#and idk. i just. like that better from a writing stand point

[msnihilist]

Finally watching Smile 2, I'm a little over halfway through and I'm not sure that I'm liking it quite as much as the first one. It's very good still! Very freaky, I love the cinematography and the elevated levels of mind-fuckery. But I feel like the first one had a much tighter grasp on the mental illness angle, in regards to the symbolism.

[connormoving]

thank GODDD the doctor is taking time to work on himself maybe now he can stop ruining womens lives .

[hyprfixate]

for the taking :: [B.C] x [H.J] x [K.S] x reader

read on AO3

summary: of your three boyfriends, you like to push chan's buttons the most so that he'll really get things going. you sadly underestimate how wild things can get when you rile him up.

pairing: kim seungmin x bang chan x han jisung x reader

tropes: poly!skz mmmf foursome, porn without plot

smut warnings: mentioned free use dynamics, dacryphilia, dom/sub dynamics, brat play, overstimulation x100000, pussy eating, implied mxm dynamics, dom jisung, soft dom/sadist seungmin, hard dom/brat tamer chan, mentions of safewords (it's not used), unprotected sex but it's a long established relationship, reader initiated slight cnc, dirty talk, reader is called a slut as a degradation thing. it's really just pure filthy, not a plot point in sight.

author's note: i didn't plan to write this at all. idk where it came from. enjoy anyway!!

word count: 8.7k

You're laying on your stomach in your bedroom. The lights are dim, music is thrumming from your speaker, and there's a candle on your wax warmer.  It's a quiet, soft night, the kind that you don't see many of. There's always something going on in the duplex you share with your partners. It can be tiring, but in the quiet, you realize you sort of miss it. You fiddle with the green beaded bracelet on your wrist as you scroll aimlessly through your phone.

Then, the door across the hall slams.

Only you and Chan are home tonight, Seungmin and Jisung off God-knows-where for whatever reason. Chan was supposed to go out with them, but he had a project to finish for his job, the same project that had him losing sleep for the last few weeks. You may never understand what exactly goes into producing music, but from the way he stayed hunched over his computer 24/7, you knew it was complicated.

You're not at all surprised when you hear your door creak open slowly. You turn over, eyes catching Chan's as he stands in your doorway with his arms folded across his chest. He's wearing a haberdash of house clothes, including a baseball cap, but you can still see the dark tint on his eyes.

You feign innocence.

“Hey you,” you smile at him. “Taking a break?”

“Something like that. What're you doing?”

You shift your phone to the hand with your bracelet, holding it up and giving it a little shake. His gaze hardens even more. “Just on Instagram.”

His eyes are trained on your wrist, just like you wanted. He recognizes the bracelet. Of course he does– he and the boys bought it for you after one of your many, many conversations. You give a little smile. "It's cute, right? The green matches my t-shirt," you say sweetly. 

It does, but that's not the only reason you're wearing it.

You're wearing it because they know that green means go. Or yes. 

Or take.

"Did you need something, Chan?"

He doesn't respond, choosing instead to push up off of the doorframe and make his way over to you. You decide to roll onto your back to see him better, and by the time you're situated, he's standing over you, arms still crossed.

You gulp.

"Um, hi," you breathe out. Nervousness was not part of the plan. "I– Did you... need something?"

He drops one of his hands and grips your ankle, and where the skin connects you feel like you've been electrocuted. Your body comes alive immediately. You can only watch as he barely strains a single muscle as he pulls you down to the edge of the bed.

"Put your phone down," he instructs. He reaches the soft part of your thigh and pinches, lips curling into a smirk when you yelp.

"Channie, I—"

"I said," he repeats, a little harsher this time, "put your phone down."

You do as you're told, dropping it on the floor next to his feet. He keeps pulling until your entire lower half is hanging off the bed. With your legs spread like they are, you're certain he can feel the pulsing coming from between your legs.

He hums.

"You know why I'm here," he says lowly. It's not a question.

Despite the speed of your heart, you blink up at him dumbly, fighting against the wave of arousal that licks down your spine when he raises an eyebrow.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you manage.

Both of his eyebrows are up now, his expression seemingly surprised for a second before it fades. He nods lightly, almost as though contemplating what you've said, and then he releases you and takes a step back.

Your heart drops for a second. You think you've messed up somehow, or maybe your tone didn't come out right. You're about to backtrack, but then he's back, hooking his fingers into either side of your waistband, and with one simple tug he has your pajama pants completely off. 

If Chan is surprised that you're not wearing any underwear, he doesn't show it.

You gasp when the cool air hits your lower body, and you watch as he smirks. He returns his vice like grip on your ankle when you start to squirm under his gaze. 

"I see you still like to pretend that you have some ounce of control in this relationship," he deadpans. He tugs you back down the bed when you try to wiggle away. You're embarrassed that his strength doesn't seem to be affected by his sleep deprivation. "Come on, baby. You know better than that."

You fight back the giddy smile that threatens to take over your face at his voice. "I don't know what you're talking about," you lie. "Why're you bothering me? Don't you have work to do?"

"I can't focus," he says smoothly. "I couldn't stop thinking about you while I was working. About how much easier work might be if I could fuck you to clear my head."

"That's too bad," you shrug, hoping he can't see how you're clenching around nothing. "I was busy."

He hums absentmindedly, letting the hand on your ankle travel higher. He runs his fingers up your calf, then your knee, until finally he hooks the inside of his wrist behind it, forcing your legs to part. You gasp and try to snap them closed, but he only has to shift a bit so that his other hand is on your opposite leg, holding you open for him.

"Why do you always act like you're not dying for me to touch you, hm?" he asks, but it's rhetorical.  He knows you don't have an answer. You never do. Even so, when you stay quiet, he huffs out a humorless laugh.

"Okay. I'm going to give you two options, because I'm feeling generous." He holds up one finger. "Option one, you admit you're just being a brat, I'll fuck it out of you, and then we can both go back to what we were doing. Or–"

You whine as he abruptly leans down with your legs still in his hands, effectively folding you in half. "Or, option two, you keep it up, and I can tell the boys to come home. Then we'll make this a lot longer than it needs to be."

Chan is dangerously close to your face now. The brim of his hat is touching your forehead. You're almost sure he can feel your heartbeat through the fabric of both of your shirts.

"So what do you want, princess?" he asks, voice dripping with honey. 

You shiver. His gaze is so intense you forget how to breathe. At your silence, he yanks you further into him, pressing himself right up against your uncovered cunt. Even through his basketball shorts you feel the unmistakable heat of his erection.

"I said, what do you want?"

Fuck.

You can't take it anymore. You feel like you're burning with need. "I'm sorry, Channie," you whine out. You can see the fire in his eyes, the way he's so worked up already, and it makes you weak. "I'll be good."

He gives you a sweet smile, leaning forward to press a kiss against your mouth. You sigh into it, letting your body go lax so he can take control. 

Despite your attempts, brattiness never lasts long with Chan. With Seungmin and Jisung, you love the challenge, love making them crack and beg a little, but Chan is entirely unrelenting. You know better than to get him too riled up, especially if you actually want anything to happen.

The kiss is a stark contrast to what you know is to come, and you know that it's on purpose. He always likes to give you the chance to back out, a way to change your mind. Bracelet or no bracelet, your comfort is still always his first priority. It's what makes you comfortable enough to tease him.

But when he pulls away from the kiss and you chase after his mouth, he only smiles.

"There's my good girl," he says. He releases your knees and presses a kiss against your cheek, and then the tip of your nose.

"Chan," you whine. Your body feels cold where his hands just were.

He only tilts his head when he looks at you. "Hm?" Then his gaze turns sinister. "Did you... need something, princess?"

Oh. 

Shit.

"Wait,” You're scrambling up from your position. “Wait, please, Chan, don't–"

He hums. "You were so mean to me," he says, trailing a single finger down your cheek. "I don't think you deserve anything from me."

You attempt to sit up, eyes widening, but he's keeping you pinned down on your bed. "But I said I'm sorry," you whine. "Channie, please, I'll be good--"

He tilts his head again, pretending to think, letting his hand fall down your face to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"No," he decides, and he straightens up, taking a step back. "I think I'm gonna go back to work."

Before you can grab him, he's slipped away, nearly halfway to your door. "Sorry, babygirl. Maybe next time, yeah?"

The smirk on his face is proof he's anything but sorry. He gives you a fake little pout before winking and stepping out of your room, clicking the door closed behind him.

You're sat up on the bed, staring at the door with your jaw slacked. This is a new level of evil, you think. You hear his bedroom door open and shut, then the muffled sound of the track he's working on vibrates the walls.

It takes longer than you'd like for your wits to come back to you, but when they do, you're both utterly gobsmacked and thoroughly impressed.

He's teasing you.

There's a part of you that's tempted to just give in, to make your way across the hall and apologize. Chan is stubborn, but not unreachable. You know if you march into his room, you could get on your knees and make him relent in seconds.

But fine. He wants to play dirty?

You can play dirty, too.

-

It's less than an hour later when you hear the front door open and shut, the sound of Jisung and Seungmin's voices carrying up the stairs. You hear takeout bags and the jingling of their keys, and then–

“We're home!”

You make no effort to move, waiting to see if Chan will leave his room first. Besides, you're still working through some of the details of your plan.

If you stay in your room, Seungmin would come upstairs to check on you first. You know he'll fuck you good, but it takes time to warm him up. By the time you start getting anywhere, Jisung will get to Chan, who might do something stupid like tell him that you were being a brat, and then he'll come in and ruin the whole thing.

No, you need eager. You need impulsive.

You need Jisung.

You pad to the bedroom door, opening it and sticking your head out. Chan's door is still closed, the track he's working on still pumping through the speakers, so you take the opportunity to get the ball rolling.

You make your way down the hall and to the top of the stairs, where you can see Jisung standing in the entryway of the kitchen. The two have already shed their jackets and shoes, and Seungmin is now busy unloading the food they brought back into the fridge. His back is turned to you.

Bingo.

"Hey," you say softly. Jisung's head whips up, eyes brightening as he spots you. He says something you can't hear to Seungmin before he's jogging up the stairs towards you. He scoops you into a squeezing hug.

"Hi my baby," he says happily, pressing a kiss against your forehead. "How was your day?"

You giggle in the hug. "It was alright. Kind of boring. How was yours?"

"We had fun," he says. He sets you down and leans against the wall next to you, reaching and catching your hand in his. You deliberately give him the hand with the bracelet, but he doesn't see it. "I missed you though."

"I missed you, too."

Jisung grins. He opens his mouth to speak again, but then he furrows his eyebrows when he looks at you, like he's just noticing something.

"Is that my shirt?"

“Is it?” You look down, feigning surprise. "Oh, yeah I guess it is."

He hums, tilting his head. His eyes trail to your hand, and he finally seems to notice the bracelet on your wrist. "That's weird. I could've sworn I saw it in my drawer this morning."

You shrug. "Maybe you're just losing your mind."

He grins, bringing your hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss against your open palm. "Yeah, maybe. Or are you trying to tell me something?"

You bat your eyelashes up at him. "Am I?"

His smile turns sly. "You are, aren't you?"

Jisung doesn't wait for a response, clasping his hand around yours and pulling you down the hallway back into your room. He kicks the door shut behind him and spins to face you, a wicked grin on his face.

You squeal when he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and laughing against his mouth. His kisses are hot and eager– there's no break for breath as he moves across the room with you. You don't even pause when he lays you down on your bed, hand sliding “his” t-shirt up your body.

You shiver when he brushes against your thigh. His hands are cold from outside, and the contrast against your warm skin feels like electricity. He smiles in the kiss and squeezes the skin tight.

Your own hands find their way around his neck, pulling him even closer into you. Through the thin fabric of the shirt you're wearing, you can feel the hardness of his body all pressed against yours. He shifts against you and the friction makes your nipples harden right under him.

His hands leave your thighs. They wind their way up your torso, feeling you up all along the way until he finds the stiff peaks that called his attention. He runs his thumbs over them, drinking up every sound you make. One of your hands cards into his hair and you tug.

He groans at that, finally pulling away from the kiss with a grunt and instead trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. His teeth graze your pulse point and you buck up into him in surprise.

You feel him laugh against you.

"You're so cute," he says into your neck. He mouths over the skin before biting down, hot wet tongue immediately after. A bruise, then.

"Sungie," you gasp out. Your back arches off the mattress as his hands wander all over you. You've always loved how naturally his mouth works its way around your body– he knows just where to kiss, what spots to brush his nose over. Like he's learned the entire road map to your pleasure.

Maybe he has.

He mouths down your body, pausing and sucking on your breasts before leaving wet, soft kisses down the expanse of your tummy. When he gets to your core, he shifts his kiss-trail over to your inner thigh.

