single thing. He hadn’t given you any reason to trust anything that he said for months, so why should you start now? But on the other hand…

On the other hand, you and Lando had so much history. His message seemed remorseful. You knew everyone in your life would kill you if you even entertained the idea of getting back with him but somewhere deep in your chest a little voice was saying maybe you should hear him out. He was finally leaving you alone, finally backing off, why did he have to pop up right when you thought you had finally gotten him fully out of your system?

You didn’t tell anyone Lando had texted you. Had been texting you all morning as well. You knew no one would understand. But you also hadn’t returned a single text either. The energy that responding to Lando would take was something that you just didn’t have today. 

Your little group is captured by photographers as you walk in, a few even call out your name asking where you’ll be spending your time this weekend. Since dating Lando, you liked to split your time between the McLaren garage and Ferrari but this weekend was going to be different. Your VIP pass had Charles’ face and name on the back, not Lando’s. You had credentials from Ferrari like normal but this morning, Max had also slipped a Red Bull card around your neck, telling you if you got sick of looking at all that red this weekend, you could spend time with him. 

“Are you going to come to the dark side this weekend and use those Red Bull credentials to whip up some gossip?” Max murmurs in your ear, watching as Charles trots off ahead of you after Leo. 

You bump your shoulder with his, rolling your eyes and laughing lightly. “Stop.”

Mischief plays in Max’s pale blue eyes as he smiles down at you, enjoying the way your cheeks flush under his attention. Ever since the race in Austria a few weeks ago, you and the Dutch driver had been spending a lot of time together, all casual but he’d really begun to look forward to the nights you spent curled up on his couch eating takeout and watching bad reality tv with him. 

Before he has a chance to reply though, he sees the color drain from your face as you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk. Whipping his head around, Max searches for what, or more accurately, who has spooked you. He already knows who he’s looking for so when his eyes settle on the McLaren driver standing just outside the sliding glass doors of the McLaren hospitality building across the paddock, his stomach lurches. 

You had known you’d see Lando this weekend. How could you not? This was literally his workplace too. There was no way to avoid him, you knew that but you hadn’t expected to see him so quickly and before you had managed to work out how to respond to his text from the night before. 

Your brother is between where you stand and McLaren’s hospitality so he clocks Lando staring after you at about the same time as you and Max. Turning on his heel, he scoops up Leo and makes a bee line back to where you stand, utterly frozen. 

“Dovie.” Max coos in your ear, twining his fingers with yours in an attempt to pull you out of the state you’re in. “Hey, sweet girl, look at me.” 

You ignore him, gaze locked on Lando’s frozen frame. 

Charles steps in between you and Lando, instantly cutting off your line of sight. This seems to yank you back to reality and your brother snaps into action. “Shit. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. I don’t want her alone.” Your brother sounds panicked, like the way you’re just staring blankly ahead is really freaking him out. 

So, he improvises. “Here, take Leo and go take a walk. There’s tons of open space on the other side of the paddock.” Charles presses the small dog into your hands and you drop your gaze away from Lando for the first time in several moments. 

Your gaze drops to where your hand is still clutched in Max’s larger one. The steady warmth from his presence grounds you, allowing you to pull in a full breath for the first time in several minutes. 

“No, she’s not going off on her own.” Max cuts in, tone sharp. “I’ve got some time before I need to be in the car. Come stay in Red Bull with me until practice, then you can watch from my garage, okay?” 

The force of his words leave little wiggle room for argument and Charles can’t help but smirk a little. He should have known Max would step right up to make sure you were taken care of. 

“Yeah.” You agree weakly, finally tearing your gaze away from Lando, who is still starting at you, light eyes sharp and observant. You can feel the way his gaze drops to where Max’s hand is curled around yours possessively. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

Without waiting for Lando to get any more ideas like wanting to try to come talk to you, Max tugs on your hand. He knows you well enough by now to know that you need a distraction and you need it fast. “Come on, you said you wanted to stir up some gossip this weekend, well here’s your chance.” 

You laugh despite yourself, nuzzling your face into Leo’s soft fur. “I’m keeping the dog.” You tell your brother as you allow yourself to be led away by Max. All Charles does is nod, relieved to know that you’re in good hands while he’s busy. 

missleclerc posted

24,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and others missleclerc in my defense, I was kidnapped ☝🏻 maxverstappen1 whatever, you wanted to be there. >>>missleclerc lies. It was a hostage situation. >>>maxverstappen1 is that what the kids are calling it these days? >>>user299 chat, are they flirting in the comments??? WE CAN SEE YOU TWO charlesleclerc can't believe you subjected your nephew to this. please make sure you take a shower before dinner tonight. >>>missleclerc rude. user0209 ya know, I'm kinda here for this ship. >>>user987 did you see how utterly distracted Max was during the one interview where she walked past him? couldn't take his eyes off her >>>user0209 lando's gonna be crashing out after seeing that interview tonight >>>user3443 GOOD. bro deserves it

“I think you may need to roll me up to my room after that dinner.” You groan, rubbing at the food baby making your black leather skirt pinch painfully at your hips. 

After qualifying Saturday evening, when the boys were all finished with their media and team duties, Max had insisted that you, your brother, Alexandra and himself all go out to dinner. He’d wanted to insist it just be the two of you but he wasn’t blind to the gossip you two had stirred up in the paddock Friday afternoon so he’d figured bringing your brother and his girlfriend along would be a bit safer. 

“I think I ate my weight in spaghetti.” Alexandra groans beside you as you plod towards the front doors of the hotel. “Carry me up to the room please, Cha?” She coos, throwing her arms around your brother’s neck as if she can’t go on one step more.

 Charles laughs, snaking his arms around her waist and pulls her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead, a gesture so tender and intimate you have to turn away. Your gaze immediately connects with Max who is standing a few paces behind your brother and his girlfriend. A small smile tips up at the corner of his full lips when you make eye contact at him and your stomach swoops at the affection for you in his eyes. 

You’re imagining things, you think instantaneously. There’s no way Max sees you as anything other than a friend, after everything that you’ve endured while he’s watched. How could anyone like Max be attracted to someone who had spent an entire year drowning in a failing relationship? It was likely a pity smile, something he gives you because he feels sorry that you haven’t found what your brother has found in Alexandra. 

“There you are…” A smooth British accent interrupts your thoughts, jarring you out of your spiral. “You stopped answering my texts.” Lando says pointedly as he joins your little group in the lobby of the hotel. 

Your eyes shutter closed as you blow out a breath. You had been hoping to avoid this confrontation all together but it was just another nail in the coffin of why Max wouldn’t even want to begin to get involved with you in the first place. Why would he willingly want to be with someone who was still so intertwined with her ex still? You’ve spent so long with Lando, were so intertwined with him it would certainly be easier to just go back to him, wouldn’t it? Maybe he was all you deserved after wasting three years of your life. 

“I was at dinner, Lando. It’s rude to text during a meal.” You carefully control the tone of your voice, not wanting to instigate yet another public altercation with him. 

“Ah, yes. I’m sure the company was riveting.” His eyes flicker over to where Max stands, stiff and unmoving, the smile that he’d just been showering you with totally gone from his face. “So, what do you say, can we finally talk like two adults?” 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Norris.” Charles cuts in, voice sharp and short. 

“I think your sister can answer for herself, LeClerc.” There’s a challenge in Lando’s eyes that you don’t miss and you know you have about five seconds to diffuse the situation before it gets out of hand. Again. 

Placing your hand on Lando’s elbow, you tug him away. “If you promise to chill out and actually listen to me, we can go to the bar and get a drink. One drink, Lando. Can you do that?” 

If you had been looking at Max then, you would have seen the light flicker out of his eyes. He’s grateful that his hands are tucked away in his pockets when he hears your words because the way the ball up into tight fists would be embarrassing had anyone seen it. He wants to say something, anything, that might convince you to not walk away with him. He wants to tell you how he’s feeling, how this afternoon with you in his drivers room and then garage was the best start to a race weekend he’d had in recent memory. He wants to beg you not to go with Lando. 

But he can’t. He can’t because he still hasn’t worked up the courage to tell you how he feels. Max is stuck in this painful sort of limbo where you two spend time together and he craves any bit of attention he can glean from you but it’s not enough for him to risk your fragile state of being right now. He knows you’re still recovering from leaving Lando. Three years is a long time to spend with someone, even if the last year was as painful as Lando had made it for you. He knows you’re not ready for him to tell you how he’s feeling but he’s afraid if he doesn’t, you’ll go running back to Lando. 

While the internal debate about what to do with his feelings rages on inside, Max watches as a cat-like grin spreads slowly across Lando’s face. He’s won. Lando’s won and they both know it. 

“Of course, baby.” 

You bristle at the name but without the energy to fight him, all you do is roll your eyes. Max’s mask of indifference somehow staying in place when he hears the nickname, but it tears him up on the inside. He’s not sure how he manages it. 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Thanks for dinner, Max.” Taking a step towards Max, you fold yourself into him, enjoying the way his arms come around your waist without hesitation. The hug is firm and he holds onto you for several moments longer than necessary. 

 “I can stay down here if you want me to.” He murmurs in your ear, his breath tickling the shell of your ear, sending a cool shiver of pleasure down your spine. 

“I’m a big girl, I can handle him.” 

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” He responds, looking down at you. You’re surprised to see a stark look of concern all over his face, like he’s genuinely worried about you. 

“Max, I’m fine. It’s just one drink.” 

But Max knows Lando. It’s not just going to be one drink. But what other choice does he have? Reluctantly, he releases you and takes a step back, forcing himself out of arms length. You instantly miss the grounding warmth of his body and fight to keep your expression neutral. 

Max watches you walk away, shoulder brushing with Lando’s and has to resist the urge to rub at the painful clenching sensation that wraps itself around his heart. 

“You don’t have to watch her leave.” Charles murmurs, standing off to the side with a worried looking Alexandra. They both share Max’s opinion that this is a bad idea but like Max, what else can they say?

Max scrubs at his face, suddenly so overwhelmingly exhausted that all he wants to do is climb into bed and sleep until the race tomorrow. “What am I supposed to do, Charles?” He throws his hands up in defeat as you disappear around the corner just as Lando’s arm slips around your waist. “I don’t have a single claim on her, she’s not mine to miss.” 

His stomach twists painfully at the thought of having to go back to his hotel room knowing you’re touching him. 

“She won’t go back to him.” Charles says with more confidence than Max can muster up himself. “She’s been doing so well lately and we all see it’s partially because of you, mate.”

“Don’t give up on her, Max. Not yet.” Alexandra offers quietly, stepping closer to Charles before reaching out and placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “She’s stronger than we all think but she’s going to need your patience right now. It’ll be okay.” 

The way it physically hurt watching you walk away had alarm bells ringing in Max’s head. He hadn’t realized just how attached to you he’d become in the time since you’d left Lando and it terrified him. If you went back to Lando tonight, he had this gut feeling he’d lose you forever and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to endure that. 

Max barely sleeps that night, tossing and turning for hours trying to convince himself he hadn’t just watched you walk right out of his life again. He knew he was, once again, getting ahead of himself and that he needed to wait before going into full spiral mode but he couldn’t quite get himself there. 

By the time he’s downstairs in the hotel lobby the next morning, waiting for the car that Red Bull had hired for him, he’s exhausted and on the brink of biting someone’s head off. 

“You doing okay over there, Verstappen? You seem a little…irritated.” 

Max turns and has to stifle a groan. “Why can’t you just leave well enough alone, Lando?” 

Lando has the nerve to look confused, brows furrowing as he tilts his head to the side. “I have no idea what you’re on about, mate.” 

It takes every ounce of control Max has honed over the years not to punch the British driver square in the face. “Why are you so fixated on her now that she’s finally trying to get away from you?” 

Lando smirks, quick and ugly, before he shakes his head. “See, now that’s where you’re wrong Max.” He reaches over and pats at Max’s shoulder patronizingly. “I don’t think she really wants to get away form me anymore. Not after last night.” 

It feels like the breath has been sucked out of Max’s lungs at Lando’s words. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He hisses, heat creeping up his neck. 

“You’re a smart man, Max. Use that big brain of yours. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Lando grins like the Cheshire Cat as he shrugs. “Oh look, my ride’s here. Good luck out there today, Verstappen.” 

Without waiting for a response because he knows full well he’s caught Max completely off guard, Lando saunters off, hands deep in his pockets, without a second look back at the Dutch driver. 

Tag list: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164

[peachesofteal]

Nori is such a menace she would deadass call Simon dad on purpose

Nori isn’t in bed when you wake up, and that’s a problem. 

You’ve been lucky, you guess, that Simon has been letting her sleep in your room. He even lets you lock it at night… if you’re “good”.

Small victories, or whatever. 

He’s figured out how to keep you here. How to threaten you effectively, complaints to child services, getting you fired from your job, getting you evicted, dumping your car in a river- 

Faking your death, and Nori’s. Letting you run only to bring you back again and again. 

“But I’d never hurt you, love. You or Nori, promise. Jus’ gotta trust me.” 

You’re biding your time. Waiting for the right moment, the opportune time to strike. He’s already told you he’ll have to leave for work, that he won’t be here for weeks or even months at a time, but he knows you’ll stay put. 

You’re not sure how he’s so confident, but you’re sure it’ll be his downfall. 

The saving grace in it all is that Simon doesn’t hurt Nori, or you. He’s not gentle with you so much, but with Nori, it’s different. It’s like watching a giant hold a delicate daisy in their massive hand, trying desperately not to crush it. 

It’s kind of… no. 

It’s kind of nothing. 

You rush out of the bedroom to find her sitting on the kitchen counter, little legs swinging and giggling, low cadence of Simon’s voice humming from the fridge to where she hovers over a big mixing bowl. 

“Mommy!” She smiles, arms up for a hug, but you stay on the outskirts, staring at the two of them. It’s bizarre how they look together. Nori is big for her age, was big when she was born, still in the ninety percentile, and next to him… she practically looks like she’s his. “Daddy said I could have pancakes.” Your mouth drop opens, so wide you know you’re catching flies. Simon only smirks. 

“Eleanor… baby, Simon isn’t… he’s not your dad.” Her little brow furrows, matching the pout in her bottom lip.

“But he said.” 

“He’s not your dad!” You snap, and the silence after is deafening. It lasts only a second before she bursts into tears, and Simon scowls at you. 

“Right, that’s enough.” He pulls her from the counter, holding her shoulders until she’s steady on her feet. “Go to your room and play, alright? Mum and I need to have a quick chat.” She looks from him, to you, nervously, reaching her hand out for yours. You squeeze it. 

“It’s okay, go ahead.” She nods, and waddles off, leaving you alone. With him. 

It’s quick this time. Face in the pillow, bent over his knees. He doesn’t pull your leggings down either, just wails on your ass, grunts every time he makes contact, squeezing and cooing as you sniffle. 

“If you’d listen, we wouldn’t have to do this honey.” 

“I’m not listening to you! You… you kidnapped us!” You’re trying to keep quiet for Nori’s sake, but it’s hard. Everything is hard. It’s unfair. He sighs.

“You’re in your own home, honey. How have I kidnapped you?” 

“Not kidnapped.” He hauls you upward, holding the back of your neck, wiping at your wet cheeks. “You’re holding us hostage. Just… leave! Let us go. Please.” It’s been weeks of this, and you won’t give up. The pleading. The begging. The tears don’t stop, and he pulls you into his chest. 

“I know, it’s hard isn’t it? I know.” He rubs your back, lips on your temple. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.” 

“Stop,” you croak, shaking your head. The comforting, the coddling, the affection makes it all worse. The way he kisses you, holds you. How he pulls you down on his cock and fills you up, wrists pinned tight at your back, your tits bouncing as he thrusts. 

You don’t want it. 

You beg him to stop. 

And he only holds you tighter as you come, eyes rolled back in your head, thighs shaking. 

It fills you with shame. Confusion. 

“I’m not going to stop, okay honey? We need to get this out of your system before the next one comes.” He caresses your stomach, and nausea builds in your throat. 

He’s been fucking you without a condom for weeks. Weeks. 

Your last birth control pack ran out six days ago. 

