#sorry the pictures are blurry once again

[planetlongjourney]

Is is worrying that this is a list of pretty much every main female character? Yeah??? Very worrying??? Extremely worrying???

[fxreflyes]

here she is on!!

[maxtermind]

my boy only breaks his favorite toys

★ : summary :: when he cheats on you ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 5k ★ : a/n :: please remember that all of this is fiction! anyway, enjoy the angst <3 cheating is not a slip up but a statement and i will not be writing a part 2 where they get back together :) as usual requests are open for other endings if you're interested (maybe she ends up with someone else on the grid to make it hurt more lol) ★ : gifs :: @\f1-stuff @\userhamilton @\slowestlap @\tyrannosaurus-maxy

Max Verstappen

Max and you had a pretty healthy work schedule. Thanks to your flexible remote work, you could travel with him and support him in person. But there were times when you were needed back at the home office but despite the distance, Max made sure to keep you in the loop.

From video calls, to texting whenever one was free, to random pictures shared, you were always pretty aware of what the other was doing. So imagine your shock when minutes after hanging up on a call after congratulating him on his win, you failed to get a hold of him before pictures of him started going viral.

But now, all of that seemed like a distant memory as you stared at the damning evidence on your phone. Pictures of Max, smiling and carefree, dancing with another woman in a crowded club, her arms wrapped around him possessively.

Your heart sank as you scrolled through the images, each one a painful reminder of the betrayal you never saw coming. And then, there it was, the blurry photo that confirmed your worst fears - Max and the other woman locked in a passionate kiss.

The world around you seemed to blur as well as tears welled up in your eyes, hot and bitter against your cheeks. Without thinking, you began to dial Max's number, your fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation.

But each call went unanswered, each voicemail left unheard. With each unanswered ring, your heart broke a little more, until you could no longer bear the weight of your pain.

It was an hour later when you were in your bed, crying your eyes out when your phone finally lit up with Max's name, the screen casting a harsh glow in the dimness of your room.

As much as your head told you to hang up and let that be the final answer, you picked it up and whispered a low. ”Hi?” Your voice barely a whisper, choked with emotion.

”Y/N,” Max’s breathy voice came. It was enough to throw you off again and new tears gathered in your eyes.

”Where were you?” The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, raw with hurt and anguish.

”Baby…” Max's voice wavered, and you could hear the weight of his guilt in every syllable. It spoke volumes, you knew what had happened and he knew that. ”I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the pain of his deceit threatening to consume you whole. And then, without warning, a strangled sob escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the silence of the room.

You could hear Max's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, a sound that only served to intensify your grief. But you were beyond caring about appearances now, your heart laid bare for him to see.

”I trusted you,” you choked out between sobs, the words a bitter indictment of the love you had once shared. ”Why would you do this to me?”

How could the man that made you feel like the only girl in the world for him do this to you? Did he even love you or was he just a really good actor?

Your voice quivered with pain as you struggled to maintain your composure,”You've broken me in ways I didn't even know were possible.”

Max's voice wavered as he tried to find the right words to express his remorse,”I never meant to hurt you, it was the biggest mistake of my life.” 

The life he has made sure he spent with someone not you. His voice cracked further and you realized that he was also crying on the other end. ”I can't bear the thought of not having you in my life.”

There was a long pause, as if Max was searching for the right words to say. But what words could possibly undo the damage that had already been done, the trust that had been shattered beyond repair?

Your words cut through him, echoing the pain he had caused,”Did… did you even love me, Max?”

”Of course, I love you!” He spoke, his voice carrying a sense of hurt. As if questioning the audacity to even ask that and that angered you. It made you so mad because this was on him. He did this.

”I wish I could turn back time and make things right, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Max's breath hitched as he spoke before you could. The wounds he had inflicted too deep to be healed with a simple apology. ”I never meant to make you doubt my love for you.”

And as you listened to his voice crack with emotion, you knew that there was only one thing left to do. ”I don't even recognize the person I fell in love with anymore.” You whispered with finality, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

Was this really the man who had promised you a future filled with a family and laughter? The man who just made your heart bleed out?

Max caught on and rushed to get the words out,”Please, Y/N, don't hang up. I need you more than ever, I love y-”

You hung up because how dare he say that after what he did. He called you again and again after that and if you weren’t half dying in your apartment, maybe you could’ve scoffed at how the roles were switched.

However, all you could do was switch off your phone and wonder how the man who once kissed all your scars better, could leave deeper ones in their place. Leaving you to do the work to mend them all alone.

Lewis Hamilton

It had all started the day you had foolishly decided to set up lunch to have the two most important people in your life, your bestfriend and your boyfriend, meet.

Lewis seemed genuinely enthusiastic about finally meeting the person who had been such a solid support in your life. Little did you anticipate that this innocent gathering would unravel into a scene of deception.

The signs were subtle at first. A quick exchange of numbers, a glance shared behind your back– easy to dismiss as innocent. But why would you look for such signs? When it included your most trusted humans on the planet?

But then came the slips, the accidental mentions of knowing each other's whereabouts better than you did.

”I don't think she'll pick up, she said she had an afternoon meeti-” Lewis caught himself on time before shrugging and ending with a: ”She posted it on her instagram, did you miss it?”

You laughed it off though it irked you. You were just glad that they were close before...

After an especially tiring day, you finally entered your house. Surprised to see the sitting room empty, where Lewis waits for you every time he's home early.

You sighed, instinctively petting Roscoe before moving inside the house. Desperate for a shower and clean clothes to get the day's stench off of you.

So imagine your shock when you walked into your bedroom,to discover Lewis and Rachel entwined in your bed, their bodies exposed and vulnerable. In your bed.

It took a second for you to process it while they both scrambled to get their clothes on. You just stared in disbelief while Rachel cried on the bed under covers and Lewis frantically wore his clothes while saying… something?

You felt like you were underwater for a second because you saw his mouth moving before his words started registering and tears started to pool in your eyes. The pain felt tangible, like a weight pressing down on your chest, as you confronted the unthinkable reality of their infidelity.

”Baby, let me explain. Ple- Please, this isn't what it looks like... I-”

You tore your eyes away from him before looking over at Rachel who was crying because she probably understood exactly what was happening.

You wanted to ask what exactly Lewis thought was going on but decided not to because your throat was closing up. The image of them together was burned into your brain. You just shook your head as tears fell from your eyes before turning around and walking out of the room.

As Lewis desperately jumbled to dress himself, his hands fumbling with buttons and zippers, he pleaded with you, his voice cracking with desperation.

”Y/N, please, you have to listen to me. This isn't what it looks like, I swear,” he implored, his eyes wide with panic as he reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away as if his touch burned. Feeling disgusted and deceived.

”What do you mean it's not what it looks like?!” you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with damage and betrayal. ”I come home to find you two... in our bed, na- naked!”

Lewis's face contorted in anguish, his mind racing for the right words to say, but nothing seemed adequate in the face of your devastation.

”It's... it's a misunderstanding, Y/N, I promise,” he stammered, his voice strained with emotion. ”Rachel and I... we didn't plan for this to happen. It's just... things got out of hand, and we never meant to do you wrong.”

You shook your head in disbelief because you didn’t know what else to do truly, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. ”How could you do this to me, Lewis? I thought you… that you loved me,” your voice turned in a whisper.

All the times he had discussed the future rushed through your mind. He wanted to retire and repeatedly told you how he wanted to marry you. Your hands trembled as you suddenly remembered asking Rachel to be your bridesmaid.

Suddenly, the pressure on your chest got worse.

Lewis's eyes pleaded with you, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. ”I don't know, Y/N. I don't know what came over me. I love you, you have to believe me. Please don't leave, we can work through this together.”

But his words fell on deaf ears as you turned away from him, the pain in your heart too raw to bear. ”I trusted you, Lewis. I trusted both of you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

As you moved towards the door, every step heavier than the last, Lewis's voice trembled with desperation, his hands reaching out to grasp yours, pleading for your attention.

”Y/N, please, don't leave,” he begged, his voice cracking with raw emotion. ”I messed up, I know I did, but I love you. Please, let me make it right.”

You paused, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. ”How can you say you love me after what you did?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, thick with pain.

And with that, you turned away, leaving behind the shattered remains of the life you had once shared, the echoes of Lewis's pleas fading into the emptiness of the night. Swearing to never put your trust in anyone else ever again.

Carlos Sainz

You had sworn off of relationships for so long after your last one that it was honestly a miracle, as your friends and family put it, that you agreed to go out with Carlos. But he was the perfect gentleman to you. The person who gave you hope for a better future. Giving you hope that maybe all the ‘cheesy’ discourse was for you too.

He knew how you were hurt the last time and reassured you about how special you were to him and how you were always enough. Enough for him.

It slowly became a running joke once you guys hit the two year mark. You were finally at a stage where you had a loving partner that you could trust blindly.

So to say that you were blindsided would be an understatement…

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled through Carlos's phone, your heart racing with each new message that appeared on the screen.

You never thought you'd be the type to snoop, but the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach had become too much to ignore. He was so distant lately and so secretive about his phone, it was slowly killing you.

There it was, undeniable proof staring back at you in blue and white. Messages from an unknown number, filled with suggestive language and promises of secrecy. Your breath got caught in your throat as you read through the damning evidence, your heart sinking with each word.

‘Hey babe, can't wait to see you tonight ;) xoxo’

The message hit you like a punch to the gut, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Carlos do this to you? You thought you had something special, something worth fighting for. But now, all those hopes and dreams lay shattered at your feet.

You tried to push down the rising tide of emotion, to find some innocent explanation for what you were seeing. But deep down, you knew the truth – Carlos was cheating on you.

When he emerged from the bathroom, you were waiting for him, phone in hand and tears in your eyes. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

”Carlos,” you whispered, the weight of your words heavy in the air as he stepped into the room, his tousled hair and relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.

You weren’t really sure why you weren’t screaming and thrashing things around already. It was like you were frozen on the spot.

”What's wrong?” he asked, concern etched into his features as he took in your tear-streaked face and the phone clutched tightly in your hand. Though, when you looked at him, all you could see was how he was your everything. How you had given him your everything.

And you still weren’t enough.

You struggled to find the words, to articulate the emotions coursing through you. ”I found... I found something on your phone,” you finally managed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Carlos's expression faltered, his eyes flickering with uncertainty as he took a hesitant step closer. ”What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation to come. ”Messages,” you began, your voice barely audible as you held up the phone, displaying the incriminating evidence for him to see. ”From someone... someone you've been seeing behind my back.”

Carlos's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the screen, his hand instinctively reaching out to take the phone from you. ”Y/N, I swear, I can explain,” he stammered, his voice tinged with desperation. Why was he reaching for the phone and not your hand?

But the words fell on deaf ears as the full weight of his betrayal hit you like a ton of bricks. ”Explain?” you echoed, your voice trembling with disbelief. ”How can you even explain this, Carlos? How could you do this to me?”

He reached out to touch you, to offer comfort or reassurance, but you recoiled, the sting of his infidelity too raw and painful to bear. ”I trusted you,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face as you backed away from him. ”How could you-”

Can love like this be lost too? You’ve been on your knees begging the universe to grant you one love that wouldn’t be snatched from you. Thinking all your prayers had been heard only for him to do it too.

Carlos's expression crumbled as he watched you retreat, his own anguish mirroring yours. ”I never meant for this to happen,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. ”Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right.”

As Carlos pleaded with you, his words heavy with desperation, you couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt. His promises of love and devotion clashed with the evidence on his phone, leaving you torn between the man you thought you knew and the painful truth staring back at you.

You met his gaze, seeing the desperation etched into his features as he struggled to make you believe him. ”Can you hear me?” he implored, desperation lacing his words. ”You are always enough for me. Please, you have to believe me. I love you more than anything, Y/N.”

His words pulled at your heartstrings, the sincerity in his voice almost convincing you to give him another chance. But deep down, you knew that trust once broken was not easily repaired.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his plea bearing down on you. ”I hear you,” you replied softly, nodding through your tears, your voice tinged with sadness. ”But it's not that simple, Carlos. I want to believe you, but...”

Carlos's grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he sought solace in your embrace. ”Please, don't leave,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make this right, to prove to you that you're the only one for me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled away, the pain of betrayal still raw and agonizing. ”No,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the sound of your breaking heart. ”You did to us. You made me believe… I'm leaving. This is goodbye.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Carlos standing alone in the wreckage of your brutally murdered relationship.

Charles Leclerc

You had rushed back home because for the first time in what feels like forever, your boyfriend was back home. Charles was a man of many charms. Despite being with him for so long, he still had you blushing and getting butterflies every time he was around.

He was busy when you got home so you decided to wash up but as you paced back and forth in the living room, your heart racing with anxiety, you didn’t know what to do to figure out what exactly Charles was doing.

Charles had been on the phone for what felt like hours, his voice hushed but urgent as he spoke to someone on the other end of the line. Normally, you wouldn't think much of it, but something about his tone tonight had set off alarm bells in your mind.

You tried to focus on a book, anything to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. But every word you read seemed to blur together, your mind consumed with worry.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. With trembling hands, you set the book aside and made your way to the kitchen, where Charles was still on the phone.

”...I can't risk it tonight,” you heard him say, his tone strained ”She's coming home soon, and I don't want to risk it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Who was he talking about? And why did he sound so nervous?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you crept closer, straining to hear the other end of the conversation.

”...I know, I know,” Charles continued, his voice growing even more frantic. ”But I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to you.”

Your blood ran cold at his words. What did he mean, ‘not fair to her?’ And who the fuck was he talking to?

Before you could process it all, Charles abruptly ended the call and turned to find you standing in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock and hurt.

”Y/N,” he started, his voice wavering as he took in your expression. ”I... I didn't realize you were there.”

You struggled to find your voice, your mind racing with a thousand questions. ”Who were you talking to, Charles?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles' eyes flickered with guilt as he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. ”It's... it's nothing, Y/N,” he stammered, but you could tell he was lying. ”Just a friend.”

But you weren't buying it. Not after what you had just heard. ”A friend?” you repeated, your voice rising with anger and hurt. ”Is that what you call my replacement?”

Charles' face paled at your accusation, his eyes widening in shock. ”Baby, it's not what you think,” he protested, but you could hear the desperation in his voice. He looked so scared, as if he knew he was gonna get caught up into lies.

”Then what is it, Charles?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. ”Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours as if unable to meet your eyes. ”It's... it's complicated,” he finally admitted, but his words offered little comfort.

”There's nothing complicated about cheating on someone you claim to love.” You were trying to compose yourself, not show him how deeply his words had cut you but your hands were trembling and your voice was cracking. Face pale and eyes glassy.

Charles winced at your words, his guilt written plainly across his face. ”You’re the only person I love,” he insisted, his voice barely above a whisper. ”It's just... things got out of hand.”

You felt like you had been punched in the gut. How could he stand there and try to justify his betrayal? How could he expect you to forgive him after this? Why the fuck was he the one looking distort?

”I trusted you, Charles,” you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. He shouldn’t be expecting you to treat him as a victim too when he was the one guilty. ”I thought we had something special.”

Charles' expression softened, his eyes brimming with remorse. ”We do, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ”I love you, more than anything. Please, you have to believe me.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by his infidelity. ”How can I believe anything you say after this?” You scoffed bitterly. Angry at yourself for crying in front of the man who has probably been sleeping with someone else for months now.

Charles reached out to you, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. ”Just give me a chance to prove it.”

You whispered, your voice heavy with resignation,”There are no second chances for cheaters.”

Lando Norris

Because of multiple torments inflicted by past lovers, you were always resistant to fall head first in any relationship. Hesitant to give your heart knowing recovering was going to be the absolute worst.

Comes in, Lando. The man who broke through all your barriers, took down the walls you put around yourself and had you love struck in a matter of time.

For a moment, everything was amazing. He was the best person you could've asked for. He looked at you as if you put the stars up in the sky.

Who could've thought?

Who could've thought that the same fucking man would have you breaking down at a family event in front of everyone.

The room buzzed with conversation as you sat at the dinner table, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air.

Lando's hand found yours under the table, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. ”Are you okay?” he whispered, concern etched in his voice.

You forced a smile, nodding faintly. ”Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed,” you murmured, hoping to brush off your unease. Why was everyone looking at you with such pity?

But Lando's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. ”You know you can talk to me, right?” he said softly, squeezing your hand gently.

Before you could respond, a sudden hush fell over the room, drawing your attention to the commotion across the room. You followed Lando's gaze, your heart sinking as you saw him make eye contact with one of your cousins, their faces morphing as if they were having a whispered conversation.

”What's going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as dread coiled in the pit of your stomach.

You have seen this scene before and you did not like where this was going. Feeling overwhelmed, you got up and excused yourself from the table. Slightly glad to have Lando do the same.

This was all a confusion. You repeated in your head before standing outside the venue, away from distressed eyes and hushed gossips.

Lando's grip on your hand tightened, his expression unreadable as he turned to face you. ”I... I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

Your heart plummeted as you watched him fidget, every step feeling like a weight bearing down on your chest. ”What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling with apprehension.

Lando hesitated, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to meet your gaze. ”I... I don't know how to say this,” he began, his voice faltering.

Just then, your cousin appeared at his side, her expression a mix of guilt and defiance. ”Y/N, we need to talk,” she said, her voice tinged with remorse.

They exchanged another glance and something in your mind stopped working.

Your breath caught in your throat as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, the truth hitting you like a sledgehammer to the chest. ”No...” you whispered, the word barely a breath as tears welled in your eyes.

Lando reached out to you as you took a step away from them, his voice a desperate plea. ”Please, let me explain,” he begged, his eyes brimming with regret.

But you pulled away, the sting of deceit too raw and painful to bear. ”Not you too,” you choked out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”How could you do this to me?”

There were no answers, no explanations that could erase the pain of their breach of trust. They both just watched as you started crying softly. Apparently everyone in your family knew too.

As tears welled in your eyes, Lando's pleading voice cut through the air. ”Y/N, please, just give me a chance to explain.” His hand reached out towards you, but you recoiled, his touch now feeling like a betrayal.

”Explain what?” you retorted, your voice laced with disbelief. ”That you cheated on me with my cousin?”

Lando's eyes widened in panic but instead your cousin's voice broke through the tension, filled with regret. ”Y/N, I'm so sorry. It was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened.”

Anger surged within you at her words. ”Sleeping with my fucking boyfriend was a mistake?” you shot back, incredulous at the audacity of her apology.

Lando stepped forward, his expression a mix of remorse and longing. ”I never meant to cause you any pain, Y/N. Please believe me,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your trust had shattered along with your heart. 

His voice quivered as he spoke again, desperation lacing his words. ”I love you, Y/N. I made a stupid mistake, but it doesn't change how I feel about you.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by their adultery.

”If this is love, I want no part of it,” you declared, your voice filled with anguish. Knowing deep down that you meant it.

Your cousin reached out to you, her eyes brimming with tears. ”Y/N, please, you have to understand...” But understanding felt beyond your reach, lost in a sea of pain and betrayal.

”Understand what?” you cried out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”That my own sister betrayed me with my… my boyfriend?”

Lando's plea echoed in the air, his voice thick with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N. Just give me a chance.”

But the chance had already been squandered, lost in the wreckage of their infidelity.

”You had your chance, Lando, and you blew it.” You wish you could be angry and put them to their places but your chest was hurting so much that it was almost dizzy.

You felt sick and on the verge of passing out.

”I'll do anything to make things right, Y/N. Just tell me what to do.” But there was nothing they could do to undo the damage that had been done, no words or actions that could mend the broken pieces of your heart.

They have insulted you in front of your whole family.

”There's nothing you can do to fix this, Lando. You've ruined everything,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned away, the weight of their betrayal too heavy to bear.

As you walked away, their voices faded into the background, drowned out by the deafening roar of your own heartbreak. And as you stumbled out into the night, the stars above offering no solace, you vowed never to let anyone break you again.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

[steddieas-shegoes]

not so different

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘graduation’

rated t | 994 words | cw: mention of past character death, mention of alcohol, language | tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, good uncle Wayne Munson

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington didn’t cry, not even when he fell off the slide at the playground and his knee bled for 15 minutes and his nanny had to call his mom.

But this was a special instance where he was allowed to be sad. His nanny even said so. He watched all the kids in his kindergarten class taking pictures with their moms and dads, uncles and aunts, grandpas and grandmas, and wondered why he didn’t have anyone here for him.

He found an empty classroom in the big kid hall as soon as the ceremony was done, sat behind the teacher’s desk, and cried into his knees.

“Did your daddy not show up either?” A voice asked from in front of him.

He lifted his head, vision blurry and face wet, to see Eddie.

Eddie had already done kindergarten once, but he had trouble with his phonics, so they kept him behind. He was the first kid to talk to Steve in class, but within a few days, Tommy and Carol and Heather had scared him away from Steve entirely.

“Um, no.”

“What about your mama?”

“She’s with my dad.”

“My mama is with God. Or that’s what a lot of people say. I dunno if she was friends with him or not, though. I think she just got buried in the ground and people are scared to tell me,” Eddie was sitting next to Steve now, his leg knocking against Steve’s.

Eddie didn’t sit still very well, and the teacher always said he had ants in his pants. Steve hoped he didn’t have them in there now; he didn’t want any ants on him.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He’s probably getting ‘rested again. He showed up being silly and my Uncle Wayne had to take him outside,” Eddie shrugged.

“Is he tired?” Steve asked, sniffling and leaning more against Eddie.

“No. Uncle Wayne says sometimes he has too much of the drinks in the bottles I’m not allowed to touch and it makes him act like he don’t got a brain,” Eddie didn’t sound that sad, but Steve still wanted to hug him. “So your daddy isn’t here?”

“No. I think he forgot.”

“Sorry he forgot. My Uncle Wayne never forgets. He even came to the lunch room for my birthday. He brought me a piece of pizza!” Eddie always sounded more excited than anyone else. Most of the kids in the class thought it was stupid, but Steve kind of liked the way his eyes got wide and his smile got so big it took up most of his face. “Maybe he can bring you a piece for your birthday next year.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“You can come meet him!”

The classroom door opened just as Eddie started to stand and reach for Steve’s hands to pull him up.

“There ya are, Ed! Been lookin’ everywhere. You want some ice cream?” An older man stood by the door, button up plaid shirt only half-tucked into his jeans.

“Can we bring Steve? He’s my friend.”

Steve’s head turned, shocked that Eddie would say that.

“We gotta ask his parents first, Ed.”

“His parents didn’t come.”

“Oh.” The man looked Steve up and down before seemingly settling on something. He gave a small smile and gestured for him to come closer. “What’s your favorite flavor, then?”

“I dunno. Never had anything except vanilla,” Steve admitted, afraid to look at the man who had to be Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.

“Well, that just won’t do, will it? Let’s go try every flavor at the diner. Benny just added a few new ones. Think there’s even a bubblegum one.”

Eddie clapped his hands and dragged Steve out the door by his arm.

“I bet you’ll like mint chip,” he said as Wayne followed behind them, fond smile on his face.

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington had only cried a few times in his life, but this was the second time it was happening in front of Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t conscious this time, though.

“If you wake up, I’ll take you to the diner and we can have ice cream. They’ve got a new raspberry white chocolate flavor that you’d like. I could use some mint chip right now,” Steve said around the tears.

Wayne had left the hospital an hour ago to freshen up and grab one of his crossword puzzle books. Steve had been crying for most of that hour, holding Eddie’s hand and quietly begging him to wake up.

Two days without hearing his voice or watching his smile light up the room was too long, especially after having it for the last 13 years.

“How’re you gonna walk at graduation if you’re still asleep here, huh?” Steve closed his eyes and wiped at his cheeks.

“You can walk with me.”

Steve’s head shot up at Eddie’s quiet, but surprisingly strong voice.

“Eddie!”

“Hey, Stevie. Heard you’re takin’ me for ice cream,” Eddie’s smile was crooked, the bandage on his cheek covering one of his dimples.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Eddie being awake, being alive, being okay.

“Yeah, Eds. Every day if you want,” Steve wanted to crawl into the bed with him, hold him close and feel him breathing and listen to his heartbeat, be sure he was there.

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“Soon as you can leave, that’ll be our first stop. Promise.”

Eddie closed his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. “You slept?”

“A bit.”

“So no.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “A bit.”

“C’mere.”

“Honey, you’re hurt-“

“Come here.”