"Do you know how hot you are?" He murmurs. "Like all the time. Holy fuck. This is my shirt, princess. My shirt. Don't you know that drives me crazy?"

You do. It's precisely why you grabbed it.

His tongue meets your skin in an agonizing, slow stripe along your inner thigh. The higher he gets, the more your legs tremble around him, until finally his lips close around your clit.

The feeling is overwhelming. Your head lolls back against the bed and you let out a breathy moan. He hums against you, fingers digging into the skin of your thighs as he holds your legs up. Your hands are shaking, but one winds its way back into his soft hair, and you tug.

He moans at that, a sound that sends vibration up through your whole core. He takes a hand away and brings it down, letting his thumb just press lightly against your entrance. Even in the slightest sense of pressure, you arch further into him, wanting more, more, more.

He sucks on your clit even harder, his tongue joining, and when you look down and see his blissed out expression between your legs, you think your heart might jump right out of your chest.

In all the times the boys have taken you apart, they've never made you come this quickly. You're not sure if it's because of the moment with Chan earlier, or because you've been thinking about having one of them fuck you all day. All it takes is two large fingers, pushing and stretching inside of you while his mouth moves so perfectly around your throbbing clit for you to snap. You come with a sob, your thighs pressing against his head.

If there's one thing Jisung certainly loves, though, it's eating you out. He could spend hours between your legs, kissing and sucking and licking until you're boneless and spent. So there is no sign of slowing in his rhythm, even when you wriggle from overstimulation.

"Sung," you moan. He responds by pinching your thigh, sucking hard on your clit so your yelp turns into a moan.

Distantly, you register the sound of footsteps that pause right outside of your door. You hear knocking, but not on your door, and you realize Seungmin has finally come upstairs, likely to grab everybody for some quality time after a day apart.

You almost laugh at how well this is working out for you.

Jisung slides his fingers back into you, and your attention is split between straining to hear what's going on in the hallway and the blinding pleasure you're feeling. He curls his fingers up and you find yourself gushing on his hand, your own fingers tangled in his hair so tight he can barely move.

"God, you're so fucking wet," he murmurs against you. He almost sounds giddy. "Did you miss me, baby?"

You can't even form a response, only able to whine as he fucks into you with his fingers, tongue flicking over your clit just fast enough to make you tremble. Your orgasm is coming on strong, and you feel like you're floating above your body, every touch electric, every movement monumental.

And then–

"Ah, so that's where they are."

Your eyes snap to your now-open door. Your other two boyfriends are there, and you make direct eye contact with Chan just as your second orgasm reaches its peak. You arch up off the bed, gasping into the air as your body trembles, and Jisung keeps his mouth on you, sucking hard and making your vision go white.

After a minute, he finally slows his pace, pulling away and finger-fucking you slowly and deep. He would never stop completely, especially not now that everyone's in the same room. His voyeurism is likely cranked up to 10, and you know he'll be pouty and whiney for the rest of the week unless he gets to watch one of the other boys split you open on their cock.

From the way he's looking at you, you feel like it'll be Chan doing the splitting.

Seungmin, ever the sane one, pretends to roll his eyes. "So this is why neither of you were answering my texts about movie night? This couldn't wait?"

"Well, she was wearing my shirt and nothing under it," Jisung says, grinning up at him. He gives your clit one last suck before kissing it and propping himself up, fingers still buried to the hilt inside of you. Your brain feels foggy as you stare at the three of them. You can still feel yourself gushing on his fingers.

Seungmin notices, eyes glued to your cunt as he walks over. You see his faux annoyance dissolving. "Fuck, she's really wet, isn't she."

Jisung grins. He presses a kiss against your inner thigh. "Yeah, I think she missed us."

Chan scoffs. He finally makes his way into the room fully, and you can see where his cock is straining against the fabric of his shorts. "No. She missed getting fucked." 

He stands at the end of the bed, eyes fixed on Jisung's hand as he continues to move inside of you. "Did you tell Jisung what happened earlier, baby?"

Jisung huffs out a little laugh, half lidded eyes going back to your face. "Hmm. No. She didn't."

A chill runs down the length of your spine. Fuck. It sounds like Chan got to them first.

"Chan said you were being a real big brat earlier," Seungmin hums. He pulls his eyes away from your center and finally looks at you. "Is that true, angel? Were you being bad for Chan?"

You shake your head, eyes going doe-ish as he gets closer to you. You realize you need to change your plan and do it quickly. It takes less than half a second for a new idea to come: Seungmin is the softest of the three of them, at least in sexual situations. If you can get him on your side you might have a chance.

That thought flies out of the window when his hand makes its way around your throat, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. 

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart." His voice is deceptively soft. "Don't you think Chan already spoke to us?"

You fight back a gasp at the sheer betrayal, but decide to double down anyway. "Wasn't being bad," you manage. You stick out your bottom lip in a pout. "I didn't do anything!"

Seungmin squeezes again, harder, and you really do gasp this time. "Then why did we both get a text from Chan earlier saying you were being mean to him? Hmm?"

"He said he came to blow off some steam and someone," Jisung presses his fingers directly against that squishy part inside of you, "Was being all bratty. Telling him to leave her alone."

It's at this moment that you realize all your planning was futile. You've fallen right into their trap.

You try the Seungmin strategy again, panting as you look up at him. "Minnie, please," you whine. You can't think with Jisung hitting your spot like that. "I wasn't– I–"

He tilts his head. "Oh come on baby. I think you're just lying to us now."

Your chest heaves. Jisung has chosen now to dive back into your cunt, tongue swiping up your slit and circling around your clit. Your brain is too scrambled to think of any other ways out of this situation, so you resort to what you always do: 

Pleading.

"'m sorry, Minnie," you rasp. "Didn't mean to– Didn't mean to be bratty."

Seungmin softens only slightly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" You're gasping around your words. "I promise. I just wanted to make him mad, wasn't trying to be mean."

In all of your begging and the relentless fervor of Jisung's tongue, you barely notice Chan making his way to the other side of your bed. Seungmin's grip loosens around your throat, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw as he takes in your words.

"Hm. What do you think, Chan?"

You turn to look at him. He's shed his shirt somewhere along the way, and the hard musculature of his stomach is glistening with sweat. He climbs onto the bed and situates himself so that he's behind you with your head in his lap. You're expecting his hand to replace Seungmin's around your throat, but instead he reaches over you, gripping the hem of your shirt and sliding it up over your chest until your breasts are on full display. Seungmin immediately sinks down to his knees and takes your nipple into his mouth.

You're a gasping, whining mess, eyes rolling back until all you can see is white. You feel Jisung sling his arm around you to keep your body still.

Above you, Chan lets the shirt go and switches his focus to your hands, pulling them up and holding your wrists together in one hand to keep them above your head.

"I think," he murmurs, using his free hand to caress your face, "That if she wants to cum so bad, we should let her."

Your heart drops. To the untrained ear, it sounds like you've won, but you know better. You know Chan, and you know he has something up his sleeve. But when you look up at him, he's looking down at you with a sickly sweet smile.

"If she's sorry," he continues, "She'll behave. Right, babygirl?"

You can't speak. The dual sensations are sending you to the moon. The hand caressing your face grips your jaw tight, keeping your gaze locked on him.

"I asked you a question, princess."

As soon as you open your mouth to answer, your orgasm crashes into you without warning. It's the third one in a row, and you feel much like a washcloth that's been wrung out. Your movements are jerky, uncoordinated, and even as you continue trying to respond to Chan, your voice is not coming out.

"Jisung." He says simply.

The boy in question pulls away from your cunt with a satisfying pop. He's absolutely pussy drunk, eyes half lidded and tongue rolling over his lips to savor the flavor of you. If it were just the two of you, he'd keep going, but amongst the hierarchy of dominance, Chan has been, and will always be, at the top.

"I think she's ready now, yeah?" Chan rubs his thumb against your skin. "Fuck her good for me."

When orchestrating your own plan, you looked at Jisung’s eagerness as something to work in your favor. You hoped he would get you riled up enough for you to scream his name a couple times and really make Chan mad. But now, as he shimmies out of his sweats and boxers, taking his thick length in his hand, you feel nervousness tickle your gut.

Seungmin has pulled away from your nipple, reaching down to hold one of your thighs up. He's murmuring sweet nothings to you as he holds you open for Jisung. The latter is poised at your entrance, stroking himself and watching you with hungry eyes. 

You tip your head back to look at Chan again, and he only smiles down at you.

"Channie," you whimper out. You can barely speak, you're so overwhelmed. "Please–"

"Shh," he coos. "I know, baby. But this is what you wanted, yeah?" His hand moves from your jaw to your mouth, pressing a finger against your lips. You suck it in without thought, letting your tongue swirl around him with your cheeks hollowed out like you would on his cock. "I just want to see you take Sungie's dick. Be good, baby."

You almost choke when Jisung thrusts into you. You're already so wet and so sensitive, and his cock is stretching you so wide, pushing deep inside until you're sure you can feel him in your stomach. He gives you no time to adjust, that eagerness coming full force as he fucks right into you.

"God, she's still so tight," he breathes. One hand finds purchase in the dip of your waist, the other moves to the thigh not being held by Seungmin, folding you up and spreading you open to give him more leverage as he fucks into you hard.

Seungmin hums, trailing kisses along your leg and the side of your neck. "Feel good, angel? You like having Jisung's cock inside you?"

You can't even respond, mind blank as Jisung plows you deep. Your back is arched off of Chan's lap, head pushed back as his finger keeps your mouth propped open. You're a dumb, drooling mess around him, and despite the soft smile on his lips, you know it's wrecking him. 

To prove your point, he digs his nails in one of your palms, a stark contrast to the way Seungmin's hand is gently rubbing up and down your body, playing with your nipples and caressing your sides and stomach.

It's all too much, the sensations are overwhelming, and you're so wound up from earlier that you already feel the orgasm building. You mewl pathetically, eyes watering as you look around for someone to have pity on you.

It's Chan who catches your pleading gaze, but he only raises an eyebrow.

"You're gonna cum again? Already?" he says. It's not condescending or snarky, rather genuine disbelief and curiosity. His finger leaves your mouth and you let out a dry sob as trails of spit drip down your chin.

Jisung doesn't hear this– or can't, rather. He's fucking into you like he'll die if he stops, breathy moans leaving his mouth as he does. He's babbling nonsense, things like how tight you are and how well you take him in. You know he's close too, because his hips have gone erratic in their rhythm. Yet somehow, he gets faster.

The knot in your stomach feels heavy as lead. This orgasm might genuinely take you out. 

"Please," you rasp. "Please, please, I can't–"

Chan shakes his head, smiling. "Oh, but baby, I thought you wanted to cum?" 

"I do," you whine. "Want to so bad but 's too much. Too much, Channie, please–"

"No. Shut up and cum, princess," the grit in his voice is back. "Cum on Jisung's cock. Be good for us."

That's all it takes for you to snap. You let out a broken cry as another orgasm rocks through your body. It's even more intense than the others, pulling all of your muscles taut so you sit up before slumping back into Chan's arms. You barely register the way your hands flex uselessly above your head, writhing in Chan's grip. You can only vaguely feel Seungmin kissing your cheek, whispering little encouragements in your ear, telling you how good you are and how pretty you look when you cum.

And then Jisung is grunting, snapping his hips against yours one last time before spilling into you. Your walls spasm around him as he cums, milking him dry and causing you both to whine into the air.

In typical Jisung fashion, he's still rutting up into you after you're both well past overstimulation. The pressure in your cunt throbs throughout your body, tears springing into your eyes. You're very close to abandoning the little bit of pride you have and begging him to stop.

It turns out you don't need to, because as if on cue, Jisung finally pulls out and Seungmin lets go of your legs, standing up. You nearly sob at the loss of his gentle contact, so you don't even notice he's taking off his clothes until he's standing where Jisung was, hands gripping the soft skin of your thighs to hold you open. 

"Aw, baby," he says softly. He runs a hand up your leg. "You did so well."

You pout, a sob bubbling in your throat when you realize their plan now. They're gonna drag as many orgasms out of you as they can, overstimulation be damned. The thought makes your clit throb, and that alone makes you whine. It's all too much.

Despite knowing you're already so wet and lax and malleable, Seungmin reaches down to rub at your clit in an attempt to open you up. 

"Min," you cry, squirming at his touch. Your cunt feels tender, and even though the first set of tears are long dried up on your cheeks, fresh ones start to come. "Minnie–"

"Shhh. It's okay, angel."

His words are gentle and reassuring, but when his eyes catch yours, all you see is darkness.

Seungmin's gentle dominance has a limit. He doesn't get all stern and mean like Chan, or desperate like Jisung, but there's only so long he can last before that other, darker part of him surfaces, the one that gets off on hurting you, on seeing you in pain and feeling good from it. You can tell by the look in his eyes that this is the part of him you'll be dealing with.