The time is ticking away. A bomb waiting to detonate, and there’s nothing you can do but sit in his lap- 

And cry. 

Later, he offers ice cream. A walk down the street to the parlor in search of Nori’s favorite flavor. A walk where you will pass people who will perceive you as a happy family, when all you want to do is grab one of them and beg for help. 

Nori is so excited for ice cream,  so happy. 

You can’t say no. 

“We’ll find you some strawberry baby girl. That sound good?” The two of you are putting on hats and jackets as he observes, thick fingers zipping your coat to your chin. “Can’t have you catching a chill.” 

“Right.” Nori beams as he does the same, tapping her nose before hoisting her up over his shoulder. 

“Ready?” 

She smiles at you mischievously, arms wrapped around his neck. “Ready, daddy.” 

[aspenmissing]

Hi! First of all, love your work. Second off all, could you write arcane characters with an S/O who has a really big dog? Kangal type of shit?

ᴀ ᴍᴀɴꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 5135 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴ/ᴀ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ, ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ᴛᴏ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ! <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ

JAYCE

It had been a few months since you and Jayce had started seeing each other, and things were going better than you ever could have imagined. The two of you had settled into a natural rhythm, full of easy conversation, playful teasing, and quiet moments that made your heart ache in the best way.

You’d told him plenty about yourself—your work, your hobbies, your dog—but you’d deliberately left out one small, important detail.

The breed.

Jayce, being Jayce, had assumed you had a small or medium-sized dog. Something manageable, perhaps a lively terrier or an affectionate spaniel. Maybe even a lapdog that could curl up in your arms.

You didn’t correct him.

You were waiting for this exact moment.

=

Tonight, for the first time, Jayce was coming over to your apartment for dinner. He’d been over the moon when you invited him, eager to see more of your world outside of stolen hours together in the city or at his place.

"Looking forward to finally meeting your little pup," he said with a grin as he knocked on your door, completely oblivious.

You barely held back a laugh. Oh, he has no idea.

With a smirk tugging at your lips, you unlocked the door and cracked it open. You didn’t even get a word out before chaos erupted.

A massive blur of thick, golden-red fur and sheer muscle burst through the gap like a wrecking ball, launching itself at Jayce with the force of a battering ram. A deep, earth-shaking bark echoed through the hallway as Atlas, your beloved Tibetan Mastiff, tackled your poor, unsuspecting boyfriend straight to the ground.

Jayce barely had time to let out a startled yell before he was slammed onto his back, pinned beneath what could only be described as a small bear in canine form.

"What the—?! Y/N! HELP!" Jayce wheezed as he was absolutely smothered by Atlas’s overwhelming enthusiasm.

You burst into laughter, doubling over at the sight of your massive dog sprawled across Jayce’s broad chest, eagerly licking his face with sloppy, wet kisses.

Atlas, towering and fluffy, easily weighed over 75 kilograms of sheer power and fur. His thick mane—so full it looked almost leonine—puffed out around his enormous head, making him seem even bigger than he already was. His massive paws pressed down on Jayce like he was made of paper, his heavy tail wagging so hard it nearly knocked over a side table.

Jayce, absolutely helpless, flailed beneath him. "Y/N, call him off! He’s—he’s—there’s SO MUCH OF HIM!"

Tears of laughter pricked your eyes. "I told you I had a dog!"

"You didn’t tell me you had a MOUNTAIN!" he shot back, voice muffled as Atlas joyfully slobbered all over him, his deep, pleased rumbles vibrating through his chest.

Atlas was having the best day of his life. His enormous, fluffy tail wagged harder as he panted happily, thoroughly besotted with this new human.

Finally, you took pity on your poor boyfriend. "Alright, Atlas, off."

With a low, reluctant huff, Atlas lifted his head and, after one final suffocating lick to Jayce’s cheek, heaved his massive body off of him.

Jayce sat up, breathless, dazed, and utterly covered in dog slobber.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing again.

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, which now had a considerable amount of drool in it, and turned to you with a look that was equal parts betrayal and astonishment. "THIS is Atlas?" he questioned. "This isn’t a dog, this is a whole lion!"

Atlas, completely unfazed by the accusation, plopped his gigantic rear down beside Jayce and gave him a big, toothy, doggy grin, as if expecting more attention.

Jayce blinked at him, eyes wide, before slowly turning back to you. "This is what you meant when you said you had a dog? You left out the part where he’s the size of a horse!"

You grinned as you crouched down next to Atlas, scratching behind his enormous, fluffy ears. "Would you have come over if I told you?"

Jayce opened his mouth, then shut it, clearly re-evaluating his life choices. "Honestly? Maybe not." He let out a sigh, wiping some of the excess drool off his face with his sleeve. "But now that I’m here, I guess I don’t have a choice."

Atlas let out a pleased huff, his tail sweeping across the floor in happy thumps.

Jayce looked at him warily. "He’s not gonna, like… eat me, is he?"

You snorted. "No, Jayce. He’s just obsessed with people he likes. Consider this his way of welcoming you to the pack."

Jayce glanced at Atlas, who was staring at him adoringly, eyes bright, tongue lolling out in an expression of pure joy. Despite himself, Jayce sighed and hesitantly reached out a hand.

Atlas immediately leaned into his touch, practically melting under the attention, his deep, pleased rumble vibrating through his whole body.

"Yeah, yeah," Jayce muttered, watching in mild horror as Atlas lifted a massive paw and plopped it onto his lap, effectively trapping him. "I guess he's kinda cute… in a 'he could kill me in my sleep' sort of way."

You laughed, leaning over to press a kiss to Jayce’s cheek. "You’ll get used to him."

Jayce gave you a long, dramatic sigh. Then, with an air of complete resignation, he reached out and scratched Atlas under his chin, prompting a deep, rumbling groan of bliss from your oversized beast.

"Yeah," Jayce muttered, shaking his head as Atlas nuzzled into him, tail wagging harder than ever. "I think I already have."

VIKTOR

The morning had not gone as planned. Y/N had meticulously arranged for Brutus, her colossal Irish Wolfhound, to be watched while she worked in the lab, but the sitter had cancelled last minute. With no other choice, she had wrangled all 80 kilos of shaggy, excitable muscle into Piltover’s prestigious Academy, leading him down the corridors as he practically dragged her along, nails clicking loudly against the polished floors. Heads turned, students and professors alike eyeing the enormous beast with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Brutus was a sweetheart, really, but he had no concept of his own size. The second the doors to the lab swung open, the enormous dog’s ears perked up. His dark eyes locked onto Viktor, his long tail beginning to thump against Y/N’s leg with increasing intensity. Before she could react, Brutus let out a deep, delighted woof and tore free from her grasp, galloping forward like a force of nature.

“Brutus, no—!” Y/N yelped, lunging forward too late.

Viktor barely had time to glance up before he was nearly flattened, only managing to brace himself against the desk with his free hand as Brutus barreled into him. His cane wobbled slightly under the sudden shift in weight, and he instinctively tightened his grip on it, trying to maintain his balance. The sheer force of the impact made him stumble slightly, his knuckles whitening as he steadied himself. Tail wagging so hard it rattled the nearby equipment, Brutus let out a high-pitched whine of joy, his massive paws lifting slightly off the ground in an attempt to get even closer.

Y/N was there in an instant, desperately grabbing Brutus by his thick scruff and trying to pull him back. “Brutus, off! You’re going to knock him over—Viktor, are you alright?” Her voice was filled with panic, eyes darting to his leg in worry.

To her surprise, Viktor let out a breathless chuckle, one hand braced on the desk while the other tentatively reached up to scratch behind Brutus’ ears. “Well, this is quite the enthusiastic greeting,” he mused, amusement flickering in his golden eyes. There was a warmth to his tone, an openness that made Y/N pause, her grip on Brutus loosening slightly.

Brutus groaned in bliss at the attention, his enormous body relaxing as he flopped against Viktor’s legs. Y/N’s heart lurched. “Brutus, you’re going to hurt his leg—get off him!” she pleaded, trying to haul the behemoth away, her muscles straining against his sheer size.

Viktor, however, waved a hand dismissively, adjusting his stance slightly so his weight remained evenly distributed. “It is alright, Y/N. He is just happy to see me, yes?” He smirked as Brutus, completely ignoring Y/N’s protests, leaned in and licked his face, leaving a wet smear across his cheek. Viktor wrinkled his nose but still chuckled. “It seems he recognises my scent.”

Y/N groaned, still wrestling with the dog’s thick fur. “Of course he does. You’re all over me, so when I come home, you’re the smell he picks up on most.”

Viktor hummed, clearly enjoying that revelation far too much. “I see, I see.” His smirk deepened, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Then perhaps I should leave even more of my scent, hm?”

Y/N’s face burned, but before she could snap back, Brutus, completely unfazed by the exchange, let out a pleased huff and finally settled at Viktor’s feet, his head resting on Viktor’s lap as though he had just claimed him as his own. Viktor gave Y/N a sly grin, fingers running through the dog’s shaggy fur with slow, thoughtful strokes. “I believe you have lost this battle, Y/N. Brutus has chosen.”

Y/N groaned, dropping her forehead into her palm. “I can’t believe this. Now I have two troublemakers to deal with.”

Viktor laughed, full and rich, as he scratched Brutus behind the ears. “Oh, I assure you, I am much less work than this one.” He tapped Brutus’ nose, earning a happy chuff in response.

Y/N sighed, crossing her arms as she watched the scene before her. Viktor, looking more at ease than she’d seen him in weeks, a small smile playing at his lips as Brutus lay sprawled across his feet like a contented lapdog. It was ridiculous. It was unfair. It was—

Adorable.

She exhaled in defeat, shaking her head. “Fine. But you’re helping me walk him home later.”

Viktor raised a brow, smirking. “With pleasure.”

Y/N eyed him suspiciously. “Even if he decides to bolt and you have to keep up?”

Viktor tapped his cane against the floor with a small grin. “I will manage.”

Brutus let out a happy, rumbling sigh, and Y/N knew in that moment she was never going to win against the combined efforts of these two troublemakers.

JAYVIK

Jayce stood with his arms crossed, glancing at Viktor with a sceptical expression as they stood outside Y/N’s home. "She’s exaggerating, right? A ‘giant beast’? How bad can it be?"

Viktor shifted his weight onto his good leg, gripping his cane as he shot Jayce a knowing look. "You say that now, but I have learned not to underestimate Y/N’s words. If she says it is a ‘beast,’ it probably is."

Jayce scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Pfft. It’s just a dog."

Before Viktor could respond, the front door swung open, and Y/N stood there with a wide grin, leaning casually against the frame. "Finally! Took you two long enough. Come on in, the dogs have been dying to meet you."

Jayce and Viktor exchanged a glance before cautiously stepping inside. The house was warm and welcoming, the scent of something sweet lingering in the air—maybe tea, maybe fresh bread.

But they weren’t focused on that. Their eyes immediately began scanning the room, looking for the so-called ‘giant beast’ Y/N had warned them about.

And then, from around the corner, a tiny dog trotted into view.

A minuscule, scruffy little Yorkshire Terrier with a puffed-out chest and an attitude far too big for its size. Its wiry coat was a mix of tan and grey, ears perked high with excitement as it strutted forward like it owned the place.

Jayce blinked. "That’s it?"

Viktor tilted his head slightly, studying the tiny creature with an unimpressed look. "This is the ‘beast’?"

Y/N, clearly holding back laughter, crouched down and affectionately scratched behind the little dog’s ears. "Yep. That’s Titan."

Jayce let out a bark of laughter, crouching to the dog’s level. "Oh, come on, Y/N! You made it sound like you had some monster in here!"

Titan—despite being barely the size of Jayce’s forearm—stood proudly, his little tail wagging with confidence. He yapped excitedly and immediately tried to wrestle Jayce’s fingers, gnawing at them with all the ferocity of a tiny warrior.

Jayce grinned. "Oh yeah, real terrifying."

Viktor exhaled, leaning slightly on his cane. "I was expecting something… larger."

And then the ground shook.

A heavy thud echoed through the room.

Jayce and Viktor froze.

There was a sound of something massive moving—slow, deliberate steps, heavy paws pressing against the wooden floor. The air suddenly felt different, thick with an undeniable presence.

And then they saw it.

Emerging from the hallway, like some ancient guardian beast, was a dog so massive it practically had its own gravitational field. A Kangal, broad-shouldered and powerful, with a thick, cream-coloured coat and a dark mask over its face. Its sheer size dwarfed everything in the room, towering over the furniture.

It stared down at them with calm but all-knowing eyes—assessing, judging.

Viktor instinctively tightened his grip on his cane. Jayce slowly stood up, his laughter dying in his throat.

"...A-Are you sure that's not Titan?" Jayce asked, voice suddenly a lot quieter.

Y/N smirked, crossing her arms as the enormous Kangal sat down with a heavy huff, the sheer weight of it making the floor creak slightly. "Nope. That is Peanut."

There was a pause.

A long, painful pause.

Viktor pressed a hand over his face. "You switched their names on purpose, didn’t you?"

Y/N grinned, tilting her head innocently. "I have no idea what you mean."

Titan, the tiny Yorkshire Terrier, let out a high-pitched bark, as if personally mocking them.

Peanut—who could probably take down a fully grown man if he wanted to—merely blinked slowly before gently lowering himself onto the floor with a yawn, completely unbothered by the chaos.

Jayce swallowed hard, clearing his throat as he stepped slightly behind Viktor. "So… uh… he’s friendly, right?"

Y/N gave Peanut a few loving pats on his massive head. "Oh, absolutely. Wouldn’t hurt a fly."

To prove her point, Peanut lowered his massive head onto his paws, staring up at them with the softest, kindest eyes imaginable. His tail gave a single slow wag, clearly too relaxed to care about their presence.

Jayce let out a relieved sigh. "Alright, okay. That’s not so—"

His words were cut off as something launched at his leg.

Titan, the real beast of the house, latched onto Jayce’s ankle with all the force of a miniature hellhound, snarling like he was taking down an intruder.

"WHAT THE HELL—GET IT OFF!" Jayce yelped, shaking his leg in a panic as Titan clung on with surprising strength.

Viktor, for once, looked genuinely amused. "Ah, I see now," he mused, watching the tiny terror gnaw on Jayce’s boot. "Peanut is the gentle one. This is the monster."

Y/N doubled over in laughter. "Yeah, yeah, Peanut’s a sweetheart. But Titan?" She smirked. "He’s the real beast of the house."

Jayce finally managed to shake Titan off, the tiny dog landing gracefully on all fours and immediately puffing out his chest as if he had won the battle. He let out a triumphant bark, clearly enjoying Jayce’s suffering.

Peanut, still sprawled on the floor, let out a long, lazy sigh, completely unbothered.

Jayce ran a hand down his face. "I hate this house."

Viktor smirked, giving Peanut a few careful pats on the head before glancing at Jayce. "I, on the other hand, rather like it."

Titan barked again, eyes locked onto Jayce like he was ready for round two.

Jayce narrowed his eyes. "Don’t you dare."

Y/N grinned, wrapping an arm around both of them and pulling them closer. "Oh, relax, big guy. You’ll get used to it."

Titan wagged his tiny tail. Peanut yawned.

And Viktor? He was definitely enjoying this far too much.

VANDER

The first time Y/N waltzed into The Last Drop with a mountain of fur trailing behind her, everyone assumed she’d brought a bear into the bar. The sheer size of the beast alone made Mylo shriek and scramble onto a table, clutching his drink like it was his last lifeline. Claggor, ever the level-headed one, simply blinked in astonishment, while Vi and Powder immediately rushed over to the dog with stars in their eyes.

“Christ love, what the hell is that?” Vander had asked, arms crossed, eyebrow arched as he took in the massive St. Bernard panting happily at her side.

She grinned, scratching behind the dog’s ear. “This? This is Vander.”

Vander blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Meet Vander.”

Silence.

Then Powder gasped. “She named him after you! Oh my gods, she thinks you look like a dog!”

Y/N snickered as the kids erupted into laughter. Vander pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, muttering something about 'not getting paid enough for this,' despite the fact that he didn’t get paid at all.