Steve got in bed slowly, making sure he kept space between himself and Eddie’s injuries.

“Think I’ll graduate?”

Steve snorted. “They’d be stupid to hold you back after you saved everyone.”

“Yeah. ‘M a hero. Fuck Hawkins High.”

Steve could feel more tears trickle down his cheeks, but these were different.

These were relieved tears, happy tears.

“Yeah, honey. Fuck them.”

“Love you, though.”

“Love you so much.”

[p1astr81]

stay done -cl16

in which: You just can’t walk away from Charles, no matter what he does.

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of potential cheating, google translated French, Charles is a complete dick, reader is stupid as hell, mentions of vomit, not proofread I fear, lmk if there’s any more!

based on “stay done” by tate mcrae

‧‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The both of you sat on opposite ends of the sofa, and somehow the topic of Lewis joining the team next year came up. Stupidly, you commented, “yeah, it’s going to be incredible if you beat him.” Of course, it wasn’t a dig at your boyfriends abilities, but rather a recognition of the past achievements of the 7 time world champion.

Charles looked to you with furrowed brows. He assessed your expression before scoffing. He stood abruptly, moving with haste. “Charles, I didn’t mean it like that.” You chased after him down the hallway of his Monaco apartment. “I’m sorry,” you tried again after you received no response or acknowledgment from the man. “Fuck off.” He muttered, stepping into your shared bedroom and slamming the door in your face. You tried to twist the handle.

Locked.

“Babe, come on.” Your fist softly collided with the door once. “You’re an incredible driver, I just meant with his achievements and whatnot…” you trailed off, realizing your words weren’t making the situation much better.

Hate that I’m always gonna have a side to me / That’s still in awe when you’re mad at me / You can’t do it wrong in my eyes

“It was a stupid thing to say. I take it back, I’m sorry.” The only thing your apology granted was the sound of broken glass from somewhere inside the room. You took a shaky breath, and hesitantly tapped your knuckles against the wooden barrier. “Charlie? You okay?” You called out hesitantly.

The door was thrown open seconds later. Charles’s green eyes were a few shades darker as he glared down at you. His gaze pierced through you, and somehow caused the rise and fall of your chest to cease. “Fine.” He grumbled, stepping by you. He was sure bump your shoulder with such force it turned you a full ninety degrees. You watched as he plucked his keys from the counter. “Where are you-“ he shut the front door, abruptly cutting off the rest of your inquiry.

Your attention turned to the sound of shattered glass from earlier, and you took a cautious step into the room to investigate it’s source. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw the picture frame. On the floor. Upside-down. Surrounded in glass.

You were cautious of the scattered glass, stepping on your tip-toes to avoid it. You retrieved the frame by its stand. Once it was in your grasp, you stepped away from the glass. The picture was a favorite among the both of you. Taken by joris at the amusement park, after Charles just succeeded in winning you a giant plush. You had your arms stretched above your head, your lips spread into an open smile, probably cheering loudly at the time it was taken. The picture caught Charles as he was dipping down to grab you around your hips and hoist you into a close hug. He was a little blurry, but the love in his eyes was clear as day.

A tear ran down your face. You made no attempt to wipe it away. More followed as your feet carried you to the living room. You gently placed what was left of the frame on the coffee table, and sat on the sofa in front of it.

I hate it that you gotta break something / To realize we’re at rock bottom

Four days passed. You both agreed to forget the past incident, and he replaced the picture frame.

You were in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the both of you. You’d plated it up nicely, and placed the two dishes on the table at your respective spots. “Now, Leo, stay away from the table.” You redirected the cute little dog to the living room. He never jumped on the table to steal food, but he was a troublemaker in many other ways, which always had you worried.

You descended down the hallway to the room dedicated to his sim, and knocked on the door lightly before entering. “Foods done,” you inform him, your voice light with hope, but cautious. “Just bring it here.” He instructed, his eyes on the screen. You let out a small sigh as the bit of hope you held onto fizzled into nothingness. “Charlie, it’s been a week since you last came to eat with me.” You said, your voice small as you felt pathetic begging your boyfriend to just eat with you.

“What do you want from me?” He fired back, spinning around to face you. His eyes were narrowed, daring you to give a snappy reply back. “Just twenty minutes.” Your voice was hardly a whisper, broken as you bargained for an ounce of his attention. He sighed—though the sound was more of a huff—and gestured to the monitor stating, “I’m working. Isn’t that what you want? So you can leech off of my money some more?”

That one hit hard. While you owned the day care down the street, you didn’t make nearly as much as Charles did. You swallowed the lump in your throat, fighting back the pricking sting of tears. “I’ll be back with your plate.”

But kill me again cause the high’s twice as high / Wish this bullshit would end, but we’re back here again

Charles was away for another race, in Vegas this time around. “Baby, I saw this one dress and I thought you would like it so I took a picture,” he quipped over your FaceTime call, a text from him sending soon after. It was a really cute dress, but you could just make out the price tag. $5,000. “You know me well, cause that is a really cute dress.” You laughed. Charles smiled. “Ah, perfect. I’ll buy it tomorrow before the sessions.”

Your stomach twisted, your head reeling with his words from a couple of weeks ago, ‘So you can leech off of my money some more’. Since that night, you’d purchased everything yourself, turning down his offers or blocking him so he couldn’t swipe his own card. You turned down every transaction from his account. You had to adjust a little, as buying whatever you pleased was no longer an option with your new budget.

You shook your head quickly. “No, that’s alright I think I have plenty of dresses.” You turned down the offer as politely as you could without raising any red flags. Charles’s expression twisted, his brows pinching together and creasing the space between them. “What is it with you lately? You’ve been acting like my wallet has a disease.” You gave a forced laugh at his joke. “Nothing, just… independence is nice, I suppose.” You tried to reassure him with a smile. He gave you a skeptical look, piecing the puzzle together all on his own. “is this about what a said the other week?” You didn’t answer, your gaze drifting to a far-off place. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean that.” His voice was soft, an apology lying just beneath his words that never surfaced.

“No, yeah.” You agreed quietly, a small nod of your head confirming it double. “Charlie it’s getting pretty late here, I think I’m going to head to bed.”

“Oh, chérie. Why didn’t you say something earlier. It’s like—what is it,” he calculated the time difference in his head quickly, “two in the morning there.” He gave you a look of pity, or maybe it’s guilt. “I just miss you, is all.” You smiled softly. “Wish you were still here with me.”

Charles chuckled lowly. “I miss you, too. But I’ll see you next week in Brazil, yeah?” You nodded to confirm, though he already knew. “Can’t wait. Goodnight bébé.”

Yeah, I know we should break up / But I just can’t stay done with you / When I take off my makeup / Go to bed wanna wake up with you

You were meant to be flying into Brazil tomorrow, but a picture surfaced after Las Vegas that had you cancelling your flight.

You send a screenshot of the photo to Charles, demanding, “what is this?” he won in Vegas, and evidently celebrated in the infamous ‘sin city’. The picture taken during that night caught him red handed. A pretty blonde girl sat on his lap, hardly covered by her mini, skin tight, dress.

The guys were trying to be funny by calling a few of the escorts over. Nothing serious.

Honestly, a part of you wanted to laugh at his response. “Nothing serious”??? Was he kidding?? Her ass was pressed up against his dick and he thinks it’s “nothing serious”???

Fuck you and your excuses, Leclerc. Don’t expect me to be in Brazil tomorrow, ‘cause I’m not showing up.

We're best friends and enemies / We're good 'til you're dead to me, yeah / I told you goodbye like / Hundred million times

His messages came poring in quickly.

Ma chérie, please. Im sorry.

Don’t take this so harsh, it was only a bit of fun.

I didn’t do anything with her

I give you my life on that promise.

Please don’t leave us like this.

The sheer audacity of this man had you stumbling over your own thoughts, but somehow the ones that translated through the keyboard were,

I’m not ending us. I just need a bit of space right now.

I know I sound so dumb / But I just can't stay done with you / I just can't stay done with you

A few days went by, and you went out with your friends to momentarily forget about Charles. You drank. A lot. And alcohol—being a depressant and all—did it’s job exactly. Your plan to use the liquid to forget about him backfired, as the end of the night left you on the bathroom floor of your friend’s flat, crying as you scrolled through old photos of the two of you.

So when he called, you couldn’t resist picking up this time, even though you’d ignored all his calls previous.

“I miss you so much,” you started, choking on your own sobs. “Charles, please.”

You were entirely unsure of what you were pleading for. Another apology? For his presence? There wasn’t a true answer.

“Oh, Chérie,” he cooed. “I’ll pick you up, yeah? Are you at your friends?” He was gentle with his words and his tone of voice, as if any other tone would inflict physical pain upon you. This was the Charles you fell in love with. The caring, gentle, loving one.

After receiving confirmation that you were in fact at your friend’s residence, he raced over to pick you up and comforted you as soon as you set a foot in his car.

“I’m so sorry. So, so, so sorry.” And with his arms wrapped so tightly around you, whispering sweetly in your ear, how could you not think his apology was sincere?

So you gave in, accepting his apology after days of stubborn silence. “I know.” You sobbed into his shoulder. The never ending tears soaked through his thick hoodie, causing it to plaster to his skin.

Two hands cradling your face, he pulled you away from his shoulder gently. Your hands clung to the ends of your hoodie as he pushed the stray hairs from your face. “I love you.” He placed a kiss on your forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment before he pulled away. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

You nodded, leaning back into your seat. He was sure to keep a hand in yours the whole way there.

I hate it that I'm tryna call you up / When you're the thing that I'm running from / The one-way street I can't get off, oh yeah

You walked into the small pizza place across the street from Charles’s apartment building. A friend of a friend was very adamant about meeting you for lunch today, and when she offered to pay, who were you to say no?

Giving her a short greeting, you sat in the booth across from her. The atmosphere was awkward, but you chalked it up to not knowing her all that well.

Until halfway through your meal, she reluctantly slid her phone across the table to you. A very short conversation lit up the screen.

hey

hi?

wyd?

nothing rn

wanna come over?

can’t, I’ve got plans later.

At first, you were confused as to why she would show you the interaction, but then your eyes scanned over the name.

Charles Leclerc

“I met him at a club not to long ago.” She explained. “I had no idea he had a girlfriend until I did some digging and when I found out it was you… I’m really sorry.”

As if a small sorry would do anything to fix the tremendous ache in your heart.

“Have you…” you swallowed your fear. “done anything before? Hooked up?”You feared the answer, praying to whoever would listen that she spoke out a no.

“No. But he was really flirty when we met.” You couldn’t meet her eyes. The pity in them making you want to scream like a mad woman. “Send me a screenshot of that?” You requested, your voice strained from the effort of holding back your tears.

She nodded. “‘Course.”

“Thanks for lunch.” You muttered quickly, grabbing your stuff and nearly sprinting out of the place.

Charles tried to greet you as you stepped into the flat, but you shoved past him and locked yourself in the bathroom.

The door handle jiggled, but the lock did it’s job. Charles tapped his knuckles against the wooden door. “Chérie?” The nickname had an anger bubbling inside you. “Are you alright in there?” With your newly acquired information, you wondered how he could sound so genuinely concerned.

“Uh, just feeling sick.” You answered shakily. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You were feeling extremely sick to your stomach. Something nasty swirled from within and it had you leaned up against the wall with your legs drawn to your chest.

“I’ll get you some water.”

The bathroom tiles reverberated from a buzz of your phone. When you opened the message to see the screenshot, the lunch you just ingested crawled back up your throat and forced itself out of your body. The contents dumped into the toilet bowl.

A foreign body pressed closely toward yours, holding your hair from your face and rubbing your back.

How the hell did he get in? You asked yourself, then remembered the key he kept on top of the doorframe.

It didn’t matter, cause the feeling of him so close to you had you spilling everything your body could offer into the bowl.

“Go away,” you manage to mumble.

“What?”

“Go away.” You repeated more clearly, attempting to push him away but given you were head first in the toilet, it was a little challenging.

Charles laugh is laced with concern. “Why would I do that? I know this isn’t-“

“Because I saw the texts.” You lift your head, pushing away from him and taking up your spot against the wall once more. You wiped your face with a piece of bath tissue while he looked to you with furrowed brows, shaking his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. What texts?”

You threw your phone at him, screen displaying the conversation. “Those texts.”

You watched as he read through the conversation. Guilt manipulated each of his facial features and weighed heavy on his body, forcing him to his bottom and his back up against the bathroom vanity for support. His position mirrored yours. Back straight and knees bent to meet your chest.

Sat across from you, his forehead fell to rest on his patellas. “I’m sorry, bébé.” He muttered.

You sniffled, whipping your nose with the back of your hand. “Coming from you, those words don’t mean much anymore.” You mumbled, playing with you hands in your lap.

He exhaled a sigh from deep in his chest. His eyes found your figure, a pained look painting his expression. “I know. I know.” He shook his head. Desperation filled him, a burning desire to reach out to you but he held himself back. “I have no excuse this time.” He carefully placed your phone on the tiled floor beside you.

You said nothing, your eyes still on your hands as you twisted your fingers between each other. Ideas of how to respond and repercussions swam around in your mind. You considered breaking it off with him and leaving for good. But at the end of the day this was your Charles and it was nothing more than a text. A text sent when you asked him for space. Perhaps he thought you were on a break.

So, you being you, you cut him some slack. “I think I’ll be sleeping in the guest bedroom tonight.” Your voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper, and you still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes.

Charles felt a little lighter at your words. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t breaking up with him. Hell, you’d still be under the same roof, just a few meters from Charles. He smiled softly. “Okay.” He nodded.

I've been nothing less than cordial / But if we're really talking morals / Why'd you have to hit her up like that? / You should know it isn't normal

A generous amount of make-up remover soaked the cloth in your hand. Gentle swipes took off the top layer of your makeup, coating the light colored cloth in an ugly shade of brown. The cleansing balm took off whatever the makeup remover failed to, and you washed your face to be sure it was all off.

Charles had avoided the bathroom, but when you came out, he couldn’t resist giving you a small, “goodnight.” He received no response from you, but did not blame you for ignoring him.

You slipped into the guest bed, the mattress was hardly used and therefore not as broken in as yours and Charles’s.

You tossed and turned for an hour. Your brain couldn’t shut off. It constantly found a new thing to complain about every five minutes. The bed is too stiff, or it’s too cold in here, and then when you got another blanket, now it’s too hot.

But the most notable complaint, I miss Charles.

You whispered out a curse to the empty room, trying your hardest to push that thought far away from your brain. But it was persistent. It was the devil on your shoulder, telling you Charles could fix the ache in your heart—even if he was the cause of it.

You should be mad at him. You shouldn’t be the one longing for his presence beside you. You should be repulsed at the mere thought of him.

You couldn’t find it in you to stay mad at him. He was an irresistible force, constantly drawing you into him even when he wasn’t trying to.

And eventually, after an hour of trying to talk yourself out of it, it drew you right back to his side. As you slid into the sheets next to him, you tried your best to stay quiet and not to wake him. But when a warm hand was placed on your hip, you knew you’d failed to do so.

“I love you.” He tiredly spoke. You said nothing. Instead, you laced your fingers with his.

I just can’t stay done with you.

[freeuselandonorris]

honestly would kill to see your take on any kink ever, but I must admit I haven't been able to get your thoughts on electrostim out of my mind since you shared them so. that one. (+camshow if you're feeling it 👀)

ps.: I did have a good festive season, and I hope you did too!! 🫶🫶

glad to hear it! 🫰 mine has been. mixed. but mostly good thank u!

obviously could not resist this one. enjoy oscar being the stone cold freak for once!

Lando had asked to see it, mainly because he didn’t entirely believe Oscar was telling the truth. 

Oscar was cool and everything. Funny, with a saucy mouth on him once you got to know him. But you had to admit the guy came off as — well. Vanilla. 

So when they’d gotten pissed together on leftover Moët in Lando’s suite and Oscar had picked up the TENS machine Jon had left in there, turned it over in his hands and said, “are you into electrostim?” in tones of nervous delight, Lando hadn’t even considered it might be some sort of weird sex thing.

What the fuck is electrostim? he’d asked, tipping the remnants of his glass down his throat, which meant he didn’t notice Oscar’s horrified expression for a few seconds. 

“Nothing,” Oscar said quickly, but by that point Lando had clocked the blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks and perked right up. Even then, he’d figured it was something embarrassing, but not — that. 

He’d not believed it, when Oscar explained it. How you could wire up the same kind of machine Jon used to zap the cramps out of his aching thighs and stick it round your cock. Not that Oscar said it so brazenly. There was a lot of umm-ing and err-ing, a lot of vague hand gestures and stuttering, before Lando got the picture. 

“Fuck off,” Lando said when Oscar finished stammering out the barest of explanations. “Really? You?”

”Jesus, Lando,” Oscar said, somewhere between exasperated and indignant.

“I bet you a hundred quid you can’t,” Lando said. 

Oscar shrugged. “Believe what you like.”

Lando, whose impulse control was bad at the best of times and even worse combined with half a bottle of champagne and a burgeoning stiffy, picked the machine up from where Oscar had dropped it onto the coffee table and held it out. “Show me?”

Oscar gaped at him. He was redder than Lando had ever seen him, but he didn’t look mad or anything. Just — blindsided, maybe. 

“Not now,” Oscar said eventually. His voice came out in a kind of croak, and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Maybe — maybe some other time.”

Lando knew a brush-off when he saw one, so he shrugged and changed the subject and tried not to feel too mortified about it. Oscar made his excuses after another glass, sloped off to his own bedroom, and Lando put the whole embarrassing affair out of his mind. 

When his phone buzzed a week later with a text from Oscar, he had to read it twice before he understood it.

Osc 19:48 Hey. I took a video if you’re still interested. No worries if not, don’t want to pressure 🙂

Lando breathed out hard through his nose, blinking at his phone.

lando 19:50 thats the politest sext i’ve ever had yeh i am pls

Osc 19:51 🙄 it was hardly a sext [video attached]

The thumbnail was blurry, a flash of maroon and some squiggles that might be wires. Lando swallowed hard, thumb hovering over the play button. He tapped it.

”Okay,” Oscar’s voice came from the phone’s speaker, quiet. Lando kicked the volume up a couple of notches, watching a confusion of movement. Oscar’s torso, clad in his usual plain t-shirt, and a pair of khaki knee-length shorts, open at the waist. The wires Lando had spotted led out to a hand-held control box, similar to the one Jon used but a different model. 

On-screen, Oscar cleared his throat. “Had it on for five minutes or so already,” he said. His voice was a little shaky, like he was nervous. He swallowed audibly before he spoke again. “So I’m a little — I’m already, you know.” A soft laugh. “Sorry, don’t know how well I’ll be able to, um, talk you through it. Let me just — I’ll just show you.”

He exhaled, audibly steeling himself, and Lando felt himself mirror the action unconsciously. His hands were sweating enough to worry he might drop his phone. He swore under his breath and hit pause on Oscar, heading through to his bedroom and flopping back onto the bed. After a moment’s deliberation, he shoved his own shorts down to mid-thigh. He wasn’t hard yet, but — well. Better to have the option. 

He hit play. Oscar-on-the-screen hummed thoughtfully and then the screen blurred again. Some scuffling sounds that made Lando wince, the screen going briefly dark and then bleaching light again until Oscar came back into focus from the neck down to mid-thigh, standing in what looked like his bathroom with the camera, presumably, propped on the sink. 

“Right, that’s better,” Oscar said, and breathed out again, a short sharp exhalation. “Okay, here goes.” 

He put the control box down, out of shot, and visibly straightened his spine before he pushed his shorts down. No boxers. Oscar, Lando thought admiringly. I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.

It took the camera a few moments to focus, but when it did, Lando bit back a groan. Oscar’s cock was thick, semi-hard, and covered in wires. A thick black loop of it cinched tight around the base, and another snug beneath the head of his cock, trailing a black wire. 

“Had it on low,” Oscar said. “I’ll turn it up a bit.”

His hand reached out of frame and adjusted something, and he gasped. His cock jerked, filling out in front of Lando’s wide eyes. Oscar made a soft noise, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he adjusted something else that made his cock jump again, a tiny rhythmic pulse. 

“Ah,” Oscar said. “That’s — about halfway now. Feels pretty intense.”

He adjusted himself with one hand, pulling the top loop of wire a little tighter with the plastic toggle tucked up tight beneath the head. His long fingers hovered for a second, like he was struggling not to jack himself off, help things along. 

Lando let out a string of curses beneath his breath and grabbed himself. He thumbed at the bottom of the screen to bring up the playback bar. Jesus, the video wasn’t even a quarter of the way through yet. 

He watched Oscar’s cock get harder, bobbing in midair. Lando tuned himself into it after a minute or so. He could tell when Oscar adjusted the intensity of the current by the way Oscar’s cock flushed red, jolting against his belly, the veins on the underside pulsing beneath his foreskin. 

Still, it made him gasp when Oscar’s cock blurted thin clear liquid. It trickled down the side of his cock and dropped out of sight. 

“Yep,” Oscar said tightly. “Yeah, it’s. Getting good now.”

“Oh my God, Oscar,” Lando said to his empty room, voice shocked and shaking. 

Oscar hummed again, a low rumble in his chest. When he spoke again, it sounded like an effort. “Sometimes it makes me, uh. I think it stimulates my bladder or something, so — just to warn you.”

Lando let out a shuddering breath, blinking hard at the screen. This was insane. Both of them had clearly lost their minds. He wondered, for a brief paranoid second, whether this was some sort of sophisticated deepfake scam and he was going to have his bank account emptied or his DMs leaked yet again. But no, Oscar had said it to his face. 

“Right,” Oscar’s voice came over the speaker. “Gonna take it up another notch. It’s getting — it’s strong now.” 

Lando could hear it now. A faint ticking sound, barely there, pulsing in time to the jerk of Oscar’s swollen cock. Oscar pulled up the hem of his t-shirt with one hand and clenched his abs, gasping. 

“Ah, jeez,” Oscar gritted out, and on the screen, his cock jumped and let out a spurt of liquid. It spattered wet against his stomach, dripping down. Too far away from the camera to be able to see what it was. 

Lando curled his toes into the bedding. He was wanking furiously now, skin slapping against skin sounding overly loud in the room compared to the processed sound of Oscar’s heavy breaths. On the screen, Oscar’s cock was pulsing rhythmically, drooling clear liquid with every movement. Little droplets ran down the shaft, dripping to the floor. The hem of Oscar’s t-shirt had fallen down again when he’d let go of it, and it was dark and damp. Lando found himself wanting to suck it clean.

”Not—” Oscar’s breath hitched on a moan. “Not long now.” 

You’re telling me, Lando thought wildly, squeezing himself around the base to try to calm himself down. He was panting, thighs flexing with the need to come, but Oscar hadn’t yet, and he wanted to see it. 

“Okay,” Oscar was saying on the screen, more to himself than the camera. “Gonna — gonna turn it up to max now, and that’ll probably do it.”

He reached out then and picked up the phone, bringing it closer to his straining cock. As the camera moved, Lando caught a glimpse of his face, red and shining with sweat. 

“Ready?” Oscar’s voice came over the speakers, and Lando moaned at the shock of being directly addressed. 

Oscar reached his other hand out to the control unit, and Lando saw his thighs clench, his cock lurch violently. 

“Oh, fuck,” Oscar rasped. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” 

He came, untouched and messy, spraying across his t-shirt. Before he knew it, Lando was coming too, letting it get all over his own stomach as Oscar’s ragged gasps echoed in his ears. 

Lando stopped coming before Oscar did. Oscar’s cock was red and angry-looking, still spurting thin liquid every few seconds as his thighs shook visibly. Then the screen tilted dizzily, and the video stopped.

Lando stared at the screen, shell-shocked. His brain felt like it had been hollowed out. 

“Fucking hell,” he croaked to the phone. He wanted to laugh, slightly hysterical. Instead he wiped his sticky hand on his shirt and swiped out of the video, back to his message thread with Oscar.

lando 20:03 omfg wow

A second later, Lando’s phone vibrated, but there was no reply in his thread with Oscar. Instead, there was a notification from his bank. Lando opened it.

Oscar Piastri has requested funds! Oscar Piastri has requested £100.00 GBP.  Message from recipient: “Told you so.” Accept request to transfer funds?