When he finally sinks his cock inside you, it's slow, and the moan that he lets out vibrates through his length and right into you. Your neck seems to give up, dropping you right back down in Chan's lap less than gracefully. It gives him better access to you, and he leans immediately to attach his mouth to yours. He alternates between soft kisses and hard bites that will surely bruise in the morning.

Seungmin is only a bit longer than Jisung, but he's so damn girthy. Every tiny thrust he rocks into you sends shivers down your spine. Your skin feels like it's on fire and you're not even kissing Chan back, basically panting into his open mouth.

"Prop her up, Chan," Seungmin grits out. "Wanna watch her while she cries."

He gives you one final peck, and then the hand that's still holding your wrists lets go. It takes a second, then both hands are under you, lifting you up off the mattress until you're sat up on his lap with his chest against your back. He crosses your wrists against your chest and holds them in one hand, and then the other snakes up and finds your throat. His hand is way bigger than Seungmin's, and he's not as gentle when he squeezes and forces you to look back at him.

He doesn't look mad, or even turned on. He's smiling at you, like you're a particularly good puppy. "Good girl. Gonna give us a big one, yeah?”

You barely have a moment to understand what he's implying before you feel a hand on your clit. Both of Seungmin's hands are occupied, so you're not sure why it surprises you to see that it's Jisung's deft fingers on you. He's standing behind Seungmin, one hand on him and the other on you.

It feels like your eyes are bulging out of your head. The touch is gentle, but it still feels like you're being hit with lightning bolts. You're too spent to even buck up at the contact.

"Oh my God," you choke. "Oh, oh, I–"

“That's it,” Chan purrs when you cum again. He kisses whatever skin is closest to his mouth, his fingers gripping your jaw. Your head feels light, the only thing keeping you grounded to the bed are their hands on you. You feel like you're going to faint, and Seungmin's eyes are only egging you on.

Your body trembles so violently, Seungmin is forced to pause in his motions to hold your knees and keep your legs from buckling in. Your vision is blurry, but you can see Jisung has a steady grip on Seungmin's hair, effectively holding him in place.

"Good girl," he breathes, those big brown eyes trained on your face. "You take him so well."

His words send shivers down your spine. Jisung is always more coherent and in control after an orgasm. You know if Seungmin was today's focus, Jisung would likely be spitting all kinds of nasty, filthy words in his ear, but his gaze is fixed on you. All it takes to get you going is a good stare.

He taps at your clit with his free hand. You jump, moaning loudly at the contact, your back arching off Chan's chest and into Seungmin's body.

"She's good. Keep going," Jisung murmurs, pulling his eyes away from yours to look at Seungmin. He pulls a little at the hair on the nape of his neck, causing Seungmin's cock to jump inside you.

They work in tandem. Jisung's hand keeps circling your clit in the same soft rhythm, and you're not sure how but it's making you even wetter and more loose. You're a mess of moans, not knowing whose name to scream when they all have their hands on you. It's dizzying in the best way. 

Seungmin has started rolling his hips into you with more vigor, the soft sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. The dark shroud over his eyes is back as he stares down at you. "Feels good doesn't it," he grunts. "Look at your little cunt fluttering open for me like a good slut."

You feel another sob bubble out of you, this one accompanied by tears, but it dies in your throat when Chan's grip on you gets even tighter. All you can do is pout and whine.

"Aw, look at the little crybaby." Seungmin starts to fuck into you in earnest, his own moans getting higher in pitch. You can tell by the way Jisung's grip in his hair tightens that he's close. "C'mon angel. You're being so good, you can take it."

"Minnie," you rasp, barely able to speak. "Please–"

"I said take it." He’s looking down, watching where your cunt is sucking him in with each thrust. He thrusts into you particularly hard, and your entire body lurches forward, causing you to gasp. "And if you can't, you know what to say. You know your word."

You do. Somehow, under all the begging and pleading, you're actually insanely giddy with want. It's all part of the little game you play, so you just pout pathetically at Seungmin as his hips snap harder into yours.

"She's not gonna say it," Chan sing-songs. He uses the hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, giving him perfect access to more of you. He nips at your skin. "She likes being treated like this. Like a little toy."

It's all too much. Every inch of you is on fire, the room feels like it's a thousand degrees. Chan's mouth on your neck, Seungmin's cock deep in your cunt, and Jisung's fingers–

It's like something snaps.

A knot you didn't even realize was in your stomach explodes and your vision goes white. It's an orgasm unlike anything you've experienced before. Your brain completely melts, your hearing dulls, and you can feel the drool running down your chin. You feel like you're floating and drowning all at the same time. 

"Oh shit," you hear Seungmin groan. Your cunt is spasming around him. His thrusts become harder, sloppy. "God, fuck–"

He cums hard inside of you, hips jerking as he chases the aftershocks. You've gone completely limp, barely able to move at all as Chan continues to bite at your neck.

The hand on Seungmin's shoulder drops. "That's so hot," Jisung mutters, almost to himself. He's lost some of his in-control voice. "Wow, baby, you should be bratty more often.”

If you could see straight, you'd probably laugh at that.

Seungmin pulls out slowly, and when the head of his cock leaves you, you let out a tiny mewl. You're overstimulated to the point that you're numb. Seungmin smiles softly as he rubs the inside of your thigh.

"Oh, sweetheart, I know. It's a lot. But you're being so good for us.  I think it's Chan's turn though, hm? Wanna make him feel good?"

"Give her a minute," Jisung chides. You hear a sharp intake of breath and you know he's likely yanked on Seungmin's hair again. "She's about to pass out."

You can feel your limbs slowly returning to you, the fog clearing in your head. When Chan moves the hand from your throat, you breathe deeply, taking in gulps of air as moves his hand down to rub against your tummy. Jisung and Seungmin are bickering somewhere around you, and you let yourself relax in Chan's hold.

"Do you want to finish now, princess?" His lips are warm against your ear. "We can be done. You don't have to take me.”

It's a very tempting offer, especially with the way you can hardly remember what day it is. You could easily take it and call this all done. The four of you have almost certainly been at this for more than an hour now, and they've wrung six orgasms out of you. They're sweet enough to offer to call it a night.

But then you think about Chan, and how, despite being the reason this all started, he's barely done anything. Hasn't tasted you, hasn't shoved his cock down your throat– He's usually not one for letting go until you've milked him dry at least twice, and you can't stand the idea of him having that buzz under his skin all night. 

So you shake your head.

"No?" Chan laughs, almost like he's surprised. "Really? You still want to finish with me? Are you sure, princess?”

He's giving you the same offer he gave you earlier. An out. Making your comfort the first priority. The thought alone is what gives you the strength to nod against him.

"'m sure, Channie."

"Oh, fuck, okay." His grip around you goes a little slack as he moves, pulling you away from his lap and  laying you back into your bed. He leans over you and presses a gentle kiss against your mouth. It feels like he's thanking you, almost.

When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling. You want to look into them for hours.

He barks something at Jisung and Seungmin, and the bickering stops immediately. You hear shuffling around you before Seungmin takes Chan's empty space and Jisung appears at your side. They're pressing soft kisses to your face and praising you as Chan works his shorts and boxers down. When his cock springs free, he lets out a hiss of relief.

The sight of him alone makes anxiety rear its ugly head. You start to wonder if maybe you should've taken the opportunity to tap out, or if maybe you should use your safeword, but then Jisung is grabbing your hand and pressing kisses against it, squeezing you and keeping you tethered to the present.

"You can do it, pretty girl," he murmurs in your ear, breath fanning over your cheek. "You did so good for us, just a little longer."

Chan catches your eyes, and he smiles again, reassuring. His hand runs down your body and grabs one of your legs, lifting it and hooking your calf over his shoulder. "Gonna go easy, baby. I know it's a lot."

Your stomach is filled with butterflies, and your hands are shaking a little bit when he ruts himself up against you. You're so open from the others that when his head catches on your entrance, it nearly slips inside.  

Your back arches as you moan, and then his cock brushes against your entrance with purpose and it feels like you're going to split right open. He rocks into you again, pushing in the barest inch and pulling right back out. You whine and shift your hips in an attempt to escape.

"Come on, be a good girl now, princess." His voice has gotten lower, lust taking over. "Relax.”

His eyes flit up from where you're connected to look at you, and in one move he pushes right inside of you.

It doesn't hurt– you're way too wet and open for that. It does feel like your stomach is being forced open, however. Like his cock is pressing against all of your internal organs. You arch up off of Seungmin's lap and he pulls you back to him quickly.

Chan groans, bottoming out inside you. His eyes are closed as he lets himself bask in the sensation, hips rocking shallowly. You're thankful that he doesn't move immediately, but even the barest amount of movement feels like too much, like you'll come apart at any second.

You barely feel it when Jisung slips your hand into his. It takes you a minute to realize it's because your brain has been reduced to nothing. Your body has melted into the bed, your muscles are lax, and there's an emptiness in your brain filled with nothing but static and Chan's name. You don't think about anything at all, can't form a single coherent thought. You don't feel the kisses on your throat or the way Seungmin's hands have taken residence on your stomach. The only thing you feel is the overwhelming pressure in your cunt as Chan slowly pulls out, leaving just the tip, before pushing all the way back in.

He builds a rhythm quickly. Seungmin is holding you tight to his body, as though he's scared you might float away, and you appreciate it because it gives you another sensation to focus on. Your head is lolled against his shoulder, eyes rolled back into your head so far all you see is white.

The sound of Chan fucking into you is absolutely obscene, a mixture of your juices and the remnants of the cum still leaking from your hole. He fucks you slow, but hard, snapping his hips into yours so hard it almost feels like you might get a bruise on your thigh.

Jisung is watching with hungry eyes from your side. He's not touching you at all anymore, too engrossed in the scene unfolding to do much else other than stare with his jaw slacked. Seungmin takes over for him.

"That's it," he breathes. "That's it angel, look at you." He moves the hand on your stomach and lets his thumb rub circles on your clit. You feel like you're going to pass out. You don't get time to beg him to stop before you feel that same hand move to your mouth, and two fingers push past your lips.

"Here, sweetheart," he breathes, eyes fixed on your lips as you suck his fingers. "That's you on my fingers, baby. Isn't it good?"

You moan around his hand, head spinning both at the taste of yourself and the intrusion of Seungmin's fingers in your mouth. He's not fucking them into you with any kind of rhythm, just shoving them in there until you're dribbling around his hand. He hums happily when he pushes in more and makes you gag, kissing away the tears the spill over.

Chan grunts, head falling back. "Min, again, please, she just– fuck, she–"

Seungmin doesn't need to be told twice. He repeats the motion again, making sure his fingers go far enough so you're choking around him. This time, when you splutter and gag, you can feel it when you clench down on Chan and his cock pulses in response.

"Oh my God," he moans, thrusting into you again. "Oh my god, baby, you're so good. You're doing so fucking good–"

Between the movement of his hips and the feeling of Seungmin's fingers down your throat, you're not quite sure you're still on this plane of existence. Everything is spinning around you, your cunt is throbbing, you can hear Jisung moaning somewhere, but you don't know from what.

You can feel Seungmin's lips pressed against your forehead as his fingers fuck your mouth, your eyes rolling back into your head again. You're so lightheaded, so far gone, you can barely remember your name. 

It's when Chan starts to thrust faster that you come back to your body with a jolt, mind filling with white hot heat. The pleasure has long since lost it's edge, and you're a moaning, writhing, teary mess again. The coil in your stomach starts to build for the seventh time, and you're pretty sure your brain has gone empty. The only thing you're able to focus on is Chan. Chan, Chan, Chan.

"Almost done, angel." You register a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth, and then another on your forehead. You think the voice belongs to Seungmin. Maybe, if the way he eases his hand out of your mouth is any indication.

Nothing is making sense anymore. It all feels like you're having an out-of-body experience.

Chan's hips falter, and his hand slides up to your throat again, but he doesn't squeeze. Just rests it there as his orgasm approaches, hips snapping against you at an erratic rhythm.

"Sweetheart." His eyes flutter open with strained effort, but they remain locked on yours. "Can you give us one more, princess? Hm? Can I get you to cum on me too, please?"

There's a desperation in his voice that makes your body feel hot. You want to tell him yes, that you're close, so so close, but all that comes out is a weak noise that you're not even certain you made. 

Seungmin seems to get it though, because he slips his fingers down between your legs, finding your clit again. He rolls it between his fingers with one hand while his other reaches up and settles on your jaw. You feel Jisung's tongue flick over your nipple and your world draws to a pinpoint.

Chan curses above you, fucking into you at an almost punishing pace. "Yes, baby, let go for us. That's it. We got you."