From that day on, the beast—Vander the dog—became a permanent fixture at The Last Drop. He would amble behind the bar and flop down with a heavy thud, taking up an alarming amount of space. Vi often used him as a pillow, Powder climbed all over him, and even Mylo begrudgingly warmed up to the enormous canine (after realising Vander the dog wasn’t, in fact, out to eat him).

=

Powder, however, took things a step further. She didn’t just climb on Vander—she practically lived on him. If she wasn’t sitting on his back while he walked around, she was draped over him like a particularly lazy cat. Sometimes, she’d ride him through the bar like a horse, giggling as he lumbered along, completely unbothered. She even tried tying little ribbons in his fur at one point, though Vander (the man) put his foot down when he saw the dog parading around with bright pink bows on his ears.

“Powder, get off him,” Vi groaned one evening as Vander the dog ambled past, Powder sitting proudly on his back like she was the queen of The Last Drop.

“But he doesn’t mind!” Powder protested, wrapping her arms around the dog’s thick neck. “Do ya, big guy?”

Vander the dog huffed in amusement, his tail wagging slightly.

Human Vander shot Y/N a look. “You’re letting this happen?”

She shrugged. “He likes it. Besides, it's free entertainment.”

=

The only problem? Every time Y/N called for her dog, chaos ensued.

“Vander! Come here, boy!”

Two heads turned. The dog’s and the man’s.

Y/N bit back a grin as she watched them both react simultaneously. The dog perked up, tongue lolling, and trotted towards her eagerly. The man, on the other hand, groaned and shot her a look. “Really?”

She shrugged, completely unapologetic. “What? You do kinda look alike.”

More than once, it led to absolute confusion. Like when Powder excitedly shouted, “Vander, wanna treat?” and both Vanders turned to her with equal enthusiasm. Or when Y/N would scold, “Vander, get your ass off the floor!” and human Vander grumbled, “I AM standing up,” while the dog remained unbothered, snoring at her feet.

The worst, however, was when Y/N, exhausted from a long day, absentmindedly muttered, “Good boy,” while patting the dog’s head—only to look up and see human Vander standing there with an unreadable expression.

“Uh—”

“Y’know what? Not even gonna ask,” Vander said, shaking his head before grabbing a pint. “I need a drink.”

Despite all the mix-ups, Vander the man and Vander the dog had an unspoken understanding. The dog was his unofficial replacement whenever he was busy, acting as a very fluffy bouncer when needed. And in return, Vander (the man) made sure the dog had the best scraps from the bar. More than once, Y/N had caught him sneaking the beast a particularly large cut of meat, muttering, "Don’t tell anyone, big guy."

As much as Vander (the man) would complain, Y/N knew he secretly loved the giant fluffball. Because, at the end of the day, she often caught him sneaking the dog extra treats or murmuring, “Good boy,” when he thought no one was looking.

And if Vander (the man) would grumble when the dog responded faster to his name than he did, well… that was just a bonus.

SILCO

"You what?" Silco's voice was flat, but there was a hint of trepidation beneath it.

"I need you to watch Goliath for a few hours." Y/N stood in front of his desk, arms crossed in a way that left little room for argument.

Silco pinched the bridge of his nose. "And why, exactly, am I—crime lord of Zaun, mastermind of an entire revolution—reduced to a dog sitter?"

"Because you're the only one I trust with him."

Silco narrowed his eyes. "I highly doubt that."

"Also because Sevika said, and I quote, ‘I’d rather risk being blew up my Jinx than deal with that overgrown mutt again.’"

Silco turned his gaze to Sevika, who merely took a swig of her drink and grumbled, "Thing nearly sat on my lungs last time. Couldn’t breathe for five minutes."

Silco sighed, waving a dismissive hand. "Fine. But if he eats anything valuable, you’re replacing it."

Y/N beamed. "You’re the best!" With that, she whistled, and a low rumbling growl preceded the appearance of Goliath—a Bernese Mountain Dog of utterly ridiculous proportions.

Thick, glossy black fur with rust and white patches made him look even larger as he lumbered into the room. His huge paws clicked against the floor, and his golden-brown eyes gleamed with excitement as he made a beeline for Silco.

The crime lord tensed. "That is not a dog. That is a bear."

Goliath panted happily, his fluffy tail wagging as he sniffed at Silco’s coat before promptly leaning against him.

"Good luck!" Y/N called over her shoulder as she made a swift exit, leaving Silco alone with the beast.

=

Two Hours Later

Silco was mid-conversation with Sevika, poring over a map of Zaun when he felt it.

A weight. A considerable weight.

At first, it was just a slight pressure against his legs, then a shift of movement. Then—

He glanced down.

Goliath—all 55 kilograms of him—was slowly crawling into his lap.

Silco's lips parted in silent disbelief. "…Is he—?"

Sevika’s eyebrow twitched. "Uh, boss?"

Silco remained utterly still as the massive dog wiggled his way into position, draping his front paws over Silco’s legs, his broad head resting against the crime lord’s chest.

The sheer force of the dog’s weight nearly tipped Silco’s chair back. A very real fear of toppling over and dying beneath a mountain of fur hit him.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.

Sevika, to her credit, was trying very hard not to laugh, but her shoulders were shaking.

Silco glared at her. "Say a word, and you lose another limb."

"Not sayin’ a word," she muttered, her smirk betraying her amusement.

With painstaking slowness, Silco tried to shift the dog’s weight, only for Goliath to release a deep, satisfied sigh and settle in even more.

Sevika let out a sharp snort. "Boss, I think he’s claiming you."

"He is smothering me," Silco deadpanned.

"Same thing."

"Am I the mountain in this scenario?" Silco muttered to himself, exasperated. "Because he is certainly climbing me like one."

Goliath let out a deep huff and burrowed his face into Silco’s coat, completely oblivious to the crime lord’s suffering.

Sevika completely lost it. She threw her head back, laughing in a way Silco rarely heard. "He likes you, boss!"

Silco leaned around the massive dog to fix her with a flat stare. "That is not reassuring."

At that exact moment, the door swung open, and Y/N stepped inside, taking in the sight before her—

Silco, half-buried under Goliath, looking utterly done. Sevika, doubled over in laughter.

Y/N grinned. "Aww, he chose you!"

Silco slowly turned his exhausted, soul-deep stare on her. "Take. Your. Dog."

Y/N only snorted, reaching out to scratch behind Goliath’s ears. "You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?"

Goliath thumped his tail, utterly unbothered.

Sevika grinned. "So, boss, what’s next? You taking him on walks? Maybe getting him a matching coat?"

Silco let out a long, suffering sigh. "I’m never forgiving you for this, Y/N."

Y/N, still grinning, scooped Goliath off him—though it took considerable effort. "I knew you'd be fine."

Silco muttered something about putting a bounty on his own head, while Sevika wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling.

=

The Next Morning

Y/N knocked on Silco’s office door, a bright smile on her face. "Hey, Silco, I need another favour—"

The door creaked open just a fraction.

Silco’s mismatched eyes met hers through the gap, dark circles underlining his exhaustion.

His voice was flat. "No."

The door shut.

Y/N blinked. Then she looked down at Goliath, who panted happily beside her.

"You really did a number on him, huh?"

Goliath wagged his tail, looking far too pleased with himself.

JINX/POWDER

/N sat on the worn leather couch, the rhythmic motion of her sewing machine filling the room with a steady hum as she worked on patching up one of Jinx's pants. The soft flicker of the lamp above cast a warm glow across the space, contrasting the chilly air that had settled into the small room. But it wasn’t the lamp's glow that kept her attention. It was the large, powerful figure of Thor, the Alaskan Malamute, who lay sprawled out beside her. His thick, snowy fur was tousled in places from the day’s adventures, and his calm, steady gaze rested on her as she worked. Thor’s size was impossible to ignore, yet his presence was so gentle, so comforting. He had become a quiet anchor in her life, always nearby when she needed him most, just as he had always been for the kids.

The sound of scuffling boots approached the door, followed by a voice that immediately lifted the atmosphere in the room.

“Y/N! Is Thor in there?” Jinx’s voice rang out, full of energy and excitement. Her high-pitched, almost sing-song tone was unmistakable. A wild grin appeared in the doorway as she bounced in, a whirlwind of unpredictable energy. Her wide blue eyes locked onto the massive dog, and without missing a beat, she practically flew towards him.

“Thor!” Jinx squealed, her voice full of pure joy.

Thor, ever the gentle giant, stood from his resting place with slow grace, his massive paws thudding softly on the floor. His wide, expressive eyes softened as they found Jinx. She didn’t even wait for him to fully stand before she threw herself at him. The moment her arms wrapped around his thick neck, Thor’s tail began to wag, creating a low thrum in the room as it hit the floor.

“Who’s my good boy, huh?” Jinx cooed, her face practically buried in his fur. She pressed her cheek against his massive, soft coat, laughing as she felt the warmth of his body radiate against hers. The Malamute’s thick, plush fur seemed to absorb all of her chaos and return it with unwavering affection.

Y/N smiled softly as she watched them. It always amazed her how easily Jinx, with her unpredictable and fiery personality, had found such a calm, soothing companion in Thor. There was a bond between them, one that was built on trust and the kind of wild, unconditional love that only an animal like Thor could offer.

“You two are inseparable, aren’t you?” Y/N mused, pausing her work for a moment, her hands resting on the worn fabric of the jacket. She looked over at the pair, her lips curving into a fond smile as Jinx continued to giggle, curling herself up against Thor’s enormous frame. The dog’s thick tail thumped the ground in approval, his dark eyes soft and relaxed.

“Yeah! He’s like... my giant fuzzy teddy bear!” Jinx exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement. Thor seemed content to just let her cling to him, his massive body completely still as he absorbed the affection.

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle. The dog was built like a powerhouse—strong, robust, and as imposing as any beast could be. Yet, he was as patient and tender as a pup when it came to Jinx. There was something about him that grounded her. Perhaps it was his quiet, steady presence, or maybe it was his ability to see past the chaos of her nature and simply offer her a moment of peace.

After a few moments, Jinx’s face lit up again.

“Hey, Y/N, can I take him out for a walk? Please?” she asked, her eyes wide and filled with innocent pleading. “I promise I won’t make him run too fast. He deserves a little freedom, right?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “You know how strong he is, Jinx,” she warned gently, knowing well how hard it could be for anyone to keep up with Thor when he was on a roll. “Don’t let him drag you around, alright? And don’t go anywhere too dangerous.”

Jinx pouted playfully, giving Y/N her most exaggerated, pleading expression. “I’ll be fine! Thor and I are practically invincible together!” she declared, already bounding towards the door, grabbing his leash.

Thor’s large, dark eyes shifted from Jinx to Y/N before he bounded towards the door, his powerful frame moving with an energy that surprised anyone who didn’t know him well. Jinx was already tugging at the leash, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Alright, alright,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile as she watched them head out. “Just... don’t let him get too carried away.” She stood up and followed them to the door, a look of playful concern crossing her face.

As Jinx led Thor out into the crisp air, Y/N couldn’t help but smile, watching them disappear into the street. It was moments like these—quiet moments of calm after chaos—that reminded her how much Jinx had grown and how she had come to find her own sense of peace, even if it was in the form of a giant, affectionate dog. Thor was her companion, her protector, her furry confidante—and Y/N knew that, with him by her side, Jinx had a little piece of comfort, just like everyone else who had come to love the big dog.

Y/N returned to the couch, picking up her sewing once more, the gentle sound of the machine filling the room again. Despite the temporary stillness in the house, she knew that in their own way, they were all home.

[elysianightsss]

AAAHHHHH! HI! So sorry to bother you, but I read the neurodivergent reader x 141 and AHHHHH I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING, DROOLING, CHEWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE they wont let me out

i have a little idea… how would poly 141 react when they find out your job isnt this cute barista or something along those lines, but just a regular stocking associate or a cashier for some huge corporation. like, they know you work. and every time you leave, they see you die a little on the inside from having to go to *insert shitty job*. They just didnt know that you were working there and now they are trying whatever they can to convince you to quote your job and stay home… i know i would rather stay home and take care of them than going to my job…

Oh anon I love your brain! As someone who used to be a cashier before I got my fucking wonderful, literally no joke amazing office job, I fuck with this. I’m writing them as roommates tho don’t know why just deal with it😘

It starts off with a debate over what time you get up in the mornings given how tired you seemed today. But then they realise, they don’t even know what you do for work. Johnny predicts that you’re one of those cute baristas in sweet little aprons with how good the flavoured coffees you make him in the morning when he’s back from his run, are.

Kyle can’t seem to fathom you’re not the office sweetheart he seems to picture you as. Though you’d been living with them for almost over a year now, the guys were gone before you left for work and back long after you arrived home. Still he had it in his head the whole time that you were putting on tight pencil skirts and heels in the morning before going off to work. Something he argues tooth and nail with Johnny about.

John scoffs hearing the guys argue, usually keeping out of it, but this time he can’t help himself when he interjects with, “Yer both chattin shit. She’s obviously a baker with those mouth watering pastries she makes us.” Now that opens up the argument further.

Simon is the only one who doesn’t speculate, instead he walks right up to you on a Sunday night as the guys are all readying themselves for bed and you’re making your lunch for tomorrow. “Luv.” He calls, you glance at him, eyes honing in on the way his grey sweatpants hang low on his hips. Dangerous, dangerous man.

Looking back to the fruit you were slicing, you hum in acknowledgment, “Wot’s ya job?”

You bite back the grin that fights to split your face in two, turning to him you see he visibly softens at your little smile, “I’m a cashier.” You answer, ears tinging red a little. In all honesty you were embarrassed that you worked for one of those big corporations. The dreams you had once but were never able to reach are like a damp on your heart. Like a festering mould that only grows in the worst conditions.

Sometimes you enjoy the people, there are some nice ones that overcome the bad interactions. But everyday you pull on the trousers and trainers, and that itchy uniform top, you wish that a snowstorm would lock you inside the house. You pray to receive a call telling you not to come in due to a fire that started in the bakery. Your heart aches to be told you’re allowed to go home early even if you won’t be paid as much at the end of the month.

Simon hadn’t said much after you told him, his eyes darkened a little when he asked if you enjoyed it and you had answered swiftly and without hesitation; no.

Then suddenly, the guys are leaving for work a little later in the morning. The same time as you. John offering you a lift to work, Johnny making you coffee instead of the other way around, Kyle giving you one of his soft jackets so at least your arms will be comfortable even if your torso is covered in that itchy material.

Simon is the one who places his hand on your forehead and tuts beneath his black surgical mask. You scoff when Simon says he doesn’t think you should go in today, “I feel fine.” You counter with a frown, pushing his big paw away and shoving your feet into the uncomfortable trainers.

John stares down at them like they’ve offended him personally, “You own comfier shoes lass.” Johnny comments and Kyle nods in agreement.

“I have to wear them.” You say quietly wondering why they suddenly have such an interest in your work attire. Have to. Well, that just wasn’t acceptable. The guys didn’t think you should have to do anything.

The weekends were a little weird too. You would usually cook them meals and sweet pastries or cakes with how hard they worked, they deserved nothing less. But Johnny is ushering you away from the kitchen when you walk past the dining table and the marble counter island to make him a coffee.

John says no thank you in the most strained way you’ve ever heard it when you offer to make him a sweet treat. He deflates even further into the sofa when you look offended at his decline. Kyle pulls you close to him on the other side of the couch, putting an arm around you, he continues reading his book but it’s out loud this time.

You sigh snuggling close to him, head on his shoulder when Simon brings over one of the many plushies you’d left on the floor of the lounge, again, and one of the many soft blankets you’d unnecessarily bought for the house. Maybe you could get used to this, you thought as your eyes started to blink slower. It had been a really long week, with lots of assholes. A week of sitting in that uncomfortable chair had done a number on your back too.

You’re just lucky that you’d said from the very beginning that you won’t work weekends, at least you could have those to yourself. The guys became even more attentive, not that they weren’t before, but it increased tenfold. And you wondered why.