[animasola86]

F o r g e t f u l 🎀 1 / 4

Your roommate has a dirty secret - you. The only problem is: you can't remember anything about that. And there might be even more problems when you realize just what kind of relationship you have with her.

a dominant woman X a submissive girl with a memory problem

WARNINGS: F!Reader-insert! NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mistress/pet. Domme/sub. Memory loss. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Fingering. Sex toys. Object insertion. Bondage. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 5.5k

A/N: Remember: if these tags are not for you, you better turn back now! If you know my other stories, you may be used to my very explicit writing style, but this is still some of the darker stuff, somewhat. It's rough, but there is an actual wlw story buried beneath the depravity, I swear! And: THIS IS FICTION! Nobody got hurt in the making of this series. (By the way, the header is just for aesthetics, it's up to you to decide how Mistress looks like and obviously Reader looks however you want to insert her. I tried my best to keep her neutral.) Another note on the fandom tags: I write characters who could be anyone, so I thought about some kick-ass ladies who may fit the role here. I'm sorry this is not about your favorite character, but maybe it can still somewhat fit? Give it a try :)

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

You're staring at the pictures with your lips parted and trembling, your cheeks warm, a strange tingle in your nape. Your hands are shaking as you file through the prints. They look weirdly professional, good lighting, even better angles, the background is blurry while the focus lies directly on...

You.

It's you in those photographs, you in various positions, you in different outfits... or with nothing at all hiding your curves. Some pictures are just showing certain body parts, some angles you've never seen of yourself, some more flattering than others.

But whatever you see, you can't hide the fact that it arouses you. It's not the subject, you're usually quite self-conscious about taking nudes of yourself (even though you gotta admit that these look quite well made, so surreal that you feel almost proud of yourself), it's actually two things that make your core throb:

One: you are in clearly compromising positions, bent over with your legs spread wide, on your back, bound to the bed with cuffs around your wrists and ankles, or tied up with soft-looking rope in intricate patterns, your body composed in ways you haven't thought possible (or comfortable).

And two: you are always stuffed. There are various objects sticking out of both your cunt and your ass, sometimes there's even something in your mouth that's held open by a spider gag. It varies too, not all holes are occupied all the time, all at once, in some pictures it's just one and it's particularly stuffed and stretched (is that an eggplant?).

Your body reacts more and more as you flip through the thick printed paper. The worst thing about it all:

You can't remember a goddamn thing!

Shame and arousal course through you as you stare at yourself. But you can't put them down, can't stop. In this photo, you're wearing a black leather harness that accentuates your breasts. You're standing, with wide legs, a spreader bar attached to your ankles. You're blindfolded, your arms tied behind your back. It's a series of pictures, you realize.

First from the front, then from the back (your ass cheeks look great with how they're pushed up by the leather straps). You notice something shiny between them: a butt plug with a sparkly diamond base. It's glowing, or blinking as you see in the next picture where the light is gone.

Your insides convulse a little, your muscles clenching around nothing. It's like looking at porn, but you can't ignore the familiarity about the body portrayed. It is undoubtedly yours.

But then again: you've never had anything up your ass, not in your conscious state at least. But here (and in those other pics) you have, and the next print even shows a close-up of the plug in your ass. It's a strangely aesthetic photo considering the unflattering motif and angle, but it certainly does things to you. Though you can't be sure if the tension in your stomach comes from embarrassment, excitement or sheer terror at the revelation that somebody took these pictures of you – and you can't even remember it.

Swallowing hard, you pry your eyes from the prints, your hands still shaking, as you look around the room. Somebody can only be one person. Your gaze scrapes over the shelves around you, full of camera equipment, old-fashioned film containers next to a plastic box full of SD-cards, various lenses and other extras, and then the cameras themselves, three at least, behind glass doors, kept away, like the pictures you found in a large brown envelope hiding in a drawer.

You've been looking for some hair ties, an innocent search, knowing your roommate wouldn't mind, but now you feel as if you've stepped into a different world, uncovering secrets you should have never known about. Even if they are about you.

Taking a shuddering breath, you look back at the pictures in your hands, your cheeks positively aflame now as you trace the blurry lines of your body before the focus shifts to a close-up of your cunt, shiny and reddened, your clit swollen, with black clamps attached to your pussy lips, thin metal chains disappearing off to the sides, holding your folds open while something black and girthy vanishes into your body.

The next pictures show a white-gloved hand gripping the base of the dildo, and you flip quicker through the sheets to create the motion, seeing the toy going in and out of your cunt, guided by the anonymous hand, spreading your core, diving in to retreat with an extra layer of shine before disappearing again, and as you stare at the prints, you can almost feel it moving inside you, a faint memory as your muscles clench and unclench, your arousal building up before it drips into your underwear.

You are torn between being very horny upon seeing these pictures and utterly disturbed. If you could only remember these scenes, then it wouldn't be as bad. But you can't. There's nothing, only fog that slips through your mind's imaginary fingers as you try to catch it, as you try to make sense of this. You feel your heart beating faster while your eyes tear up from staring unblinkingly at the prints in your hands.

This can't be real. Confusion merges with betrayal, your belly feels tense, your heart clenches in rhythm with your walls, your throat closes up as the first tear spills from your lashes.

You let go of the pictures, watching them scatter over the desk and down to the floor, every angle of your body on display, every inch captured in embarrassing detail, your holes filled or gaping, your mouth gagged or stuffed or open, there's drool, there are tears, there's wetness glistening on your skin in almost every shot. Your eyes may be the scariest part staring up at you. They're either glazed over, unfocused, or rolled back and hooded, some bloodshot, some watery, and some look almost defiant, a moment captured in time where you seemingly fought back?

The ones where you're blindfolded are the least terrifying, those are the ones where you can dissociate, where you can imagine somebody else being tied to whatever surfaces there are, tables, benches, beds, chairs, artfully presented, where it's just a body, clad in sexy lingerie and high heels, or adorned with ropes, or in the moments after where the skin is dented by the intricate patterns left behind by the ties.

The close-ups are also getting to you. You've never seen your own cunt or ass up close like this, so again, it could be anyone's holes filled and spread and used by various objects. The sheer amount and variety of them is quite concerning. But it's the unconventional ones that make you shiver, that create that tension in your stomach. The cucumber pushed deep into your ass so only its thinner stalk or whatever its called pokes out. The wide eggplant parting your labia in an obscene fashion, its entire body stuffed into your cunt, creating a slight bulge in your lower stomach.

There's another stack of photos atop a large envelope (the whole drawer seems to be dedicated to just you), and your curiosity gets the better of you after all. It's a series of pictures showing different round objects pushed into your holes. From marbles to ping pong balls to actual tennis balls, they're all shown vanishing into either your ass or your cunt, pushed by a delicate finger clad in a white glove, one after the other, and you can only assume how many would actually fit. It's not a video, you can't be sure, but you can imagine whoever did this to you didn't stop at just one.

Indeed they didn't, as the next photo shows. Another set of hands, also wearing white gloves, is grabbing your ass cheeks and pulling them apart, making your sphincter wink at the camera, before, in the next shot, your hole is gaping, allowing a strange view inside, rosy flesh stuffed with white little balls (you can see at least three, but more are hinted at behind them). You feel a little sick looking at the rest of the series of pictures, where they come back out as your hole puckers, pushing and pushing.

Your body reacts in earnest, your muscles clenching around nothing, deep shivers crashing down your spine. You flip past more of these kinds of photos, until you stop when you see white-gloved fingers poking at your cunt, spreading your lips, gathering your slick that glistens on the surface of the latex gloves, and you let out an audible gasp when the next picture doesn't show them push in, but shows only a wrist (attached to a slender arm) poking out of your stretched hole, gripped by tight skin, suggesting the entire hand is stuck inside you.

Your stomach gives a nervous growl at the sight, your breath hitching in your throat. You swallow thickly, your nostrils flaring as you force yourself to breathe through your nose to calm yourself. The stack of pictures shakes in your hands as you flip through more extreme insertions, more vegetables, some fruits, an entire apple made it up your cunt apparently, while they went from using one cucumber in your ass to at least three, stretching your rim impossibly wide. The sight alone makes your asshole clench violently, and you wonder why you never felt sore after being stuffed so full and spread so wide.

But your body seemingly adjusted, returned to its former state, unharmed, giving no hints at what actually happened to you. Strange. It's almost as if this happened to somebody else after all. But it didn't. It is your body. You may not know your cunt or ass up close, but you recognize the rest, your boobs, your arms, your belly, your legs, your feet, the birthmarks that make you you. It is you in these pictures, in every single one.

Only you.

A strangled sob escapes you as you look over the desk, seeing more and more envelopes, hiding in plain sight, more prints, some smaller, some bigger, all filled with motifs of your body being used in various fashions, one more degrading than the next. Shame settles low in your stomach, like a heavy weight that makes it hard to breathe. Your head is spinning, blood rushing in your ears so loudly you are startled back into reality as you suddenly hear the creaking of the door.

Footsteps follow, before someone clears their throat.

You whip around, dropping the last pictures you were holding, more shots of your stuffed cunt, wet and glistening as it's assaulted by more household items. Your eyes widen when you see your roommate in the door frame, a smug smile on her beautiful face as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Oh hi,” she says in a nonchalant tone, tilting her head. “What are you doing here, pet?” she adds, and you frown at the nickname, a strange sensation crashing through your nerves.

“I... uh... I was looking for...” you stammer, taking a step away from the desk and the mess you made by dropping all those prints. “A hair tie,” you whisper breathlessly, curling your shaking hands into fists as you stare at her. “What... what are these? Did you take them?” you then ask, your voice trembling as much as your shoulders while you look from her back to the discriminating evidence you found by accident.

Your roommate sighs, unfolding her arms as she walks towards you. She's taller than you, slender and still curvy in the right places, her long hair falling over her slim shoulders. You force yourself to look into her eyes and not get distracted by the cleavage her tight dress creates or how close she is. She stops right in front of you, looking down, a softer looking smile curling her full lips.

“You know I did,” she says quietly, reaching up a hand to caress your cheek with the back of her finger. You shiver under the touch, but don't flinch away. “You agreed to this, remember?”

“No,” you breathe out, blinking quickly as you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Shh, it's okay, pet, don't worry. You did. I would never do anything to harm you,” she whispers, leaning closer until you feel her hot breath on your lips. “You wanted to be my muse, you begged me for it,” she adds, biting her lip sensually before leaning in to press her warm mouth to the corner of yours.

You stiffen, eyes widening, your heart nearly exploding in your chest. You can't remember any of this. Why is she saying that? She is just your roommate!

You moved in only a few months ago, replying to an ad you saw on the bulletin board of your college dorm. A cheap room in a good neighborhood, your own room, away from the distractions of having to live with people you don't like or know that well, it sounded too good to be true. But it was true, and the woman looking for roommates was so nice, so enticing. You met her at a neutral place, to get to know her (fall for her charm), before she showed you the apartment, and you moved in later that week.

It was perfect. Until it wasn't. Not that you noticed it right away. You just never saw her. Now that you thought about it, you can only (barely) remember going to your classes (you are still going to your classes, right?), while the rest of the day is somewhat of a blur. You can't, however, remember going to your job at the coffee shop (do you still have a job? How are you paying for this place?), and the more you try to remember, the more holes come up, black and all-consuming.

You frown as you stare at her. She leans back slowly, watching you. Her hand is on your face, the pointy nail of her thump scraping over your bottom lip as her long fingers caress the shell of your ear.

“No need to worry, pet,” she says quietly, her voice a low soft thrum, rich like honey, that tickles something inside you that you've fought all your life. Why does she keep calling you 'pet'? And why does it affect you so much? “Everything is just fine. And I'm not even mad that you just went into my room like this. I told you you shouldn't, didn't I?”

You swallow as she lowers her hand and closes it around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. You feel your pulse throbbing against her palm. “I'm sorry,” you gasp out.

She smiles at you, moving her hand even lower, teasing her fingertips along the neckline of your shirt. “It's okay. You know the consequences. It'll be fine.” You furrow your eyebrows, breathing harder, not understanding anything. “Not the first time, hm?” she adds, giving you a wink. Her words make no sense, your head is hurting with how tight you pull your eyebrows together, and with all the thoughts and questions whirling about in a wild dance of confusion.

“I... I don't –”

“Shh,” she shushes you, her hand gripping your chin. You freeze. “Be a good pet and go back to your room. I'll clean this up. Put on the clothes I chose for you. Wait for me when you're done. Do you understand?”

You stare at her, your body tensing up, your cunt clenching hard around nothing. Her words, the cadence of her voice, the dominant tone, it all brings you to do one thing, your mind emptying as words spill from your trembling lips. “Yes, Mistress.”

You don't even know where these came from. Mistress? Pet? What is going on? But your body moves on auto-pilot, your mind swirling, still fighting the confusion, but also easing into a strange void, triggered by words you've heard before, or so it feels, commands you've answered many times in the past.

She lets go of your chin, giving you a warm smile, even though her eyes are dark and somewhat cold, and you nod, bow your head and shuffle out of the room, your legs trembling as you make your way back into your bedroom across the hall.

For a moment you're wondering how you got here, why you're here, but then your gaze falls onto a pile of clothes on your bed. You walk closer, picking up item after item. A short black skirt, pleated, barely long enough to not be considered a belt. A tight tank top, white and almost see-through. A set of fancy black underwear, a lace bra with an intricate flower pattern, a thong of similar design. There's also a pair of sheer black stockings, a garter belt and straps to attach each piece together.

Your stomach tenses at the sight. You've seen these pieces before, in the photos you shouldn't have seen. It's a blur how you put them on, your head spinning, your hands shaking, but you still somehow manage to dress in time before you hear footsteps on the floorboards outside your room. Your heart beats faster, your chest heaving, tight in the bra and top, straining, something cold crashing down your spine before it gathers hot and pulsing right between your legs.

Before the creaking of the door announces your roommate, you suddenly fall to your knees, your feet tucked under your rear, your hands automatically finding purchase in your lap, folded neatly as you stretch your back and square your shoulders, breathing deep as you train your eyes straight ahead, waiting for the door to open. You have no idea what made you assume this position, why it feels so familiar, so safe in a way.

Your roommate (your Mistress) enters your bedroom, her high heels thudding over the carpet as she walks up to you, tilting her head as she watches you closely. “Stand,” she says, and you do, your legs moving seemingly on their own. Once you stand, stiff with your arms pressed to your sides, chest pushed out, your neck straight, eyes wandering over the tall frame in front of you, she nods. “See? You haven't forgotten. Good girl,” she says, and the praise shoots through you like a pistol shot, straight into your clit, making it throb and ache, your heart beating in the same hurried rhythm.

She walks around you then, her long fingers brushing over your bare arms, around your shoulders, down your spine, until she gives your ass a soft slap, making you gasp quietly. She repeats the motion, but this time, she leaves her hand on your cheek for a moment, squeezing it, her fingernails digging into your soft skin. You stiffen, breathing a little harder.

“You're so beautiful,” she whispers as she leans into you, looming behind you, her breath ghosting your jaw. “My perfect little muse.”

You feel her lips brushing against the soft spot behind your ear, a hot kiss that makes you shiver, while her hand gropes your ass, fingertips teasing at the thin fabric of your thong tucked between your cheeks.

Suddenly she leans back, lets go of you, and you hear her walking a few steps before she stops, a deep sigh echoing through the room. You turn around slowly, unsure if you should, but when you do, you freeze as you watch her pick up the glass of water on your bedside table.

“Baby, I told you to drink more,” she says with a tilt of her head. “You always forget, hm? So busy, head always in the clouds...” She walks back to you, holding the glass in front of you, her eyes boring into yours as she waits for you to grab it. You do, your hands shaking. “Drink up, pretty girl. You know you need it.”

She's so caring, you think as you bring the water to your lips, holding her gaze, but as soon as you feel the cold liquid running down your tight throat, an image flickers before your eyes. Your roommate (Mistress) sitting on your bed, moving a clear glass straw in a stirring motion, swirling the water, making a faint sheen of powder disappear. You feel as if you've watched her do that many times. What is that? What did she put in here? Vitamins? Or something else?

But you can't even question it further, can't find the courage to ask, when you realize you've drank the whole thing, every drop of water (and whatever else was in there) now in your stomach. “Good girl,” she praises and smiles at you, before she takes the glass from your clammy fingers and puts it back on your bedside table. “Now let's get you ready for our big night out, yeah?”

You frown, another faint memory peeking through the fog in your head. It seems to be getting thicker now. Strange. But this image, you still see somewhat clearly before you. You had plans tonight, you remember now, you wanted to go out. Where? No idea. But you needed a hair tie. Yeah. That's why you went into your roommate's room in the first place. Some details are blurry (were you supposed to go out with her? Have you done that before? Why would you? You barely know the woman...), but somehow they don't matter anymore.

She steps back in front of you, her fingers vanishing in the cleavage of her dress before she pulls something from between her breasts. You blink in confusion as you recognize the shape. It's a metal butt plug. And she stored it between her boobs? Interesting.

“Open wide, pet,” she tells you, and without even questioning it, you part your lips and let your tongue roll out. She looks pleased as she puts the rounded object into your mouth. It's warm, and the taste triggers something else in you. Another familiar sensation. It's her, you know without knowing, her taste, sweet and a bit salty, exploding on your tongue, sinking deep, causing soft shivers to crash down your spine, something hot gathering low in your gut.

You've had your face on her chest before, huh? Must be. Your cheeks burn up badly, your breaths loud through your nose as you suckle on the butt plug between your lips, your eyes scanning the pretty face looking down at you. She keeps her fingers on the base, pushing the object in and out, and you find yourself licking around it, coating it in your saliva. Like you've done before. You think.

She watches you before she lets go of the plug and puts her palm over your mouth. “Keep it nice and warm for me, okay?” she says, leaning closer until her nose brushes against yours. You give a jerking nod, tightening your lips around the narrowest part of the plug while its body rests hard and heavy on your tongue. “Good.”

You feel saliva pooling in your mouth, and the urge to swallow becomes stronger. But you focus on the woman in front of you as she straightens up again, her hands on her hips. Her whole presence, her aura, has you in its grip, you feel, it's impossible to fight it, to protest, to do anything except the things she demands of you. All it takes is a look, a word, her voice driving through you like an electric current that controls your every limb.

And so you move when she tells you to turn around and bend over, and as you rest on your forearms on the edge of your bed, she nudges your legs apart and steps between them, her hands sliding under your skirt and pushing it up. You stiffen slightly, breathing harder, your heart thundering inside your chest, but you can't object, you don't want to. You just endure.

And a tiny part of you, through the fog in your head, lights up, a growing heat that creeps down your spine, tenses in your stomach, seeps lower until it gathers in your core, scorching, wet, and it's all you feel when she pushes your thong aside and moves her fingers along your slit, dipping gently between your puffy lips and into your slick, the loud squelching noise making your ears burn.

She prods at your entrance, teases your clit, but then she moves up again, and without warning or command or reassuring words pokes right against your puckered hole, and as you gasp around the plug in your mouth, flinching slightly, she stretches your rim and pushes into your ass, a slim finger, a pointy fingernail, digging against your tense muscles. In and out it goes until there are two fingers, then three, and it burns, the friction too much, like little daggers poking at your nerves.

“Come on, pet, relax,” she says from behind you, moving her fingers deeper, curling them, pushing and prodding against protesting muscles. “You've done this before. You're a pro at this, remember?”

Her words bring up the hazy memories of the pictures you saw, of the various items wedged into your tight ass, and some just don't make sense. Three cucumbers? Really? While it already feels like too much when she 'only' has three slim fingers inside you? How did you manage that? Your stomach gives a distant growl as drool slips past your tight lips and onto your bed.

“Fine, I'll lube you up this time,” she sighs and removes her fingers with a strangely wet pop. This time? She doesn't usually? It's almost as if you can remember the pain of the dry friction, but then why can you never remember any soreness afterwards? Confusion lingers on your mind as you hear her footsteps leaving the room.

You remain in your bent-over position, your hands clawing at the sheets as you suckle mindlessly on the metal plug in your mouth, trying to make sense of it all. You come to no conclusion whatsoever when she eventually returns, and you hear the squirt of some liquid before you can feel it. Large dollops of something cold pressing against your tight hole. You groan against the object between your lips as she pushes deeper, her fingers, slick and cold, sliding in and out again.

This time she stretches your hole by scissoring her fingers, knuckles digging into your tense muscles, and you hear another squirt and something cold lands on your hot skin, slipping right into you. You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your exposed skin. She keeps doing that, filling you up with more and more lube, you assume, her fingers pushing it deep, coating your insides. It's a strange sensation, but again, this feels somewhat familiar, and triggers more memories you seem to have suppressed before, or forgotten.

You see yourself strapped to a reclining chair, your legs raised up in some sort of stirrups, ankles tied and wrists bound to the armrests. You're naked, and she is kneeling between your wide open legs in front of a large plastic bucket or something like it, and there's a tube inside your ass, something cold (water?) pressing through it and into you, and you see and feel it filling you up, your stomach bulging, and you feel sick, your insides cramping, but you can't say anything, there's a gag in your mouth, so all you can do is squirm in your restraints, until you feel a different sort of pain as she slaps your mound with a force that makes you cry out, makes you flinch remembering it, and she keeps at it, hitting your clit with precise blows until it's all puffy and throbbing badly, and you throw your head back and whine helplessly, your belly still bulging, filling up, while her voice coos into your ear:

“You want to be clean, pet, don't you? So we gotta clean you up properly. You don't want to be dirty for our guests, now do you?”

You frown deeply as those words echo in your cloudy head. Guests? But the question vanishes slowly, replaced by the sensation of her fingers digging deep into your ass, spreading more lube, and in the back of your mind you're just glad she isn't giving you another enema. A strange thought to have, but it makes sense in the dizziness that holds you hostage. Breathing harder, you press your forehead into the bed, swallowing hard around the plug in your mouth.

As she works on (in) your ass, you start to feel a tingle in your neglected pussy, a spasm deep within, a little clench, a needy little urge, and instead of holding still, you find yourself grinding your rear into her hand. She stops immediately, a deep sigh escaping her as she pulls her fingers out of your ass and grips your nape with her wet hand. You shiver and stiffen, holding your breath as she pulls you into a standing position.

Her free hand grabs the base of the plug and pulls it out of your mouth where it clangs against your teeth, causing you to flinch. You swallow the excess spit and take a shuddering breath as you feel the warm metal pressing between your ass cheeks. With how she worked you open, it slips in easily enough, and your muscles clench slightly around its narrow neck, but it's only after she smacks your soft cheek a few times in rapid succession, making you whine and shudder as your skin tightens, that you're tensing up enough to hold it in place.

She lets go of you and spins you around, then holds out her hand to you, her fingers glistening in lube and your own wetness. “Clean,” she says, and even though your stomach makes a loud grumble of protest, you find yourself leaning in and closing your lips around her slim fingers. A strange taste of artificial strawberry and something else, something tangy and your own, floods your senses, but you close your eyes and flick your tongue around her digits, focusing on the task and not on the taste and the origin of it.

Eventually she pulls her hand away and pats your cheek, leaving a trail of saliva on your warm skin. Your eyes flutter open as she leans around you and adjusts your thong, pulling it back in place, then pushes your skirt down again. Her eyes meet yours, the gaze intense, creating another soothing wave of heat that rolls over you gently, that makes you clench around the plug in your butt. A smile grazes her full lips, and you find yourself smiling back.

“Alright, now put your hair up, get your shoes and your coat, and wait by the front door,” she tells you as she steps away, holding your gaze until you nod obediently. Your mind is reeling at this point, confusion and arousal warring inside of you. What is happening?

You don't know, and you don't seem to care too much either as you start moving, following her orders. You end up on your knees again, right by the door, waiting like a dog, and the image couldn't have been more fitting when you see her approaching with a strange leather band in her hands. You blink when she crouches down before you and fixes what you can only assume is a collar around your neck. It sits tight enough to notice it, but you can still breathe freely and swallow against it without it restricting you in any way.

You're still confused why you need this (and why you accept it so easily). Your roommate (Mistress) cups your face and looks at you with a warm gaze that makes you bite your lip, her hands rubbing over your cheeks before she tugs her thumbs under your chin and lifts it so she can lean in and press her lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut as you part your lips and meet her tongue, the kiss deep and soft, gentle gliding of tongues and lips, a warm gesture, sending sparks through your nerves that make you throb with a need that feels both familiar and eerily unknown, frightening.