It feels like someone's stuck a vacuum in your brain with the incoherent way you're thinking. The sound of his voice saying your name in that desperate tone is all it takes, and suddenly you're floating out of your body, ears ringing as the pressure inside you bursts. Your eyes roll back and the clinging remnants of an orgasm wash through your body. It feels more like an aftershock. You're only vaguely aware of the way Chan moans, loud and throaty, when he finally spills into you.

It takes a couple minutes before the two of you come back down to earth. You can't move, and even though you know Seungmin is holding you tight, it feels like you might drift right off the mattress and float up into the clouds.

Chan pulls out slowly, and you shudder when you feel a trickle of his cum leaking from your hole. It's not long before your eyes droop shut from pure exhaustion. You think you might pass out right on the spot.

The room gets kicked into gear pretty quickly after that. From what you can tell in the hazy state you're in, someone grabs a wet cloth to wipe you down with while someone else finds you a new t-shirt (and panties this time). They dress you like you're a doll, maneuvering your limbs and telling you you're good, you're so good, they love you so much.

Then you're scooped up into a pair of arms while the distant sounds of sheets being pulled off the bed floats up to you. They take you out of the room.

"You did so good for us, baby." The owner of the arms whispers against your ear. From the cadence in their tone you're pretty sure it's Jisung. "You were such a good girl for us, sweetheart. We're so proud of you."

You think you nod against him, but you can't be sure. You hear him kick a door open, and then he sets you down on a bed and you register Seungmin and Chan coming in.

"Okay," Jisung murmurs, going through his aftercare list out loud. "Fresh bed, fresh clothes, we got her some water."

You feel the bed dip behind you. "We got it, but she's gotta drink it, though," Chan chimes. There's fondness in his voice as he scoots closer to you. "Come here, baby."

You let yourself go limp, and a content smile plasters on your face as your boys fuss over you and make sure you're comfortable. They're so gentle, despite what just transpired, and they all take turns pressing kisses against your head, your cheeks, your nose.

When you've all settled into the bed, you feel three pairs of arms around you, holding you close, and you feel insanely lucky for all of it. You snuggle deeper into someone's chest, humming absentmindedly in that dreamy, fucked-out headspace.

"Thank you," you mumble, pressing a kiss to whoever you're snuggled against. You think it's Jisung from the way they nuzzle into your cheek.

"Of course, princess," Chan replies, his voice vibrating against your back. You feel his lips press against your temple, and you smile again. "You're our good girl, even when you're a brat. We'll always take care of you.”

You don't bother replying, simply allowing yourself to sink back into that fuzzy state. You're about to slip out of consciousness when you feel Jisung's nose against your cheek.

"You really do need to be bratty more often, though."

You hear a dull thump as Seungmin smacks the back of his head, and you let their hushed bickering be the lullaby you need to lull you into sleep.

[sunaily]

Doing the “don’t smile and I’ll give you head” trend on haikyuu men 😼

This is for you queen / king 👉🏼 @kurroomii sorry it took so long, I just finished my finals

WARNING! Suggestive and Sexual content! all are adults in this (and you guys are married or in a relationship) and mention of dead ancestors/relatives and pets (?)

Immediately locks in once he receives the note. stone-faced, don’t even try to make him smile you will not win over his dead body! he took it so seriously you were concerned.

(pretend this is you giving him the note) 💁🏻‍♀️📝

“ what’s this hun?” *slowly reads the note* “🗿”

“if you don’t smile, I’ll give you head 😘 “

“🗿”

“okay babe you win, you can stop now…”

“🗿”

“babe?”

“🗿”

“babe I swear you will be getting that head you can smile now…”

“🗿”

“……..”

-Mattsukawa, Osamu, SUNA (even if he smiles he will still be getting that head), KUROO (he gets down, he don’t play!) IWAIZUMI, Hoshiumi, Daichi, Kai

This man can’t keep a straight face on to save a life BUT he is determined to get that gawk gawk 3000 from you 😼 so what does he do? he starts thinking about his pet that passed away years ago when he was 5 and his great great grandfather that died 3 months before he was born…

“y’know, I had a pet goldfish named Goldie the goldfish back then, he died when I was 5….I miss him very much”

“a-are you seriously thinking about your dead goldfish from 20 years ago just so you can get head? 😟 ” (pretend yall are 25)

“and my great great grandfather passed away 3 months before I was born 😢 …”

“ baby why are you acting head deprived??? I give you head everynight!”

“😮‍💨 I miss them so much!”

“you cannot be serious right now…”

- BOKUTO (I was thinking of him while writing this), Hinata (I HAVE NEVER EVER SEEN THIS MAN NOT SMILE) LEV, NISHINOYA, Hirugami, Fukunaga, TENDOU, Goshiki (and if I tell u he cried then what?)

IMMEDIATELY FAILS, He was caught off guard okay?! give him a chance 😔demands another try because he wasn’t ready 🙄 (no you only get 1 try so no head for you…better luck next time!)

“ 😌oh shit- BABE I WAS NOT READY😩!”

“NOPE YOU SMILED GAME OVER! HAHAHAHAH NO HEAD FOR YOU 😛”

“No! that’s unfair give me another chanceeee 😩😥 this time I’ll be ready I swear!”

“the point of this “game” is to be caught off guard babe…just accept defeat and better luck next time 😘”

- ATSUMU (my number 1 inspiration) NISHINOYA (who wouldn’t smile at the thought of your wife giving you head?) Tanaka, OIKAWA (he can never win in this house) HOSHIUMI, SUGAWARA, Yamamoto, futakuchi, TERUSHIMA.

Smiled at first but once he received the note best believe he turned that smile upside down (no like seriously he went from this 🙂 to this ☹️!)

“baby you can’t smile”

“do I look like i’m smiling? ☹️”

“BABY YOU LITERALLY SMILED”

“NO I DIDN’T! I ONLY SMILED BECAUSE I SAW YOU! I stopped smiling after I read the note okay?!!! ☹️☹️☹️”

“yknow what fine….”

“does this mean I can get the sloppy toppy now? ☹️”

“……”

- AKAASHI (idc what yall say my man is silly okay?! he is not a nonchalant baddie 😩) YAMAGUCHI, Asahi, Semi, Ennoshita, Hanamaki, MATSUKAWA, ARAN

Wins the trend effortlessly, my stone-faced expressionless baddies with only 1 permanent facial expression…😐 he is so used to your shenanigans at this point. He is confused but he still wants to make you happy….after all, you are his other half

“ ‘Do not smile if you want me to give you the 3 s tonight 🤭’ my love what is this??? what does 3 s stands for??”

“slurp, suck and swallow 😝”

“………I do not know what to do with you sometimes….”

- Ushijimao, Tsukishima, Kenma, SHIRABU (idk if Kita should be added but for the sake of favoritism and free will I will add him) Kita, AONE, Kageyama, Kunimi, SAKUSA

Ps Ik some of these are not accurate please forgive me lol

[cheftsunoda]

someone stop me, i’ve got too many ideas

max x reader x kelly

reader is also the kid of a former f1 driver (maybe Senna or Schumacher) i have absolutely no ideas for a plot, maybe the relationship is exposed while max is streaming idk, love ya

hearts don’t always break in two — mv1 + kelly piquet

smau+blurbs

max verstappen x !schumacher reader x kelly piquet

yn and max have known each other since age 5. they had been there for each others ups and downs and even fell in love. max and yn dated from age 15 to 17 and then the world became too much. yn got busy with her modeling career and max busy with racing. but feelings like theirs don’t just fade. max never stopped loving yn, not even when he fell for kelly. and yn—despite the string of men she tried to lose herself in—never stopped loving max either. as for kelly? she always knew. she saw the way max looked at yn, felt the electricity in the room when they were near. and oddly enough… she didn’t mind. the schumacher girl had a pull of her own—one kelly found impossible to resist.

fc : annie.shr on ig

(a/n) : omg baby you have the best ideas. i literally was so excited to write this one that i dropped everything else i was doing. love you dearly and i am working on your alexandra request as we speak. and highkey i think this is some of my best writing like to date. so i hope you enjoy. put my whole pu$$y into this.

also ik ppl have mixed feelings about kelly but please no hate. she is the mother of max’s child and you do not know her personally. she is a beauty and max is clearly very in love with her so all that matters is he is happy! thank uuu:)

—

gossiproomx

3,090,201 likes.

gossiproomx : in honor of yn schumacher making her return to the paddock this weekend— i am reliving my maxyn phase because they are my faves and will never be forgotten. (i have nothing against kelly— these two were just endgame for me) (still are) (max pls kiss her when you see her. i need it)

—

view 287,090 other comments.

username00 : if max doesn’t spiral the second he sees her, what’s the point.

username0 : these pics raised a whole generation of delusional wattpad girls and i stand by that.

username1 : max looking at yn the way he used to would cure 85% of my problems. the other 15% would be solved if she looked back.

username5 : mick walking around this weekend knowing everyone is watching his sister and max like 👨‍🦯👨‍🦯👨‍🦯

username7 : maxyn was my roman empire and it still is. i think about that pic of them on the floor every single day.

username10 : if max doesn’t fold the second he hears her voice i’m boycotting red bull.

username11 : @/lando film updates pls.

↳ lando : no. fuck you guys. you are never appreciative for what i give. always bitching that its too shaky or not in focus. im doing the lords work just shut up and be grateful

liked by username11 and gossiproomx

↳ gossiproomx : pleaseeee lan. we will be nice.

↳ lando : doubt it. im only filming for myself so i can rewatch it and cry.

liked by username11 and gossiproomx

—

f1gossipgirls

5,100,203 likes.

f1gossipgirls : YN Schumacher has officially made her paddock comeback, arriving alongside her brother Mick. So far, she’s been spotted catching up with Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton in the Ferrari garage, and even seen chatting with Lando Norris and his dad. Notably absent from her rounds? Any proximity to the RedBull garage… Max, blink twice if you’re suffering. We’ll keep you updated as the drama unfolds.

—

view 750,072 other comments.

username00 : “notably absent from the red bull garage” no because my heart hurts.

username0 : kelly better be gripping that man’s hand for dear life rn.

username1 : she looks so beautiful 😭 every time i see her, mick or gina i just want to hug them and pinch their cheeks

username5 : no but like. imagine being max and seeing her laugh with lando. i’d crash the car immediately.

username7 : mick showing up with yn like a protective german golden retriever we love to see it.

redbullracing : i have sent out like 5 brand reps to try and collect her but no one has reported back to me. i love them as much as you do.

liked by f1gossipgirls

↳ username00 : admin you’re so funny pls don’t go bald or lose your job

↳ redbullracing : trying my best💔

liked by username00 and f1gossipgirls

username10 : the way he’s probably just watching her from behind the screen like 😐🧍‍♂️ baby come back

username11 : @/lando wtf are you doing?? you’re supposed to be playing wingman not charming her.

↳ lando : can’t help that the ladies love me 😎

liked by username11 & f1gossipgirls

↳ username11 : if you don’t do something i am hiring an etsy witch. say goodbye to that wdc

↳ lando : OKAY OKAY. ILL FIGURE IT OUT JEEZ.

liked by username11 and f1gossipgirls

—

It felt like every step I took was echoing in my chest. The paddock hadn’t changed much—still buzzing with energy, still filled with the scent of fuel, sunscreen, and over-priced espresso. But somehow, it all felt different this time. Maybe because I wasn’t seventeen anymore, trailing behind Max like his shadow. Maybe because the ghosts of who I used to be were waiting for me around every corner.

Mick walked beside me, hands in his pockets, silent but steady—like he always was. I could feel the tension in his shoulders though. Protective older brother mode had been activated. He’d barely let me breathe since I stepped off the plane yesterday.

“You good?” he asked under his breath as we passed the Haas hospitality unit.

I gave him a small nod. “Yeah. It’s just… weird.”

He looked down at me. “We don’t have to stay long.”

I shook my head. “No. I need to do this.”

And I did. For myself. For the girl who used to dream about these paddock walks and race weekends. For the version of me who had fallen in love here, and the one who had left with a broken heart still beating for someone who wasn’t mine anymore.

The Ferrari garage was the first familiar refuge. Charles spotted us before we even reached the entrance and immediately pulled me into the kind of hug that squeezed the air out of my lungs.

“Finally,” he muttered into my hair. “We missed you.”

“You mean you missed me,” I teased, pulling back.

“No, Lewis did too,” he said, smirking.

Right on cue, Lewis appeared like a vision in head-to-toe Ferrari gear, sunglasses on, arms open.

“Long time, Schumi,” he said warmly, enveloping me in a hug that made me feel eight years old again, watching him battle my dad on the track.

“You two are being nice. Suspiciously nice,” I said with a raised eyebrow as Charles handed me a coffee.