Why Kyle is packing you a lunch box everyday now. Why Johnny is cuddling up to you at night just so you sleep warmer, better. Why John is willing to race away from very important paperwork to sit outside the big supermarket you worked at just so you didn’t have to take the bus home. Why Simon keeps buying you lush smelling soaps, bath salts and those sparkly bathbombs he knows you love, you have so many now you don’t know what to do with them. Even when you ask him to stop, he shakes his head and grunts out, “Baths are good for sore muscles.” And that’s all you get.

You just want to know why, what brought all of this on. And most of all why it all suddenly stops.

Almost like a calculated mission, like a big discussion had happened before hand. All of it stopped. They had left long before you got up for work, no lunch ready to go, no soft jacket waiting by the door, no cuddle reading sessions on the weekend, no more new bath stuff, no more lifts and an expectant look in John’s eyes when it gets to dinner time.

They’d done a total three sixty. Like they wanted to show you how good it could be with their help, how much easier life could be, going to work could be, only just to take it all away.

That’s exactly what their plan had been, Simon’s idea mostly with little suggestions made by the rest of them. They all executed it thoroughly, now all that’s left for them is to compete the final step.

“Doll I think you should quit your job.” John goes first, you frown excessively. What the hell is he talking about, you think.

“Have you gone mad?” You huff. John knows you’re annoyed with them, hell they all know you’re angry by their actions. But it’s a necessary evil.

“Not yet I don’t think,” John jokes and feels a little lighter when the corner of your lip quirks up slightly, “I am serious.” He says simply, his blue eyes burning into you before he walks away. You think it so odd, strange that he says that out of the blue.

And then Kyle says it too. Coming into your room with the same baby Yoda squishmallow Simon had placed in your lap two weeks ago, and the same blanket. He gestures towards your bed, it’s subtle but you nod. Failing to hide his grin, Kyle gets snuggled up under the blanket with you, your arms wrapped around the plushie.

He’s halfway through the book, hand brushing through your hair scratching at your scalp deliciously when he broaches the subject, “Bun?” You scrunch up your nose, blinking your eyes open to look at him accusingly. The sight makes him chuckle softly, you’re screaming with your eyes, how dare you make me open my eyes and be fully conscious.

He leans forward before he can stop himself and rubs his nose against yours sweetly, something he tells himself later was just to butter you up before talking. It wasn’t.

“I don’t think you should go to work anymore.” He says simply, with ease, his voice calm.

“What?” You blink rapidly waking yourself up fully to actually take in what he just said.

“Just something to think about bunny.” He shrugs and goes back to reading with that damn lulling voice. You don’t stop him, don’t interrupt but your mind is swirling the same way it had the day before when John had said something similar.

Johnny is not so tactful, shovelling his breakfast in his mouth. Half masticated bacon and scrambled eggs rolling around in his wide open trap, when he spits out the words. “Quit yer job lass, no one wants to be stackin shelves and scannin someone else’s shit all day.” He scoffs washing his food down with the caramel flavoured coffee you made him five minutes ago. He’s quick to put the plate in the sink and place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His head bend slightly, eyes level with you, “Think about it pet.” He pats your cheek lightly and earns a much more harsh smack to the back of his head by Kyle on the way out of the house.

And finally Simon…well Simon…um Simon just did what he thought was best, what he thought was necessary, what he thought would get you to comply the quickest…

You pant harshly, fingers gripping onto the light bronde hair painfully hard, yanking with each stripe Simon licked up your cunt. You barely noticed John walking passed your open bedroom door with a smirk, Simon had his face buried so deep in your pussy it was hard to think, hard to conjure up your own name let alone open your eyes and catch Kyle and Johnny pushing your door open a little wider and watching for a moment before Kyle drags Johnny away.

Simon’s broken too many times to fix, crooked nose brushed against your clit wonderfully, tongue fucking into your quivering hole making you buck your hips desperate for the release he’d been denying you for around twenty minutes now.

“Say it.” Simon cooed, encouraging you gently. Shaking your head, teeth biting down on your lip, holding on as tightly to your words as you held onto Simon.

Simon grips your jaw in his big paw, a sharp look comes across his features as though he’s about to scold you when you meet his gaze, thumb rubbing your clit in tight, rough circles to keep the stimulation enough, to keep you there on the edge so he has you right where he wants you.

“Say it and you can cum.” He promises, your eyes widen, stinging harshly with their own promise of tears should you keep this up.

“b-but-“

“No buts. We’ll take of everything sweetheart, oll ya afta to do is write the resignation letter, then stay here as our pretty little housewife.” He kissed your clit before moving his thumb back in its place, circling slower this time. You gasp, a broken sob wrenching itself from your chest as your orgasm starts to slip away with the lack of stimulation.

“Please! Please Si! I-“

“Oll ya afta do is say it. Quit, find yourself a cute hobby, cook and clean for us a little. Oll ya afta do is say yes and I’ll let ya cum luv.” He grins evilly when you whine, blowing on your cunt before licking a hard long stripe from your puckered asshole to your swollen, throbbing clit.

“yes! please yes I’ll quit just pl-“

Simon doesn’t let you finish your plea, devouring your pussy like a man starved. He licks, sucks, and flicks your clit, slipping his thick fingers inside your clenching, empty hole thrusting them in and out doing his best to match the pace he set with his tongue on your clit.

You cum hard, untamed. Back arching uncomfortably, limbs shaking rigorously and Simon slurps up everything you give him. You lay there trying to catch your breath when Simon crawls up your body to hover over you. His eyes meet yours when he grins, “Good girl. Now why don’t we get started on that resignation letter hmm.” It wasn’t a question.

Safe to say you happily quit your job.

[peachsukii]

I’m too lazy to properly write up a little SMAU for this at the moment lol

Thinking about Bakugo and reader working together at his agency as re-connected friends. Your previous agency was closing down, and thankfully, you knew a few people who could pull some strings to keep you employed. What you didn’t expect was to see Bakugo’s name flash on your phone screen, calling you on a random Tuesday to ask you out to lunch. The two of you never lost contact, but after UA days, it became difficult to keep up with each other. No bad blood, just two adult heroes with busy ass lives.

Well, lunch was actually an interview in his office. He didn’t have any intention of letting you walk out without a job — he’s the boss and makes the rules, no matter what the finance department tells him they can and cannot afford. If he could guarantee job security for one of his friends, especially someone in the Class A family, then it was worth his own potential pay cut to keep you afloat.

Cut to a few months later once you’ve settled into a comfortable routine, you’ve found yourself hanging around Bakugo more often than you thought. There were plenty nights spent at your desk to catch up on your hero reports, something you’re notoriously always behind on, and he’d be sitting in his office doing whatever agency owners do. You never asked, it seemed like a boring subject that he dreaded speaking about anyways. Nights like these, he’d strut over to your desk with a cup of tea, telling you to get your ass home before you passed out and drooled all over your paperwork. You always wondered how he knew which tea you liked. Maybe subconsciously you started to like it because he made it for you.

You two never discussed things like relationships, because why would you? Bakugo hated personal conversations like that. You knew better than to pry, as curious as you were. Recently though, you’d gone through a nasty breakup, one that kept you up at night questioning how the hell you got to this point in your life and why you even wasted time with this guy. No matter the damage done to your heart, you still showed up for work, dragging your ass through patrol shifts without a word. Bakugo didn’t need words to figure out something was wrong with you, though. He knew from the bags under your eyes, the fake smiles you’d sport on the job, and the way you sigh when you don’t think anyone can hear you. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, to look past your surface level emotions and dig a little deeper — at least, that’s what he told himself, chalking it up to knowing you for so long.

It bothered the shit out of him that you wouldn't open up on your own, and it pissed him off even more that he wanted you to come to him. No way in hell was he gonna make the first move...until he overheard you crying in the bathroom between patrol calls. Something in Bakugo snapped, simultaneously wanting to hunt down the man who hurt you and scoop you up into his arms, to tell you that the bastard wasn't worth your tears.

When you head back to the office the next night to finish up your pile of reports, there’s a bouquet of fresh flowers sitting on your desk. An immediate panic floods through you, thinking your ex is trying to slither his way back into your good graces. It takes an embarrassing amount of courage to flip over the card stuck in the flowers, afraid of the words on the other side and what kind of mental gymnastics you’re gonna have to tumble through. Imagine your surprise when you find yourself snickering as you read it, a goofy grin tugging at your lips.

‘Dinner tomorrow @ 6. I’ll be sure you forget all about him.’

You don’t even need to ask who they’re from — Bakugo’s leaning against the doorframe of his office with his arms crossed over his chest, a cocky smirk on his face. He nods in your direction. “Wear somethin’ nice and don’t bring your wallet.”

He turns and shuts the door, the smile on your face telling him your answer before you could even vocalize it.

[biteyoubiteme]

brrr

seungmin x fem!reader

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

⊹ ₊ ݁ . ❅ wc: 13.5k ❅ . ݁ ₊ ⊹

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

[m.list]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I'll just meet you here,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, let me get my bike-” 

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

“You don't have to do that-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seungmin-” 

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

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

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

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

“We said no kissing,” 

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

“You should not let me-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I shouldn't have to ask,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[midnight-mourning]

Roses are Red

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 2💘💘

I was feeling, something, when I wrote this, and by that i mean lots of flirting and such ajsldkfjklsjdf

Prompt: Gardeners Sun and Moon preparing a special bunch of roses for their dear Y/N and hiding an engagement ring in a single special rose. Y/N happily saying yes and giving the boys a smooch!

Word Count: 2403

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

You stand by the kitchen door, hand on your hip and brow raised. 

"This again?" You ask the moon-themed bot in front of you, as he leans one elbow on the counter. Awkwardly, mind you, with his height. 

He shrugs, despite very clearly blocking the door to outside. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Sweet."

You cross your arms, nodding to behind him. "Okay, then may I get past you to go outside?"

"Why bother?" He tsks. "Dreadful weather today, wouldn't you rather stay inside?"

You wrinkle your nose. "No. I think it's a lovely morning actually, based on how sunny it is, and the nice breeze coming in through the window. I'd like to read my book on the swing." 

You'd gotten up extra early for exactly this reason. You were hoping if you woke up just a bit sooner, you could sneak out and enjoy the garden as you'd so been hoping to. It was a bit frustrating that you had to put it that way. 'Sneaking out' of your own home. But that's what it had come to at this point. 

Loved them as you did, but your gardeners had been exceedingly... difficult over the course of the last month or so. Despite the spring months finally being upon you, the prime time to truly enjoy the garden and appreciate their hard work, you'd been banned from the space entirely. 

Keep in mind, they were always bashful when it came to their work, and would sometimes not let you see their handiwork in the early days of spring since it wasn't 'complete' until all the flowers bloomed. This was different however, as you hadn't been barred from seeing the castle gardens just mere yards from your residence, nor the plants being tended to in the greenhouse.

No, it was specifically what they were working on in your garden—the walls far too high for you to peek over, unfortunately—where the source of your woes lied. Apparently. They were being incredibly secretive about the whole affair, going so far as to deny outright that you were banned from your own space.

Or in this case, making excuses. 

"Ah, but the weather could change at any time. Surely you'd rather not take the risk and spend your time doing something else?"

You lean back on the kitchen counter. "Like?"

"Reading your book inside, of course." Moon nods, straightening and walking over to you. "Even better, you can read it to me, out on the parlor couch, perhaps. I could hold you, or better yet, you could hold me. I've a terrible crink in my neck that only resting in your lap can resolve I fear. What do you say?"

You tilt your chin up as he now stands in front of you, towering over you even when he sets his hands on the counter on either side of you. Not so subtly blocking you in. 

You hum. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Sun can handle himself for a bit, and really I think I've more than earned a morning's rest." He leans down so your faces are only a few inches apart. "You wouldn't deny your poor Beloved a break, Star. Right?"

You huff, though the temptation to take him up on his offer—and more—was at an all time high. "Beloved is a bit of a stretch at the moment."

"Is it now—" Just as the gap was about to close between you, Moon is gone. He makes a strangled noise of surprise as he's yanked back by a half-gloved yellow hand.

Sun releases him after a moment, cheery as can be. "More than earned a morning's rest, hm? Last I recall you didn't spend six hours potting pansies without a break, did you?"

Moon grumbles, but doesn't retaliate further than that. 

Before you can say anything, Sun turns to you, seeming to know what you were going to say. "The garden is off limits for the time being, Sunbeam. I might suggest the castle grounds for a good location instead. Once we've finished up here this morning I'd be happy to join you. I'll even bring lunch if you'd like." He finally finishes putting on his glove, adjusting his work apron. 

"And just where do I fit into that scenario?" His counterpart asks, searching around for his own outerwear.

Sun's grin widens further, eyes upturned crescents. "Why, you'll be busy trimming the hedges that you've been putting off all week, of course."

"That all sounds lovely, though I do feel bad for Moon." You step closer to the sunny animatronic, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. "But I do have to press you on the reason for why I can't access part of my own home. Which you live in, mind you."

He sadly doesn't buy into your scheme, hand cupping your cheek as his rays click. "You'll find out soon enough. No need to go spoiling the surprise at this time. Go enjoy your morning, Love." He presses a kiss to your forehead and you scoff lightly, despite the heat rising to your cheeks. 

"Fine. But no more putting mud on the windows, while I'm gone. Makes me feel like I'm living in a cave." You hadn't expected them to go to such lengths, though knowing them you weren't surprised either. 

"No promises~"

Later on in the day you do in fact, enjoy a picnic with Sun, Moon nearby as he begrudgingly trims hedges. Though, another week goes by, and you still can't enter the garden. Not to mention, the flirty banter you typically so easily exchange has dropped to practically nothing. 

Your advances are avoided, to the point you can hardly even get a goodnight or good morning kiss. Which, given that you were used to being overwhelmed with affection, being underwhelmed is, incredibly deflating. So, you decide to change your tactic. 

You wait until one of them is alone, in this case Sun, to strike. While he may act very blunt and avoidant with Moon around, alone you think you can get him to slip up and finally tell you what they're up to. 

You find him on a quiet rainy afternoon hard at work in the greenhouse. The rain pitter-patters softly against the glass far above, the space cast in a bit of shadow from the grey sky and plants that are all encompassing throughout. 

He's at a workbench, tending to a group of sickly looking hydrangeas when you find him. He jumps a fraction when your arms wrap around him, head resting on his shoulder as you watch him work. 

"Oh, hello, Starlight. What brings you here in these conditions?" Despite the evenness of his tone you can hear a tinge of anxiety underneath. 

Your hands shift to slide across his arms, causing him to freeze at your touch. "Was curious about you. Wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Well, as you can see, I'm simply just—" He hesitates as you turn to kiss one of his rays. "B-busy. Would hate for these hydrangeas to wither away because of a lack of care."

You chuckle, kissing him again. "I suppose so. What a pity." Just as he turns to face you, you pull back from him, moving to sit on the workbench instead. 

"Something else you need, Sweetpea?" Sun chuckles nervously, you can see the smallest hint of steam arising from him.

You have to smother your smirk to keep your own composure. "Nope, just want to watch you work is all. Don't mind me."

"Ah, of course."

For several minutes there's nothing but muted clinking and such as Sun works, posture stiff as you keep your eyes—and hands—on him. Just simple little touches, traces patterns on his forearms or handing him things every so often. It only spurs you further as you notice your plan is working, the flustered avoidance you'd been experiencing is now just fluster, and you see your chance. 

"You know. There is something else I'm thinking you could help with." You reach out and cup his chin. "If you're willing, that is."

You see his rays flutter just a tad. "That so?" 

"Mhm. It'd be really easy for you to do too. And if you do, I might have something for you in return." You lean in, just hovering your lips above his smile. 

He chuckles, eyes-lidded. "A trade then? I'm certainly not opposed."

"I was hoping you wouldn't be. Now, close your eyes—hey!" You're suddenly plucked off the bench and hauled over a shoulder by blue and white hands. Quickly marched away from a startled and utterly confused Sun, as you see when you glance back. 

Moon sets you down by the door to the greenhouse, displeased grin on his features. "Dirty tricks like that belong in the garden, Moonflower."

"Well, I'm not allowed in the garden, so I had to resort to other locations." You huff, brushing off your clothes. "Was that really necessary?"

He bends to your level, eye to eye and inches apart. "It was."