A single thought ricochets through your empty head: You would do anything for this woman.

“My beautiful pet,” she whispers against your tingling lips, the tip of her tongue tracing the corner of your mouth. “Are you ready?”

Without thinking, without wondering what for, you nod eagerly, a breathless “Yes, Mistress.” leaving your swollen lips. She gives you another peck and stands up then, snapping her fingers in a way that leaves no room for interpretation. You stand immediately, swaying slightly on the high heels you were told to wear. You're still smaller than her, but having to look up only amplifies the sensation coursing through you. Your devotion for her.

She grabs a large bag and shoves it into your hands, and you know by the weight and feel of it, that it holds camera equipment. A distant memory shimmers behind your glassy eyes, of stumbling into her room, finding those envelopes in the drawer of her desk, of flipping through countless pictures of your naked body, of your holes being stuffed and stretched, of being tied down, of letting her do with you whatever she wants. What has disturbed you earlier is barely worth a flinch now.

It's what you do. It's what you are. Her muse. Her pet. She chose you and you obey. It's what you do, it's what she does. She's your Mistress, after all.

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

End notes: Yes, our dominant lady here is indeed inspired by a character from my other (m/f) Dom/sub story: Infatuated: Mistress.

By the way, a little disclaimer at the end here as we go to the next (heavier) chapters: I am not a BDSM professional or expert, I am a writer with a dirty mind and access to the Internet. This is fiction, gaslighting people is bad, consent is very important, but when a hot lady tells you to do something, you gotta do it, that's the law (jk). Please see this as what it is: a fantasy and nothing more.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Saturday!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part VI

Why hello there! I am finally back with an Eepy Boi update!! Sorry it took me so long to get around to posting this, between the holidays and my work schedule being all over the place and a heap of other junk it took me a bit, lol. We're taking a little jump back? Forward? In time this chapter, the Fall Festival is finally upon us... Maybe a little bit of tension starts to occur? This is going to be a very fun chapter hehe. Thank all of you so so much for your continued support during my hiatus, I see every single note, reblog, and kudos on this fic, I read every single comment I get, all of you are absolutely wonderful, again, thank you. If you would like to be added to my tag list for this fic, please let me know! If you ever want to come be crazy over the Sleep Token boys with me, shoot me an ask or a message! Now onto the good stuff, I hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: None, fluff, not proofread

My Masterlist! ~ A03 Link!

Part V - Part VII

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“Absolutely not.” Vessel responds blankly as he flips through one of the magazines by the register.

“Ves, come on.” You groan. “It's one night.”

“Yeah, one night with a whole group of people that want to run us out of town.” He retaliates in the same bored tone as he turns another page.

“Everyone's going to be wearing costumes, no one will know it's you.” You offer as you start bagging his purchase.

“They've seen pictures of us, love.”

“What? Those blurry, grainy sasquatch looking photos from the paper?” You sigh, handing him the bags. “Listen, I know you're worried. I know you just want to keep everyone safe, but you hiding yourselves away is only going to make people more suspicious.” You could feel his eyes studying your face.

“I get the slightest feeling that something is wrong we leave, do we have a deal?” He sticks out his hand to you, you clap your own into his without hesitation, giving it a firm shake. “I agree that people might be more comfortable with us being in town if we can exist in the same space without an issue… I just hope you're right about this.” 

“I'll be right by your side the whole time.” You exchange a soft smile.

“Are you closing early that day?” He asks.

“Of course, I have to get into costume myself.” You giggle. “I'll be closing at noon that day, but I can always reopen if you guys want to stock up afterwards.” You offer.

“It’s not that, I wouldn't want to trouble you.” He chuckles. “I was thinking maybe we could meet here before the festival.” 

“I'd like that.” 

“Then it's a date.” He bows his head slightly in dismissal before pushing out the door.

The next day the store was abuzz with excited children picking out glow sticks, mother's buying ingredients for their bake sale items, and last minute costume necessities for all the town's residents. “Miss (Y/N)!” You can't help but smile as a young boy with messy brown hair and a gapped tooth smile rushes up to the counter.

“Daclan, she's busy-” his mother starts, a bubbly school teacher you had gotten to know quite well since she had moved to town.

“Don't worry about it, Siobhan.” You chuckle, pulling the bucket of candy out from behind the counter and discreetly offering it to him. You lean down slightly, “if you don't tell the other kids I'll let you take two.” You whisper with a wink. He shoves his hand into the bucket before quickly and triumphantly retrieving his candy.

“Miss (Y/N), are you coming to the Fall festival?” He asks excitedly.

“Of course I am, I wouldn't miss it for the world.” You smile. “What's your costume going to be this year?” He starts rambling on about his skeleton costume as you ring the two of them up.

“Woah! Mom, look at him!” Your attention flashes over to the door to see Vessel frozen in place as every pair of eyes in the store land on him. As quickly as he caught their attention it was gone, the bustling energy returning once more as everyone continued their shopping. You motion him closer with a wave of your hand. Declan stared up at the large masked man in amazement. “What are you supposed to be?”

Vessel gives you the briefest of looks, not exactly sure how to respond at first. But, seeing the boy's bright smile and lack of fear, it warmed his heart. He leans down, resting his elbows on the counter to bring himself closer to eye level. “The Grim Reaper, pretty scary, right?” He says with a grin.

“Awesome!” Declan exclaims in response. “Mom, can we make a costume like his next year?” Vessel chuckles at the young boy’s excitement.

“Sure thing, honey.” She ruffles Declan’s hair. “Come on, let’s let Miss (Y/N) close up so she can get ready.” You exchange goodbye’s with her, Declan telling you that he hopes you get to see his costume before hurrying out the door.

“So far so good.” You remark as you lean against the counter, you and Vessel shifting to more easily face each other. “I promise tonight will be fun.” You reach out, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Well, if you talk so highly about this festival, I can't see any harm in giving it a shot.” You wait for your last few customers to file out of the store before locking up.

“Where's everyone else?” You ask, looking out in the empty lot for their truck.

“They're in back, I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all.” You click off your open sign with a smile, motioning with a nod for Vessel to follow you out the front door. Your keys jingled in your hand as you struggled with the lock. “You'd think after all this time I wouldn't mess this up.” You sigh. The front door had a tendency to not shut fully unless things were maneuvered a certain way; the keys had to be slid into the lock a certain way, you had to push the door fully shut with your shoulder, you felt your cheeks start to burn as you struggled with something so simple in Vessel’s presence.

“Mind if I give it a try?” He offers quietly. You shuffle out of his way, the heat of his body noticeable against yours as he slid a little too close behind you. He jiggles the key slightly, slamming his shoulder into the glass pane’s metal frame, managing to slide the deadbolt into place. He pulls on the handle a couple times, making sure it's fully secure, before turning to you with a proud smile. “There, that should do it. He follows you out back, the other three members of the usual group lounging in the cab of the truck. IV was the first to notice you, perking up in his seat when his eyes landed on your approaching form. He nudges II, who looks up immediately from the book he was reading at the mention of your name.

“Where's your costume?” III asks in mock annoyance. He hops down from his place situated in the bed of the truck, his long strides allowing him to approach you quickly and pull you into his arms. He pulls back slightly, his blue eyes finding yours and making you freeze under their warm gaze. “Promise me I'll get you to myself for at least a little while tonight.” You could hear the smile he was wearing under his mask lace it's way through his words. Before you had a chance to respond the passenger door of the truck was kicked open, IV practically falling to the ground as he scrambled out. Your eyes darted up to three, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gazed down at you. He gives you a quick wink before he steps back, satisfied with your flustered state. 

IV bounds up to you, excitedly taking your hands in his. “I can't wait to see your costume.” You jump slightly as a warm hand if placed against your lower back, you caught the sight of II in your peripheral.

“Well we have to let her go get changed into it first.” He chuckles. “It's good to see you, love.”

“Come on guys.” You chuckle, motioning for the four of them to follow you. “You can hang out upstairs while I get ready.”

It always made your heart swell every time they were all together in one place. The warm, me jovial energy that filled your apartment had you practically skipping to your room to get changed. You could hear the four of them continue to talk in the living room, just quiet enough to make it so you couldn't hear. You opened your closet, pulling out the neatly packaged bag that contained your costume. You shimmied into the tight dress, the stretchy fabric hugging all of your curves just right. Was this the most original costume in the world? Absolutely not. But, considering you were hoping to catch the attention of some masked men in particular this evening, you figured it wouldn't hurt to be a little cliche. You did your makeup as quickly as you could, a dark smokey eye that was finished off by you drawing a little black nose at the tip of your own with eyeliner. You grabbed the headband from your vanity, adjusting it perfectly atop your head before giving yourself one final once over in the mirror and heading back out to your waiting guests. The room fell silent the second you stepped through your door, four pairs of eyes locked on your small form. All of the sudden attention made you feel self conscious about your costume choice, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. You wrapped your arms around your torso, your cheeks warming as you looked between the four. “Does it look ba-”

You didn't have a chance to finish your question before they were all scrambling out of their various seats towards you. All of them reassuring you that you looked fantastic and apologizing for staring. Your small group prepared to head out, III hung back to wait for you, his monstrous form taking up most of the doorway. You smile up at him as you straighten up from pulling on your shoes. “You look beautiful.” He compliments you softly, making your cheeks warm.

“Thank you.” He slips his hands into yours, his lips warm through his mask as he places a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Ready to get going?” You nod, letting your hand reluctantly fall from his.

You piled into their truck, you were currently squished in between Vessel and II, III and IV curled up in the bed. “So, you're all excited about this festival, what are we even going to be doing?” Vessel asks suddenly, breaking the silence in the truck.

“Well,” you start, “there's going to be a lot of food, hay rides, a costume contest, lots of vendors from around the town, a few rides, a haunted house. It's nothing spectacular, but I’m hoping it will make you guys feel more at home here.” You noticed him and II exchange a look over your head. It wasn't long before you pulled into the bumpy dirt parking lot of the fair grounds. III vaulted out of the truck, his heavy boots landing on the ground with a loud thud. You notice II shove him back slightly as he holds out his hand to help you out of the truck. He gives your hand a soft squeeze before dropping it, you were quickly surrounded by the four men, all of you chatting happily as you made your way up to the festival. The four froze, taking in the chaotic sight before then. IV reached out, slipping his hand into yours.

“There's a lot of people, huh?” He asks, startling back slightly as a child rushes past his legs.

“The whole town’s probably going to show up.” You explain. You lean on closer to him, “you alright big guy? We can always turn around and go back to my place if this is too much.” You squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“I think I can handle it if you're by my side.” You noticed his features soften as he smiles under his mask. Your cheeks warm, your eyes darting to the ground in an attempt to try and hide your flustered expression.

“Where should we start?” III slips an arm around your shoulder, you instinctually lean into his side.

“You're the expert, love, lead the way.” Vessel shoots you a sharp grin. The group stayed close to your side, forming a buffer between you and the rest of the crowd. You wandered from booth to booth, letting the boy's childlike wonder take over as they excitedly showed you small trinkets and hand made gifts they stumbled across. The booth of old ladies selling goat milk soap cooed over how adorable all your costumes were, slipping sweets into all your hands as you made your way out. You paused in front of a vendor selling handmade jewelry, you jumped slightly as a hand came to rest on your waist.

“That would look very pretty on you.” II’s gentle voice meets your ears.

“You think so?” You ask through a flustered giggle. II asked to see the necklace in question, the beautifully wire wrapped crystal sparkling in the gradually setting sun. “It is really pretty.”

“How much?” He asks without hesitation. The young woman running the stand told him the price, to which II shocked you by immediately purchasing the necklace. He steps behind you, your hand raising to the unfamiliar weight as it falls around your neck. “A beautiful necklace for the most beautiful woman in the world.” His warm breath bounces off your cheek as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine. You glance over your shoulder, your eyes immediately finding his bright blue ones.

“You know you didn't have to buy me anything.” You see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles.

“What if I wanted to?” You didn't miss the teasing tone that had laced its way into his words. You traced a finger along the cool metal wire, fully turning yourself to face him. You glance up at him through your lashes, struggling to find the right words to say to thank him. You pushed yourself up onto your toes, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Well, I think that’s very sweet. Thank you, II.” You perk up at the sound of one of the others calling your name, III appearing at your side and slipping his hand into yours.

“Mind if I steal her from you?” He quickly asks II.

“Not at all.” He holds up his hands with a soft chuckle. “I'm sure I'll manage to snag her back later.” He winks at you, making your cheeks grow warm.

“What a shame,” III leans down to murmur quietly in your ear, “looks like I'm going to have to beat them off with a stick to get you to myself.”

“Careful, you're all going to make me think you have a crush on me or something.” You tease in response, shooting him a playful smile of your own.

“Only a pretty little thing like you could handle something like that.” He winks. “I want to make sure you eat before IV gets over excited and drags you off to the rides.” He jokes with a smile. He tucks you safely into his side, helping you avoid the bustling crowd that surrounded you.

“Are you having a good time?” You ask him softly. He glances down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

“Yeah, I’m spending time with you, of course I’m having a good time.” You let out a bashful giggle, quickly turning away as you feel your cheeks grow warm. 

As the evening carried on you couldn't help but notice II grow more fidgety with every passing hour, occasionally leaning into Vessel to whisper something only for the taller man to clap him on the shoulder and give him a reassuring grin. You were currently sat in a circle on the ground, finding a nice place in the open field to settle down and have some good together. You laughed as IV expertly stole a bite of your corn dog faster than you could comprehend what had happened. “What's your favorite ride?” II suddenly chimes in from his position sitting across from you.

“I'm personally a big fan of the haunted house, I think all the cheap jump scares are fun.” You respond with a laugh.

IV makes an intrigued noise. “We should all go on!”

“Only two people can ride together, unfortunately.”

“Well, how about you ride with me then?” II winks at you, making you blush.

“If you think you can handle it.” You tease in response. II stands, offering you his hand which you eagerly accept. He hoists you from the ground, pulling you into his side and slinging his arm across your shoulders. Vessel tagged along with IV, knowing it would be the only way to stop him from complaining about how he wanted to go too, III elected to stay back to save your spot. You all chatted happily as you stood in line, the slow creeping pace allowing them to see a little of what the ride had in store for them.

Brown metal buggies horribly painted to look like wood creaked along the track, bat shaped hood ornaments were barely recognizable after years of dings and chipped paint.A repeating track of over dramatic screams and ghoulish moaning looped from the speakers. “Next in line, please!” The ticket collector barked, IV and Vessel stepped up first, IV practically vibrating with excitement as he waited for the all clear to get on. II’s arm slid around your waist as you stepped forward, waiting patiently for the next cart to wheel itself into place. “Y’all have fun.” He waves you on. II helps you step into the cart, your body thudding against the thin, leather covered padding on the seat.

“You’re not going to get all scared on me now, are you?” You ask in a playful tone.

“Oh, don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll be right here to protect you.” He returns with a smirk. Your body lurched slightly as the buggy started to move. You were hit with a blast of cold air as you crept into the dark space, II’s arm wrapping around your shoulders, you found yourself instinctually snuggling into his side. You jumped slightly, giggling over being startled by the second air cannon you had rolled past.

You rolled past a growling werewolf, “Look, you can see the wires.” You nudge him slightly, pointing upwards.

“I personally think it adds to the experience.” He chuckles, you can’t help but laugh yourself. “You’re so beautiful.” You feel your breath freeze in your lungs at his compliment. You clung to him as something shot out of the darkness at you, it took you a moment to recognize the plastic skeleton’s limbs rattling at you. Your eyes are drawn back to him as you feel a warm hand slip over your cheek. “And you thought I was going to be the one getting scared.” He chuckles, his eyes flashing briefly to your lips. “Cute.” He fidgets with the edge of his mask for a moment, stretching the black fabric away from his neck. “Can- can I, um…” He swallows thickly, his confidence immediately crumbling as you continue to cling to him for comfort. “Can I kiss you?” You nodded, your wide eyes glimmering in the dim light. Without hesitation II lifts his mask, his lips slotting perfectly against your own. Your hand slides over his chest, you could feel his heart pounding under your palm. As quickly as the kiss had started it was over, II’s mask already neatly back in place by the time your eyes fluttered open. You hide your face against his neck, hoping he hadn’t noticed your flustered appearance. “That was nice.” He suddenly chimes in, making you giggle. You both reluctantly shuffle away from each other as the exit opens in front of you, squinting under the bright lights. II offers you his hand to help you from the cart, your eyes meeting his as he smiles. Your pinky wraps around his as he lets his hand slip out of your grasp. You hear him laugh softly at your actions, allowing your fingers to stay linked.

“That wasn’t even scary.” IV groans as you approach.

“I never said it was scary, I just said I liked it.” You respond. Vessel smiles down at you.

“How was riding with II?” He asks with a chuckle. Your cheeks immediately warm at the question.

“We had fun.” You get out through a nervous giggle. 

“Well, look who’s back.” You can’t help but smile at III’s cheerful tone. He hoists himself up from his position on the ground with a soft groan. “How was it beautiful?” Your eyes trailed after the people that were starting to gather in the open field.

“It was fun.” You felt a pang of guilt in your chest as you thought about kissing II. “See anything interesting while we were gone?”

“There’s a pretty good band playing over there.” He nods somewhere behind you. “Want to go check it out?”

“Sure.” You can’t help but smile as you feel the warmth of III’s hand brush against yours. The two of you lazily strolled in the direction of the music that floated through the air. A local folk group was currently performing under a gazebo, a small dance floor set up in front of the stage. You laughed as III took your hand and spun you around in time with the music, pulling you to him and swaying you in his arms.

“Do you know how to dance?” He asks with a grin.

“Not very well,” you giggle in response, “but I feel like with you that won’t matter too much.” You found yourself easily falling into a rhythm with him, every small misstep and teasing comment from him made you both crumble into fits of laughter. You both paused, looking up at the sky with the rest of the crowd as fireworks started going off overhead. III continues to hold you close, your arms sliding over his shoulders as the two of you watch the display. He fully encircles your waist with one arm, his hand sliding over your cheek, turning your face in order for his warm lips to find yours. Unlike the kiss with II, III took his time letting the sensation of kissing you sink in. You felt so small in his arms, the gentle dominance he had over the kiss allowing your body to fully relax into his embrace as your eyes fluttered shut. He traces a thumb along your jaw before hesitantly pulling away.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” He rushes to apologize, his body relaxing at the sight of the soft smile that had laced its way across your lips. Your eyes meet his, bright blue irises scanned your features with an adoration you had never seen. “I really like you.”

“III-”

“There you guys are!” He jolts back from you, the sudden lack of warmth making you shiver. “We’ve been looking all over the place for you!” It was IV, he jogged up to you. “Vessel wants to get going.”

You found yourself in the cab of the truck between Vessel and IV, II and III electing to sit in the bed for the ride back to your place. Your mind raced as you played over both men kissing you over and over again in your head. You didn’t know what to do. On one hand there was II, his silent charm and the undeniable intimacy the two of you have has drawn you in from the beginning. But then there was III, who made your heart race and dominated every aspect of your senses whenever you were with him. Who, despite his monstrous size, was always so gentle with you. You were absolutely torn. You rumbled into the store’s parking lot, Vessel parking the truck around back. You stood at the bottom of your stairs in a small circle. “Well, I hate to admit it, but that was pretty fun.” Vessel grins at you, there were murmurs of agreement amongst the group.

“Do you guys want to come up for a bit? There’s, um, there’s kind of something I need to talk to you about.” You fidget with your hands as you nervously put the statement out there. You were going to deal with feeling conflicted the only way you knew how, by facing the problem head on.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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[angelnthsnow]

All Too Well

pairing: joe burrow x fem!reader (+18)

summary: enemies since childhood, y/n and joe burrow meet again in LSU, joe to play for the university's team while studying consumer and family financial services and y/n to study mechanical engineering, while also being a cheerleader for the team. what happens when they encounter each other after a fateful night?

word count: 7.1k

warnings: cursing, implied smut, fratboy!joe, asshole!joe, reader skinpicks, angst, use of y/n, author not knowing how an american uni works.

author's note: first published fanfic! i hope you enjoy! keep in mind english isn't my first language, so i'm sorry in advance for any mistakes, also this wasn't proofread bc it's too long and i'm lazy lmaoo.

Sat in the airport, legs over your luggage, you started to question the decision you had made a month ago. It all started in June, when an old colleague from LSU reached out to you via email with a simple, yet — to you — terrifying invitation.

Your colleagues from university were planning a Fourth Of July party in Baton Rouge, the one place in earth you swore to never step foot on again. Well, it's not like the city itself had done anything to you, more like the college life did. Your college years were a part of your life you desperately wanted to forget, partly because going to LSU meant giving up on your dream of studying abroad, and partly, well, let's just say a certain blonde with a degree on consumer and family financial services was to blame.

With an acute voice echoing through the airport gates, you sighed, getting up to get on the plane.

As the aircraft was in the air, you get your playlist blasting on the headphones and not long after that, you drift off to sleep.

You wake up when there's 20 minutes left to land on the city, and as you get your phone to send a message to your friend, Emily, the device decides to make this trip a little harder than it should have ever been. On that bright screen, on a small box with "Years ago on this week.." written over it, was the picture.

It was night when you woke up, tangled on the white strawberry sheets of your own dorm bed. Opening your eyes quietly, you saw the one man that had put you on that position earlier. Sat with his back to you, there was Joe. He had only his sweatpants on, and you could see the reddish marks, the ones caused by you, were starting to fade on his skin. His hair was messy and he breathed slowly, seeming oddly calm giving what had just happened.

Joe and you had been, well.. enemies? since you could remember. It all started in school, you had a dream of becoming a world famous dancer, a cheerleader in college, and Joe just thought it was stupid, all of it. He was quite shy, but you knew he had a dream as well. Joe wanted to be a football star, but nobody knew that. He'd just let it slide once when you two were fighting on the school's playground. When you two got to the age in which people go to university, you thought you had finally seen the last of him. How foolish, truly. After two years of studying engineering at Louisiana State University and being in the cheerleading team, there he was, ready to make your life miserable for another few years.

That was, of course, until now. You'd never imagine you see him like this; half naked, messy hair and your cat on his lap as he caressed her head, whispering in a baby voice to her as she purred softly.

You smiled, because why wouldn't you? Shifting quietly on your bed, as if he was a scaredy animal you could scare away with any abrupt movements, you get your phone, taking a picture of him. It was dark, blurred, but you didn't mind, you could tell it was Joe, his big silhouette right in the center of the photograph. In your head, you knew you wouldn't need to keep this blurry memento, you were certain the amount of opportunities to take pictures of him now were infinite, or so you thought, drifting to sleep again.

The pilot's voice pulls you out of your little daydream, announcing the plane had arrived in Louisiana.

"I shouldn't have come." You chant in your head as you exit the plane, heading over to the landing area to wait for Emily.

You and Emily had met in LSU, and became inseparable since then. She was your roommate and, despite being highly introverted, you managed to develop your longest friendship ever with her.

When Anna, the colleague that invited you to the party, emailed you, Emily was the first person to text you, begging you to come and enjoy a night with the people you hadn't seen in so long. She also missed you a lot since both of you hadn't seen each other much after college, of course, you somehow managed to see each other every year and talk almost everyday, but it wasn't as close as you wished.

Emily lived in Louisiana with her husband, Dave, who had also gone to LSU with you, and of all the times you had seen each other, she had gone to your home, so you technically kind of owed this to her.

Waving in a frantic manner, there she was. Slightly different from last time, but still your best friend. You smile, walking towards her.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she says once she gets a hold of you, hugging you as if you could run away at any moment. You kind of wished you could, but she made everything better. She had that superpower.

"I'm glad I could come, Ems. I've missed you so much." You smile, looking at her as she helps you with your heavy bags.

The two of you start walking towards the exit to her car, catching up after a long time. Emily put you to date on what every single old colleague was up to now, and you laughed at the amount of gossip she was able to retain.

"Where's Dave?" You furrow your brows, just realizing someone was missing.

Emily opens the trunk and you help her put your bags on it. Panting after carrying so much weight, she replies "Home. He was working so he couldn't come, but he's super excited to see you." as you two get into the vehicle.

And with that, the engine starts and soon you're on the highway, on the way to her house.