“Because you look like you haven’t slept in a week and we’re trying not to scare you off,” Lewis said softly, his tone shifting. “You okay?”

I wanted to lie. I always did. But something about standing there, surrounded by two people who knew, made it impossible.

“I’m here. That’s… something.”

Charles reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’re stronger than you think.”

I wasn’t so sure. Because every time someone looked over my shoulder, I felt my body brace—hoping, dreading, needing to see him. But he wasn’t there. And that was worse.

After an hour or so, Mick and I wandered toward the McLaren garage, where we nearly bumped into Lando and his father, Adam.

“YN?” Lando grinned, eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas. “Holy shit, you’re really here.”

I smiled. “In the flesh.”

He pulled me into a quick hug and stepped back, looking me up and down like he was trying to process it.

“Jesus, Max is gonna—” He stopped himself, glancing at Mick. “Never mind.”

I forced a laugh, but my chest tightened.

Lando’s dad, Adam, stepped forward, all charm and warmth. “You look so much like your mother,” he said with a soft smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” I replied, surprised by how sincere I felt.

We chatted for a few minutes—Lando throwing in a few ridiculous jokes, Mick side-eyeing everyone like he was five seconds away from tackling anyone who so much as mentioned Max’s or my Father’s name.

But even with all the friendly faces, the familiar laughter… there was still a hollow ache. Because I hadn’t seen him. Because I wasn’t sure I could handle it when I did. Max Verstappen had always been gravity to me. Even when I tried to fly away. I glanced across the paddock for the hundredth time, my eyes lingering on the empty stretch between the McLaren and Red Bull garages. He wasn’t there. Not yet. But he would be. And when that moment came… I honestly didn’t know whether I’d fall apart—or fall back into him.

—

I thought I’d escaped for the day. Lando and Mick had been playing their roles as protective older brothers- keeping me as far away from Max as possible. I stopped when I noticed a small girl appear next to me.

“Miss Schumacher?”

I turned, instinctively straightening my shoulders. The rep looked young. Nervous. Holding a tablet like a shield.

“I… uh, sorry to bother you,” she stammered. “But… Max asked if you could… come by. Just for a few minutes.”

My heart fell into my stomach.

“Now?” I asked, voice tight.

She nodded. “He said just… you. He didn’t want to cause a scene.”

Lando’s eyes narrowed instantly. “She doesn’t owe him anything—”

“It’s fine,” I cut in, my voice quiet. “I’ll go.”

Lando looked ready to argue, but I gave him a look. One I hoped said—Please don’t make this harder than it already is.

So I followed the Red Bull rep through the maze of motorhomes and hospitality tents, every step heavier than the last. My mind raced with possibilities. What would I say? What would he say? Would Kelly be there? Did he want to apologize? Or worse—say goodbye? We stopped in front of a nondescript meeting room. The rep gestured to the door, then backed away. I hesitated. And then I opened it. It was silent inside. Cool. Dim. Just one chair pulled out at the table. A water bottle. And him. Max. He was standing with his back to me, facing the far wall, like he was afraid if he looked at me too soon, he’d break.

“Max?” I said, voice barely above a whisper.

He turned slowly. And the second our eyes met, it felt like everything inside me cracked open. He looked tired. Not physically—but in that way you only get when you’ve been carrying something for too long. His eyes—still impossibly blue—held something I wasn’t ready for. Relief. Pain. Love.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said softly.

“I wasn’t sure I should,” I replied.

Silence settled between us like a storm cloud.

“I didn’t know how to do this,” he admitted, stepping closer. “I thought maybe if I just… saw you. If I could look at you again and remember how to breathe—maybe I could finally say everything I never did.”

My hands curled into fists at my sides. “Then say it.”

He swallowed hard, eyes never leaving mine. “I’m sorry. For letting you go. For not fighting harder. For pretending I could ever love someone else the same way.”

My chest tightened. “You didn’t pretend very well.”

Max’s eyes closed for a second, like the truth physically hurt.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said. “You were modeling in Milan, Paris, New York. You were becoming you, and I didn’t want to be the reason you held back. And then Kelly came into my life, and—”

“You fell in love with her,” I whispered.

“I did,” he said honestly. “But I never stopped loving you.”

A single tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. Max stepped forward instinctively, but paused like he didn’t know if he still had the right.

“You were everywhere,” I said. “Every man I dated. Every time I stood in front of a camera and tried to smile. You were always in the room, even when you weren’t. And she knew, didn’t she?”

He nodded. “Kelly’s smarter than I’ll ever be. She never asked me to stop loving you. She just… hoped I could figure it out.”

“And did you?”

“I did the second I saw you again,” he whispered. “I never really stopped being yours, YN.”

The silence between us stretched. Painful. Beautiful. I took a step forward.

“You broke my heart,” I said.

“I know.”

“And I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“But I still love you.”

He breathed in sharply. Like he’d been holding his breath for years and finally exhaled.

“Then let me try,” he said. “Not to erase the past. Just… to prove I’m worth a future.”

I didn’t answer. But I didn’t leave. And when he finally reached for my hand, I let him. Because maybe love didn’t need to be perfect. Maybe it just needed to survive long enough to come home.

—

I left before he could say anything else. Before I could change my mind. Before my heart betrayed me more than it already had. My fingers trembled as I opened the door and stepped into the sunlight, everything suddenly too loud—too sharp. The weight of Max’s words still clung to my skin like smoke. My chest was tight, lungs refusing to work properly as I wove through the paddock. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have let him say all those things. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have let myself believe, even for a second, that we could rewrite a story already written in ink. Because Kelly still existed. And she wasn’t a footnote. She was a chapter he chose. Even if he claimed he never stopped loving me—he didn’t stop loving her either. And I couldn’t live with being the person who cracked something that hadn’t even shattered yet. A sob escaped my throat as I ducked behind one of the trailers, pressing my hand to my mouth. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. Especially not here. Not in this place, where strength was currency and weakness became headlines.

“YN?”

I froze.

And then a beat later—

“YN.”

Mick.

I wiped at my face furiously, turning just as he rounded the corner, worry etched deep into every line of his expression. His gaze swept over me—red eyes, trembling hands, broken posture—and something in him snapped.

“Who do I need to kill?”

I laughed. It was wet, bitter, short-lived.

“No one,” I croaked. “Not yet, anyway.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “What happened? Did someone say something to you? Was it Max?”

I looked away, which told him everything he needed to know.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, jaw locking. “I told Lando to keep him away. I told him—”

“It wasn’t Lando’s fault. Max asked for me. I thought I could handle it,” I said quietly. “But I was wrong.”

Mick’s expression softened just slightly, but the tension didn’t leave his shoulders. He was vibrating with fury—protective, sharp-edged fury that only brothers were capable of.

“He hurt you again?”

“No,” I whispered. “That’s the worst part. He told me everything I ever wanted to hear.”

Mick blinked. “So…?”

“So I can’t ruin what he has with Kelly. I won’t.”

“Are you serious?” he snapped. “You’re sobbing behind a trailer and he’s walking around with two women’s hearts in his hands. You think you’re the villain in this story?”

“I think I’m the only one trying not to be selfish.”

Mick exhaled hard, dragging a hand through his hair. “You always do that. You put everyone else’s happiness ahead of your own. Even when it kills you.”

“I’d rather break myself than break them,” I said, voice barely audible.

He stared at me for a long moment. “That’s not love, YN. That’s martyrdom.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because maybe I was the villain. Or the coward. Or maybe just the girl who never stopped loving someone she was never supposed to belong to. Mick pulled me into a hug, and for the first time all day, I let myself fall apart in someone else’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into my hair. “Even when he doesn’t.”

And I clung to that. Because right now, it was the only truth I had.

—

The house was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made your ears ring. That made your thoughts too loud. I’d been pacing the same living room floor for nearly an hour, hands twisting the hem of one of Mick’s old hoodies I’d stolen years ago. I hadn’t turned on the lights. I didn’t want brightness. I didn’t want clarity. I wanted to disappear into the dark and pretend I didn’t still feel Max’s voice in my bones. 

I didn’t mean to call. My fingers just moved. Like muscle memory. The way they always did when everything got too much. The phone only rang once before he picked up.

“Liebling?” Sebastian’s voice cracked something wide open in me.

“Hi,” I said, trying to sound normal.

I failed. I always failed with him. And maybe that’s why I loved him so much.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said gently, like he was already sitting next to me with a cup of tea and that soft little crease in his brow.

“I saw Max today,” I whispered.

Silence. And then a soft, steady breath on the other end. “Ah.”

I sat on the couch, pulling my knees to my chest. “He told me he never stopped loving me.”

Sebastian didn’t speak.

“He said… he loves her too. But that he was always mine first. And part of me wanted to believe it so badly. Part of me wanted to run straight into his arms and pretend it would be enough this time. But I couldn’t. I just… couldn’t.”

“I know,” he said softly. “Of course you couldn’t.”

“I wanted to,” I admitted. “God, I wanted to. But she’s good. She’s kind. And I’m not selfish enough to shatter her life just to glue mine back together.”

“YN…” His voice was so heartbreakingly gentle. “You think loving someone that deeply is selfish?”

“I think trying to take him back when he already belongs to someone else would be.”

“You’re not trying to take anything,” he said. “You’re just trying to feel, and that’s not a crime. You’re allowed to want things, even if they hurt.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “What if I’m always the one hurting?”

“You won’t be,” he promised. “Not forever. You are not someone people forget, YN. You’re someone people carry with them—like a compass. Like a melody they can’t get out of their head.”

“Even Max?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Especially Max.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks again. I didn’t even try to wipe them.

“I’m tired, Seb,” I whispered.

“I know you are, Schatz.”

There was a pause. And then, “Your dad would’ve told you to kick Max in the shins and then make him work for it.”

I laughed through the tears, chest aching with the sound. “You’re not wrong.”

“And I’m telling you,” he said firmly now, “that you don’t owe anyone anything. Not even him. You just owe yourself the grace to heal.”

I closed my eyes and let his words sink into me like sunlight on skin.

“I miss you,” I said.

“I miss you too,” he replied. “Now go drink some tea, take a long shower, and text me when you’re safely in bed. Or I will call Mick and ask him to camp out on your floor like you’re twelve again.”

I smiled for the first time in hours. “Fine. Bossy.”

“Only because I love you.”

“I love you too, Seb.”

And when we hung up, I sat in the quiet again. But this time… it didn’t feel so heavy.

—

third person pov 

Kelly Piquet wasn’t blind. She had always known that YN Schumacher was more than just a chapter in Max’s life. She wasn’t even a past tense. YN was a pulse. A thread running beneath everything. And today, when Max came back from the Red Bull motorhome quieter than usual—less like a man, more like a ghost—Kelly didn’t need to ask what had happened. She just knew. He didn’t speak when she walked into the room. His shoulders were hunched, fingers interlaced tightly, jaw ticking like he was holding his breath. It was the most unsettled she’d seen him in a long time. She took a seat across from him on the couch, crossed one leg over the other, and tilted her head thoughtfully. No fire. No ice. Just the cool, unreadable stillness that came with already knowing the answer.

“You saw her,” she said softly.

Max glanced up. “Yeah.”

Kelly smiled—small, but not unkind. “And?”

“I told her I never stopped loving her.”

A beat of silence. Kelly nodded like she’d been expecting it. “And she?”

“She left. In tears. Said she didn’t want to ruin what you and I have.”

“Ah,” Kelly hummed. “Very her.”

Max’s brow furrowed. “You’re not… mad?”

Kelly’s laugh was quiet and almost amused. “No, Max. I’m not mad.”

“But I—”

“You love her,” she said plainly. “You have for a long time. You tried to bury it. I tried to ignore it. But it was always there, wasn’t it?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Kelly leaned back into the couch, her gaze steady. “I always knew you were hers. Not because you didn’t love me, but because there was a part of you I never had. And I don’t want to be with someone who still belongs to someone else, even if they’re too scared to say it out loud.”

Max swallowed hard, throat tight. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“Of course you didn’t,” she said with a shrug. “But love doesn’t ask for permission. It just shows up and wrecks the room.”

She stood slowly, graceful as ever, and moved to the window, looking out at the paddock. “You know what I think?” she asked.

He looked at her cautiously. “What?”

“I think you two are too damn stubborn for your own good. She’s busy trying not to hurt me, and you’re busy trying not to hurt anyone, and in the meantime, you’re both bleeding out for no reason.”

He blinked. 

Kelly smiled, just a little. “Max. Be honest about what you feel. I’m not walking away over the truth.”

Max blinked, uncertain. “You’re… staying?”

“I didn’t say I’d stay forever,” she replied calmly. “But I’m not going to run just because your heart is messy. People are messy. And I’ve always known part of you belonged to her.”