"You're not on my kiss list now, I hope you know that." 

Moon's hands cup your cheeks, faceplate spinning once. "What a shame then, that you're on mine."

He kisses you once, then steps back. 

"Tomorrow, if the weather clears up, tomorrow you can go in the garden as you choose. I promise." His thumb rubs against your cheek, troubled look in his eyes before he shakes his head. 

You keep your frown, despite the heat on your face, and nod. "Tomorrow, then."

You stomp out of the greenhouse and into the rain in the hopes of making it clear your resolve is temporary. In reality you think it just makes you cold, and wet. 

But, the next morning the sun peeks through the clouds and after a brief and somewhat quiet breakfast, your gardeners finally relent. 

While you're beaming with excitement, they both seem nervous as can be. You're so caught up in all the activities you wish to do that you're only half catching the anxious looks and fidgeted movements they share between each other. 

Sun's hands are clasped in front of him as he speaks. "We're sorry it's taken so long, Love. We had several setbacks—" He sends a glare to Moon, who shrugs. "But, we hope you like it."

"And if you don't, just keep it to yourself." Moon's hand rests on your shoulder with a snicker, though there's still that nervous hint to his tone. 

You scoff at the two of them. "I always love what the two of you create. Regardless of whether it's for me or anyone else." 

With a final sigh, Sun steps out of your way and you all but skip over to and out the door, the warm morning light hitting your skin like an embrace. The garden sparkles from the dew and the day prior's rain. All across—

"Roses?" You ask, in awe at the sheer abundance of them. 

Several varieties and colors cover the expanse of the garden, from the edges to the center. Every flower bed is filled to the brim with them. Yes, there's the typical flowers and bushes they plant as well, sprinkled in here and there. Primarily, however, are the roses. 

You walk through the grass with a sense of curiosity at the scenery around you. It's breathtaking, but not the least bit suffocating. Brimming with life, but not crowded. It was, in a way, perfect. 

Though, you don't understand why they tried so hard to hide this from you. Yes, it was stunning, but the secrecy you just couldn't—

As you turn around again, you see the two of them standing there, together, with a large bouquet in their hands. It consists of bright yellow and deep purple—near black—roses. 

"These are for you, if you hadn't already guessed." Moon's gaze is elsewhere as he holds the flowers out with his counterpart. 

Sun's rays are spinning quickly as you flick your gaze to him, he coughs and also looks away. "We, we hope it's to your taste. We got what we thought would suit you best."

You're too stunned to really think on the words. "Oh, these are, incredible." You say, gently taking the neatly wrapped bouquet from them. "For me, really? You didn't need to—"

Inspecting the flowers closer, you realize that in the center of the cluster, there's something shimmering in the middle of a rose. This one is different from all the others. Its center is yellow, but the outer petals expand out into that deep violet, with speckles of contrast all throughout. Lying in the very center however, is a ring. 

It clicks then for you. 

"This needed to be special, to show how much you mean to us, hence all the preparation." Sun states. 

Moon continues. "An ordinary flower wouldn't do you justice, nor would an ordinary proposal. The garden served as the best place to refine both."

You nod slowly, feeling a little more than just choked up. 

"Is, are you, will you—" Sun stops himself. 

"Would you do these two humble fools the honor of having your hand?" Moon asks. 

"Yes, that."

You nod again, quicker now, face on fire and tears pricking your eyes. "Yes, yes, absolutely yes!"

Before either can react you shift the bouquet so you can grab them both by their shirts, planting a kiss to each of their smiles several times. 

Breathless, you pull back to hug them both. "I would have taken just a simple stroll by the lake, you didn't have to go through all this trouble just for me. But know I appreciate it more than anything. Thank you, I love you. So, so much."

Based on the clicks and whirls that emit from the two of them, and the bits of steam, you think they're as overwhelmed as you in that moment. Sun's lop-sided grin and Moon's half-lidded daze makes you chuckle. 

"Duly noted." Sun states. 

Moon nods. "Don't spend four years seeding, growing, and experimenting with roses next time. Understood."

"Four years?" Your brows shoot up. "But we met just roughly four years ago."

"We know. We started on this about a week in."

At this you shake your head, laughing outright. You give them another kiss, and revel in that moment. 

It's going to be one you cherish for years to come.

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you for the lovely request @amarynthian-chronicles!! I love how you always write the boys with a sense of whismy and charisma so I tried to channel that for this hehe ^^

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful

[onceinablueberrymoon]

i spy | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

scenario: after their “chance” meeting a couple months prior, pregnant!reader befriended gi-hun, and the two began meeting up occasionally for lunch, much to the salesman’s dismay. but now that reader’s gained gi-hun’s trust, it’s the perfect opportunity to gain some intel. setting: a few months after season 1; please read part 1 and part 2 first for added context! word count: 1.7k warnings: pregnant!reader; deception (poor gi-hun); no use of y/n; second person POV notes: i love domestic salesman so much (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) he will remain alive in my heart lol. there’s at least three parts left to this series, culminating in season 2 events. the next one should be coming soon, so stay tuned! this part is a big one, with lots of fluff, as always. please enjoy! borders by @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics-archive!

Sunlight filtered through the curtains of your bedroom. You cracked open your eyes. It was morning. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw your husband, still asleep. His expression was peaceful. ‘Good,’ you thought, ‘he needs it.’ He rarely got a good night’s sleep as he was regularly plagued by nightmares of his traumatic past. 

You sat up slowly, resting one hand on your back and the other on your large stomach. With the baby due in a few short weeks, you tried not to overexert yourself. Not that your husband would let you, anyway.

You picked up your phone from the nightstand and noted the time: 10:00 a.m. It’d been a long time since you slept in this late.

Most of your unread messages were spam, but one text caught your eye.

Message from Seong Gi-hun: Would you like to meet for lunch? I’ll be passing by your area today. 

You’d been rather proud of your connection with Gi-hun. Ever since you first met him at the Incheon Airport subway station, you’ve maintained a casual friendship. While he had never spoken a word about the Games, he often told you stories about his daughter and his friends. You suspected he was quite lonely and isolated, and he had yet to use much of his winnings. Even so, you had somehow become his friendly confidante. 

You put your phone to sleep and closed your eyes, leaning your head back on the bed’s headboard.

Your husband and you had agreed that you would need to start asking Gi-hun for information about the Games soon. Although you knew where Gi-hun was most of the time, you didn’t know what he was planning on doing if he found your husband. He seemed determined to interfere with the Games, but you weren’t sure how he would go about doing that. 

The goal was to learn more from Gi-hun, and you would begin executing your plan today.

You felt a shifting movement from beside you, and you looked down to see your husband cuddling into your side. When he couldn’t put his arm around your large bump, he wrapped it around your thigh. 

“Comfortable?” you chuckled. He nodded sleepily, pressing closer to you. You ran a hand through his fluffy, mussed-up hair. He lifted his head to softly kiss your belly. Your heart swelled – you loved him so much.

“While I would love to stay in bed and cuddle, I have to get ready. Gi-hun offered to meet me for lunch.” You gently unraveled yourself from your husband’s hold. This seemed to have woken him up more.

“I’ll send some guards to keep an eye on you.” He sat up, reaching over to his nightstand to make a call using the landline phone that was reserved for work.

You groaned, “I’ll be fine. Gi-hun wouldn’t dare touch me, not while I’m pregnant. And besides, I have a cover story. I’ll say I saw you playing ddakji with someone on the subway, but keep the details vague. Easy peasy.”

Your husband didn’t look convinced. 

“I’ll tell them not to wear their uniforms. They’ll be undercover.”

You let out a big sigh. You weren’t winning this one.

“Fine. But I’m not bailing them out if they get caught.”

“So I saw something odd the other day…” You said nonchalantly, taking a bite of your sandwich. Gi-hun seemed intrigued as he dug into his own sandwich.

“These two men were playing ddakji in the middle of the subway station.” Gi-hun froze, mid-bite. You continued, “Can you believe it? I thought ddakji was just some kid’s game, not something played by grown men.”

You ignored his bewildered expression. “And to make it even weirder, one man slapped the other after he lost!” Gi-hun looked at you with a thousand-yard stare. You cheered in your mind – you knew you had gotten to him.

“Gi-hun-ssi?” You questioned, blinking your eyes innocently. 

“...What station?” He whispered.

“I’m… I’m not sure. Maybe Yaksu? My mind’s been all over the place late-” 

Gi-hun cut you off. “Was he dressed as a businessman? Did you see where he went afterwards?”

You nodded, “He was in a grey suit. My train came while they were still playing.” You paused. This was the moment of truth. “What’s going on? Do you know him?”

Gi-hun took a deep breath. “You may not believe me, but that salesman… He works for an organization that kills people by forcing them to play children’s games for money.”

You snorted. “Children’s games? Like what, hide and seek?”

His expression hardened. “Exactly. But it isn’t just games. People died. I was there.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “I won.” 

He proceeded to tell you everything. About the pink guards, the types of games he played, the frontman in charge… Nothing you didn’t already know, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“And that man you saw, the salesman… He recruits players by playing ddakji. If you win, he gives you 100,000 won and a card to join the games.”

You did your best to look skeptical. Really, it wasn’t hard since most people would think he was out of his mind by this point. 

But you gave him hope.

“I believe you, Gi-hun-ssi.” You turned to face him. His intense gaze softened. “If I see that man slapping people again, I’ll let you know.” 

Technically, you weren’t lying, since your husband didn’t slap you at home (unless you asked, of course). You had both agreed that slapping people’s faces was strictly a work thing.

Gi-hun’s hand lurched forward to grab yours, but his grip loosened out of fear of hurting you. 

“Promise me,” his voice shook, “promise me that you won’t approach him. Who knows what he’ll do… Especially in your condition.” Both your gazes wandered down to your swollen belly. 

“I would never endanger my baby.” You placed a protective hand over your stomach.

Gi-hun gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I recently called my former loaner and he’s agreed to assemble a team to search for the salesman.” He let his head drop into his hands. “We have to find this man before the next games start.”

“This loaner of yours… How do they plan on finding the salesman?” You asked cautiously.

Gi-hun lifted his head. “They plan on searching the subway stations from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. The salesman will surely be out recruiting people during that period.” He turned to you again. “I didn’t mean to bring you into all of this. If you see that salesman again though,” he looked at you, his eyes pleading, “call me immediately. I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”

Again, you nodded, this time with more conviction.

The rest of your time together was silent for the most part, an uneasiness lingering in the air. All that mattered, though, was that you had fully gained Gi-hun’s trust. But how much longer would you be able to keep it?

Returning home from your lunch appointment, you open the front door to see your husband lounging on the sofa, his feet propped up on the low coffee table. Upon noticing your arrival, he closed the book he was reading and put it aside. 

“I’ve got some key information!” You sang, waving your arm to greet your husband. He smiled, standing up to meet you at the doorway. 

“What did my detective learn today?” He took your hand and led you to sit on the sofa. He helped you put your legs up, then sat near your feet and began massaging them. 

“Lots. For one, Gi-hun calls you ‘the salesman’. Funny, isn’t it? You’re not selling anything, but with your devilishly good looks, I’d buy anything from you.” He chuckled at your comment. 

“He also said that he hired his former loan shark.” You let out a giggle. “His loan shark! The guy that Gi-hun signed his physical rights away to! I couldn’t believe my ears.” You continued, “Anyway, the loan shark and his team will be searching the subway stations for you.” You grimaced. “It’ll interfere with your schedule. They start at 10 a.m. and go until 10 p.m.” 

Your husband let out a heavy sigh and pinched his nose. “So, the entire day.” 

You nodded. “I can find more prospects aboveground. Parks, markets… There must be some in the suburbs too.” 

He seemed lost in thought as he continued rubbing the soles of your feet.

“Another thing… Gi-hun told me to promise I’d call him if I saw you again.” Your husband looked at you and quirked an eyebrow. You took your phone out of your bag on the coffee table. “Since I found you, should I let him know..?” You teased, your phone dangling loosely from your hand. 

“Oh?” Your husband smirked. “If you did,” he moved his hands up your legs to massage your thighs, “What would you say?”

You shuddered when he massaged a particular spot on your thigh. 

“I’d say… ‘Wow, that salesman is incredibly handsome.’” Your husband chuckled. You laughed, “Then, to really rile him up, I might say, ‘Maybe I will play a game with him after all.’” You cocked your head, a mischievous smile on your face. “Or do you think that’d give him a heart attack?”

Your husband laughed. He moved his hands back down to massage your ankles.

The conversation flowed between the two of you for over an hour, when your husband finally tired of massaging your aching body. He escorted you to your bedroom, where you immediately demanded that you resume your cuddling session from earlier that morning.

As you snuggled into him, you sighed. “I’m going to miss this.”

He nodded, one hand drawing circles on your belly. Just then, you both felt the baby kick. Nothing out of the ordinary, but a kick nevertheless.

“Well, maybe I won’t miss that.” 

Your husband’s repetitive circles were making you sleepy. But before you fell asleep, you heard him murmur, “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

As much as you also wanted everything to stay the same, you knew things were about to change. In your career, in your family, in your friendships… The next chapter of your life would soon begin, and boy, were you in for a ride.

[agathasfamiliar]

hi!! I just found your blog, can I request g!p detective!agatha railing reader in a missionary position and has a bulge kink (poking the bear🤭🏃‍♀️)

thank you so much for this request it was very fun to write, i hope you enjoy it!

fuck the police:

detective agnes o'connor x fem!reader

You fucked up and finally got caught for your long-running streak of graffiti artistry. What's worse than being arrested, however? Being interrogated by the one detective in town who causes you to question your all out hatred for the profession.

word count: 6.2k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, agnes is trans/intersex/has a penis, penis in vagina sex, power bottom!reader, service top!agnes (but agnes still needs a little control of course), handcuffs, breeding kink, bulge kink, agnes loves reader's tits, smut

author's note: trans butch agnes, my beloved. also i probably could've done more research into a more realistic set up/i know this isn't how someone being arrested/interrogated would work but it's porn so...hopefully you can look past that

You never thought you’d find yourself here, arrested and waiting to be questioned for your crimes. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming, your graffiti art has steadily risen in popularity over the last few months, ever since one particularly evocative piece got featured on the local news and allegedly inspired a number of protests throughout the city of Westview.

Not that you had anything to do with that.

The police department has issued several requests for information on you, even offering a pretty handsome reward for the proven identity of “Hex”, the name you tag every piece with. A rumor has even reached your ears about a copycat artist getting arrested over in Eastview. Serves them right for using your signature, but it at least has kept the feds off your trail for a bit. 

Admittedly, you’d gotten cocky thinking you could get away with tagging the squad car stationed at the busiest intersection in town. In your defense, it had looked empty. How were you supposed to know the deputy on duty was napping in the back seat? You’d made it halfway through the looping pink pig face you were sprawling across the windshield before he woke up and chased you down four blocks.

If you were wearing your usual running shoes instead of having slipped on an old pair of slides in your rush out of the house, you probably would’ve outrun the middle-aged cop chasing you, another mistake you won’t make again.

  Now, you sit shivering in nothing but a sheer white tank top and sweatpants so spattered in all the vibrant colors of your, now confiscated, cans of spray paint, that you can’t even remember what color the pants originally were. You weren’t an idiot, you had a black hoodie on when you went out to do your work, but the rookie cop that booked you at the station also insisted on taking your sweatshirt for “evidence”.

You’re pretty sure he just wanted to see you suffer in the refrigerator-like temperature they keep the precinct at, clearly only recently having graduated the academy and already taking a shine to abusing his power. Pigs, indeed. 

The interrogation room they brought you to well over 30 minutes ago sits at the very back of the building, a windowless box that somehow looks and smells both musty and sterile. A large one-way mirror covers the wall opposite the door, the only noise in the confined space being the tick-tick-tick of the clock above it that reads just past midnight.

You rattle the short chain connecting your handcuffed wrists to a bar on the heavy metal table in front of you, just to disrupt the suffocating silence. Have you seriously been forgotten here?

Just as you have that thought, as if summoning another person into existence with it, the door, opposite the corner where you sit, opens briskly. 