The week in Emily and David's house had passed very quickly, and you throughly regretted ever wishing you hadn't came. She had shown you every bit of the city, and things had changed a lot. Now, you were in their guest room, getting ready to the reason that had you coming all the way from New York to Louisiana.

It was fourth of July, and you had heard fireworks all day around the neighborhood, even stopping to watch them for a bit before going for a shower.

"They're pretty, aren't they?" Emily said through the kitchen window as she saw you looking up outside.

"Very much." You turned around, smiling at her.

"Anna told me they're having fireworks tonight, I think you'll like it."

You got a bit excited, you've always loved fireworks, they were like drawings in the biggest canvas you could ever get, the sky.

"Looking forward to it!" You said, going up the stairs to get ready.

Looking in the mirror, you sigh. You wore an USA flag bodysuit and jean shorts. This whole patriotism seemed stupid, but Emily dragged you into it, alleging you were allergic to fun. Nonetheless, you looked good.

"Y/N! Let's go, we're gonna be late!"

Breathing in deeply, you close your eyes and stare at yourself one last time. You knew Joe would probably attend the party, he loved parties, and still, you came. You couldn't give up now, you couldn't get this stupid thing get to you. He probably doesn't even remembers everything that happened that day.

You shake your head, moving those thoughts away as you go downstairs, seeing Emily and Dave ready sitting on the couch.

"You look amazing! I told you you'd rock this fit." she gets up, hugging you.

"You too, Ems." you laugh, fixing your hair after she lets you go. "Shall we?"

"After you, Miss United States!" David jokes, signaling for you to get out of the house first. You laugh, rolling your eyes.

The three of you get in the car, and the drive to the party is filled with singing and more of Emily informing you of your colleague's current lives.

When Dave finally pulls over to the party, you can already hear the loud music in the car. Looking out the window, you see the last thing you'd expect to see today: Joe's parents house.

When Robin and Jim were away, Joe would always throw parties in his house instead of in the frat house. It made sense, giving the fact his house was a bit bigger. Snapping back to reality, you froze, but still had hopes of not seeing him tonight, after all, the amount of people that would come to the party was huge.

Entering the house, you were struck by fairy lights hanging on the roof, from a wall to another, and USA flags all over the house. There was a big wood table in a corner with punch and other drinks, but other than that, the place looked pretty much the same. It was weird coming back after all these years, but it still had a familiar air to it.

After almost 50 minutes, Emily was already drunk and fooling around somewhere with her fiancé. You were finally alone, and by now you had roamed the entire house, gladly not meeting Joe not even once. You thought about leaving, but not before going to your favorite spot in the house, the only one you hadn't explored today yet.

Joe's house had a small attic, which you adored. When he threw parties in high school and you couldn't get away from your friend's pleas to come, this was the place you found yourself in. So, after 6 years, there were you again. On that narrow wooden space that had a somewhat medium window with a view to the back of the house, where the party was most wild. You were surprised to see they hadn't moved a thing, it felt like you had time-traveled to your school years.

In front of the window, there was an old blue armchair, the one you would sometimes sleep on waiting for Emily and the others to want to go home. The rest of the attic was filled with boxes, some with trophies and pictures of Joe, with his family, his team, and his coach.

You sat on the armchair, arms hugging your knees as you looked at the window, the music that once made your head hurt because of the volume was long gone, sounding now like white noise.

Entering the football team frat house, you could see neon lights and hear music blasting through the speakers. Soon enough, all the other cheerleaders and Emily were dancing and having fun, after all the team had won the game, there was no reason not to celebrate. Except for you, because a win for LSU immediately meant running into Joe Burrow, or seeing his face all over the university for a week or so.

Sitting on a couch in the living room, you had a privileged view to the enormous door that swung open, revealing a sweaty but smiley Joe. He walks in as he normally does, exhaling an air of cockiness around him. He has a bottle of beer in hand, and already looks drunk as he laughs to his teammates. After being showered in praises and congratulations, he's free to walk a bit further, which is when he sees you. His eyes immediately glance at your jersey, and you immediately regret having done what you did.

Earlier that day, before you left for the party, it started to snow, and you realized you hadn't brought a single coat to the game. The girls were about to leave and they didn't want any delays, so you looked around for anything that could cover your body and protect you from freezing.

The only thing you could find was an old LSU football team jersey with the name "BURROW" stitched on the back. You sighed, but tried to confort yourself by thinking nobody would see it, after all, the lights at the party were pretty low.

All of it cumulated to this moment. This disgusting look he gives you as he looks down, glaring at his jersey. "What the hell are you wearing?”

Of course he would recognize it, it was his, after all. You cursed yourself mentally in all the languages you know, and prayed that Emily would come to you out of the blue to take you home. She didn't.

"Please, don't start, Joseph." You say, trying to ignore him. "I was cold and this was the only thing I could find."

“Yeah, right. Just say you were trying to piss me off, like always.” he scowls.

"Not everything is about you, QB." You get up, furrowing your brows at the audacity, annoyance dripping in your voice.

“Everything is most definitely not about you either, cheerleader.” he scoffs, and his teammates laugh. “You're still not even good at that.”

"And you're still not even good at your little games, idiot." I scoff. "Let me remind you, I'm the one going to the national competition while you're still playing football in college."

This time, his friends mutter a low "oooh".

He's stunned for a moment, then he scowls and gets closer to your face. “Watch your mouth. This is my last season here anyway, then i’m going straight to the NFL and everyone's gonna know my name, who knows what you’ll be doing.”

You just still didn't know he actually meant it.

"The NFL?" You laugh, hands on your chest. "You know, Joey.." You say, calling him by the nickname his friends had given him, in an attempt to piss him off. "To be on the NFL, you gotta be one of the greats." You stare at him, getting closer. "Something you.. are not."

He scowls, and his friends are surprised, the nickname really got to him. Before you can get another word in, he grabs you and pulls you close, his voice is low and cold. “Who the fuck are you calling Joey? You don’t get on the nickname level with me, Y/N."

Your squirm under his touch, trying to get off of him. A bit of fear seems to be creeping up in your eyes, and you try your best to not let it show.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You slap him, getting some inches away and staring at him in awe.

He recoils a bit, then glares. His lips are trembling, and you’ve never seen him angry like this, even his breath is shaky. He doesn't look like the Joe you once fed turtles in kindergarten with. He clenches his fist and looks around, he’s got the attention of everyone at the party “Are you seriously gonna slap the quarterback?”

"Fuck you! You're a horrible person that thinks that because you're a star you can do whatever the fuck you want, well, breaking news, YOU CAN'T." You scoff, angrier than ever, while removing the jersey off of you, throwing it at him, eyes swelling with tears.

"You're a fucking parasite, a manwhore who thinks everything's about you. I hope you never get to the NFL." This time it comes out lower, like a personal threat. You desperately crave to hurt him in a way he won't be able to laugh at or make jokes. Turning around, you walk out of the house, everything seemed to suffocate you.

He's stunned, no ones ever talked to him like that, specially you, the one person he was so used to getting shit from. He just stares at your back, the BURROW that was once hidden by your messy hair now gone, in his shaky hands. A range of emotions go through him. He's mad, but then there’s a sadness, he feels unwanted, as if the only reason people talk to him is because he is the quarterback. He doesn’t want you to leave like this, but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just yells “Where are you even gonna go?!”

"Somewhere you're not!" You scream, not even bothering to turn around to face it, crossing the door and walking through the garden in front of the house.

At this point, the party had gone back to what it once was, a loud, fun mess.

He sighs, then chases after you. When he catches up, he grabs your arm and forces you to turn around to face him. “Where the hell do you think you're going? You're not safe, there's a bunch of drunkards out there today."

"Like you give a fuck." You shrug, shaking your arm to get away from his grip. You turn around and start walking, the cold getting to you again. The snow fell mercilessly and all you had was the thin sweater that covered your cheerleading clothes.

He sighs, then realizes you’ll freeze outside. He puts his arm around you and pulls you in. You're so incredibly small compared to him you can feel his heart beating fast and his muscles tense from anger. “I do care. Just… come back inside, you're gonna freeze out here."

"Leave me alone! I fucking hate you!" The tears start falling as you punch his chest in a frantic way. It didn't hurt him, of course, but you didn't know that.

He scowls when you do so, gritting his teeth, then just watches you cry. He sighs and pulls you in tight, his body heats yours up. He rocks you like a baby, and whispers “Let me explain. I didn't meant for things to be like this.”

"Like what? Like living hell?" You away from his embrace, but part of you wishes you hadn't. Joe was so big and warm you didn't even needed a coat. "You hate me. Why are you even doing this?" you yell, the loud blasting music from the party muffling your screams. "Go back to your stupid party with your friends and your girls. I'm going home."

He grabs your arms and makes you turn to him. “I don’t.. hate you. I just get mad and take it out on you. I know that’s not right, i’m trying to fix it. Let me take you home.”

"Oh please." You scoff, tears still falling. "No need. I'll walk." You say, shivering due to the cold.

He sighs again. “You're not going home alone, it's not safe. I don’t care if you hate my guts, i’m not letting you walk alone.”

Joe's words and actions pierce you like a bullet. Never, in a million years, you had imagined you'd hear him talk to you like this. Of course, it was still rude, but there was a sweetness to it. You say nothing, as you couldn't bring yourself to. As he puts the jersey you once threw in his face back on your shoulders, the shivering reduces a bit, and your lips stop trembling, their reddish color that was once white from the cold, reappearing. His big hands stroking your back felt so gentle, and helped you get rid of the cold as he gently and quietly led you to his car. He opens the door to the passenger seat and waits for you to get in. You do so, surprisingly, and he closes it, turning around to get into the driver's seat.

He climbs in the drivers seat and starts the engine. The warm air that comes out of the vents warming you up as he looks over at you. You watch him drive, he seems so focused, and when he speaks, it’s in a quiet voice “I'll walk you to your door, then you should probably take a hot shower to warm up, your gonna get sick like this.”

"There's no need. I'll survive." you say, pulling the jersey closer and breathing in the warmth.

“I'm not gonna risk you getting sick just because you decided to be stubborn now.” You can’t help but notice how gentle his voice is, a nice contrast to how cold he seemed towards you at the party.

"Fine." You whisper, and after a few moments in silence, he finally pulls up to the dorms. You open the door of the car and get out, the cold getting to you again. You sigh.

Joe does the same and the two of you walk in silence towards the entrance of the building. Once you reach the door, you turn around, "You've done enough, Burrow. I mean it. Go back to your party, you have a win to celebrate." You say, grabbing your keys and unlocking the door.

“I wanna see you safe in your house before i go, I feel responsible for you getting cold out here.” he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t care about you, when it’s clear from the way he’s acting he only thinks of you and your safety right now.

You nod, his gentle words feeling like daggers in your heart, making you almost regret the way went a few rounds with him earlier.

Getting into your aparment, you take off your shoes, holding the door for him to do the same, and when he does, you lock it again, before making your way to the small kitchen.

"Can I get you anything? Water, tea..?" You ask, trying to be a good host. You and Emily never expected no one to come to the apartment, so there was never many food or drink options.

He follows you to the kitchen, shrugs and looks around. The apartment is not very big, but it’s homely. From the kitchen, you can see the entire living room, including the door, and then there's a small hallway that leads to the rooms and bathroom.

He looks at you when you offer him something and smiles, it breaks his scowl, it looks good on him. He looks at you for a moment, then says “Can i get a glass of water?”

You nod and get on your tip toes to open the cabinet, getting a glass and then filling it with water, handing it to Joe as you take a seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen's island.

He takes the glass and drinks from it, still holding on to his scowl, but it slowly drops off as he begins to relax. He sits down beside you, close enough that his knees are touching yours “Your apartment is so different from mine.”

You sigh, making small talk with him was the last thing on your list for today, but still, you gave it a shot.

"How so..?" You say, not even bothering to look at him. Instead, the cup of water you had poured to yourself in front of you was the one getting all of the attention. The fact that the only person in the entire campus that hated you was the one to bring you home was already embarrassing enough, so you were still to wrap your mind around the fact he was still here.

He watches you and looks around the kitchen, not sure how to explain it to you. For a few moments he just looks at you, trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know how to explain it, it’s just different from anything i’m used to.”

"Calling me poor now, are we, Burrow?" You shrug, letting a small laugh fall from your lips.

He glares, then realizes you were joking and laughs a little bit. You can notice he still smiles when he looks at you, which is surprising considering how he always scowled at you. “I'd never call you poor, especially not after seeing your outfit tonight.” he looks you up and down.

"Mr. Joseph Burrow's a fashionista?" You chuckle, this wasn't something you'd ever expect from him. There wasn't any monograms or brand names on the sweater you wore, but if you were a someone into good clothing, you'd recognize it.

He laughs and shakes his head, he can’t help but notice your curves and he looks down, trying not to stare. “I wouldn’t consider myself a fashion guy, i just know something looks nice when i see it.. and your outfit looks very nice on you."

"Yeah, sure.." You nod, standing up and grabbing both of the glasses. You take them to the sink, putting your hair up in a bun and washing them. "I'm okay now, Burrow, really. I don't know why you did what you did tonight, but thank you." The thank you comes out like a whisper, but you pray he does notice. "Come back to your party, enjoy your teammates and your girls. There's still time."

He shifts in his seat and watches you as you wash the glass, his mind is conflicted. Part of him wants to follow his teammates back to the party, the other part wants to stay with you, see how long the small talk can go before it turns into a fight again. His eyes watch you as his breathing starts to pick up a bit. When you thank him, he realizes you don’t want to talk about the fight or why he did what he did at all.

He shakes his head and stands up. “I guess I better get going then."

"Yeah.. of course." You flash him a shy smile, and the awkward silence sets in again.

He notices your smile and smiles back, not knowing how to express himself right now, although he doesn’t know how to leave either. He just awkwardly stands there, staring at you, his eyes are locked on yours, he can’t help but notice how beautiful they are. The two of you lost in your own thoughts, the silence filled with tension. Then he speaks “Can i ask something before I go?”

"Yes."

“Why'd you wear that jersey? You knew it would piss me off, so why’d you wear it?”

You sigh, you had already explained that, but Joe seemed so drunk you thought maybe he had forgotten. "I told you, I was cold and I had forgotten my hoodie." you point to the couch, where the green hoodie rested on. "I knew it would piss you off, and trust me when I say I wasn't going for that today, but it happened. I'm sorry for it, you can have it back now." You say, taking the jersey off for the second time that night, except this time you don't throw it on his face. Instead, you just gently hand it to him, like a peace offering.

He takes it, looking down at it in his hands, then he looks back up at you. He sighs and is suddenly filled with mixed feelings, anger, sadness, his emotions feel overwhelming. He doesn’t want to yell and argue with you again, but he also doesn’t want to leave. He can’t stop looking at you and your eyes, he can’t help but love how pretty they are. "Can I please keep this? Please..?" he whispers.

"Why are you asking me that? It's yours, it has your name on it." You say matter-of-factly, fidgeting with your hands, something you do when you're nervous.

You can tell he’s trying really hard not to smile at you, his voice is soft when he says “Yeah… but it’s got your sweat on it… your smell… I want something to remind me of you… even though, you know… we always seem to get each other mad.”

You don't understand, after all, you see each other every single day. The best "something to remind me of you" he could ever ask for was standing right in front of him everyday.

You furrow your eyebrows. Years of fighting, screaming and pissing each other off leading to this moment was something you couldn't wrap your mind around. "Do I need to remind you we hate each other? Until this morning, you'd get me suspended from LSU if you could."

He laughs, and you’ve never seen him in such a vulnerable and soft state. "We both know I don’t wanna get you suspended from LSU, I mean, come on.. just look at you.” he stares at you, you see his eyes roaming your body like he always does, but there’s a different look about them. "You deserve this scholarship more than I do, you've always have."

"Yeah.." You scoff, not believing a word, looking at the jersey on his hands and then at his eyes. His big, blue eyes that you got lost in countless times before.

He smiles at you, realizing the snarkiness he just heard. He doesn’t mind the teasing, in fact, he kinda likes it. He stares at you for a minute, then he looks back down at the jersey “I like how it fits tight on you.” he says without realizing it.

"Tight? You're big as hell, it looks huge on me." You laugh, remembering how the jersey looked on you when you put it on earlier today.

He laughs silently to himself, a big smirk appears on his face. He looks at your body, then smiles. “You're just too small, but I do like how it fits on you."

You feel goosebumps throughout your entire body and your cheeks heat up. You curse yourself mentally for letting it all show so easily.

He's still staring at you, but doesn’t realize just how much he’s making you blush. He continues to speak in a low voice "I can see your belly button when you dance for us on the field.." He pauses, but decides to go on, and it's like you can hear the engines turning in his head. "I can see your bra strap when you go so high in the sky I feel my hands covered in cold sweat in fear that you'll fall and I won't be there to catch you. I can see your collarbones when you get so close to me when we're fighting that I wish I would just lean in and shut you the fuck up. I can see how you blush when I sweep you off your feet and leave you speechless, like i'm doing now." He steps closer. "I can see all of you. Matter of fact, Y/N, I think you're all I have ever wanted to see." He states, like it's a fact, like he has always known that. You feel your eyes starting to water and you feel stupid. "Every inch of you looks amazing in that jersey, it fits you like nothing else i’ve ever seen."

You sigh, it's almost like you can feel your skin being touched by him just by the way he’s looking at you. You feel like a forest fire, and his voice tone doesn't help. "Stop.."

His voice is so low when he talks, you want him to keep speaking. You want to hear his voice go on and on, to get you worked up, but also to lull you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in years. He keeps staring at you as he speaks “Just look at your shoulders, the fabric wraps all around them so perfectly, they’re such beautiful curves, just like the rest of you. Just look at you.. Jesus." He sighs.

You squirm under his gaze, but in a split second you're reminded of everything that happened before this moment. Before being here, in your small dorm, talking to the man you earlier thought to be the meanest person you knew. "I won't fall for it. I'm not the girls you get after winning games."

He chuckles and looks away, clearing this throat before going on "Those girls are just something to make me feel good, they don’t even mean anything to me. But you.. even when you make me angry, I want nothing but to feel you in my arms. You make me feel so good, even when you piss me off.”

"You don't mean that." You mutter, trying to stay calm. You pick the skin on your arms while staring at him.

His eyes shift back to yours when you speak, he sighs and you can tell for a minute he’s conflicted on what to say. "I know you don’t believe I mean all those words, but honestly, I mean every word. You are the only girl who's ever made me feel something, even if we’re arguing, that means we at least have some emotion we want to put towards each other. I'd rather have you making me mad than have someone making me feel nothing at all."

A single tear slides down your cheek. "You're drunk, that's what it is. You're drunk and this.." You point to yourself, and then to him, "..must be a prank."

“I know that’s all we’ve known for years, but maybe the reason you make me so mad is because I have feelings for you. You are the only girl I have ever wanted to talk to like this. You're the only girl that makes me feel this way. I never want to stop talking to you, I just want to tell you how beautiful you are, even when you make me mad, or when you push me so far it makes me want to push you towards the wall and kiss you."

You stare at him like everything you've ever known has finally made sense. A few more tears drip from your eyes and you sigh. "You promise?" it comes out in a whisper.

He smiles and you can tell it's not a fake drunk smile. This is the smile he flashes at someone when he's letting down his guard and being completely honest and vulnerable. "I promise. I don't want anyone else, I want you. I wanna be the guy who makes you happy like no one else could. I want you to be there when I get into the NFL and I want to be able to look for you on every game, waving at you when I see you're wearing my jersey because you finally want to, because it means something."

You look up, melting over his voice, your eyes meeting his like never before. His eye color seemed different now, a more vivid blue. His eyes seemed more relaxed, a nice contrast to the ones full of rage that always came with a furrowed brow. "I want you, too." You whisper.

He smiles, a real and sweet smile. This time when his eyes roam your body, you feel like he isn't looking at you in a nasty way like always, he's just looking at you because he thinks he's the luckiest boy in the world.

You smile, "Do I need to call you some names to have you kissing me now?" It makes him laugh, and your eyes lock on his. There isn't any words, just feelings, and you can see it in him when the realization sets in that you want him too.

You get on your tip toes as Joe pulls you towards him, your lips finally touching each other. Your belly feels as if you just rode a rollercoaster, as if the LSU football team had won, as if there was fireworks inside of you like there's in the sky on the fourth of July. But instead it was all him, the same boy that you once hated so much, doing all of this to you without even trying.

Immersed in your thoughts, you didn't notice when someone opened the door and came in, what gave it away was the smell, and you wondered if it would ever change.

"Joseph..?" you froze, again, but still managed to turn around on the armchair, feet now touching the ground.

His eyes meet yours for the first time in.. well, years, since that fateful night. He looked.. the same. Although his hair was shorter now and he looked bigger than ever, his face was the same. The same mesmerizing ocean blue eyes, pointy nose, and rosy cheeks, which you always found funny, because it looked like he had blush on. He wore a threadbare white shirt, shorts, and a tennis shoe, but they weren't the same as years ago, and you thought to yourself how an outfit of his now would cost probably more than your monthly earnings. He also wore a USA flag headband, which you had seen earlier laying on the wood table for everyone to get one. You thought it looked.. funny.

"Y/N." He nods. It felt like forever since your name had left his lips for the last time.

"Sorry, I-" You start, getting up from the chair as you wrote a full apology in your head for being in a private part of his home. "I thought nobody would need the room, I'll leave now."

"Nobody does." He takes a sip of his drink, his hands looking huge as he holds the red cup. "Dave told me you came with him and Emily, had to see it for myself."

He says, getting closer and finally leaning onto the window, arms resting just above it. Another sip, and you find yourself sitting again.

"How'd you know I was here?" You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding a thing. His eyes don't wander from the view. You're stiff, and you think you've probably never felt so nervous.

"You always are."

If you thought your eyebrows couldn't furrow any more, you were wrong. As soon as the words fell from his lips, you were in complete shock. Does that mean he knew that, all this time, you spent the parties in his attic, alone, dying to go home? That he knew you slept here, not once, not twice, but several times before?

"What?" Is all you manage to say, embarrassment taking over you.

"I mean, when I threw parties in high school you were always here. I know you don't like parties but you would always come because of Emily, and somehow your nights always ended here."

Your eyes widened, and you swore that if your mom could see you now, she would say something along the lines of You look like you've seen a ghost.

You kind of felt like you had.

"I'm surprised you like the place, it's kinda small." He finally shifts, taking his arms off the window and setting his now empty cup on the small wood piece that rested under the window. You blush, after all this time.

When you woke up in the morning, Joe was no longer there. You didn't panic, just thought of it as typical him. Getting up from the bed, you saw Emily on her chair, watching something on her computer.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." she says as she hears you yawn.

"Morning, Ems." You smile, sitting up straight. "D'you have a good night?"

"Obviously, duh. Dave's a gentleman." she states, bragging, and you laugh. "He also told me you and Joe left together last night.. what was that about?"

You sigh, flashes from the night before coming back to haunt you. "We.. uh.." you start, but words can't really explain what went down in this apartment yesterday. "We kissed, and had sex.. and, uh.. he might've said he likes me.." you whisper, like it was a crime.

"WHAT?!" Emily jumps from the chair, startled. "Y/N.. Oh my God.." she gets closer to you, getting on her knees in front of you. "How was that? And, most importantly, how's that gonna work now?" she states, as if something had changed overnight.

"What do you mean?" you furrow your eyebrows, confused.

"Well, you know he's been drafted to the NFL, don't you?" she says as if it was something everyone knew, incluiding you.

You felt your heart sink.

So it was a prank, after all. The worst one he could ever pull on you.

He left, and he wasn't coming back.

You knew he meant every word he had said last night, but he also had really left. Joe had confessed his love to you the night before just to leave in the morning, leaving you mercilessly stranded.

You don't say anything, because how could you find the words to? Emily immediately understands and hugs you, but the only embrace you could possibly want at the time was miles away now.

You were surprised at his ability to pretend like nothing had happened, like the last few years hadn't been torture to you, wondering where did it go wrong. Years of blaming yourself, of recalling the night over and over and-

"No need to be ashamed, Y/N." he chuckles, the sound of it filling the quiet room.

"I'm not ashamed." you lie. Letting him see through you was the last thing you needed today. "Just thought nobody knew."

"Well, if it helps, I'm the only one who does." he finally sits on the ground, back glued to the wall where the window was. A beat, and then he was back with the personal questionnaire. "How are you?"