She walked over and touched his arm—light, controlled, nothing desperate in the gesture.

“I didn’t fall for you expecting neat and easy,” she said. “And I’m not afraid of history, Max. I’m afraid of silence. Of pretending. So don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to yourself.”

Max looked down at her, guilt tightening his features. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“And yet you’re doing it anyway,” Kelly said softly. “Not with YN. But with how long you’ve been pretending she’s not in every room with us.”

He exhaled, almost broken. Kelly’s fingers curled gently around his. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to take a breath. You’re going to stop spiraling. And we’re going to figure this out together. Like grown-ups. Not like the scared kid you were when we started this.”

“You’re okay with me loving her?” Max asked, voice raw.

“Not necessarily,” Kelly said, with a dry smile. “But I’m okay with the truth. Because if there’s any chance you can close that door—with clarity, not confusion—then I want you to do it.”

“And if I can’t?” he whispered.

Kelly’s expression didn’t flicker.

“Then we’ll decide what that means. But not like this. Not in guilt. Not in chaos. We don’t end like that.”

Max stared at her, the weight of everything between them heavier than ever. And yet… her steadiness grounded him.

Kelly leaned in, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Go to her, Max. But do it with your eyes open. And come back to me with answers. Not ghosts.”

She stepped back, still looking at him like she knew exactly what this meant. Like she’d already done the math. And she wasn’t afraid of the result.

—

your pov

I wasn’t expecting anyone. The day had been long—emotionally draining in that slow, silent kind of way that made your chest ache without reason. I’d finally let myself unwind: hoodie on, hair wet, popcorn in hand, and some random Formula E replay humming in the background just loud enough to distract my brain from wandering back to Max. Always Max. So when the knock came, soft and polite but firm, I froze. No one knocked like that unless they were very sure of what they wanted. I set the popcorn down and padded barefoot to the door, a strange sense of déjà vu tightening in my stomach. I opened it—And there she was. Kelly.

Elegant, poised, unreadable. Standing at my door like she belonged there, like this wasn’t the weirdest, most emotionally charged fever dream of a moment I could imagine.

“Hi,” she said softly. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

She looked perfect, of course. Calm and expensive and untouched by the kind of spiral I’d been living in since I left Max in that room. Meanwhile, I was in yesterday’s sweats and a hoodie with a small tear in the sleeve.

Still, I stepped back. “Um… no. Do you… want to come in?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with that,” she said gently, already scanning the inside of my flat like she was taking mental notes. “I just wanted to talk.”

Something inside me said don’t, but I nodded anyway. “Sure.”

She walked in slowly, like she was floating. There was no tension in her body, no anger. That, somehow, was worse. Kelly didn’t sit. She wandered. Paused at the framed photo of Mick and me as kids. Glanced at the cluttered bookshelf. Her eyes lingered on a little trinket Max had given me when we were seventeen.  I felt suddenly exposed. Like I hadn’t cleaned up enough, like I hadn’t guarded enough. Finally, she turned to face me.

“I’ve wanted to meet you properly for a long time,” she said, voice low and even.

I frowned, unsure if I should sit or stand or melt into the floor. “Why now?”

Her smile was small, soft, and far too knowing. “Because now I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

My stomach dropped.

“I’d rather understand than pretend,” she added.

I looked down, heart thudding uncomfortably. “I never wanted to come between you and Max.”

“I believe you,” Kelly said, stepping closer, her tone kind. Not warm, exactly. But kind. “That’s part of why I’m here.”

I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I was being dissected—but politely. Elegantly.

She studied me for a moment longer. “He’s loved you for a long time. But that doesn’t scare me.”

I blinked. “It doesn’t?”

“No,” she said. “Because love isn’t a contest. It’s a conversation. And I’m not here to fight you, YN.”

She smiled then—soft, almost affectionate.

“I’m here to get to know you.”

I couldn’t stop staring at her. “Why?”

“Because if you’re going to keep holding pieces of the man I love… I’d like to know whose hands they’re in.”

Silence. Then Kelly tilted her head, calm as ever. “Dinner?”

My eyes widened. “Dinner?”

“Just the two of us,” she said, voice velvet-smooth. “Nothing dramatic. I’ll even let you pick the place.”

I didn’t answer right away. I wasn’t sure I could. Because somehow, Kelly Piquet inviting me to dinner was more terrifying than if she had shown up screaming. And yet… I nodded. Because a part of me needed to understand her too. And maybe—just maybe—I wanted to see what game she was playing. If it was a game at all.

—

I thought she might cancel. Some part of me assumed the invitation would vanish like a mirage. That she’d come to her senses and realize sitting down to dinner with her boyfriend’s once upon a time—and possibly still—in love with him ex girlfriend was a terrible idea. But she didn’t cancel. She showed up exactly on time. She wore a silky black blouse and dark-wash jeans that looked like they belonged in a Vogue editorial. Her hair was up in that effortless twist. Her earrings were small but sparkling, and her perfume smelled like money, like memory, like danger. I wore something neutral. Simple. Something I wouldn’t regret.

The restaurant was quiet, tucked into a leafy corner of Monaco with candles on every table and linen napkins that made me feel like I should whisper. We got a corner booth, far from prying eyes. The hostess looked at us like she recognized both our faces, but said nothing. Kelly ordered red wine. I didn’t. We didn’t speak at first. Just sat across from each other, quietly flipping through menus that neither of us were really reading.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said finally, forcing my voice not to shake.

Kelly glanced up, amused. “I wasn’t sure about you, either.”

I smiled despite myself. “You’re not what I expected.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What did you expect? Cold? Cruel?”

“Maybe. Or passive-aggressive.”

She chuckled softly. “I’m sure I’ve had my moments.”

Silence again. But it wasn’t tense. Not exactly. It felt like a game of chess, where every word was a move and every glance had weight.

“I meant what I said,” she said quietly, tracing her finger along the stem of her wine glass. “I’m not here to accuse you. I’m here because I wanted to know you.”

I nodded. “And what do you think so far?”

Kelly tilted her head. “You’re beautiful. Smarter than people probably give you credit for. And guarded as hell.”

My breath caught.

She smiled like she’d won something. “Did I lie?”

“No,” I admitted. “I just didn’t expect you to be so…”

“Disarming?” she offered.

“Charming,” I said instead.

We ordered food we wouldn’t finish. We talked more than I expected. She asked about modeling, about growing up with Mick, about my father. And when she listened—really listened—it felt like standing under warm light in a room I didn’t realize had been cold.

“You miss him,” she said gently after I mentioned Michael. “Your father. How he was before.” 

I blinked back the sudden sting. “Every day.”

She reached across the table then, without hesitation, and touched my hand. It was a small gesture. But it undid me.

“You don’t have to be brave with me,” she said. “I know what it’s like to lose someone and pretend you’re fine. You don’t have to do that here.”

I didn’t answer. I just let her hold my hand a moment longer than polite. And when I looked up, her expression had softened in a way that made my chest ache. There was something else in her eyes now. Not pity. Not suspicion. Curiosity. Admiration. Want. The shift was subtle—but it was there.

“I thought you hated me,” I whispered.

She laughed under her breath. “I tried. You’re incredibly hard to hate.”

I swallowed, pulse picking up. “You flirt like someone who shouldn’t be flirting.”

She leaned in slightly. “And you blush like someone who’s not sure if they want me to stop.”

My breath hitched. The air between us was suddenly electric—quiet, private, dangerous. I didn’t know what to say. Maybe there wasn’t anything to say.

She let the moment linger, then pulled back with a smile like a secret. “I’m not trying to confuse you, YN.”

“You’re doing it anyway.”

Kelly nodded, her eyes still fixed on mine. “I think I’m confusing myself, too.”

We sat in silence again, but this time it hummed. Like something new was being built from the ruins of something old. At the end of the night, when we stood from the table and the waiter brought the check, she paid without hesitation.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, half-laughing.

“I wanted to,” she replied. Then, a pause. “I want a lot of things lately.”

She didn’t elaborate. But as we stepped outside into the cool Monaco air and she walked me to my car, she touched my arm and looked at me with that calm, careful intensity again.

“This isn’t over,” she said softly. “I don’t mean you and Max. I mean… this.”

My throat tightened. “This?”

“You and me.”

Then she smiled, kissed my cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world, and turned on her heel, disappearing into the night like a storm that hadn’t hit yet. And I just stood there, hand pressed to my face, wondering if I’d just walked into a whole new kind of chaos. And if I wanted to.

—

f1gossipgirls

5,031,045 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Well… this was not on our 2025 bingo card. In a twist that no one could’ve predicted, YN Schumacher and Kelly Piquet were spotted having dinner together in Monaco tonight—yes, that Kelly (Max’s current girlfriend) and that YN (his very unforgettable ex). Sources say the two looked remarkably close—smiles, soft touches, deep conversation. No tension, no drama… just chemistry? 👀 If you somehow missed the history— YN and Max were childhood sweethearts turned teenage lovers, and Kelly is his long-term partner now. So what exactly does this dinner mean? We have so many questions. Thoughts? Theories? Prayers? Because we’re not sure the paddock is ready for whatever this is. 

—

view 209,552 other comments.

username00 : i wanted drama and instead i’m lowkey shipping them?? like… do i need help?

username0 : sooo does this mean kelly and yn are… 👀 talking? getting along? plotting? falling in love? all of the above?

username1 : not kelly PIQUET joining the yn fanclub?? mother recognized mother. that’s all.

username5 : can someone PLEASE check on max. man probably dropped his Red Bull mid-sip when he saw this

↳ redbullracing : we are on it.

notlando6969 : i just KNOW max is pacing around the kitchen right now like “they’re talking?? about what?? ME???” 🧍🏻‍♂️

↳ username5 : bro stop making burner accounts and go check on your man AND WOMAN.

↳ f1gossipgirls : we know its you lando. cut the shit.

↳ lando : y’all are all so mean.

—

third person pov

Max was sitting on the couch when Kelly walked in—phone still in his hand, screen dimming from the dozens of notifications he hadn’t stopped scrolling through. He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her with that quiet, burning confusion he always got when something mattered too much.

Kelly set her purse down gently. “You saw?”

Max blinked once. “Hard to miss when the entire internet is screaming about it.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look guilty. Just… calm. Collected. Like she had expected this. Max stood slowly. “You went to dinner with her.”

“I did.”

His jaw tensed. “Without telling me.”

Kelly took a step closer. “Would you have let me go if I had?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at her like she was some puzzle he couldn’t figure out. A book in a language he used to know by heart and had forgotten somewhere along the way.

“I just—” Max ran a hand through his hair. “What was that, Kelly? What are you doing?”

She met his eyes, steady. “I’m getting to know her.”

He blinked, breath catching.

“And?” he asked, voice softer, almost a whisper.

Kelly tilted her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I think I like her.”

And then she walked past him—unbothered, barefoot, and humming lightly under her breath as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Leaving Max standing there, stunned and still very, very unsure of what was happening. Or what was coming next.

—

yn_schumacher

liked by kellypiquet, mickschumacher, maxverstappen1 and 9,002,007 others.

yn_schumacher : photo dump w all my faves

tagged : mickschumacher and kellypiquet

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—

4 weeks later

I don’t know what I expected when Kelly invited me over. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t overanalyze the way her voice softened when she said, “Just come. I’ll cook.” I didn’t let myself spiral over the fact that Max would be there. I told myself it was just dinner. Casual. Harmless. But nothing about this situation has ever been harmless. Kelly and I had been together nonstop these last few weeks, both of us catching feelings for each other while we were both still tied to him. The elevator ride up to their apartment felt longer than it should’ve. My reflection in the mirrored walls betrayed every emotion I was trying to suppress—hope, nerves, the tight pull of guilt blooming in my chest. Kelly opened the door barefoot, her hair up in a loose bun, wearing one of those effortless silk dresses she somehow always made look regal. She smiled when she saw me—genuine, like she’d been waiting all day.

“Hi,” she said, and I swear to God, it hit me like a wave every single time.

“Hi,” I managed.

The apartment smelled like garlic and lemon and something faintly sweet. Jazz played softly in the background. There were candles on the table. And Max. He was standing by the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, drink in hand. Still, still Max. Same unreadable expression, same quiet intensity. His eyes found mine the second I stepped inside, and for a moment, it felt like we were sixteen again, hiding from the world and pretending time wasn’t running out.

“Hey,” he said, and it was soft. Almost unsure.

I nodded. “Hey.”

We sat. We ate. The food was good—of course it was, Kelly was good at everything. She carried the conversation with grace, like she knew we were both choking on everything we weren’t saying. Max barely looked at me. I tried to ignore the way it stung. The night wore on like slow honey. Heavy. Sticky. And then, somewhere between wine and dessert, Kelly stood up. She rested a hand on my shoulder, light and lingering, and turned to Max with that careful, pointed look I was learning meant more than she ever let on.