Twin sighs of irritation drop from both your mouth and the supposed detective’s as she enters. You can’t make out too many details of her appearance at first because of the dim lighting that mostly just illuminates the table you sit at, as well as the fact that she has her head down looking over what you assume is your intake forms. 

“I want a lawyer.” Are the first words out of your mouth once the woman has turned to shut the door behind her.

“Ha!” She laughs dryly and it has you simmering with rage already, but something about it also sounds familiar.

 “Well, sweetie,” The still concealed detective continues as she finally steps into the light, “not likely to find a public defender that’s available at this hour, but if you insist on staying overnight…” She trails off amusedly, finally stepping into the light and causing your prepared reply to die in your throat as you connect the recognition of the voice with the blue eyes that meet yours.

“Detective O’Connor.” You greet, trying to keep your tone even. 

Fuck.

Of fucking course, of all the detectives in the goddamn city, this is who had to come question you. The same detective you’ve served coffee to every morning for the better part of three years at your shitty cafe day job. The same detective who barely acknowledges your existence, but when her fingers brush yours as you pass her usual over the counter, you think about it for the rest of the day. The detective you berate yourself for fantasizing about, because she’s everything you despise and your friends would never let you hear the end of it if they found out, especially with how often you’re spouting your “radical” political beliefs (not that you see them that way.)

Detective Agnes fucking O’Connor…

This is not how you imagined it would look if you ever got her in a room alone.

“Huh? Do I know you?” She questions, almost offended, and now you’re the one to let out a dry laugh.

“Here, let me help jog your memory.” You say, picking up the small, paper cup of water that had been left on the table for you in one bound hand, holding it aloft and reciting her order.

 “One large hot coffee with two sugars and half a pump of vanilla.”

She looks unaffected at your display, only raising both eyebrows once in sudden recognition before sauntering over to the chair on the other side of the table and sitting down casually. 

“Impressive, that how you’ve avoided custody so long? Charming Westview’s finest by memorizing their coffee orders?” Her questions are laced with condescension.

“Nope, just yours. Why? Is it working?” You smirk despite your better judgment. You hadn’t planned to try the flirting route to get out your charges, but hey, the best schemes have an element of truth to them. Plus, if this is the only chase you’ll have to speak to the detective alone, you might as well make the most of it. 

She doesn’t answer, instead leaning back in the rickety metal chair that lets out a squeal at the motion. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail that’s tied low at the base of her skull. Blue flannel sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and it’s all you can do not to think about tracing your tongue over the veins that snake over her strong forearms.

The jeans she’s wearing strain with the way she sits, legs spread apart, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from letting out a gasp when you notice how it puts the delicious outline of what’s beneath the denim on display. Fuck, you do not need to be thinking about straddling the woman where she sits and grinding down against her bulge right now, but you are anyway.

Mercifully, she leans forward again in the seat to ask another question and the view is gone. You need to focus if you’re going to get out of this without incriminating yourself.

“What were you doing tonight?” She asks flatly, getting down to business. You know better than to provide anything resembling an answer, true or false.

“This whole thing seems pretty excessive, all things considered. I mean, an interrogation? Really, Agnes?” Her first name slips out before you can catch it, but you don’t really care.

“Just answer the question. And it’s Detective.” The flare of anger in her eyes only spurs you on.

“Sorry, Detective Agnes,” you correct yourself, purposefully using her name this time, just to see that flash of heat again. 

“If you were so curious about where I was tonight you could’ve just asked me out.” Now that you’ve opened the floodgates, the suggestive remarks just keep coming out.

For Agnes’ part, she remains still and draws in an angry breath. Her blue eyes blaze with irritation at your lack of cooperation more than the intrigue you were hoping for, but that just means you’ll have to turn up the dial on this improvised plan you’ve laid out for yourself. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“Listen, if you’re going to keep wasting my time I’ll just lock you up now and wait ‘til morning.” She threatens with a glowering expression, voice raising every few words in an attempt to intimidate. It’s kind of cute, actually. 

You think she might hear just how her phrasing comes out and anticipate your next response, because she almost looks remorseful. The slightest pink tone that rises to her cheeks and the way she pokes her tongue out to wet her bottom lip when her eyes flick down to your barely covered chest don’t escape your careful observations either. 

“Ooo,” you start, falsely scandalized, “now you want me to spend the night?” A slight giggle escaping you at your own words and the way you lift your handcuffed wrists in front of you playfully. 

With the action, you’re sure to press your biceps against either side of your body to even more obviously display your tits, and she can’t help but look down with the movement, eyes raking over your nipples that stand at attention beneath the thin fabric in the cold space.

Heat is practically rolling off her in waves and you can’t tell for sure if it’s arousal or fury that is threatening to boil over, or what will happen when it does, but you have always been the type to take risks. Why stop now?

“Can’t you just get me off with a warning? I mean- let me off…” You ask before she can recover from your last question, attempting a simper at the intentional slip up in your speech. 

It seems that this is what finally pushes her over the edge as she slams her hands loudly against the metal table and stands up, causing it to vibrate with the impact. Her chair goes clattering to the ground behind her, but she doesn’t seem to care. The satisfied expression you wear drops for a second at the forceful display, maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

“Alright, that’s enough!” She shouts, leaning over so you can practically feel her breath on your face before she rounds the table quickly.

“Do you really wanna keep poking the bear?!” She asks, furious, now standing at your right side and heavily folding at the waist to shout into your ear. 

You have to lean away slightly at the volume that threatens to burst your eardrum and it provides just enough space to look the detective up and down where she stands. 

That’s when you see it. 

Unmistakable and pressing against the zipper of her jeans so forcefully that it’s a wonder they haven’t burst; Detective O’Connor is hard. 

You can’t drag your eyes away from the tented fabric, so obvious that it nearly casts a shadow onto the denim in the odd light of the room. As you are still seated, you’re practically at the perfect level to just lean over and mouth the length through her pants. It’s all you can do not to let your head dip where it wants to most, as if you’re a magnet being drawn by its opposite charge.

“I- uh.” You stutter, unsure of your words for the first time since she walked in. The amount of saliva that has accumulated in your mouth at the sight in front of you forces you to swallow before you speak again.

“I think I’d rather have the bear poke me.” You breathe, sounding wrecked just at the thought.

When you finally drag your gaze back up to hers, her face is burning red, but this time you can tell it is much more out of embarrassment than anger. She looks self conscious in a way you’ve never seen and it’s so, so pretty. 

“It’s okay I c-” You start, reaching out uselessly in your confines, but you’re cut off from your attempt at a rare comforting word when Agnes seizes your right shoulder and lifts you to your feet. She then immediately folds you over and presses you against the table on your stomach, handcuffed hands pinned beneath your chest. You let out a grunt at the forceful action as well as the freezing cold metal that almost stings your skin that has warmed at your flirting.

The position is much like the one you were put in a few hours ago upon your arrest, only now it causes you to ache with desire instead of seeth with fury. 

“You think this is funny?!” She questions, but it sounds strained and unsure. Your own hesitance at her intentions keeps you from muttering out that it’s actually not funny, it’s really fucking hot.

It dawns on you then that she probably turned you over like this so you aren’t able to see the blush that’s probably still spreading over her skin, or the bulge in her pants that’s no doubt only getting worse, especially with how you purposefully arch your back in her grasp.

She has you pinned beneath her hands, one still on your shoulder and the other holding your waist, the perfect placement for her to pull you back against her. Instead, a shaky breath sounds from behind you. It seems like she’s deciding what to do next and you can almost feel the heat radiating from between her hips that begs her to choose the option you’re hoping for too.

You start pressing back yourself, impatient and using any amount of leverage possible to reach your destination. To help her decide.

“Come on, detective. Let me help you out.” You nearly whisper in the most convincing and sweet voice you can muster. Her hands loosen ever so slightly at the soft sound and you use the opportunity to slide the last inch backwards, your ass just barely brushing her front, aware also that if she had wanted to stop you she would’ve easily been able to.

You feel the hardness and heat of her cock against you through both your clothing and nearly release a whimper at the sensation, at the idea of her finally being inside you like you’ve fantasized about so many times. 

Just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again. Her hands release you entirely and she steps away without a word, leaving you feeling even colder than the steel table you’re slumped against. You drop your head to the metal in defeat. That’s it, you think. Your efforts haven't worked and you’re not only going to spend the night in a cell, but you’re going to do so while very uncomfortably wet and wound up. Plus, she’s probably going to try to add attempted bribery or harassment to your charge sheet. God, this was a dumb idea. Why couldn’t you have just gotten some old guy detective whose questions you would have dodged coldly and without a second thought?

All these thoughts flash through your head in the few seconds it takes Agnes to step away from the table and turn you by the hips to face her, the chain keeping you there being just long enough to allow such movement. 

You look down immediately, as if out of instinct, to find the large bulge still present, possibly even more so somehow. A bolt of desire strikes through your core at the small dark spot you notice has formed on the crotch of the already dark jeans. The evidence of your effect threatens to turn your legs to jelly. Finally, your eyes raise to meet Agnes’ with a curiosity, who stands less than a foot from you, hands still holding your hips loosely. The thrill of not knowing what she’ll do next makes your already racing heart beat even faster.

You find that she looks as weak as you feel, drinking you in like you’re an ice cold glass of water she’s found in the middle of the sahara. It’s clear that she’s used up every last thread of restraint she has to resist your offer, and it still has proven to be insufficient. Her blue irises have nearly been swallowed by blown black pupils that bore into you as she speaks her resignation to her rapturous fate.

“If I’m gonna fuck you,” she breathes the words out like she’s just run a marathon, “it’s gonna be while looking at those pretty tits.”

You lean back into the table in favor of collapsing straight to the floor at those words. How is this actually happening?

Seeing you stumble into the table, her right hand shifts down to your thigh and lifts, helping you to sit on the ledge as she steps closer to let your knees bracket her body. She looks so much more confident in this moment, and not in the same stone-faced way she had while you prodded at her before. It brings a soft smile to your lips and she looks away, somewhat coyly, at your noticing. It’s hard to decide if you prefer her shy or assertive.  

Blunt nails graze gently over your covered thighs, to your hips, then your waist, before finally settling over your scarcely contained breasts. Your own sharp intake of breath meets your ears as you lean into the warm touch and she squeezes them with a smirk playing on her lips.

  “I might not remember your face…” she rasps, leaning to speak directly into your right ear, “but I definitely remember these.” Both thumbs move to brush over your already pebbled nipples, causing them to harden further. You roll your eyes, both at the comment and at the thread of pleasure that tugs right from where she touches you all the way down to your pulsing clit.

For all the humor in it, you can’t help but notice just how sincere her comment sounds and flashes run through your mind of every low cut top you’ve ever worn to work, wondering which one’s are her favorite.

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You exhale with a chuckle against her cheek, momentarily forgetting your binds and trying to reach around her shoulders to pull her closer. The chain rattles loudly and you jerk with the reminder of your limited movement.

Agnes shakes her head and laughs at your needy but firm command as well as your inability to move.

“Here, let me.” She continues laughing gently as she reaches for the key ring you somehow hadn’t yet noticed swinging from her hip. 

“No.” You blurt before you can think better of it. 

“Leave them.” 

It’s a daring statement and you run your tongue across your teeth mischievously while the implication works its way through the woman’s mind. Her lower lip disappears into her mouth with how hard she bites into it, looking at you in disbelief and utter need. 

“Fuck,” is all she says, dropping the keys back to her side and moving instead to undo her belt with a clumsy haste. 

You would be scrambling to remove your own pants as well, not wanting to waste anymore time, but your own request has left you unable to do so. Instead, you’re left in awe as the black leather belt is unlatched and left hanging loosely open while Agnes works at her zipper. Even less is left to the imagination when denim is pulled aside to reveal cotton boxer briefs protruding with the tension of her arousal.

Her cock is pressing tautly against the soft, grey material and the way the underwear clings to her body causes you to gape at the implication of how much the secure garment is still concealing. 

The dark spot you’d noticed on her jeans is even darker and more centralized to its origin on the grey cloth. Saliva fills your mouth again at the sight, the only thing better than seeing her from beneath that last layer of clothing will be when it is finally removed.

As if reading your mind and wanting you to suffer a moment long, she pauses her motions of undressing any further. Before you can argue or make a snide remark, her hands are on your own waistband, tugging the paint-covered article down as much as she can while you’re still seated. You can’t very well lift yourself with your hands at the moment, so you slip off the table quickly to help get them the rest of the way down, hopping back up just as swiftly and letting her pull them off your legs, shoes falling to the floor one by one in the process. 

The cold table under your mostly bare ass draws the breath from you momentarily, only a black pair of boyshorts now protecting you from the metal.

“Do you ever wash these?” Agnes asks down at the rainbow vomit littering your clothing before dropping the pants to the floor, a real dry humor in her voice replacing the stern, mocking one from when she first entered the room.

“What’s the point?” You ask, because seriously, why would you wash them if you’re just going to get paint all over them again?

“Do you answer every question with a question?” She fires back, moving back between your knees from where she’d stepped back to help undress you. Her fingers play again at her own waistband, dipping into them slightly before meeting your eyes, waiting for your answer.

“Do you always stall like this when a girl wants you to fill her pussy?” You ask with an exaggerated expression of curiosity, as if you are genuinely awaiting the answer and not just communicating your impatience. 

Her cheeks pink again at the response, any clever comebacks quickly forgotten. You remove your gaze from her face and shift it back to her arousal to allow her to blush in private.

In your peripheral vision, you see her eyes flick up to watch your face as she dips her left hand into her underwear and grasps herself so gently, right hand pushing the material down to reveal what you’ve been waiting for.

You’re first met with a mess of dark curls that trail all the way up to her belly button, which you only catch a quick glimpse of with the way her shirt momentarily gets caught by her arm. You stifle a moan at the reveal of her thick cock; rock hard, reddened and still beading pre-cum, as you saw evidenced on the front of her jeans and underwear.

Now you slightly regret having her leave the cuffs on, as you long to reach out and take the length in your hands, or better yet, your mouth. Heat takes your face at the idea of getting on your knees before the detective and gagging on her length, and now you’re the one blushing and biting your lip.

Painfully tearing your eyes from the beautiful sight to catch Agnes’ expression, you find her still looking for your reaction. She finds exactly what she’s looking for in the way your eyes soften and you use one finger, your hands still bound at the wrists and settled in front of your chest, to beckon her forward.

Loose strands of brown hair that have escaped her messily tied back tendrils brush the side of your face as she leans in close to catch your message.

“I need your cock inside me, detective.” You husk, more than speak, into her ear, the lust dripping from the title she insisted on minutes ago causing a physical and auditory shudder through the woman. Looking back down, you see Agnes stroke herself once, as if your words have rendered her unable to resist.

Maybe she notices that you’re about to make a comment about it, because in one swift motion Agnes’ right hand flies up to your left shoulder, shifting you fully to your back on the table. You let out a gasp at the sudden movement, metal tabletop clattering at the impact and drowning out the sound. Just as quickly as you’ve adjusted to your new position, you’re being pulled by the thighs to the very edge of the table and towards exactly what you want, Agnes then guiding you to wrap your spread legs around her hips for support.

“You need this, huh?” She asks, hungrily looking over your body from her new perspective. You’re about to answer her question with your own when she slowly and teasingly drags the head of her cock from your clit to your entrance, over your underwear. Her timing is getting a little too convenient.

You groan at the feeling of your own wetness being pressed against you by her hardness. It makes you ache knowing it’s so close to being consumed by your heat, only a thin shield of fabric left between you. If you had full range of motion of your hands, you would have already ripped the rest of your clothing off, but the quick and dirty way you’re both still mostly clothed almost turns you on more. 

Desperate to maintain the dizzying contact, your hips grind upward as your legs become a vice, pulling her ever closer. The clear enthusiasm only spurs her on, gliding back up and down again, circling your clit three times with her cock on the last pass until you're squirming beneath her and hopelessly trying to contain your whimpering. You would rather wait a lifetime for your orgasm than beg a cop.

You’re so sopping wet, though, that when you look down between your bodies you can see the way her cock shines with your arousal despite not having yet made full contact. It’s almost too much to bear, your clit throbbing in time with your pounding pulse. Something has to give or you’re soon going to be a blabbering mess. 