"I should be the one asking that question. Huge team, getting all the girls, abnormal paycheck.. Superbowl." your words dripping with disgust as you stare out the window, hoping for something, anything, anyone, a divine intervention to get you out of there.

"I don't really get that many girls," he says as he stares at you. One of the things about him that bothered you so much was his courage. You could never, ever, not a million years, bring yourself to stare at him the way he'd do to you. It was intimidating, raw, and worst of all, familiar. He'd always do this when the two of you fought in high school, that's how he'd always win the arguments, not by words, by having the courage to look you in the face and leaving you feeling vulnerable and naked under his gaze. That's also the same way he stared at you that night, after saying all those nice words that made you melt under his touch.

"Mhm.." You nod, not knowing what to say.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" he questions, again.

"I'm fine, finishing my doctorate now."

You don't know why you told him that, but it felt right.

He lets out a breath, "Fuck, Y/N.. That's huge." he congratulates you, and although he couldn't see it due to the poor lighting, it makes you blush. You had never seen it as that big of a deal, it was just the thirst for knowledge you always had, but it was nice knowing someone Joe thought about it as something nice.

"Thank you"

"Thank you coming today," he finally says, awkwardly, as he gets up, grabbing his cup as he does so. "tell your folks I said hi."

"Will do."

He opens the door and gets lost in the crowd, leaving quietly and sneakily like he did that night, and you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding.

[orshii]

Did I cross the line?

➼Author: orshii

➼Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x female reader

➼Word count: 4 k

➼Summary: On Valentine's Day in Paris, a romantic trip with your boyfriend, takes a painful turn when unresolved feelings about his ex-girlfriend, who was once your best friend, resurface. Despite the love between you, the past threatens to tear you apart. Through heartfelt conversations, you confront your insecurities and reaffirm your commitment, realizing that to move forward, you must leave the past behind.

➼A/N: Well...here I am again with a Hongjoong drabble, and this little something was born because of Billie Eilish's new song. And it was completely inspired by it, so please please, listen to the song and pay attention to the lyrics so you will understand the story more. I just love it, it's such a beautiful song and I can't get it out of my mind...just as well Hongjoong haha...Anyway, I am not sure this is what I wanted, but this happened so enjoy! Byee...--also, sorry for any mistakes :'(... (divider)

Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart, but it also heals your soul, allowing you to feel like a normal human on this chaotic Earth. It's much harder when you're alone, but if you find someone who is always by your side and supports you unconditionally, you become unstoppable. Nothing can come your way when they are next to you and cheering for you on the side to chase your dreams. When you find the mate of your soul, you think nothing can stop you from now on.

Except... sometimes, despite everything, you grow farther apart because of a tiny reason, turning what was once promising into something that couldn’t bloom or burn with passion.

This is the reason why I am crying in a hotel room in Paris, the city of love on Valentine’s Day, with my heart broken into thousands of pieces. How ironic life can be. It's the day of love and I'm in the city of love, yet I never felt more disappointed in love ever. The broken pieces of my heart are cutting me from the inside, I want to scream from the pain, but I have never been quieter in my life, my voice got lost between the sharp pieces of my heart.

Our trip to the city of love started like a cliché straight from a romantic movie. We decided with my boyfriend, Hongjoong, that we were going to travel to Paris for a little break, as we both needed it, we were overwhelmed with work, and we barely saw each other. And Valentine's Day was a perfect excuse for both of us, to celebrate our love, that just started to bloom. Our relationship began six months ago, and it was a maze until we finally understood each other and found our way through the dark, complicated labyrinth of each other's hearts.

We wandered around the city with our hands interlaced, never letting go for even a minute. We felt locked together, forever. Throughout the day we visited a lot of museums and the typical sights of Paris, that being the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. When the both of us were on top of the Eiffel Tower, the wind was so strong up there, that we could barely see the city down there. The air was chilly, as it was mid-winter. The clouds were gone, and the snow had already melted away, leaving behind only the cold.

I stared at Hongjoong, my hair in my face, giggling as he took pictures of me. The photos came out blurry but full of happiness. The sun that slowly approached its lowest spread an orange blanket over the city, lighting it with all shades of orange. I looked next to me, where Hongjoong was smiling. I saw him in slow-motion, as he was looking down at the orange city, the sun's beams lighting his beautifully shaped face, his jawline sharp, his cheekbones high, his eyes in the shape of a crescent moon as he was smiling. The wind blew very slightly on his brown hair alongside his elegant black clothes.

And his smile... that was why I fell in love with him so deeply that I couldn't escape. His smile was so perfect and wide, full of humanity, with sincerity that immediately caught me off-guard because I didn't believe in the fact, that perfect humans on this Earth existed. But as soon as I saw him, I knew it was just a lie, because with time every human being finds their perfect mate for their soul, no matter if someone sees them as imperfect. For you, they are always going to be perfect.

After coming down from the tower, we wanted to do one last thing: put a padlock on the famous bridge where people place padlocks to symbolize their love, as the saying goes, 'Lasts until forever'. And as it was Valentine's Day and we were in the city of love, to make it cheesier we bought a red padlock to put it on the bridge.

"So did you enjoy yourself today?" Hongjoong asked looking at me with his adoringly beautiful smile, as we were walking towards the bridge.

"This was the happiest day of my life Hongjoong." I looked at him with loving eyes, tears almost appearing in my eyes as I was very overwhelmed by the fact of how much I loved him. "Thank you."

"Come here, my little bun." He pulled me by my hand that was interlaced with his and hugged me strongly I felt like he might break my bones, as we were at the end of the bridge. He pecked the top of my head and slowly separated from me, leaving little distance between us, just to cup my face into his warm hand. Chills ran through my body as I felt his warm hand on my cold and red face, he immediately warmed me up with only one slight touch.

"I love to see you happy." He said his voice a little childish as he was saying it adorably. He tugged my hair behind my air. "I'm happy if you are too."

"You are too cheesy, what happened to you?" I looked at him suspiciously.

He chuckled at that. "You happened; I can't help it." He slowly leaned closer to me and slightly pecked my lips with his. Then he looked at me and smiled like I was the only human being on Earth.

"So, it's my fault?" I whispered onto his lips, that still hovered over mine.

"Yes, it is." His eyes were on my lips, as he whispered the words sweetly.

Then he closed the distance again between our lips and kissed me more passionately, putting his heart into the kiss, giving it to me so I could keep it safely in my imaginary safe made out of unbreakable metal, but sometimes that metal can get infected and it can crack and that hurts. As I kissed him back my lips slowly moving against his, the world was gone around us, and I did the same with my heart, giving it to him, so he could keep my heart wherever he wanted to. I hoped our hearts belonged to the other and no one else.

"Let's put that silly padlock on." He said as we separated from the kiss, caressing my cold cheeks.

I just nodded and took his hand to lead him through the bridge's middle.

"It's nice to be back in here." He said as we were looking around, observing the padlocks people already left there.

"Have you been here before?" I asked him surprised with a frown.

Suddenly his expression changed, as we stopped in the middle of the bridge, people around us walking and smiling, the sky had already gone dark, and only the street lights showed the way.

"Well…yes." He scratched the back of his head, averting my eyes.

"I didn't know, when?" He acted strange all of a sudden and I didn’t know why.

"Last year—with… Hana." He slowly looked up, to see my reaction.

I gulped and my heart started to race quickly as I heard her name. I really wanted to stay calm it wasn't the time to argue again as he knew it was an uncomfortable topic between us.

I nodded barely visible. "I see…" I looked down on my hands. "And did you like—were here?" My voice came out strange, it lost its power as I pointed at the padlocks.

"Y—yes," Hongjoong said noticing as my expression changed very quickly. He stepped closer to me to hold my hands. I just looked down at our hands and then at the padlocks. "But it was in the past and you know it, Y/N. I want to do this with you." He reached his hands towards my face, but before he could touch it, I stopped him.

"Well, I don't want to anymore." My voice came out serious, my face looked hurt and disappointed. I stepped back, putting distance between us.

"C'mon, Y/N. You can't be serious." He stepped closer to me and I stepped back again on that. He scoffed at that. "Why can't you put it all behind you? It was a long time ago."

"Because she's everywhere I go, Hongjoong, anything I do with you has to do something with her." Tears started to well up in my eyes.

"It's not, you just made it up here," He pointed at his temple."…because you can't get over it, Y/N." He seemed upset as his voice got more serious.

I scoffed at that in disbelief. "So, now you think I'm crazy?"

It is very unpredictable how everything can change from heaven to hell.

"No, you are not crazy, but you definitely can't let go of the past and be in the present…with me." Hongjoong said running his fingers through his brown short hair.

"What can I do, when all the time I see her face, everywhere." I lifted my arms helplessly. "In our daily life, in our home…in your eyes." One tear slowly escaped my left eye.

"When will you understand she is nothing to me now?" He stepped closer to me, disappointment showing on his face. "When will you understand you are my everything? That I love you and no one else." His voice got lower, weaker.

"I know that you love me, you don't need to remind me like it's an obligation." I looked at him already feeling so far away from him.

Hongjoong scoffed at that. "What are you talking about?"

"You always sound like you have to assure me you love me." I looked down at the ground, where our shadows melted into each other. I just wanted to hide from him. "I am sure you love me. But…it's just a feeling I can't shake."

"You have no idea what are you talking about. Can't you get that you are my fucking world Y/N?" I felt as he stared at me with deadly eyes, growing more furious.

Stressed, I ran my fingers through my hair, tears streaming down my face. "But you aren't mine," I barely said out loud, knowing he could hear me.

I couldn't see his expression as he stood there in silence for a moment.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice calmer.

I just nodded, unable to look up.

He chuckled and came closer to me, his breath close to my face. "So, let's make it fair, then. Shall we?" His voice was like a threat. Then he grabbed the padlock from my hand and threw it away into the water. I stared at him, my eyes wide in shock. "I wanted to make you happy, to do cheesy things like this. But if you can't understand, let's just stop."

"I never wanted to fight," I mumbled.

"But we always do, Y/N." He lifted his eyebrows as he looked at me, disappointed. "It wasn't like this before."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, confused.

"I mean, when we started, it was nice. We were happy, no arguing. But you kept looking into my past and everything changed." He looked into my eyes, tired of the arguments.

"Because she was always there in the back of my mind." I sniffled and wiped away a tear.

"She isn't now. But you can't see it." He shook his head slightly. 

"Honestly…I don't know if I can be with someone who can't let go of the past…" I snapped my head up at that, his face was nothing but serious without any emotions. My heart started to race more quickly than before.

"Hongjoong…" I stepped closer to him with regret on my face.

"No." Now he was the one who stepped back, and my heart started to crack. "I am tired of this, you have to let go of our past and be present completely, not only with half of your heart." He said those words like it was venom and it flew right into my lungs poisoning it so I couldn't breathe anymore.

"We will talk when you finally manage to do that." He put his hands into his pockets and just passed by me like we suddenly became two strangers, leaving me there on the bridge where we could've locked our love forever, he left me with a heart suddenly broken into millions of pieces.

Did I cross the line?

The thing is Hana was Hongjoong's ex-girlfriend and my best friend.

My best friend and Hongjoong got together three years ago and broke up last summer. And it wasn't particularly because of me, well I played a little part in that as well, but they just always argued about little annoying things and I was the one who reconciled them. I'm not sure when it happened, but the more I was hanging out with my best friend and her boyfriend the more I felt something wasn't right. I started to feel something towards Hongjoong and I knew it wasn’t right so I quickly buried it deep down into my soul, so no one would know it.

I watched them through these years when they were arguing and when they hated each other, but they always made up at the end of the day and everyone was happy.

Not until one day, Hongjoong found out Hana cheated on him. That day was a disaster because the more time I spent with Hongjoong, the closer I grew to him. I considered him a friend and liked him. I could talk about things with him, that I didn’t even tell my best friend. It was hard to take sides, to be honest, it was cruel of my best friend but at the same time she was my best friend and I needed to be by her side. She was crying on my shoulder even though she fucked all of this up. Slowly, Hongjoong walked out of our lives, and it didn't feel right for some reason. Not seeing him every day, not knowing what he was doing, made my heart ache for some reason and I was so confused.

Not until July.

We accidentally ended up at the same event connected to our work and started talking. We talked, but like we just met, like we didn't know each other before like Hana didn't even exist. I felt guilty of course but sometimes people have to be selfish, for their own sake. We had a deep connection with Hongjoong and I didn't want to let it go. I just couldn't.

From then on, we grew closer to each other, and got to know each other. And one night, Hana saw us, of course, I didn't tell her about Hongjoong, that we were talking. And of course, the universe loved us and Hana saw us exactly that summer night when Hongjoong kissed me for the first time. When he kissed me, I felt like I was finally complete, like I found the missing piece of my lost soul. But when I saw Hana's face, my soul immediately burnt into specks of dust.

Until then, all I could see was her face when he saw us, the hatred in her eyes, that I could understand. I haven't see her since then, but she lives in my head rent-free. I hated myself because this was the cruelest thing a best friend could do. But I stayed selfish and chose Hongjoong because he made me happy and made me feel alive.

And now I fucked up everything because I can't get through our past. What happened is happened, but when he touches me all I can think of is how she felt, I always compare myself to her.

As I was standing on the bridge and trying to somehow organize my thoughts, I just started to walk in the city that was full of couples and happy people. The city was alive, restaurants were open, and people were celebrating, and laughing together. Yet, I was there walking past them with my eyes crying out, slowly losing myself in the dark. When I passed by a lucky charm seller, the old lady beckoned me to go there. I frowned as I slowly approached her.

"My daughter, you look sad, did somebody break your heart?" She asked me putting his hands on my shoulders.

I nodded tears appearing in my eyes again. "But… it was my fault…so I deserve it." My voice came out weak.

"No one deserves a broken heart, sweet girl." She slowly wiped off my tears. "These lucky charms will tell you what to do, I am sure." She pointed at the little papers with green trefoils on them.

I just shrugged, I didn't believe in these things, but at least I could make someone happy by buying one. I chose one randomly and paid for it, thanking the lady.

"And don’t forget, sometimes before loving someone else, we have to learn how to love and how to receive it." She smiled at me and let me keep going.

I put the lucky charm in my pocket, not even bothering to read it, and walked forward without any destination. All I could think about was Hongjoong and how much I fucked up. It was a perfect day…why did I have to fuck it up? As I walked next to the river my palm was itching in my pocket so I stopped to read the paper. I slowly opened the decorated paper.

"I fell in love with you because you loved me when I couldn't love myself.

 And then you realize it was all real."

I read the lines with my heart slowly warming up and pumping quicker. I never believed in things like these, but these lines hit me hard in the chest just so I could realize how stupid I was, how stupid I was to think Hongjoong didn't love me. I mentally face-palmed myself and tried to stop myself from jumping straight into the cold river and turned around just to run back to our hotel, hoping Hongjoong was going to be there.

Hongjoong wasn't there and he will never come back. He will never come back, because I made myself believe he had anything to do with Hana and that he always compared me to her. But the truth is I compared myself to her and it made my brain a fool, so I believed every cruel thing it whispered to me.

I collapsed on the bed, hugged myself and here I was, crying my soul out with a broken heart, on Valentine's Day, in the city of love.

Hours or just minutes passed by, and I lost track of time when I heard the door closing. I opened my eyes quickly; I was facing the door to our room laying on my right side. Hongjoong slowly stepped inside and took off his winter coat his eyes on me the whole time. I couldn't tell what was he thinking.

I sat up as he approached me and sat on the bed, just to cup my cried-out face into his, now cold, hands.

He leaned his forehead against mine as he whispered. "Oh, my little bun. You make my heart break, seeing you like this."

Probably I looked like hell, my eyes red, my cheeks puffy, my make-up smashed from crying. 

I slowly held his wrists that cupped my face. "Hongjoong I—" Tears found their way out again; I didn't understand how I hadn't dried out by now. I started to sob.

"I'm sorry, my love, I shouldn't have talked to you like that." He hugged me, his fingers running through my hair, trying to calm me down.

I slowly lifted my head from his chest. "No, you were right, Hongjoong." Words could finally leave my mouth. "I was living in the past, that hurt me, but at the same time healed me…you healed me. I was so broken, but you managed to glue together the pieces of me. But this Hana thing just hunted me and I couldn't run away it’s like she cursed me just so I could feel his revenge." I looked down at my hands sniffing.

Then I looked into his eyes and the mate of my soul looked at me like I was the most vulnerable creature on Earth. And that was the moment I got reassured about everything.

"I'm so sorry for making you feel like it was all your fault when it was just my fucked-up mind. You are my everything Hongjoong, and I couldn't spend even a minute without you in my life. Please, don't leave me…" My tears flew down my cheeks endlessly.

He sighed and slowly reached for my hands, holding them like a treasure. "You are a fool if you think it is an obligation for me to say I love you. I say it because I mean it with all my heart, and to let you know that Hana is in the past you know I never really loved her. Not like I love you. You are my partner in life, my future and I never want to let you go." He wiped my tears away as his eyes watered and a little teardrop escaped his eye. I immediately wiped it away, not wanting to see him cry because of me. Ever.

"I love you so-so much!" I whispered weakly as I cupped his face.

"I love you endlessly, bun." He smiled at me adoringly, his smile that cured everything inside me and his lips on mine that slowly put the broken pieces of my heart into its place, my heart being whole again, in one piece, just so I could give it to him, into his hands to do whatever he wanted to it, because I just belonged to him and he belonged to me.

He kissed me slowly, like never before, his soft lips moving along mine leaving a sweet taste behind. I slowly crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. His hands found their place on my waist like they belonged there and squeezed it like he never wanted to let me go. Our kiss got more hotter as I parted my lips letting his tongue inside, discovering every hidden place of my mouth, like he wanted to taste every inch of me. My hands crawled into his hair squeezing it as a moan left his mouth. His hands slowly got their way under my clothes, running his fingers up and down my back, like he couldn't get enough of me.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N." He whispered onto my lips between hot kisses. He looked at me like he couldn't believe his eyes. "You are my beautiful girl." His lips traced over mine as he firmly bit my lower lip.

I chuckled at that, as he quickly flipped us over and he hovered above me, supporting himself with his hands on both sides of my head and he just looked at me. I got impatient and quickly lifted my head so I could kiss him, but he pushed me back to the bed and kissed me harshly, my body felt hot, and I felt like I could burn alive.

Everywhere he touched me burned my skin down to my bones. But I didn’t care because I knew he was the love of my life, that one person who was always beside me and supported me no matter what. The past needs to be locked in the past and the present needs to be lived just so I can build a strong future alongside the emotions I feel, alongside Hongjoong, now, on Valentine's Day and in the city of love, Paris.

[mintwithchoco]

[CYMX-461] "My Roommates And I Were Playing Monopoly And Suddenly, One Of Them Lets Me Fuck Her Ass To Pay The Rent! Will My Other Roommate Be Okay With Us Fucking Right In Front Of Her?"

LOOΠΔ/ARTMS/ODD EYE CIRCLE Choerry x LOOΠΔ/ARTMS/ODD EYE CIRCLE Jinsoul x Male Reader

Word Count: 5424 words

Categories: smut, anal, masturbation, oral, more anal, threesome, squirting (?), just pure anal, commission

Commission Details: a big-sized of mint choco ice cream (2k-4k words)

Trigger Warning: mentions of alcohol

aff link

"Come ooooon, oppa! It'll be quick, I promise!" Yerim said while dragging you to the photo booth.

"With this much stuff?" you said while holding up three plastic bags containing food and drinks for dinner tonight. 

"Don't worry about it! Just a few pictures and then we'll be on our way home alright? Please, oppa? Pretty pleeeeease?" Yerim insisted, showing her puppy eyes while holding onto your right arm. 

Goodness, she's so cute!

You sighed. "Last stop, then we're heading home." 

Yerim squealed with delight. You both then entered the photo booth, her hands dragging you along by your arm. Yerim's impatience caught up with you before you could even put the plastic bags down. She quickly inserted some coins into the machine and pressed the shutter button.

"Get ready to take your photo!"

"Woah hold on—" 

"Say cheese!"

◍───────

Yerim's heartful laughter resonated across the quiet street. It's been about ten minutes and still, she couldn't stop busting a gut over your face in the pictures you both took earlier at the photo booth.

"Are you done Yerim?" you asked, blatantly annoyed by her playfulness.

The dark brown-haired girl who was holding her belly began to calm down, before bursting out in another series of giggles once again.

"Sorry, sorry, I just can't get over how funny you looked in these photos oppa!" Yerim reminded you of the photos you both took just a little while ago. 

They turned out great in her eyes, but not in yours. Yerim had different expressions and poses, while you looked silly in a few photos due to the sudden rush. One picture that cracks Yerim up was where you were just a blurry thing behind her.

"Well, if someone cared to wait for a little bit, then the pictures would turn out good!" you exclaimed.

"Hehehe, sorry oppa! I just wanted to make it quick. Besides, Jinsol unnie's probably waiting for us at home."

You looked at your wristwatch. "Oof, yeah, it's already ten. Let's hurry then, we don't want the tiger to show its fangs again!" 

Yerim giggled. "That was unnie's fault! She didn't tell me about waking her up for class yesterday! You see, I-"

As Yerim continued defending herself about what happened the morning before, you both eventually arrived at your shared apartment after a few turns. Inside the apartment, Yerim then cheekily hopped on each staircase, leading up to the third floor. You tried catching up to her, but you're not taking the risk of potentially dropping the dinner for tonight — it was all on you as well.

The doorbell rang a couple of times, startling Jinsol who was watching a variety show on the TV. After clumsily falling off the couch because of the shock, Jinsol rushed towards the door to open it.

"Unnie!" Yerim shrieked out like she hadn't seen Jinsol for days.

“Jeez, you're so loud! You were only out for two hours!” 

“And that’s enough for me to miss you!" Yerim instantly hugged Jinsol who had a mix of concerned and disgusted looks on her face.

"Bro, that's cringe," Jinsol answered, but quickly returned the hug.

You went inside the apartment quietly, unnoticed by the two lovebirds. You gave a low sigh after seeing the mess in the living room caused by the woman who was still stuck in Yerim's embrace. Jinsol loves building and playing around with Gundam figurines, but you're not a big fan of how many of the small parts are scattered around the house after she's done with them. Even after you have countlessly stepped onto them and screamed out in pain, you never really complained about it to Jinsol since you knew that she wouldn't listen.

That is the truth of living in this apartment with these two — Choi Yerim and Jung Jinsol. One is an enthusiastic and extremely extroverted girl with no shame, and another one is a quiet, dorky, and yet chaotic girl who was possibly a man in her past life. At the very least, your apartment doesn't feel too quiet with these two hanging around.

After cleaning a bit of Jinsol's work on the table, you put down the plastic bags and got out the four boxes of food, three canned beer, and a box of two strawberry cake slices. 

"Stop getting onto my back, you're heavy!" Jinsol exclaimed. 

Yerim whined, "Ah, you're so mean unnie!" 

Both of them made their way to the living room with Yerim clinging onto Jinsol like glue, hugging her by the waist. Once you opened a box with tteokbokki inside, the smell disseminated into the air, making everyone in the living room drool. Jinsol didn’t waste anymore time as she jumped over the couch and sat down on the floor. Yerim joined in soon after, sitting beside Jinsol and grabbed a drink.

“Sheeeesh, this is a lot!” Jinsol exclaimed. “Can we even finish this? And cakes? Seriously?” 

“What’s wrong with them, unnie?” Yerim asked. “I’ve been craving a cake for days! They’re also perfect for desserts!” 

“Well, you better finish it! The fridge is already full from your yogurts and jellies. Can’t even store that beef tripe that I got from my mom yesterday.” Jinsol complained.

“You could just have a few to make more space, I don't mind! I can buy more!” 

“I could, if the yogurts weren’t coconut flavor-” 

You stopped the argument by letting Jinsol smell the box that you held in front of her face, the smell that she knew all too well — chicken feet. “Will this shut you up?” 

Jinsol gasped and grabbed the box off of your hand. “For me?! You actually got it?!” 

“As a thank you for helping me with my thesis the other day.” 

"Bro, I said it was nothing, really. Thanks anyways!"

As everybody has their own set of meals, the three of you — mainly Yerim and Jinsol, enjoy the late dinner. It doesn't hurt to treat them once in a while, so you feel just as happy as they are. Not to mention, it's been a while too since all of you spent some time together in the house. Balancing work and study is already hard enough, and as cold as you were, you definitely don't want to add social life to the list. 