“I’m going to step out for a bit,” she said. “Max…”

She waited. Waited for him to meet her eyes. Then she glanced at me, smiled almost bittersweet, and said, “I know my feelings for her. You tell her yours.”

And just like that, she walked out. Left me alone with the boy I loved before I even knew what love was. Max stared at the table for a long time. He didn’t speak. Neither did I. The silence between us was loud enough to drown out the music still playing from the speakers. I could feel my pulse in my throat. Finally, he looked up.

“Do you ever think,” he started, voice hoarse, “that maybe we weren’t supposed to end?”

It was a whisper. A fracture in time.

I blinked. “All the time.”

He swallowed hard. “When I saw you again… in the paddock… it felt like I was breathing for the first time in years.”

I could feel tears rising, but I refused to let them fall.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I thought I didn’t deserve to. I have Kelly. I had you. And somehow I lost both.”

He stood slowly, walked around the table, and stopped just short of me. I didn’t move.

“Kelly knows how I feel,” he said, voice low. “She always has. But this… you and her… it’s real, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “I didn’t mean for it to be. I didn’t plan it. But it’s… safe. And warm. And she sees me.”

He stepped closer, so close I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. My breath hitched.

“So did I,” he whispered.

I looked up at him, and for the first time in years, I let myself truly see him. Not the world champion. Not the headlines. Just Max. Just my Max.

“I still do,” he said, eyes searching mine.

And before I could speak, before I could stop it or brace for it—he leaned in. And kissed me. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t cautious. It was everything we had buried. Everything we had swallowed for the sake of time and timing and other people. His hands came up to cradle my face like he was terrified I’d disappear. Like he’d waited years for this one breath, this one second, this one sliver of a chance to rewrite history. I kissed him back. Because I’d never stopped loving him. Because the ache had never left. Because nothing in the world had ever felt more right—or more wrong—and I couldn’t bring myself to care.

When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads rested together, breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync.

“I never stopped,” he whispered. “Not once.”

And neither did I. But I couldn’t say it. Not yet. Because I had feelings for Kelly too.

—

The kiss still lingered on my lips like a bruise. Max hadn’t moved, and neither had I. We stood there, pressed together by years of longing and guilt, by feelings we’d never buried deep enough. Our foreheads still touched, our breathing still uneven, our hands still unsure of what came next. I didn’t know how long we stood there. But the sound of the front door opening was like a needle to a bubble. Max pulled back just enough to look at me—eyes wide, like he’d just remembered Kelly existed. Like we’d both forgotten. And then she walked in.

Her feet padded gently against the floor, the scent of her perfume curling through the air before she even appeared fully in the doorway. Calm, composed, radiant. She looked between us, one hand still on the doorknob, expression unreadable. Max took a step back. My stomach dropped. My mouth opened.

“Kelly—”

She tilted her head, eyes flicking to me. “So… I’m assuming you kissed.”

Neither of us responded. She smiled like it wasn’t a surprise.

“Good.”

That caught me off guard. I blinked. “You’re not mad?”

She walked toward us slowly, like this was all happening exactly as she’d expected. Her coat slid off her shoulders and onto a chair. She crossed the room, graceful and unbothered, until she was standing just a breath away.

“No,” she said simply. “Why would I be?”

I swallowed, heat crawling up my neck. “Because I kissed your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend,” she repeated gently, “has been in love with you since we met. I was never going to compete with that.”

She turned to Max. “And you…” her voice softened, “you’ve loved her longer than you’ve known what love even was.”

Max didn’t deny it. And I couldn’t breathe.

“But you love him,” I said, voice cracking. “You love him and I—” I hesitated, my chest tightening. “I love him too. But I also think I… I might be falling for you. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

There. It was out. Everything. Kelly stared at me for a long moment. The kind of moment where time felt suspended. Then she laughed. Soft and real. Her whole face lit up.

“Darling,” she said, stepping closer and brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, “that was my plan all along.”

I froze. “What?”

“I invited you to dinner that first night knowing what would happen. I knew Max would see you and remember everything he tried to bury. And I knew I would see you and…” She paused, her fingers lingering on my jaw now, eyes impossibly gentle. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”

I stared at her. “But why?”

She smiled. “Because loving one of you was never enough.”

Max was silent behind me, but I felt his presence like a pulse.

Kelly looked between us. “I love him. And I’m in love with you. And you two—God, the way you look at each other…” She shook her head, her voice a whisper now. “You’re everything I want. Both of you.”

My breath hitched. I looked at Max. He was watching Kelly like she’d just rearranged his entire world. Then his eyes met mine again—so full of emotion it made my knees weak.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted, voice shaking. “But I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Kelly stepped forward, wrapping her arms around me. I melted into her like it was second nature. Max joined us a moment later, one arm around my waist, the other slipping around Kelly’s back. The three of us stood there, tangled together, no longer pretending. Kelly’s voice was the last thing I heard before the tears finally slipped free.

“Then we don’t have to choose. Not anymore.”

—

yn_schumacher

liked by kellypiquet, maxverstappen1, lando & 10,001,203 others.

yn_schumacher : when in mexico or whatever they say.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

maxverstappen1 has added two posts to his story!

seen by yn_schumacher, kellypiquet, mickschumacher and 7,920,115 others.

{caption 1 : beautiful views} {caption 2 : angel}

lando : ?? answer your phone.

↳ maxverstappen1 : no.

↳ lando : oh but you can answer that.

↳ maxverstappen1 : you are lucky i am so blinded by love bc normally i would just threaten to snap you in half.

liked by lando

↳ lando : awwwww have fun maxie

mickschumacher : i have so many words to say and all of them would land me in prison.

↳ maxverstappen1 : you can threaten me when we get back. you can yell all you want.

↳ mickschumacher : looking forward to it.

—

It was early. Not racing weekend early. Just Mexico early. The kind where the sunlight peeked through the gauzy curtains like it was shy, and the only sound was the ocean humming in the distance and the ceiling fan ticking lazily overhead.I was the first one to wake up. Or at least I thought I was, until I shifted and felt Max’s arm tighten around my waist, pulling me back into him with a sleepy groan.

“You’re not allowed to move yet,” he murmured into the back of my neck. “Vacation rule.”

I laughed softly. “What if I have to pee?”

“Hold it,” Kelly’s voice came from the other side of the bed, muffled by a pillow. “Or take me with you.”

I twisted around just enough to look between them. Max’s hair was a mess, falling into his eyes. Kelly had one leg slung dramatically over both of us, her silk sleep shirt barely hanging onto one shoulder. We looked like a tangle of limbs and tangled hearts.

“Okay,” I whispered, smiling, “new rule...no one moves unless it’s for coffee or kisses.”

Kelly rolled over to face me, eyes still half-lidded. “Mmm. I’ll take a kiss.”

I leaned in, pressing a soft one to the corner of her mouth. She smiled lazily, caught my jaw with her hand, and pulled me in for another—longer, warmer. Familiar now, but never dull. Max made a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh behind me.

“Not fair.”

“Then come here, Verstappen,” Kelly said, still grinning, reaching past me to grab at his face.

He kissed her over my shoulder, then kissed me. We were all laughing through it—quiet and content and stupidly in love. Later, we finally rolled out of bed—only because Kelly threatened to starve if we didn’t. Max cooked breakfast shirtless in the outdoor kitchen, and I swear the man did it just to show off. He burned the eggs slightly, but I didn’t care. He looked happy. So did she. We ate on the patio with our feet propped up on each other’s chairs. I took a picture of Max feeding Kelly a bite of fruit, her sunglasses perched on her head, her mouth open in a fake gasp like she was being spoiled.

“I’m posting this,” I warned.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Kelly teased.

“I absolutely would.”

Later that afternoon, we took a boat out. Max drove it like he was qualifying. Kelly kept yelling at him in a mix of Portuguese and English, her arms flailing wildly, laughing too hard to be mad. I held on for dear life, screaming until Max slowed down just to shut us up with kisses and apologies.

There was a moment—just one—when the sun was setting, and the three of us sat in silence at the front of the boat. Max had his arm draped over my shoulders, Kelly’s head rested on my lap. The sky was painted in impossible shades of gold and coral. And all I could think was:

This is the kind of love you never plan for. The kind that breaks every rule, but fits anyway. The kind you fight for. The kind you stay for.

Kelly looked up at me then, eyes glowing in the sun, and whispered, “You look happy.”

I smiled, fingers brushing through her hair. “I am.”

Max kissed the top of my head. “We all are.”

And for once, it wasn’t complicated. It was just us. Exactly where we were supposed to be.

—

maxverstappen1

liked by yn_schumacher, kellypiquet, lando and 14,754,992 others.

maxverstappen1 : hard launch..? or whatever it's called.

yn, my first love, my angel. i do not deserve your forgiveness or love but somehow you found a way to give me both. i will love you forever.

kelly, i don’t think you’ll ever know what you’ve done for me. you loved me when i didn’t have the words, this — all of this — only exists because of your heart. you gave me space to love her, without ever asking me to stop loving you. and now? i get to love both of you, because you believed in something bigger than fear. thank you for being my home.

tagged : yn_schumacher and kellypiquet

—

view 992,547 other comments.

username00 : “my first love, my angel” I am SOBBING in a grocery store rn someone come get me 😭😭😭

username0 : yn and kelly are so hot together. im gay as hell.

username1 : shoutout to kelly piquet for being the most emotionally mature, quietly powerful woman alive.

liked by yn_schumacher

danielricciardo : poly verstappen era was not on my 2025 bingo card but i respect it deeply

liked by maxverstappen1, yn_schumacher and kellypiquet

lando : Never seen Verstappen this soft. I don’t know whether to hug you or roast you.

liked by maxverstappen1, yn_schumacher and kellypiquet

mickschumacher : Still watching you. But… I’m proud of you. Treat her right. Both of them. Always. 🫡

liked by maxverstappen1, yn_schumacher and kellypiquet

yn_schumacher : love you both forever and always. my angels.

liked by maxverstappen1 and kellypiquet

—

yn_schumacher

liked by kellypiquet, maxverstappen1, mickschumacher and 14,090,020 others.

yn_schumacher : since max decided we are hard launching...

i’ve spent a long time trying to outrun the past. trying to forget the way it felt to lose something that once felt like everything. but then max came back into my life…and kelly walked right in like she’d always been meant to stay. i never thought i’d find peace in something so complicated, but loving both of you has been the easiest thing i’ve ever done. max — you were my first love, and somehow still the one who makes me feel safest. kelly — you saw me, truly saw me, and chose me with such softness i didn’t know what to do with it. thank you for giving me space to come home. thank you for making room for love that doesn’t fit inside the lines. this isn’t traditional. it isn’t simple. but it’s ours. and that makes it everything.

tagged : kellypiquet and maxverstappen1

—

user has limited comment access on this post.

maxverstappen1 : you are my heart, always. thank you for loving me again. thank you for choosing both of us. forever.

liked by yn_schumacher and kellypiquet

kellypiquet : and i’ll never stop loving either of you. you are everything, yn. always have been. always will be. 🤍

liked by yn_schumacher and maxverstappen1

mickschumacher : i always knew max would be a schumacher somehow. sigh. happy for you, sis:)

liked by yn_schumacher and maxverstappen1

lando : can someone PLEASE write this into a Netflix special. i’ll fund it.

liked by yn_schumacher and maxverstappen1

↳ yn_schumacher : ily but i am going to block you.

liked by maxverstappen1 and kellypiquet

—

[greenlanterns-light]

gyro wants me dead argopro wants me dead everyone wants me dead. can't take this shit anymore

[yeahiveheardofbears-fics]

Behind the Beaded Curtain

When you and Steve get stuck closing Family Video together, the usual banter takes a turn toward mischief—and maybe something more—when an empty store and a cart of VHS tapes lead to some questionable decisions. Between late-night chaos, awkward tension, and way too many adult films, Steve might finally figure out that sometimes, taking a chance is worth the risk.

hi guys! here's a little smut oneshot to hold you over till I post the next fic in my rewrite series! There is no use of Y/N and the 'you' mentioned is fem. I loosely based it off of my OC, Mac, but I tried not to be super descriptive so the X Reader girlies can get a little more immersed. This was just an idea that didn't make sense for my main fic, so i decided to write it as a oneshot. I'm goign to try and post my oneshots on this page as well as ao3! comments encouraged and I hope you enjoy.

enemies to friends to lovers, semi public sex, confressions, idiots in love word count: 13,619 TW: talk of porn, sex at work, body confidence issues, uh idk they fuck so if you don't like that i guess don't read it

REQUESTS ARE OPEN, IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLZ MESSAGE ME CAUSE I NEED INSPO <3

fic masterlist

read on ao3 or read below the cut:

The bell above the Family Video door jingled weakly, signaling the entrance of a customer. You leaned against the shelf you were restocking, the rough cardboard edges of a VHS cover pressed into your palm, watching Steve Harrington prop his feet up on the counter like he owned the place. His uniform vest clashing with his shirt, collar slightly rumpled, and his hair—perfect as ever—caught the light just so. You hated that he looked like he belonged in one of the cheesy rom-coms he was so bad at recommending to customers.