“Just fuck me, Agnes!” You bark out, hips rising insistently and your voice verging on a whine.

The room goes still for a moment, even the clock ticking away on the wall seems to pause for dramatic effect as she quirks an eyebrow and tilts her head dangerously at your outburst. That same feeling from before washes over you, when you thought you might’ve really fucked up, but it only lasts for half a second before a hand is shoving your ruined underwear to one side and you feel the tip of her resting at your entrance.

Your eyes meet her blue ones, which are actually still mostly black, especially in this light. They burn into you like before and you don’t know whether her silence is a good or bad thing. 

You draw in your own shaky breath, waiting for her next move, and on the exhale she sheathes herself to the hilt inside of you.

Even she can’t contain her half of the guttural growl that comes from both of you at the perfect feeling. You don’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed about just how fucking soaked you are that she was able to slide all the way in with one thrust, because the way her cock is filling you up so completely has rendered every other thought irrelevant.

A moment passes where you both breathe, adjusting to the stretch and squeeze respectively. You feel her throb once within you and think, at this point, with enough determination, you could come just from that small amount of friction.

You don’t need that determination, though. As if mocking that passing thought, Agnes skips any unnecessary build up and starts at a positively bruising pace. Just one moment ago she was panting over you, looking like she might not even make it two thrusts in before unraveling, and now she’s slamming into you with a literally breathtaking force.

No intelligible noises are able to come out of your throat at first, only broken, reedy gasps. Your eyes roll back in your head as the glorious, slapping sounds of your joining sexes fill your ears. Her length jabs over and over again at the perfect spot inside you, just where you need her. 

Doing your best to focus your vision, you look up to see the red face of a woman clearly holding on to her composure for dear life. Her finger nails are short, but still able to bite into your hips ever so slightly as she practically slides you up and down along the table while also moving against you herself, which deepens her thrusts even more.

This also seemingly provides quite the show for Agnes, who you observe is splitting her time between watching your face contorting with pleasure, her cock sliding in and out of your pussy, and most of all, the way your tits are bouncing considerably with her every movement.

“You like these? You should fuck them.” You make out between gasping breaths, nodding down at your own chest.

Agnes takes a moment to respond, her laser focus causing her to not even register your words at first. When she does however, and notices your gesturing, her thrusting falters only for a moment, as if the idea alone has made her nearly swoon with desire. Crystal irises scan you over again and you can tell she’s thinking about it by the way her eyebrows knit together in a desperate sort of way.

“Maybe next time.” She decides, smirking down at you and ramming herself into you particularly hard once before returning to her rhythm, while her left hand comes up to grip your right breast greedily.

“Mmn- next time?” You ask around a moan, trying not to sound too hopeful, but it’s also such an unexpected sentiment from the detective you can’t help but question her further.

“I’d bet good money this won’t be your last arrest,” is all she says to satisfy your curiosity. While it’s also a subtle dig at your evading skills, your imagination still runs wild with the unspoken promise of how a future slip-up might turn out for you. It almost makes you want to get caught again.

“Right, because you’d love to f-fuck, fuck! Oh my god!” Your response turns into a moaning curse when her hand shoots down from playing with your tits so her thumb can land firmly on your clit and press down with flawless pressure, never letting up consistently filling you in the process. 

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..” The mantra spills from your lips while your orgasm mounts within you and you know you’ll be toppling over the edge any minute now.

If your hands were free you would be locking your fingers behind her neck and pulling her even closer to you to ensure you get what you want, but the burn of the metal chafing your wrists is a delicious alternative. The pain only sharpens the pleasure you’re feeling everywhere else and you throb at the idea of waking up tomorrow and seeing angry red and purple bracelets of evidence.

At your emphatic request, she doesn’t stop. You’ve never been so full before and when Agnes’ cock throbs within you after every couple of pumps, stars explode behind your eyes. There’d better be a next time because you’re pretty sure nothing and nobody has or will ever make you feel like this.

“I’m so, so close. Fuck!” You shout, unsure what possesses you to tell her, but her response only drives you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, yeah, fucking come for me. Come on my cock, come on my c-cock…” She huffs, the exertion that you were already impressed with her maintaining finally shows in her voice, but she still never lets up. It almost sounds like she’s begging, a “please” barely contained behind her lips, and that’s what makes you really want to come for her.

Chasing your orgasm, you redouble your efforts of rocking your hips up and it makes her length press even more fully against your front wall until you’re practically screaming with pleasure. The new angle caused by your rocking coupled with the way your walls are tightening around her in anticipation of your release is also clearly doing something for Agnes.

Her breaths are coming in short puffs and she is completely unable to stifle the loud whimper that bursts out of her when you clench around her even harder, your orgasm just seconds away.

That’s what finally does it, that mewl that you were able to pull from the tough detective. It sends you flying, every muscle tenses and wave after wave of pleasure causes you to buck against the table and Agnes, but she holds you firmly in place, fucking you through it and moaning herself the whole time as she marvels at your release. The aftershocks go on for what feels like forever while you float in your euphoria, never wanting it to end.

After your release, Agnes’ thrusts quickly become short and frantic, almost rutting into you with a fervor. The throbs you’ve felt are coming on every pump and you’re content to lie back in your blissed out state and let her take whatever she wants, until she starts to pull out of you, one trembling hand releasing your hip and clearly intent on finishing herself off. 

You’re suddenly more lucid than ever, quickly locking your ankles behind her from where they’d fallen limp, and shoving her back into you until she bottoms out. A surprised breath leaves her at the action, a sheen of sweat breaking across her forehead as she stutters out her reasoning.

“I-I’m gonna-” She can’t even get the words out and it’s the second time in so many minutes that you feel your heart squeeze at just how adorable this usually grave woman is. 

“I know, I know. Come inside me, baby.” Your voice is thick with desire and you’re still lingering bliss, the pet name slipping out like water, but you need her to know just how badly you want it.

Her eyes widen slightly as a deeper blush somehow takes over her already red face, unsure but so very full of want. You feel her twitch within you despite herself and her hips roll just at the words. 

You don’t break eye contact, making clear how serious you are to quell her doubt.

Tentatively, after a beat, she starts up a slower pace, pulling almost out of you before thrusting all the way back in, like she’s giving herself time to think again.

“You can do it baby, I know you want to. Fuck, you feel so good inside me.” You gasp out the words while she fucks back into your pussy and you think you could come again just from the way she looks at you when you say them.

You repeat your cooing encouragements and it doesn’t even take three more of those slow thrusts before she falters and stays sheathed inside you, rutting weakly. 

“Come on, baby.” You repeat, and you know she’s done.

More of those beautiful whimpers fall from her lips as you feel one stronger throb and then warmth explodes into your walls. You can’t help but moan yourself at the feeling of being filled by her. Spurt after spurt of her cum coats your insides while she holds you tighter and tighter, as if you’ll float away if she lets go. Her desperate moans die down eventually and she slumps against you, still inside, and draws in one big breath before releasing it slowly. Her eyes are screwed shut and her head is now resting against your restrained hands on your chest. 

It’s probably good they're restrained, you think, because if they weren’t you’d be having a very hard time resisting running your fingers through her long hair, tenderly scratching your nails against the nape of her neck.

Another beat passes where the two of you breath against one another and come down from your respective highs. The delicious mix of your and Agnes’ cum has started to drip out of you onto the table below and it’s a hot enough thought that your sensitive clit gives a weak twitch and you clench around Agnes unintentionally, causing her to crane her neck to look up at you.

Her eyes are clear again and softer than you’ve ever seen them; you let your coursing endorphins carry you away on a cloud of imagining leaning the six inches it would take to capture her lips in yours, but you don’t dare actually do it.

She starts to shift, maybe shaking herself from some similar thought, you can’t tell. Her soft sex pulls out of you slowly as she pushes up on her hands and waits for you to release her from the grip your legs still have her in. You unsteadily unravel yourself from her, shuddering slightly at the loss and trying not to think about how empty you feel without her.

Now free, she tucks herself back into her briefs and makes quick work of finally undoing your cuffs. Her hands rub at the raw skin absently, using her hold there to pull you into a seated position. She then reaches down for the balled-up mess you call a pair of pants and slides them back onto your trembling legs easily. After you’re relatively put back together, cum still leaking out and coating your already ruined underwear, she looks you over once more with hunger along with something else you can’t place. 

She looks thoughtful, like she wants to say something else but thinks better of it, instead letting a sly smile pull at her mouth and a different comment sneak through with a soft laugh.

“Consider that your warning.”

[satellite-evans]

right where you left me

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex girlfriend!reader

Summary: You're still where Max left you.

Word count: 2.8k+

Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song

A/N:

Hi everyone, this is the first fic that I’m posting for the folkmore series, I am so excited!!! Can’t wait to hear what you guys think <3

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The restaurant still smells the same. The warm scent of buttered bread, the faint tang of expensive wine in the air, the subtle undertone of aged wood and candle wax melting into soft pools of gold. It’s been months—years, maybe—since the night Max walked out, yet the place feels untouched, frozen in time. Just like you.

You sit at the same table, your fingers brushing against the linen napkin, tracing invisible patterns on the surface. The same table where his laughter once curled in the air, where his hands would have reached for yours without thinking. Your glass of water remains half-full, just as it was that night. Untouched. Forgotten. A relic of a moment that still lingers in the corners of your mind like an echo you can’t quite silence.

The candlelight flickers, its glow catching the delicate ring you still wear on your right hand—the one he gave you as a promise before he decided promises were too heavy to keep. You twist it absentmindedly, the metal cool against your skin, a contrast to the warmth of memory.

Outside, the city hums with life. Cars glide past, their headlights flashing like distant stars. The murmur of strangers, the clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter—all of it moves forward, untethered to the past. But here, at this table, in this restaurant where time seems to hold its breath, you sit in the hollow space he left behind.

And for the first time in a long while, you wonder if he ever comes here, too. If he ever stops just outside the door, hand hesitating on the handle, breathing in the familiar scent and remembering. Or if, like the promises he made, he’s let it all go.

“Are you ready to order?”

The waiter’s voice pulls you from your trance, gently but firmly, like a hand on your shoulder bringing you back to the present. You blink, your gaze shifting from the flickering candlelight to the young man standing beside your table, his notepad poised, his expression polite but unreadable.

You only shake your head, offering a tight smile. “Not yet,” you murmur, though you already know the answer.

He doesn’t question it. He never does. Maybe by now, he recognizes you—not just as another customer, but as a fixture of this place. The girl who always sits alone. The girl who never changes her order. The girl who lingers too long over a half-full glass of water, as if she’s waiting for it to fill itself. The girl who still waits for someone who isn’t coming back.

Does he wonder? Does he piece together the story in his mind, constructing quiet theories about why you return to the same spot, why your fingers still play absentmindedly with a ring that should’ve lost its meaning by now? Is he used to people like you—the ones who haunt old memories like ghosts who refuse to be laid to rest?

Or does he just think that you’re a girl frozen in time, that time went on for everyone else but that you wouldn’t know?

A girl that just can’t move on.

He nods, stepping away without another word, leaving you alone once more. Alone with the past. Alone with the quiet hum of the restaurant around you, the soft clatter of silverware, the muted conversations that blur together into white noise.

You exhale, glancing toward the empty chair across from you. It remains untouched, just as it was that night. Just as it has been every night since.

You wonder if Max ever thinks about this place. If he ever remembers the way your fingers used to trace lazy patterns over his knuckles while he rambled about race strategy, his voice animated, his eyes alight with passion. If he recalls how you’d bite your lip to keep from laughing when he confidently—yet disastrously—mispronounced the names of the wines on the menu, only to scowl at you in mock offense when you corrected him. If he ever sits in a quiet moment, caught off guard by a passing scent or a familiar song playing in the background, and suddenly, inexplicably, thinks of you.

If he feels even the slightest pang of nostalgia when he hears your name.

If he even knows that you come to this restaurant, even though you felt the most heart crushing pain here.

That he left you no choice but to stay here forever.

Or if he’s forgotten all of it. All of you.

You hadn’t meant to check, but old habits die hard. One second, your mind was wandering, and the next, your fingers were already scrolling, moving with a muscle memory you wished you didn’t have. Before your brain could stop them. Before your heart could brace itself.

And suddenly, there it was, a picture trending on Twitter.

Max Verstappen & Kelly Piquet expecting their first child together!

The words seem to blur for a moment, your vision tunneling, breath catching somewhere in your throat. And then, below the headline, a photo.

You wanted to say that it was irony or even faith that you found out that he was expecting a baby with another woman in the same restaurant where he would whispered sweet words about how he wanted to be father to your children so badly, but you don’t believe in faith anymore. This restaurant was just destined to haunt you forever.

At least he looks happy.

Happier than you remember. Happier than he ever was with you.

Your grip tightens on your phone, but your body remains still, frozen in place. The sounds of the restaurant fade into static, the clinking glasses and quiet laughter around you suddenly feeling like background noise to a scene you no longer belong in.

You exhale slowly, pressing your lips together as you force yourself to look away from the screen, as if that might erase the image from your mind. As if that might make it hurt less.

But it doesn’t.

The ring on your finger feels heavier. It presses into your skin like an anchor, pulling you back to a past you can’t escape, a past you’re still tethered to. You blink rapidly at the screen, hoping, praying, that the words will change. That maybe this is some cruel joke, some mistake, but they don’t. The image doesn’t blur. It’s real. It’s him.

Another picture.

Christmas. They’re spending it together.

A perfect family. The kind you used to imagine when you’d sit together, planning for the future, talking about how one day, maybe, you’d have a house full of children and laughter.

The cruelest part is how ordinary it all looks. A picture-perfect moment, the kind you once dreamed of having with him, now shared with someone else. A life you are no longer a part of.

It’s funny, really. How time moves forward for everyone but you. How the world shifts, the seasons change, new memories replace the old ones. Love finds new homes. But you? You’re still here, frozen in place, gathering dust like an abandoned photograph tucked away in a forgotten drawer, one that’s too painful to even look at anymore.

You can’t help yourself but eread the headline over and over again and look at the pictures of them spending Christmas together, as if the repetition might somehow make it easier to swallow. Your heart clenches, a familiar ache spreading through your chest. The kind of ache that never really goes away. The kind of ache that lingers, festers, and refuses to fade no matter how much time passes.

You want to scream, to throw your phone across the room, to erase the image, the words, the entire situation from existence. But you don’t. You sit still, paralyzed, watching the truth unfold in front of you, as if you’re witnessing something that’s no longer your story but someone else’s.

And maybe it is. Maybe it always was.

You think about the night he told you. The memory lingers, every detail sharp as if it just happened yesterday. The dim candlelight flickered between you, casting warm, uneven shadows on the table, making his eyes look darker than usual. Your hair was pinned up, just the way he liked it, because all you wanted was to be enough for him, to be loved and cherished by him just the way you loved him. You remember the way he fidgeted with the water glass in his hands, the way his fingers trembled slightly, betraying the calmness his voice tried to convey. He didn’t even drink from it, just held it there like it was something to anchor him. And you? You could feel it before he even spoke. The knot in your stomach, tight and twisting, the way your heart seemed to freeze in place, like it already knew what was coming before your brain would allow it to acknowledge the truth.

"I met someone."

The words barely make sense. They hang in the air between you, impossible to grasp. For a moment, it feels like the world tilts on its axis, like reality itself has cracked and this is some sort of cruel dream you’ll wake up from.

You almost laugh, bitter and disbelieving, because it doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t sound like Max. Not the Max who once whispered forever into your hair, promising you a future where nothing could tear you apart. Not the Max who swore he couldn’t imagine a life without you, who said your names together like they belonged in the same sentence, forever linked. But the words still come, and somehow, despite everything, they are his.

The restaurant around you starts to fade away, the sounds dulling to a distant hum, muffled like you’re underwater, as if the world is pulling away from you, inch by inch. Your heart races, but your body feels oddly disconnected from it all, like you're watching someone else’s life unfold before you, helpless to stop it. You take a shallow breath, but it doesn’t reach the depths of your chest, and the weight of the moment settles in there like a stone you can’t dislodge.