"Oh yeah, can I borrow your notes from account class oppa? I forgot to jot down a few things." Yerim said in a muffled voice — her mouth was filled with food inside.

"Later, I haven't finished filtering it." 

Jinsol looked confused. "The fuck? You filter your notes?" she asked, emphasizing the word 'filter' with her fingers.

"It means making the notes more readable for me."

"Mhm, that's why I like borrowing his notes! It's soooo much easier to read than Professor Haseul's slides!" Yerim butted in the conversation, her mouth still full with food.

"Wow, dude. I really gotta learn some stuff from you. Can I have a bit of yours?" Jinsol points to your food with her chopsticks.

"Help yourself, noona. I already ate a bit before this." Jinsol already took half of your kimbap before you even finished talking.

"With a certain… professor perhaps?" Yerim teased you and took a sip of her drink, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, I thought we were done with that!" you groaned.

"Doesn't help when you're the only male student that has ever been asked out by the hot and gorgeous Ms. Saerom herself!" 

Jinsol was baffled once again with Yerim's statement, clearly showing her boomer attitude. She then asked,  "How come that I don't know about this?"

"What the— you didn't know unnie?! It was hot shit in our class! It's like this…" Yerim then continued to ramble all about the embarrassing incident you had with the aforementioned professor with Jinsol who was weirdly interested. 

Please, just end me now. 

An hour has passed. Your ears were traumatized with Yerim's story and Jinsol laughter. What an eventful dinner, you thought to yourself. The three of you were finishing up on your dinner, mainly Yerim having to finish her cakes. 

"Ooh ooh, do you both have anything to do after this?" Yerim excitedly asked.

You and Jinsol looked at each other before answering, "No, not really. Jinx!"

Yerim's eyes brightened up. "How about we do something together tonight? It's been a while you know!"

"What do you have in mind?" you asked.

Yerim thought to herself for a while, before her ears perked. She then quickly ran to her room. 

"I still can't believe you rejected Ms. Saerom." Jinsol said, giggling quietly right after. You just shook your head in response.

Not long after, Yerim jumped out of her room and hopped towards the living room with a box in hand. "How about a game… of Monopoly?!"

You and Jinsol stared blankly at the box that Yerim held up in the air. 

"I've got notes to filter." you said, and at the same time, Jinsol answered, "I gotta clean the toilet."

"Hey! You guys are no fun!" Yerim pouted, making both of you laugh out loud. "Come on now, both of you! Do you guys wanna play or not?"

You patted on the floor, signaling Yerim to sit down. "Alright alright, let's play. Sorry about that." 

Yerim smiled and sat down beside you. You cleaned up the table, threw away all the food packages and cans while Yerim and Jinsol prepared the board game. Once you got back to the living room, Yerim and Jinsol were already counting the game's money.

"Oppa, which one do you want?" Yerim asked you to choose between the five tokens. With no thought in mind, you just picked one that resembles a hat. Jinsol then gave you the money for the game.

"Let's do rock paper scissors to decide our turn!" Yerim suggested.

"No no no, let's go by age." Jinsol declined Yerim's suggestion, in which she replied back with a head shake.

"Not fair, because you get to go first!" 

"It doesn't change how the game plays!"

"The first player usually has a higher advantage to win!"

"And the first few Monopoly players went by age to play!" 

"So then what? I'm not falling for your tricks again, unnie!" Before Yerim could press Jinsol further, your expression caught her eyes. The "I'm so done" expression on your face said it all — it's the girl's battleground and you have no right to speak. She immediately ended the argument as she doesn't want you to feel left out. "Y-You know what, oppa, you go first."

"Eh? So suddenly?" Yerim nods her head.

"Well, if you say so. I'm still gonna win though!" Jinsol surrendered as well. A bit odd this time since it usually ended up with either one of them winning, but you couldn't care any less. You started off the game as Yerim gave you the two dices, and it marked the starting point to an endless night.

─◍──────

Yerim was sweating. Not because it was hot, and not because of the beer she drank. It's because of her current situation. Two hours have passed, and her roommate has been on the road to taking the win for the game. Almost all the entire property on the board was owned by him, and it is clearly shown by how much money he has on hand. 

"It's your turn noona." he said after buying a hotel on one of his properties. 

"Man, this sucks." Jinsol whined and rolled the dice. Both of the dice showed a three — she landed on her own property! A silent "Yes!" was heard from her lips before she made her move on the board.

"That won't last for long." he teased Jinsol who just gave a sigh out of relief.

"You mean my luck? The one that won't last that long is your money! Your turn Yerim!" Jinsol fought back and took a sip of her can of beer, her words are as striking as an anime protagonist.

Throughout all of this, Yerim was lost in thought. Two things were running around her mind — her game and her crush. On the board, she was at the worst place, where any move she made was guaranteed to land on his property. Unless she rolls an exact number of 11 on the dice, she would have to pull a Chance Card. Her money was also running out, so if she got unlucky, the only option for her was to declare bankruptcy and lose, or plan B. 

"Yah, what's taking you so long?" Jinsol snapped Yerim out of her trance. She was shaking up the dice inside her hands for almost a minute.

"Oh, sorry! H-Here goes nothing!" Yerim released the dice and it rolled to a number of five— 

Come on, come on, come onnnn! 

—and a four, totalling up for a nine. 

Yerim was stunned. Amidst the laughter from Jinsol, she needed to think and act quickly. Is she about to lose to this board game that gives her no benefit, or take a chance that she'll probably regret in a long time if it goes wrong? 

Fuck it, it's plan B!

───◍────

"Come on Yerimie, make your move~" you teased Yerim. Finally, this game is gonna end soon. I really need to sleep.

You noticed that Yerim's eyes were calm and her lips had a bittersweet smile — an expression that you knew very well. You and Jinsol call it the "I accept my fate" look and because of its rarity, you were a bit weirded out by her behavior. Especially that she had a bit of alcohol too. Typically at this point, she would whine about going to lose.

Yerim moved her token while counting down, "One, two, three, four,-" she stopped for a while, and continued, "-five, six, seven, eight, and nine." 

"Well, well, well, looks like it's gonna be between the two of us now, noon—"

"Hold on!" Yerim cuts you off, the loudness of it shocked Jinsol.

"Ow, my goddamn ear— you've lost Yerim! What else can you do?" Jinsol groaned.

"There's… something that I can do." 

"Like what, taking a loan—" Jinsol's eyes widened at the scene unfolding in front of her.

Without any hesitation, Yerim placed a hand on your shoulder, got closer to your face and connected both of your lips together. Jinsol's "Ehh?!'' was useless to Yerim's ear as she deepened the kiss. Meanwhile, you just eased into the kiss, instead of freaking out. Possibly because the beer has seeped into your brain, immobilizing you from denying her sudden action.

"Fuck my ass."

“Wha—“

The simple kiss then elevated to a make out, with Yerim acting as the guide to both of your tongues, twirling against one another. Your consciousness returns after a few seconds, realizing the state that you were in. As Yerim was pulling you in by the waist, sliding her hands under your shirt and feeling your body with her fingers, you begin to resist the fall into temptation— she's your roommate for heaven's sake!

Curse you, alcohol!

Yerim noticed how you were flinching around, obviously denying her actions. Putting a halt to the slightly forced make out, she smirked and whispered softly into your ear, "Don't worry oppa, I'm not drunk. I just wanna pay my rent."

"B-But Yerim, don't you think we should uhh…" Look beside you, and Jinsol was still there, with an annoyi— Wait, she's smiling?

"Don't mind me, just go on ahead." Jinsol said while getting up. "Don't go too rough on my Yerim, you hear me?" You nod slightly in response.

Jinsol then quickly made her way to the toilet, leaving both you and Yerim alone in the living room with your mouths open. 

────◍───

Jinsol closed the toilet door behind her and leaned against it. She bit her lips desperately — it has been a while since she'd seen a view so hot, especially when it's her two hot roommates. 

Jinsol once mentioned that she doesn't like both of her roommates in a romantic manner. In fact, she has taken an interest in someone else and made a lot of progress with them. However, when it comes to her sexual desires, no one truly knows how much Jinsol craves to get a good fucking, and she's not really picky about the details.

Fuck, how she just pulled him into it is so hot! Where did Yerim learn how to do that?

Jinsol lets her intrusive thoughts win as her hands slipped under her shorts and underwear, reaching towards her already warm pussy. A gulp down her throat, and she was half naked in an instant. 

This is so wrong. What if they found out that I'm touching myself to them fucking?

Her denial was thrown out of the window as Jinsol's ear caught Yerim's low moans, letting her imagination run wild. It can't be helped that she has seen both her roommates in only their underwear once, so she only has to fill in the missing details. Hesitation was evident in her eyes but as Yerim’s moans become more vocal, it breaks her out of the shell of anxiety.

A quick one wouldn't hurt.

─────◍──

"I'm paying with my ass, oppa. Fuck my ass until you're satisfied."

Once the toilet door was heard closing, you both wasted no time making out once again. Being the fuel of this fire, Yerim tugged onto your shirt and moved herself to sit on your lap. You didn't back down however, as lust has taken over you, by grabbing her plump ass. The shorts that she's wearing were tantalizing at best. Her milky thighs were wrapped around your waist, evidently driving you nuts with a tent already forming in your pants.

"I've been waiting for this moment, oppa. You don't know how many times I've touched myself to you." Yerim words sent shivers down your spine, and more of it came right after as she pressed her lower body onto yours, letting you feel the warmth of her core. It seemed that Yerim did her research properly beforehand as she got out a small bottle of lube from the pocket of her shorts and placed it aside.

"Holy fuck, Yerim." Your head fell onto Yerim's right shoulder, enjoying the constant dopamine. You guide her hips by her ass, creating delicious frictions on each other's crotch. Whimpers and moans filled the room quickly, body temperatures were rising rapidly, and your undergarments were getting wet.

Yerim bit her lips, and with it came her anticipation. “Mmm, I knew that you were big after all oppa.” 

Your hands did a quick work of taking away Yerim's shorts. Her moans grew louder as you were now free to fondle her bare ass. Your fingers slipped under her thin panties and were met with heat and slick, which further enthralled Yerim. The tip of your middle finger trailed down in between her ass and grazed over her pussy.

"Mmfh, that's it oppa! Touch me more!" 

While Yerim undid your pants and underwear, you rubbed her vagina in circles, making sure she stayed wet and warm. Your cock plopped out, and throbbed with each sway of Yerim's hips. She then squeezed some lube on her hands and spread it all along your length to prepare you. Yerim begged and whimpered for you to put it in her ass as soon as you guided the tip of your cock so she could feel you fully.

“Please oppa, put that big fucking cock inside me! Please please please please ple— Ngh!" Yerim yelped as you smacked her butt hard.

"Shut up."

You rubbed your cock on her dripping pussy for a while, making sure that it was fully lubed up before penetrating the tight hole. Only the tip was inside her, but it gave such an intense reaction that both of your bodies jerked. Your hips lifted itself upwards slowly, and with it came a loud groan and your shaft getting deeper into Yerim.

When you successfully conquered her asshole’s resistance, Yerim wailed, immediately pulling you in for a hug with her face buried into the crook of your neck. Worriness seeped in as you felt a sudden wetness on your neck and Yerim breathing in and out profusely.

"You okay?" 

“Sorry… this is… my first time.” Yerim said in between breaths.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Uhh, okay, I’ll pull out—”

Yerim suddenly sank her hips deeper into you, making you both moan and jerk once again. “Oppa, please… I’m okay. I like it.” She bit her lips again, her body reacting to each throb of you inside her, before reassuring you, “I’m yours for the— mmh! For the night. Treat me however you— fuuuuck~! Treat me however you want, please!” 

Though you were hesitant, your body said the exact opposite as your hips began thrusting upwards. Both of your hands were on Yerim's sinful waist to guide the rhythm of your thrusts. There's too much for you to focus on — Yerim's lustful sounds, the tightness of her asshole, the delicious jiggles of her thighs, the alluring scent of her soothing fragrance, the way her frame perfectly fits with yours — it was all too perfect.

"Oh, fuck, Yerim-ah, Yerim-ah!" 

"Ahhh, oppa! You like my ass oppa? You like fucking this tight little hole?" 

Never have you nodded so quickly to a statement so true. The pressure that has been boiling up inside you was too much for you to handle already. But it looks like your playmate is already close to her peak, given by the mix of extreme pleasure that you're giving her.

Her body began trembling violently, followed by some incoherent curse words from her mouth and the spreading wetness on both of your crotches. Not caring how she is still induced in her orgasm, you pulled Yerim closer to your embrace as you chased your own as well. Enhanced by the feeling of her ample breasts covered by only her shirt on your chest, it was easier said than done.

"Fuck! Fuck! Yerim-ah! Yerim-ah!"

Yerim gained a sense of herself and screamed,"Yes! Yes! Cum inside me! Drain your balls inside this fucking ass oppa!"

The thrusting stopped after a while. One last scream of Yerim's name triggers the first burst of semen inside her. The second one fired deep inside her and it went along with her own orgasm once again. When the third and final shot was done, your cum seeped out of the tight hole, showing you how much you have filled your renter. 

As your cock softened and freed itself, both of your bodies fell to the ground, drained by how intense you were. Together panting heavily and catching your breath, you both giggled after finally waking up to the euphoric high. 

"Sooo, did I pay my rent oppa?" Yerim asked with an endearing smile.

You chuckled, swooning on the inside because of how cute she is, even in a messy state. "Yes, yes you did." 

"Hehe, great! Oh yeah, Jinsol unnie is still in the toil— " Yerim was then interrupted by a loud scream coming from the bathroom. 

You both got up quickly and looked at each other, confused by the sudden noise. Upon closer inspection with your ears, the scream turned itself into a desperate moan.

A devious smirk was painted on Yerim's face. "Oppa, you're thinking what I'm thinking?"

You nodded. Yerim stood up and handed out her hand to help you get up on your foot. Now in front of the door to the toilet, Yerim slowly opened it a little until a view was clear to her eyes.

"Ahh, fuck! Oh my god! I'm 'bout to cum! Ahh!" 

Sitting inside the spacious bathtub was none other than Jinsol — bottomless, moaning away without a care to the world and furiously fingering herself to climax. Her eyes were closed as well, so it gave you and Yerim the advantage to sneak inside without her noticing. The mischievous girl then carefully stepped inside the bathtub and sat on the other end. Simultaneously, you were getting hard again by the sight of Jinsol masturbating and Yerim taking off her clothes.

Yerim began drawing near towards the opposite end, fully naked and ready to surprise her horny unnie. She bit her lips and grabbed onto Jinsol’s hand, “Aww, poor Jinsol unnie, touching herself alone in the washroom.”

Jinsol’s eyes were wide open in an instant. Her face flushed with embarrassment, froze upon seeing Yerim in front of her and you who was casually stroking your cock. “Y-Yerim?! It’s not what it looks lik—”

Yerim shuts Jinsol up with a forceful deep kiss. The forced one was resisting at first, but eventually fell into this trap of temptation laid down by Yerim. As they got up on their knees, Yerim removed Jinsol’s top, revealing her slim yet toned figure. Your excess cum from earlier begins collecting itself on your tip as you witness the two girls desperately touching each other while locking their lips together.

A gulp down your throat and soon enough, you took off your own shirt and left it on the tile floor. Yerim noticed how entranced you were and suddenly thought of an idea to spark things up. “Don’t just stand there, oppa. Join us."

It needed only two steps for you to be right in front of your two roommates, your cock flaunting itself hard and proud, close to Jinsol’s face. After exchanging a few more kisses, Yerim switched her focus towards you by stroking you gently, making Jinsol watch in awe as you throbbed under her touch. She then brought the tip close to Jinsol’s lips, letting your cum stain them. 

“Go on, noona. Seems like he’s begging for you to suck it.” Yerim took the words right out of your mouth. 

Before you know it, Jinsol’s tongue swirled around your shaft, gathering the sweet nectar flowing out of your slit. You threw your head back as she then engulfed your cockhead, sucking on it to taste more. At the same time, Yerim continued her gentle handjob and started to fondle your balls as well, stimulating it once again close to orgasm.

“Deeper, unnie. Yes, that’s it.” Yerim praised and patted Jinsol on the head.

You can feel Jinsol getting further down as her tongue slides against the underside of your cock, until the tip of it reaches your balls. Both of you moan audibly with both desires finally being fulfilled. You summarized that Jinsol definitely had some experience, judging by how steady and rhythmic her blowjob is. Her cheeks then hollowed, giving your cock a powerful vacuum suck.

After a few more bobs, Jinsol took her time to breathe and jerked you off. Yerim also gave some support to Jinsol’s handiwork by spitting some saliva onto your shaft, letting it spread all over. She gave quick licks on your slit and beamed over the taste of you. Meanwhile, on your side, your eyes were just glued to the two working for your pleasure. To this day, you never even foresaw this sight to ever happen in real life. 

Jinsol then spoke out of the blue. “Get inside. I.. I need you.”

So fucking needy.

At last, the bathtub was filled as you positioned yourself behind Jinsol, making sure your shaft was almost in between her thighs. Jinsol moaned into Yerim’s mouth as you fondled her cute tits and tweaked her erect nipples. 

“You’re so cute, noona. Whimper for us more.” you whispered into her ear and planted a few kisses on her shoulders.

Jinsol was pinned by the two of you playing around with her body, diffusing pheromones all over. Her hips squirmed as Yerim picked up where she left off earlier, teasing her wet pussy and you rubbing your tip on her asshole. 

"Put it inside, oppa. Unnie must be dying to feel you." 

With Yerim's guidance, you break Jinsol even more, entering her back door. Thankfully, the lube on your cock hasn't dried up too much, so it wasn't really painful, given by how tight Jinsol was. She was on par with Yerim in terms of tightness, but hers felt more warmer. 

"Ahh! Yerim, he's so big!" Jinsol exclaimed, holding onto Yerim in desperation. She basically melted in Yerim's arms when you began thrusting from tip to hilt, which made Yerim smile. She loved seeing her unnie in full ecstasy as it turned her on a lot. 

"Take it all in unnie. Don't resist." Yerim whispered into Jinsol's ear. She then grabbed the back of Jinsol's head and slowly guided it down her crotch while she laid down on the bathtub. Jinsol knew immediately what to do after seeing Yerim's glistening pussy. 

A few licks in, and Yerim began squirming already. Her sensitivity heightened by the clear sight in front of her — her two older roommates having sex. Jinsol moved on to finger Yerim after having a taste of her core to release her expression being fucked.

"Fuck fuck fuck, harder!" 

You obliged, increasing the pace of your thrusts into Jinsol. Her body wobbles deliciously when your crotch hits hers, signifying how hard you're messing her up. It gets even more intense when you're witnessing the two pretty girls making out and pleasuring one another right in front of you.

The three of you were full of sweat, exhaustion finally seeped into your bodies. A game night that turned into a wild sex night surely wasn't in your agenda, but you were glad now that it was. 

"Ahh, ahh, ahh, fuuuuuck!!!!" 

Jinsol let out a loud scream, her back arched and her legs trembled violently. The oldest one in the room orgasms before the two of you could even reach your own, given by how she's receiving double the pleasure. Her slick leaked out of her empty pussy, staining your crotch and Yerim's midriff. 

Not long after, the knot inside your stomach grew tighter, your balls pressuring itself to release the tension. You then release yourself from Jinsol's confines and stroke yourself into your climax. A loud groan left your mouth, and alongside it came spurts after spurts of your semen. Two shots landed onto Jinsol's ass, while the last three covered Yerim's vagina.

Yerim was the only one who had yet to reach her own peak. As the first person who noticed it, you grab onto Yerim's waist and plunge yourself deep into her slit while your cock is still hard. Under Jinsol's body who was calming down after her high, Yerim replied to your action with a deafening scream and continued to do so as you thrust deep into her womb. 

"Fuuuuuuuck oppa! I'm cumming! I'm fucking cumming!"

The first thrust. Yerim's body shook violently. The second thrust. Her legs gave out. The final thrust. Yerim's eyes rolled back. The plugged hole was leaking out with Yerim's juices and eventually, squirting so hard that it pushed your cock out by itself. A series of pleasure cries left Yerim's lips, not caring how she's deafening Jinsol who was still on top of her. 

You laid your back on the other side of the bathtub, gasping for air due to the lack of breath. Tonight's events were exhausting to the body, yet pleasuring at the same time. You then got out of the bathtub slowly and sat on the tile floor, close to the two girls who were basically cuddling each other, not caring how sweaty they were.

"You both okay?" you asked. Jinsol then gets off of Yerim and rests her arms by the edge of the bathtub, facing towards you. Putting her hand on your shoulder, she replied with a thumbs up. 

"I'm fucking drained bro. Thanks for that." Jinsol said, and both of you giggled.

"T-Thanks oppa. It was amazing." Yerim said weakly. 

"Can you get up?" you asked Yerim. Meanwhile, Jinsol was already out of the bathtub and finding her pile of clothes. 

"No. I just wanna.. lay down here… just for a while…"

"Alright. I'll be here until you're okay."

"Okay, thanks oppa…" Yerim then drifts off to sleep almost instantly.

Both you and Jinsol smiled, looking at how cute Yerim was sleeping in the bathtub. Jinsol then left the toilet to sleep in her own room after wearing her clothes and wishing you a good night. You can't stand looking at poor Yerim sleeping uncomfortably inside the cold bathtub, so you carried her all the way to her own room and let her rest on her bed. After covering her with a blanket, you left the room silently.

"Nighty night, Yerim."

===========================================

note; thank you so much for the commission fellow anon! i spent waaaaay too long on this (seriously, it took almost a whole goddamn year 💀💀) so again, i would like to apologize for that. and because of that, i decided to make the fic a little longer than what they have requested as a lil bonus for the wait. oh, i also hopped onto the jav title trend with this but honestly, i think i failed LMAO

it was a rough process due to my hectic schedule, but i'm glad that i made it through. after all, this is my first commission so i'm still learning as i go through. i just really hope that you're satisfied with the end product as i have poured a lot of time and effort into writing this to make it worth your money. :)

talking about commissions, i will be opening them again soon once i'm ready so be sure to be on the lookout! as always, big thanks to my bros Byakko and @sinswithpleasure for the beta read help!

thank you for reading and have a good nu- i mean day! ♥

you're still here?

alright, come here, i'll fill you in on a lil secret.

ep 7 is petplay :)

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Sim Jaeyun x F!Reader TW : angsty ; little tiny argument ; mainly fluff though ; Word Count : 1.1k Request : Anonny : Hey hey can I request a Jake fic Where HES had a really bad day and he comes home from work and you don’t know what’s wrong so you keep walking on eggshells around him and then one minor inconvenience just makes him break down and you’re just there to comfort him A/N : Haven't done an Enhypen fic in so long, omg. I hope everyone enjoys it though!!

Jake was the personification of a puppy, a labrador to be exact. He was the happiest person you knew, and everyone around you would agree. He had this ability to just make everything better, he made even your worst days better just by walking into the room and smiling in your direction. From the moment you met him, bad days didn’t exist anymore, he wouldn’t allow it. That’s why you thought yourself to be the luckiest person in the world, not because you were dating Jake the idol from Enhypen… No, it was because your boyfriend was Sim Jaeyun, your best friend, your favorite person in the whole universe. 

Like clockwork, the front door unlocked and your head quickly turned to look at it, awaiting the appearance of your wonderful boyfriend. Every single day he’d come through the door with a smile and a little snack that he picked up on his way home. You’d run to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss as if it were the last time your lips would ever connect. He’d spin you around, peppering the top of your head with more kisses just to hear you giggle, and you always did. 

Today shouldn’t have been any different, but when he came in, he was empty handed. That wasn’t a problem though, you knew that sometimes little things like that can slip people's minds. He wasn’t smiling either though, and the vibe that he gave off was completely different from what you were used to. He was usually so warm and inviting, but the coldness that you felt from him had goosebumps prickling along your entire body. 

It was the first time since being together that you felt like you didn’t know how to approach him, or better yet, whether you should approach him at all. “Is… Is everything okay?” You practically squeaked out the question, and while he wasn’t a scary person, the look that he shot in your direction was nothing close to friendly. 