"What?" Your voice barely makes it past your lips, a fragile whisper, so quiet that for a second you think he won’t even hear you. But he does.

His gaze drops to the table, his eyes avoiding yours, as if he can’t bear to see you crumble, as if he’s already sorry for what he knows he’s about to do. His voice is quieter now, almost too soft to catch. "I didn’t mean for it to happen."

You shake your head, disbelief clouding your thoughts. Your hands curl into fists in your lap, nails digging painfully into your palms, trying to hold on to something, anything. The ring on your finger suddenly feels like it’s choking the life out of you. "But it did."

The words escape from your throat like shards of glass, sharp and cold, biting as they land between you. He swallows hard, and you wonder if he’s doing it to hold back tears, or if it’s just the weight of what he’s about to say.

“She has a daughter,” he adds, his voice thick, but the words hit you like a slap, sharp and unforgiving. You feel your mascara run as your eyes sting with the hot, unfamiliar ache of betrayal. But you don’t wipe the tears away. You don’t move. You just sit there, paralyzed, staring at him, waiting for him to say something—anything—that could take it all back. That could prove this isn’t real. That could remind you of the love you thought was enough.

“She’s not mine,” he continues, his voice wavering, like he’s trying to make it sound better, like he’s trying to convince you this is somehow okay. “But I love her like she is.”

The words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. A sudden, cold numbness spreads across your chest, a pain that feels both sharp and hollow. The space between you and him stretches, filling with the things he can’t say.

“And her mother?” You force the words out, each one heavier than the last.

His silence is loud enough to drown out everything else—the clinking of silverware, the murmur of conversations from nearby tables, the soft jazz music playing in the background. Everything around you fades into the background until all that’s left is him and you, caught in the unbearable weight of what he won’t say.

When he finally speaks again, his voice barely rises above a whisper, like he’s afraid of the truth. “I love her too.”

And just like that, it’s over. The last thread of hope you had been clinging to snaps, leaving you floating in a place where nothing makes sense anymore. The ring on your finger burns, searing into your skin, but you don’t take it off. Not yet. You can’t. Because somehow, it’s the only thing left of him, of the person you thought you knew, of the future that is no longer yours.

You know where he is now. He’s winning. He’s thriving. The world sees him on podiums, champagne in hand, his new life already unfolding in the bright lights. He’s standing beside someone else now, someone who doesn’t carry the weight of the past, someone who fills the space you left behind with ease. The world loves him, adores him. And you? You’re still at the restaurant, in the ruins of what he left behind, trapped in a love story that never got its happy ending, a story that no longer belongs to you.

You press your phone to your chest, as if it could somehow stop the ache from spreading. As if holding onto the past will make the present hurt less. But it doesn’t. The weight of the truth is suffocating, a heavy fog that settles over your heart, and you realize, with painful clarity, that you were never meant to be a part of his forever. You were never meant to last.

The whispers around you grow louder, piercing through the fog of your thoughts, and it doesn’t take much to understand why. You hear his name before you see him, and when you finally do, it feels like the ground beneath you tilts ever so slightly.

Max.

He looks different—sharper, somehow. More defined, more polished by the world that shaped him after you. His eyes sweep over the restaurant, and you wonder if they’ll stop on you, if he’ll look at you and see something from the past, something worth acknowledging. But no.

He’s here’s. At the restaurant. With her.

He really brought her here.

Kelly is beside him, her laughter effortless, untouched by the weight of history, the burden of old wounds. She leans into him, her hand resting gently on her stomach, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looks up at him with the kind of love you used to think was meant for you. She doesn’t know what it’s like to sit in this seat, to watch someone walk away, to feel the years stretch endlessly before you as you wonder if they ever think about you.

Max’s gaze flicks across the room, and for just a split second, it lands on you. It’s so brief that you almost convince yourself it didn’t happen. But it did. His steps falter for a fraction of a second, his fingers tightening around Kelly’s hand before he looks away, as if something inside him is trying to hold onto a memory that’s already slipping through his fingers.

And that’s it. No smile. No apology. No acknowledgment. Just a glance, a flash of something unspoken, and then—nothing.

You knew that he didn’t care about you but, facing with that reality hurt you more than you thought. Here you were, coming to the same place a man hurt you because you loved him so much, only for the same man to come too because he didn’t love you at all.

What a shame.

Maybe it is true. Maybe you really are unawarely frozen in time. Maybe that would explain why you still feel the same pain now as on the day he left you.

You swallow hard, blinking away the burning in your eyes. The candle on the table flickers, casting long shadows that seem to stretch endlessly across the walls. The world outside moves forward, time marching on relentlessly, but you remain frozen in place, clutching onto the past like it’s the only thing that hasn’t slipped away.

The moment passes, and Max moves on, just like he always does.

But you? You’re still right where he left you.

[xhyjin]

yanderenanami! who was your boss when you two first met? you were an intern at the company he worked at, assigned to be his personal assistant and tend to his needs, handling tasks like making reservations, scheduling his appointments/meetings, and basically all the small stuff he couldn’t waste any company time on. your relationship was strictly professional. you two never spoke unless you needed his confirmation on something; other than that, it was pure silence.

yanderenanami! you had been working with him for the past 8 months as an intern, and you were seeing no signs of getting the job permanently. you had no choice; you couldn’t waste any more time as an intern—you had loans to pay off and bills to take care of! when you knocked on his office door and heard a low grumble of “come in,” you walked into his office with your resignation letter behind your back. “mr. nanami, i need you to sign something off for me,” you asked, expecting it to be another application or something for approval. but when you handed him the envelope, he raised an eyebrow. “what’s this?” he said, not even letting you answer as he opened the envelope and read it. looking at you and then the envelope, he said, “you’re quitting?” you nodded, not knowing what to say. he just sighed and signed it off before handing it back to you.

yanderenanami! you walked out of his office dumbfounded by his lack of sympathy. i mean, he didn’t even say goodbye or anything along the lines of “it was great having you here,” but what did you expect? he had always been stoic and nonchalant since the day you started working there. you packed away the little stuff you had on your desk in front of his office, a bit bummed that you didn’t get the job, but you weren’t going to continue working for free. you walked into the elevator, thinking you would never see mr. nanami again either as the elevator doors shut.

yanderenanami! he immediately called one of his buddies when you walked out of his office—the one who was good at keeping tabs and dealing with situations like yours: toji fushiguro. he told him straight up what he needed, which was you, but he wasn’t going to ask toji to kidnap you or anything extreme. he just wanted him to keep track of where you were, who you were with, what you were doing, and all the usual details. that way, he could have some time to plan something out, something special for you.

yanderenanami! who spent weeks planning everything for your “arrival,” setting up cameras in every corner, barricading any exits from the inside, keeping sharp or harmful objects away, and most of all, creating a perfect little room for you to spend your time in. you were going to be there for a long time, and maybe a good time. he had toji along with shiu parked outside your place. It was in the middle of the night, and due to your circumstance, you didn’t live in the best part of town, so cameras or police or civilians were nowhere in sight, which was perfect for him but not perfect for you. he unlocked your door with the duplicate key that toji had made, tiptoeing into your house like a thief and up the stairs to your single bedroom where you lay like a princess in slumber. he carefully placed a cloth on your nose, making sure not to hurt you in the process, and as he felt you fall into an unconscious state that wasn’t slumber, he carefully tossed you over his shoulder before making his way out of the house and into the van that was parked outside.

yanderenanami! who watched you sleep peacefully as shiu drove to nanamis house that was on the other side of town, a gated neighbourhood where only the elites lived, where you would be safe. he knew that shiu and toji might me wondering who you were or why you were in this situation but he didn’t care all that he cared about was that he finally got you and he will never let you go.

yanderenanami! who carried you into his house, which was prepared for your “visit,” carefully taking you up the stairs as you lay unconscious in his arms to the room he had prepared for you. he placed you down on the bed, tucking you in with a faint smile on his lips. he didn’t want you to be scared when you woke up, so he placed a stuffed animal—your favorite—beside you and left the room, his heart beating fast as he couldn’t believe he had you all to himself now.

yanderenanami! who woke up in a panic the next day when he heard your scream but quickly calmed down once he realized what was happening. of course, you would scream—you had fallen asleep in your room, only to wake up in a perfect replica of it, but with an eerie feeling lingering in the air.

he quickly threw on a shirt and sweats, making his way to your room, which was heavily locked and barricaded. when he finally opened the door, he saw you curled up in the corner, legs pulled to your chest as you trembled in fear. but the moment your eyes met his, something shifted.

as he stepped closer, a small smile played on his lips. “relax,” he said, his hands reaching out, almost like how you’d show a dog you were friendly. “you’re safe now, okay? it’s just me.” his voice was calm, reassuring, as he crouched down to your level, gently patting your head.

“i’ve got you now.”

[rowdyluv]

can i request 7g with quinn she/her please🥺

Prompt: “Don’t cry. God, please don’t cry. I hate seeing you like this and not being able to do anything.”

Warnings: anxiety, panic, hints at bad past, wrote & posted no editing (So I re-read it and saw how yucky it looked so it’s semi edited)

Y/n boss appeared at the edge of her cubicle with a sly smile edging his face and his tie slightly askew. "Y/n," he called out, his voice cutting through the low murmur of the office. "I need to see you in my office right away." Her stomach plummeted. If she wanted to make it downtown to Roger’s without any trouble she needed to leave in exactly two minutes. Any later she would be fighting the surrounding area schools.

The office was a blur of desks and faces as she tried to keep her breath steady, trying to not let her anxiety rile her up. What could he possibly want? He hadn’t spoke to her in the last 8 months since she had started dating Quinn. She had been excluded from all other meetings, why now?

Inside his office, he gestured to the chair opposite his desk, his expression unreadable. She sat down, her hands fidgeting in her lap as he closed the door behind her. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. "I know you requested to leave early, Y/n," he said, his eyes closing briefly as he slowly breathed out a sigh. "But I have a... document that requires your attention."

“My…my att..attention?” She stuttered out with growing anxiety. “Can I do it tomorrow? I..I’ll come in early? Stay late?” She asked quietly sitting on the edge of her seat.

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “I’m afraid it’s rather urgent. It shouldn’t take long. But it’s something that requires your immediate and professional attention.” He said with a rigid tone that left no room for argument.

Y/n’s shoulders slumped as she nodded reluctantly. She could feel the minutes slipping away, each one lowering a heavier weight on her chest. She returned to her desk, her eyes scanning the email. The document was pages and pages of information. “Shouldn’t take long” she muttered to herself. If she worked carelessly it wouldn’t take long, but if she worked as she’s known to it would take her at least two hours to get through it thoroughly. Her mind was racing with the thought of Quinn and his family waiting for her at the arena, wondering where she was.

With trembling hands, she began to work, her eyes darting back and forth over the screen. Her heart felt as if it was in a vice, each beat a painful reminder of the promise she was about to break. The words and numbers started to blur together as she rushed through the text, making mental notes and trying to ensure she didn’t miss any crucial details. The longer she was stuck at her desk the less she cared about her job. She was worried about letting Quinn down, him being disappointed in her, him being mad at her.

Y/n shot off a message to Quinn once she sent an email back to her boss of the finished document. The clock read 6pm, her thumbs moved frantically over the screen as she typed. "Leaving the office now…hope to be there soon! I’m so, so sorry." She sent it with a heavy painful sigh, knowing it was probably too late. Her eyes stung with the threat of tears, and she took a deep breath to compose herself. She couldn’t let her anxiety ruin this for her, not when Quinn had been so supportive of her through all of her mental health struggles.

The city streets were a sea of red brake lights and honking horns. Each minute that passed felt like an eternity. Her chest tightened, and she rubbed her hands over her face, wishing she could just will all of the cars in front of her to move. "Come on," she murmured under her breath desperately her eyes darting to the time. 7:23pm. She quickly typed out another message to Quinn, her heart racing. "I’m so so sorry I’m late. I hope I make it by the start of the second. Traffic's a nightmare.."

Not long after the message sent, her phone was ringing with an incoming call, and she saw it was Quinn. Her hand hovered over the answer button for a second, dread mixing with anticipation. "Hello?" she answered, her voice shaky.

“Y/n.” He sounded relieved. “It’s intermission, they said you never picked up your ticket. Are you okay?” He rushed out. Y/n knew he must of fought his coaches to call her. He never uses his phone during intermissions. She had only been messaging him out previous relationship habits.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m…” She trailed off looking up the highway of bumper-to-bumper traffic. “I’m still stuck in traffic. It’s so bad, I don’t think I’ll make it, Q.. I’ll just..I’ll just go wait for you at your apartment. I’m so sorry, Quinn. I know this game means so much to you and your family. I messed up,” she said, her voice cracking with regret.

“No, no. It’s okay. I’ll see you after. Be careful sweet girl.” Quinn softly says to her in the sweet tone he gives only her.

★★★★

By the time she arrived at Quinn’s luxurious apartment there were only moments left in the game. She not only missed it live in person but also televised. The elevator ride to the top floor seemed to drag on forever, each floor number lighting up with a painful slowness. She stepped out into the hallway, her feet echoing against the hard floor. She fidgeted with her keys, trying to find the right one to unlock the door. Her hands were trembling so badly she could barely hold onto them. With a shaky breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her anxiety was an ugly, ugly thing.

The thought of him expecting her to be there, only for her to miss, brought a lump to her throat. She sat down on the plush couch, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them tightly. Her mind raced with scenarios of his disappointment and anger, each one more intense than the last. Each scenario ended differently but each had the common denominator of him expressing his disappointment in her. Something about the thought of him saying the phrase ‘I’m disappointed in you, Y/n.’ Made her dizzy, made her nauseous, made her feel like she had committed the most audacious crime. The quiet was deafening, and she found herself holding her breath, waiting for the moment he would come through the door and throw his anger at her.

★★★★

Quinn’s heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, and she felt a new surge of panic. She leapt to her feet, her heart racing as she rushed towards the door. She threw it open just as Quinn was about to push his key inside the door knob. With wide eyes and erratic breathing, she flung herself at him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. “I’m so sorry, Quinn, I got held up at work and the traffic was horrendous! I tried, I swear, I really, really, reaaalllyy did. I wanted to be there so badly!” she babbled out in a rush.

He looked at her with surprise in his eyes before a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He gently wrapped his arms around her, lifting her just enough off the ground to walk inside, “It’s alright, it’s okay,” he murmured soothingly, his breath warm fanning against her ear. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He set her down gently on the couch taking a spot right beside her and she felt a little calmer just by being in his space. Quinn sat so close to her, trying to give them a little bit of privacy. What little they could earn with his parents and brother standing feet away. Y/n took a deep breath, preparing for the blow that would never arrive.

"Pretty girl, why are you crying?" He whispered, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "I’m not mad at you, I promise." His eyes held contact with hers, filled with concern and confusion. Y/n sniffled, trying to compose herself. "I..it's just that… It’s just I missed a game you really wanted me to be at. One we’ve talked a lot about. You might not be made, but I wanted to be there for you," she managed to get out, her voice cracking with emotion.

Quinn’s face softened, and he pulled her into his chest, her head resting snuggly against his chest. "I see… You’ve labeled it was important to me because I was playing, but honey it’s just a game. It’s seeing my family that’s important. Them seeing you too. That’s why I wanted you there. I wanted to look up and see you cheering for me and my brothers next you mom.” He explained rubbing her back in an assuring way. “So, next Hughes Bowl is in Jersey and I will be fixing your arrangements first thing Monday morning. Right now? I’m more concerned about you than a silly hockey game." He kissed the top of her head, his hands rubbing circles into her back. "You’re here now, thats what is important."

Y/n looks up at him, placing her chin on his chest. A couple stray tears slipping down her face.

"Baby, please don't cry," Quinn murmured, his voice thick with concern. "It kills me when you cry."

Y/n sniffled, her eyes meeting his. "They're happy tears, I promise," she said with a wobbly smile. "I'm just so... thankful that you're you. That you understand."

“I’m nothing like anyone you’ve been with before me. I take care of you, of us.” Quinn affirms wiping her cheeks. “Now come meet my momma before she interrupts us to introduce herself.”