“Does it look like everything is okay?” He snapped, and you weren’t used to him talking to you like that. You weren’t used to the way he was being right now at all. It was so unusual in fact, that it made you extremely uncomfortable, your mouth snapping shut immediately, not knowing what to say or what to do next. “I’m going to bed, I just want to be alone.” He mumbled, stalking right past you to go into the bedroom. 

“But… You haven’t eaten yet… Do you want me to bring you-” 

“Alone!” He repeated his last word more forcefully this time, not even letting you finish your sentence, and once again, your mouth was shut as you meekly nodded your head in agreement. The bedroom door slamming shut made you jump, but as soon as the initial shock from the sound wore off, all you could do was cry. You weren’t sure what had happened, you didn’t know what was going on… But you did know that the man that had walked into your house today surely wasn’t the boyfriend that you were used to. 

///

You ended up dozing off on the couch, or, moreso, crying yourself to sleep on the couch, and after an amount of time that you weren’t even aware had passed, you were awoken by the sound of sniffling right beside your head. “Jake…?” You groggily questioned, your eyes barely opened when you rolled over, but you were met with a very blurry picture of his face only a couple inches from yours. 

“I’m sorry…” He said weakly, his hand coming up slowly to cup your cheek. “I couldn’t sleep… Not until I apologized… But you were sleeping when I came out and… Usually you look so happy when you’re sleeping, you look so peaceful… But you looked so sad and felt even more awful… And I’m sorry… I’m really sorry…” He was getting choked up again, you could hear it in his voice, but before you even had the chance to try to tell him it was okay, he was talking once more. “Work was just really stressful today and… I couldn’t get the dances right… And they had to keep stopping practice because of me… And I felt like crap because of it and I was so mad at myself… And I came home… And I just messed up again with you and I made you cry… And I’m just failing at everything… I’m sorry…” 

You didn’t want him to feel like a failure, not when it came to his career, and definitely not when it came to being your boyfriend. You sat up as fast as you could, the sudden movement making you momentarily dizzy, but you were in a hurry to comfort him, to make sure that he didn’t think that way any longer. “Babe, everyone has bad days. They happen. It’s normal. I have bad days all the time, that doesn’t make me a failure… Well, I hope it doesn’t. But you’re amazing, you’re a great dancer, and the only thing that you’re better at than being an idol, is being my wonderful, loving, cutie patootie of a boyfriend.” The corners of his lips twitched up for a split second before lowering back down to a pout. “Come… Come sit.” You patted the seat beside you, and he slowly moved up onto the couch, but once he was there you tugged his sleeve, pulling him down so that his head was resting in your lap. “Comfy?” You asked, and he nodded his head. “Good…” You brushed your fingers through his hair, doing everything you could to calm him, to comfort him. “You know… Whenever I have bad days, you’re always there for me to make me feel better… I want to do that same thing for you. I’m here for you, not just to love you and give you hugs and kisses… I’m here to support you too, to cheer you up when you’re sad, to calm you down when you’re angry… I’m your girlfriend, that’s what we do…” 

“So… you’re not mad at me?” He whispered, looking up at you with the cutest puppy eyes, and how could you possibly stay mad at him when he looked at you like that? You shook your head no, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’m really sorry though… I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I love you so much… I was scared that you’d leave me…” 

“You’re gonna have to do a little more than that to get rid of me.” You joked, and you were happy to hear the small chuckle that vibrated through his whole body. “I’d never leave you because of something like that… I don’t want you to worry that some small little tiff is going to break us up. We’re stronger than that. I just want you to know that you can talk to me, no matter what it’s about… I’m always going to be here for you. Always.”  

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[elaine19day]

Hey guys~ Sorry for my late post, I was super busy today and just came home and only now was able to take a closer look at the new merch and the post that OldXian made. So, first things first - I stand corrected, lol The leaked merch turned out to be real after all. For me personally, quite surprising because it's a LOT at once. (I mean, 58[!!] different cards/buttons/tickets/plates plus 4 special extras……. WOW!!) Also what I mentioned in my last post already - it's quite a bold move to release merch with those old motifs from early manga chapters and calling it "time mosaic" lmao.

Who knows what went on when these decisions were made at mosspaca headquarters, lol

It's safe to say the images definitely got leaked by either a hacker or a person working there. And a lot of people on xiaohongshu were able to produce replicas quickly and sell them to unsuspecting fans. Which brings me to my next point:

The quality of the merch and the quality of the drawings itself. I promised you to address this 'issue' should there ever be an official announcement about these new items and that happened today.

So. First of all - if you saw the posts on taobao or XHS yourself, where people sold fakes, or even if you saw only screenshots from it, you can tell the image quality definitely seemed off. This will most likely be attributed to two things - producing merch from a small, low quality image will make it look blurry and distorted, sometimes pixel-y. And the other reason could be upscaling. If you use shitty programs to make images bigger, it'll look blurry and unfocused. You can go back to my previous post and take a close look at the parts that I circled and highlighted to point out these issues.

Now. About the thing I initially didn't wanna address because I know some people won't like it. If you look closely at the images posted by OldXian herself today, even there some things still seem a little bit 'off' or 'rushed'. There has been speculation in the past that OX uses an AI model (probably fed/trained with her own works) to generate new images quickly and then she'd just draw over them to fix minor issues etc. Please keep in mind, this is just speculation and rumors. I am NOT saying that this is the case. But it might be a possibility. Personally, I can see quite a few artists using these methods to save time, especially when they're under high pressure. (And if they use their own models, trained with their own works only, there's nothing immoral about it, if you ask me. But that's just my personal opinion.)

So there. This might be an explanation for some of her illustrations or panels looking a bit funky sometimes. The other possibility is simply that she's rushing it when working on these things and heavy time pressure makes it a bit messy. Once again - NOT saying she definitely uses AI, just telling you about the rumors that sometimes surface on the net. That's all.

Anyway. About the merch itself. It drops in about 12h from the time I'm posting this blog. (8pm Hangzhou time)

The taobao link for the items is this for now: https://item.taobao.com/item.htm?ft=t&id=792490172782 

There are 4 different options and all of them are blind boxes, meaning you'll receive totally random motifs, unless you order a whole box, which will guarantee you 1 of each regular motif. However, all 4 lots have 1-3 limited pictures, which you might be lucky enough to receive, the chance is small though. (In case you order a complete box and there's 1 or more of the limited motifs inside, it'll lack a regular motif in its place. Example: if you order a full box of 8 buttons and one of them is a limited edition button, one of the regular 8 motifs will be missing in its place. There won't be 9 buttons in the box. It will always be 8 for a full box!)

Option 1: (18 Yuan | ca. 2,70 USD each) Button badges. There are 8 regular badges and 2 limited edition badges. If you order a total of 8 pieces you will not only receive the display box, but also an acrylic standee with Tianshan riding a scooter as a special extra.

Option 2: (10 Yuan | ca. 1,50 USD each) Laser Tickets. There are 17 regular tickets and 2 limited edition tickets. If you order a total of 17 pieces you will not only receive the display box, but also a Shishiki board with Mo from the metamorphosis series as a special extra.

Option 3: (18 Yuan | ca. 2,70 USD each) Tinplates. There are 10 regular plates and 1 limited edition plate. If you order a total of 10 pieces you will not only receive the display box, but also an acrylic standee with Zhanyi cooking/cleaning as a special extra.

Option 4: (15 Yuan | ca. 2,25 USD each) Acrylic Cards. There are 16 regular cards and 3 limited edition cards. If you order a total of 16 pieces you will not only receive the display box, but also an acrylic standee with all 4 boys as chibis as a special extra. [Note about the acrylic cards: The Mo Guanshan card will be the same that was already given as a limited extra during the last round of blind box button badges!]

If you live in the US or Asia, you will most likely be able to use taobao and order directly from the mosspaca shop via the app with the link I gave you above. If you live in a country that's not covered on taobao's shipping list, you can use an agent to order the new merch. Please refer to THIS POST here where I previously explained how to use superbuy and similar shopping agents for buying things from taobao. In case you use superbuy, please keep in mind: They don't offer paypal anymore, so you'll need a credit card or bank transfer or apple pay/google pay.

Also, think carefully if you really want ALL of the merch, even if you're a die-hard fan. You saw I have put the rough amount of US Dollar with each item, so if you buy all 4 boxes, you'll have to pay over 110 USD for the merch alone, plus domestic shipping from mosspaca to the warehouse and then international shipping, which can be as high as 40 USD, depending on where you live. (And perhaps even customs fees on top of it.)

If you have any questions, please drop them below and I'll try my best to answer them~

[ambers-archive]

how did it end?

"he took me out my box, stole my tortured heart. left all these broken parts." or 4 times spencer runs and 1 time he doesn't

“hey ang-uhm..you know i really like you. as you know i really struggle to open up with others as i haven’t found anyone to bond with in awhile. but i-i just don’t think this is it for me and i’m so sorry. i feel like we are on different paths in our life and i really need someone who has their life together. not necessarily figured out. but together. i wish i didn't waste your time like this, and i know what i'm saying is hurtful, but i wanted to be honest with you. i’m so sorry for wasting your time. i’ll miss you. bye”

you’re barely able to make it through the first minute, shaky hands hold your phone as you hover over his contact.

a picture of him kissing your cheek faces back at you.

it’s like a slap in the face.

“can we talk about this properly.” you manage to type through your blurry vision and shaky fingers.

white dots stare back at you, but they disappear as soon as they appear.

a series of gut wrenching shallow breaths overtake you as you crumble onto the floor, glad that no one is here to see you fall apart. 

you pray this is a nightmare. this isn’t like him, not at all.

the memory of the other night suffocates  you—the tender touches, the lingering warmth, the whispered you're beautiful, the stolen kisses—only for him to turn around and tell you you’re better off.

and after what feels like an eternity, a chime finally interrupts your thoughts

“of course” spencer echoes back only for the words to plunge a knife deeper into your wound.

another chime. it was the one you had only for him.

“i would have liked to do that in person.”

then why didn’t you? you want to say back.

only streams of your confusion talk back though.

“who just has sex with a girl? only to dump her a day later?” you type back. 

you’re waiting again, this is not funny you whisper to yourself.

“i wish it wasn’t right after. and i wish there was a way for me to prove sex wasn’t all i was after. if you want honesty then the sex didn’t help. what should i have done? waited to end things after? that’s even more evil to do in my opinion. i should have driven to see you, but i knew i wouldn't be able to say it once i saw you."

would've could've should've

and all you can ask yourself is,

‘did you really think it would be different this time?’

‘did you really think the prophecy wouldn’t come true?’ 

as if you forgot your faith was sealed, a curse meant for you to endure.

you want to beg, beg him to change his mind.

get on your knees like an infant, curse him or plead with the universe, even to god, anyone willing to listen. 

because this can’t be happening.

“please don’t do this” you type out.

delete.

“let’s talk about it.”

delete.

“i thought it would be different this time.”

delete. 

despite your pleas you know you can't force love.

the love that's meant for you isn't earned it's given. so with what little vision you have, you start typing back. 

"i can say millions of things, i can tell you not to prepare for the end of something you haven't given a fair chance to. i can say let's talk it out and find a solution. i can ask you to find some perspective and to not give up on us. but with everything i can't make you love me. love isn't earned. whatever happens i know it's for the better."

send. 

you already know what your friends are going to tell you. 

"he didn't deserve you"

"his loss"

rather than reassurance it's a mirror staring back. a reflection of all you've lost. you're so used to things ending you know exactly what to say. 

your friends are so used it ending "his loss" is now etched between your group. a swirl of repetition, of being put back on your shelf.

like a toy they return when the tricks don't work anymore. 

"it gets better." your mom tells you. "everything happens for a reason, forget about him." 

but he was my best friend you want to say.

just when you think things will last, that people will stay, the universe shows you once again that all love does, at least for you, is break and burn.

[manicrouge]

Masked

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 15/02/24

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: You've wanted to meet Ghost for a long time. Fortunately for you, he's a fan of halloween.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 2.8k

[ᴛᴡ]: slight dumbification (if you squint and tilt your head), oral (m receiving), he's a tad bit mean in this sorry he's a grumpy pants my bad guys. I don't think there's anything else.

[ᴀ/ɴ]: This is absolutely filthy I am so sorry. It's been a while since I wrote smut (I so didn't steal this from something I wrote with my ocs haha).

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

Walking outside, you close the door behind yourself, observing the front of the home.

As far as the eye could see, you was sure there was nothing but wilderness. Of course, you're stating such purely based on assumption- the world could have very much shifted and you would be none the wiser due to your blurry sight.

Stepping forwards again, you rub your hands together as a cold gust of wind blows harshly, pushing the hair sitting on your shoulders around your neck.

Price was full of shit; he isn’t here.

There was no one, only the cars that had pulled into the drive way sitting alone, waiting for their owners. Exhaling harshly, you continue forward, opening your mouth. 

'Simon?' you say, turning your head to cover as much of the area as possible. 'Simon?' you call out once more before scoffing under your breath, rolling your eyes.

You’d have to remind Price that it's halloween, not April fools day. Your mouth forms a thin line as you cross your arms. 

Stepping backwards, you begin to turn around all for you to stop in your tracks when a firm hold catches your forearm. In the blink of an eye, you're forced against the wall beside the door.

All air is pushed from out your lungs in a sudden gasp, your hands grabbing the forearms of your attacker.

Before you can scream, a hand is placed over your mouth, and as you feel the material across your face, a burst of redness fills your cheeks when you caught sight of a skull mask.

Looking down at the gloved hands on your mouth, you catch sight of the exact same skull print you have caught in pictures, yet, never in person.

The longer you observe his appearance, the more you find that he had thought of everything that went into the outfit- the eye paint, the balaclava, the holster on his thigh, the jacket… everything. He removes his hand from off of your mouth, allowing you to take a full (much needed) deep breath.

No fucking way. 

'Oh my Lord,' you merely manage to get past your lips, your grip on the fabric of his black coat tightening as you gulp thickly. 'You did not.'

The man standing in front of you doesn't speak, instead, he brings his head down closer to you, staring you in the eyes through the holes of the mask. His look is stern, authoritative.

Simon's not here anymore.

Shamefully, you press your thighs together, turning your head away from his gaze, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you let out a giggle. 

'Are you seriously that fuckin’ turned on by this?' Ghost asks, breaking the silence between the pair.

Your thighs are forced apart as he wedges his knee between them, the delight of the added pressure fading suddenly. Pressing his knee against your cunt, the hand that had been on your mouth settles against your throat.

You continue to laugh to yourself, colour filling your face. If he didn't have his gloves on, you're more than sure he most definitely would have been amused by how painfully hot your skin is to the touch despite the winter air.

'Is it that obvious?' you ask, cocking your head to the side as you address him. 

He moves his knee up higher, pressing right against your clit. You gasp in surprise, your knees buckling under his sudden movement.

Oh, he hates that you was enjoying it as much as you was- he's jealous. You can spy it in the spark in his eyes.

Unfortunately, you really can't help yourself.

Despite not having any doubts, you're provided with a direct sign of his jealous as his hand around your throat tightens. Your eyes falter, darting anywhere but his as you realise what you've somehow managed to get yourself into.

Sucking in a breath, he lets go of your throat, instead opting to grab your face.

'Look at me,' he says, 'I can feel you on my fucking leg, you’re leaking like a bitch in heat.'

'And I’m not ashamed of it,' you answer bravely, letting out a dreamy sigh as you look at him. 

For a moment, you're more than sure you've broken him as all he can do is look blankly at you. This entire situation shouldn't excite you as much as it is right now- you should be ashamed of yourself for even being excited at the sight of your boyfriend dressed in the same clothes he has wore to take lives.

But just like you shame, you find that your morality has also disappeared alongside it.

'We’re not going to the party,' he states, relaxing his hold on you.

A goofy grin makes its way to your face as you quickly nod your head, readying yourself for the walk to his car. Only, he has other plans, picking you up from off of the ground, throwing you over his shoulder as though you weigh nothing.

A squeal passes your lips as you hang from off of his back, swaying back and forward as he carries you. You slap his back in an attempt to protest, letting out a mumbled whine as you try to move. A firm hand meets your ass causing you to jolt forward, a squeak escaping you are your face grows hotter.

As the pair of you continue across the estate, your eyes widen as you watch Simon stroll past his car, instead, opting for the guest house. Pulling the door open, still keeping hold of you, he closes it behind himself.

'We can’t—'

'He doesn't need to know, love,' Ghost sharply responds.

You press your hands against your face, letting a shaky sigh escape you as you try your hardest to try and find a single part of you which still possesses some form of shame. You absolutely shouldn't be doing this.

However, your eyes skim the holster on his thigh and, suddenly, you don't feel bad at all.

'He's gonna kill us if he finds out,' you say, grinning like an idiot. 

'I can hear the smile on your face from here,' he says, kicking open the door to the bedroom. 'We're as bad as each other.'

You don't get the opportunity to respond to him as you're thrown down onto the bed. As soon as you hit the bed, you push yourself up on your forearms ensuring you're getting a decent view of Simon as he walks back to the open door of the bedroom

His heavy boots thud against the ground as he approaches the door, and when it closes, he turns around to address you, pulling his gloves off and tossing them to the ground. His tattoo sleeve only worsens the blow to your dignity and you find the room to be spinning the longer you observe him.

'This is why you were late, huh?' you ask.

'Yes,' he bluntly answers. Annoyance is clear in his tone, and you note how he seems almost irritated. 'Now, how about you put your pretty mouth to use for me, sweetheart? Or have I went through all this effort for nothing?' 

You have never moved faster in your life in order to fulfil a request- or, an order in this case. Nothing compares to the precision in which you push yourself off of the bed, practically dropping to your knees in front of him. It's shameful, really; you're treating your boyfriend like he's some sort of deity because of a few pieces of fabric.

Yet, he simply looks too good to justify acting in any other way.

Simon unclips his combat belt, allowing it to fall to the ground with a thud. Your hands greedily grab his zipper before he even has a chance to unbutton the top button on his cargos. Despite your rush, however, he dips his hand and undoes the top button while you pull down his zipper.

Grabbing the top of his pant, your pull the down slightly, grinning as your eyes catch a damp patch in the man's black underwear. He can point his finger all he wants, sure, however, he's clearly having fun with what he's doing for you.

With such confirmation, you pull down the waistband of his boxers, rapping your hand around the shaft of his cock, pulling it out from the confinements of his briefs, brushing the pad of your thumb over his red tip and collecting a bead of pre-cum while doing so.

'You’re enjoying this too,' you comment, moving your hand up and down. His hand grabs your hair, forcing your head backwards so you're looking at him. 

'I wasn’t askin’ for your observation, sweetheart,' he says lowly. 

Without even thinking of objecting to his request, you press the tip of his cock against your tongue, trailing your tongue around it. Simon lets out a small groan, tilting his head to the side as you do so.

You keep your tongue pressed to the bottom of your mouth and slowly, you take more of his cock into your mouth. Your tongue brushes against one of the veins in his shaft, knowing well that you're most definitely not going to be able to take all of him.

Of course, people typically say that God loves a trier, and fortunately, you know Simon does too.

So, you persevere in spite of knowing better, moving your head further and further down with the help of his hand on the back of your head. You let out a small noise when his leaking tip hits the back of your throat, and you swear you hear a short snicker from above you.

You still at such, deciding to pull away slightly all for your head to be held in place. Simon tuts at you and you peer at the masked man through your eyelashes.

Hiding under his mask is a smirk.

'Oh no, pretty girl,' he gruffly says, 'after all the effort I’ve went through for you, you’re gonna take more of me, and y’ gonna let me use that throat of yours,' he firmly states. 

His words make a wooziness fill your head. You know you could always tap his thigh if you really couldn't take it, yet, you're determined to fulfil his desire; he's absolutely fulfilled yours.

Inhaling through your nose, your cheeks grow brighter as you feel his hand guide you further down his cock. Tilting his head backwards, he let out a laconic moan. 

'Fuck, that’s it. That’s a good girl.'

His sentiment leaves you more breathless than his cock, and in a second of surprise, you attempt to pull backwards again in order to take a breath. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as his hand keeps your head firmly in place, your stomach dropping as you choke for a moment.

Still, the eyes that look down at you are menacing- he clearly isn't concerned in the slightest, and if the pair of you hadn't been together for so long, you would have made the assumption that he was falling more and more into the character of Ghost.

Your scalp burns as he tightens his grasp on your hair, pulling your head backwards. You gasp for air as he pulls you off of his cock, choking on a chain of coughs.

As you blink, a tear rolled down your cheek. Your chest raises and falls quickly as another tear slips past your eye as he forces you to look at him again. 

'Look at you, hm?’ he begin, 'crying from my cock like a little slut,' he continues, clearly amused by the state you had managed to work yourself into. 'I’m gonna fuck your mouth, use your throat, and when I cum, you’re gonna swallow all of it,' he states, grabbing his shaft. 'Open wide, darlin’.'

Opening your mouth, you wrap your lips around his cock, allowing him to force your head further down. Any dignity you had earlier tonight has definitely been left at the door, and you're more than sure it's clawing at the door in an attempt to ensure she doesn't go off into the deep end. Only, you choose not to listen to anything aside from the short breaths of your lover.

You look up at him through wet eyelashes, wincing slightly as his grip tightens on your hair. He guides your head with precision, ensuring you're taking as much of him as you can fit in your mouth- using you like you're nothing more than something to aid is his pleasure.

You've taken more of him than you usually manage and still, you're astonished at the very fact that you still haven't fit all of him in your mouth. Such a fact has a wetness pooling in your panties.

'That’s it, sweetheart,' he exhales, 'fuuckk, yeah, that’s right, love, take all of it.'

Removing your hands off of your bare thighs, you grab his hips, digging your manicured nails into his skin as he fucks your throat. His moans and groans are unlike anything you've really heard from him, the seething breaths working well to make your heart pound in your chest.

Saliva seeps out of your mouth as he continues to use you as though you're nothing more than his fuck toy. You choke on him, not that you could have helped at, and as your gaze fell from off of him, he hisses.

'Eyes on me, gorgeous,' he snaps.

Immediately, you look at him.

'Good girl.'

Oh, he really wants to kill you. 

More tears drip down your cheeks as he picks up the pace slightly. His lack of care right now is striking and you're shocked that you find yourself enjoying how he's using you. One thing is painfully clear, the very thing you spied when the pair of you were outside together: he's so painfully jealous and he's trying to vent his frustrations by using your mouth as he wishes.

Nothing has ever gotten you so excited and you can easily see through the tough act, spying the truth as to why he's being slightly rough with you.

Your nails dig further into his skin as you feel him pressing into your throat, the muscles immediately clenching as you longed for a breath of air. Your makeup is smudged and you're cheeks feel sticky from the streaks of mascara. Your thighs are coated in spit as you drool around his cock.

His breathing grows harsher and his hand guiding your head begins to move you in a slightly clumsy manner. You're expecting him to cum, however, he pulls you off of his cock quickly, replacing your mouth with his free hand. He keeps you in place with the hand tangled in your hair.

Precum and drool coat your chin as you stare dumbly at him, your eyelids drooping slightly as your chest heaves while you try and catch your breath.

'Look at the fuckin’ mess you’ve turned into, sweetheart,' he says, looking you in the eyes. Moving his hand from off of your head, he grab your face, pressing the pad of his thumb against your wet bottom lip. 'Drunk off of my fuckin’ cock, hm? Dirty fuckin' girl,' he scolds, pulling your mouth open. 'Open that pretty mouth of yours, love.'

You do as you're told, feeling your core practically beating at the sight of him jacking off in front of you. He tilts his head back as he lets out one final guttural moan before his cum spurts from out of his cock.

You keep your mouth open as he paints your tongue with his load, looking without shame as he continues to milk every single drop out of himself, taking deep breaths as he slowly comes down from his high.

Instead of swallowing immediately, you look at him with an eager eye, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

'Swallow,' he demands.

You close your mouth and swallow his load with a small wince.

Tucking himself back into his boxers, you watch in dismay as he zips his pants up and does the button up too. There's as sinking feeling in your stomach, the overwhelming desire to fulfil your own needs nearly making you teary eyed as he helps you up from off of the ground.

'Is- Is that it?' you shakily ask, looking up at him.

He smirks at you, you know he does as the fabric of his mask shifts. Grabbing your face, he smudges a streak of mascara with the back of his thumb, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest as he leans closer to you.

'Ghost doesn't play fair, sweetheart.'

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