“Don’t strain yourself,” you called, sliding a copy of A Nightmare on Elm Street onto the shelf. “Wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle working too hard.”

Steve lazily swiveled the stool he was perched on, an easy grin spreading across his face. “It’s called delegating. You’re the one who offered to restock.”

You raised a brow, slapping another tape onto the shelf with a little more force than necessary. “You mean when you handed me the cart and said, ‘You’re better at this, anyway’? Yeah, real great teamwork.”

Robin appeared from one of the aisles, dragging a broom behind her and looking thoroughly unimpressed with both of you. “You know, it’s amazing you haven’t driven each other insane yet. You’re like two stray cats fighting over the same dumpster.”

Steve shot her an annoyed look, but you just smirked, leaning against the shelf with your arms crossed. “He’s not worth the energy,” you said, jerking your chin toward him. “I’d rather put my effort into alphabetizing the horror section for the third time this week.”

“Hey!” Steve pointed at you, his grin widening. “That’s because you have no taste. You keep shoving Gremlins into the comedy section.”

“It is a comedy,” you retorted, the hint of a challenge in your voice. “You’re the one who insists on putting it in horror.”

“Technically it’s a Christmas movie.” Robin interjected but you two were too into your usual banter to acknowledge her comment.

“It’s literally about monsters terrorizing a town,” he shot back, standing now, clearly ready for this argument.

“And it has a montage set to Christmas music,” you countered, stepping closer, refusing to back down. “Face it, Harrington. It’s a comedy, and your taste is basic.”

Robin watched the exchange with barely concealed amusement, resting her chin on the end of the broom handle. “This is how wars start, you know. One second it’s Gremlins, next thing you know, someone’s annexing the drama section.”

Steve ignored her, crossing his arms as he stared you down, his brown eyes sparkling with exasperation. “Oh, I’m basic? Says the girl who has a Misfits patch on her backpack like every other kid trying too hard to look edgy.”

You scoffed, stepping closer until you were almost nose to nose. “You wouldn’t know edgy if it bit you in the ass, Harrington.”

For a second, the room felt charged, like something was about to snap. Then Robin cleared her throat dramatically, cutting through the tension. “Okay, you two, this isn’t a cage match. Save it for the Halloween crowd this weekend.”

You stepped back, rolling your eyes as you returned to your cart of tapes. “Fine. I’ll let him live another day.”

Steve plopped back onto his stool, muttering under his breath but loud enough for you to hear, “You wish you could take me.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, already halfway down the aisle. “It wouldn’t even be a contest.”

“You know, for someone who spends most of her time glaring at customers, you’ve got a lot to say.”

“Somebody has to keep you on your toes,” you shot back, brushing your hands off and making your way toward the front. You flicked a stray strand of hair out of your face as you passed him. “Besides, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t charm every poor soul who comes in here. It’s starting to get embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Steve feigned offense, placing a hand on his chest. “I’ll have you know, plenty of customers appreciate a little charisma. You could try it sometime.”

“Charisma doesn’t mean flirting with everyone who rents ‘Sixteen Candles,’ Harrington.”

Robin let out a dramatic sigh, looking between the two of you. “I can’t decide if this is banter or foreplay, but either way, it’s exhausting.”

“Foreplay?” Steve sputtered, his cheeks flushing.

“God, no,” you said at the same time, shooting Robin a glare.

Robin laughed, leaning against the counter as Steve sighed, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. Somewhere behind the banter, in the dim light and popcorn butter air, the faintest trace of something real hung between the two of you—something neither of you was ready to admit, least of all to each other.

---

The last few hours of your shift crawled along, with Robin having said her goodbyes twenty minutes earlier and left you and Steve to close up. A post-dinner rush had left the place in chaos, with empty shelves and a mountain of returns now sitting on the counter. Steve, standing at the rewinder machine, was absently humming to himself as you finished putting away the last of your cart.

“Finally done,” you muttered to yourself, dusting your hands off. Just as you started to roll the empty cart back toward the counter, Steve sauntered over with a fresh pile of tapes, all rewound and stacked precariously.

“Perfect timing,” he said, grinning as he plopped them onto the top of your cart. “More work for you.”

Your eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as you stared at the offending pile. “You’re kidding me.”

“What? That’s the system!” he said defensively, his hands going to his hips. It was a classic Harrington move—half annoyed, half clueless.

“Your system sucks,” you shot back, pulling the tapes off the top and setting them on the counter. “And you’re helping.”

“I am helping,” he argued, gesturing to the now-empty rewinder. “I rewound the tapes. That’s like, ninety percent of the job.”

You snorted, grabbing the cart handle with more force than necessary and turning it toward the aisles. “Whatever. I’ll do it myself.”

Halfway to the shelves, you paused, an idea sparking as you glanced back at Steve, who was still standing there with his hands on his hips. “Actually…” you said, setting the cart brake and turning to face him fully.

Steve tilted his head, suspicious. “What?”

“You’re an athlete, right?” you said, your tone dripping with exaggerated innocence. “Former Mr. Cool Guy?”

He frowned. “I don’t like where this is going.”

You grinned, hoisting yourself onto the cart and sitting cross-legged on its flat surface, tapping the metal sides. “Put those skills to use and make this less boring. You push, I steer. I’ll call out the titles; you take me to the aisles.”

Steve’s mouth fell open, his brow furrowing. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

“This is dumb,” he said, shaking his head. “What if someone comes in?”

You leaned back, gesturing toward the door with a dramatic flourish. “Steve, it’s Wednesday. It’s 7 p.m. The only person walking through that door is someone too embarrassed to rent their adult movie during daylight hours. And if that happens, do you really want to help them?”

Steve opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed, throwing his hands up. “Fine. But if you fall off, I’m not taking you to the hospital.”

“Noted,” you said, grinning victoriously. “ I always wanted to bleed out in the comedy section anyway.”

With a reluctant groan, Steve walked around the cart and grabbed the handle. “What’s first?”

You picked up the first tape from the stack beside you, holding it up to squint at the title. “Raiders of the Lost Ark. Action-adventure, aisle three.”

“Roger that,” Steve said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he started to push the cart. It wobbled slightly, and you leaned forward to steady yourself, already laughing as he picked up speed.

“Faster, Harrington!” you called, pointing toward the aisle like you were commanding a ship. “Aisle three awaits!”

“This was a mistake,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. He slowed as you neared the correct aisle, and you held the tape out dramatically, like a torch.

“Here we are!” you declared. “Place the artifact on its rightful throne.”

Steve grabbed the tape from your hand, muttering something about your flair for the dramatic as he slid it onto the shelf. When he turned back to you, you were already holding up the next tape.

“Ready for the next one?” you asked, wiggling the VHS case.

Steve let out a long-suffering sigh but grabbed the cart handle again, a reluctant grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This is going to be the longest close ever.”

“Yeah, but you’re having fun,” you teased.

He didn’t respond, but the way his lips twitched into a full smile as he started pushing again gave you all the answer you needed.

Steve pushed the cart into the Drama aisle, his grip on the handle loose as he rolled his eyes at your smug expression. You waved The Breakfast Club over your head like a trophy, already looking triumphant.

“Drama section, as requested,” he said, stopping with a slight flourish. “But I’m just saying… it could also go in Romance.”

You nearly fell off the cart from how hard you laughed. “Romance? That’s what you got out of it? You think it’s about Claire and Bender hooking up?”

Steve raised a brow, his hands moving to his hips in that classic, I’m about to defend myself stance. “What? No, that’s not all it’s about. But it is a part of it. Opposites attract, right?”

You tilted your head, grinning like you’d just been handed the perfect opportunity to roast him. “Oh, sure. Opposites attract. That’s definitely a trope worth rooting for,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Especially when it’s just code for ‘the weird girl has to completely change herself to be worth the jock’s attention.’”

Steve frowned, clearly thrown off. “You’re talking about the makeover thing?”

“Obviously,” you said, flopping dramatically against the back of the cart, the metal sides rattling under your weight. “She was perfectly fine as she was—better, even. Then suddenly she gets some preppy glow-up, and boom, Emilio Estevez notices her. It’s such crap.”

He was quiet for a beat, like he was actually chewing on your words. His lips pressed into a line, and then, unexpectedly, he nodded. “I mean… I agree with you. She looked out of place like that. It wasn’t really her.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his response. “Wait… you agree with me?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, shrugging. “I mean, she didn’t need all that. She was cooler before.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip. His tone wasn’t teasing or defensive—it was sincere. He looked at you with this genuine expression, like he actually cared about what you thought. The space between you suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, and the quiet made your skin prickle in a way you weren’t used to.

Then Steve broke the tension with a smirk, shifting back to lean casually against the handle of the cart. “So, what I’m hearing is… you must hate Grease too, huh? Sandy changes everything for Danny at the end. That must drive you nuts.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sitting up straighter and gripping the sides of the cart like you were preparing for battle. “Oh, don’t get me started on Grease, Harrington.”

His grin widened, and he gestured with one hand for you to continue, clearly enjoying this way too much. “By all means, let it out. This should be good.”

You took a deep breath, ready to launch into a full tirade about the crime that was Sandy’s transformation, while Steve leaned against the cart, laughing softly under his breath before you’d even said a word.

---

Steve jiggled the lock on the front doors, pulling them to test if they were secure before flipping off the outside lights. The neon "OPEN" sign fizzled out with a soft hum, leaving the store bathed in the sterile glow of its overhead fluorescents. He sighed as he turned the "CLOSED" sign around and shot a glance your way.

You were standing at the counter, finishing up the register deposit you’d started early since the rush had ended hours ago. You hummed quietly to yourself, seemingly in a good mood, which was rare for a late-night shift.

“Got any costume ideas for Halloween?” you asked as you counted the last stack of bills. “Since we get to dress up here and all.”

Steve leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Robin and I are going as pirates,” he said, his voice flat. “Her idea.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Let me guess. She’s all excited, and you’re just going along with it because you have no spine?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, though there was a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “She’s got this whole ‘Captain Robin and First Mate Dingus’ bit planned. It’s exhausting.”

You snorted, finishing the deposit and closing the register drawer. “Well, I’m going as a devil. Simple, classic, but I gotta tone it down a little so Keith doesn’t spend the entire shift staring at my chest.”

Steve went stiff for a moment, muttering something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

“What?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, straightening. “So, uh, are you done with that?”

“Just about,” you said, locking the deposit bag and setting it aside for the morning shift. Your eyes drifted to the cart in the middle of the store, still loaded with a few stray tapes. “Looks like we’re not done with that, though.”

Steve followed your gaze and sighed. “Oh, great. More cart rides.”

You grinned, hopping back onto the cart and gesturing for him to take the handle. “You’re the one who insisted on delegating, remember? Now push.”

With another sigh—this one more dramatic than the first—Steve complied, wheeling you toward the horror section. You rifled through the tapes on the cart, calling out titles as he brought you to the correct spots. It went smoothly until you reached for the next tape and froze, reading the title aloud before you could stop yourself.

“Blondes in Heat?” you said, eyebrows shooting up. Your gaze darted to the rest of the tapes on the cart. “Oh, no.”

Steve groaned, already knowing what was coming. “Yeah, I’ll take care of those.”

You shook your head, holding up the tape with a smirk. “It’s fine, I can do it.”

“Seriously,” Steve said, his tone a little sharper. “I’ll handle it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, shrugging. “I’ve seen porn before, Steve.”

His eyes widened, and he stumbled over his words for a second before recovering. “What—you—you’ve—okay, I mean—”

“Relax, Harrington,” you said, clearly amused at his reaction. “You’re not the only person in Hawkins with a VHS player and curiosity.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, his face slightly pink. “I wasn’t—okay, fine. Just—don’t make it weird.”

You laughed, waving him off. “It’s not weird. Now push the cart.”

Grumbling something under his breath, Steve resumed pushing, steering you toward the back corner of the store where the beaded curtain waited. The clinking of the beads was just faint enough to make you second-guess the idea, but you straightened your shoulders and braced yourself. The cart rattled slightly as Steve slowed, and you gave him a look over your shoulder.

“C’mon, Harrington. It’s just tapes.”

The dim lighting of the ‘adult’ section made the whole thing feel way more awkward than it should have been. You broke the silence once more as Steve pushed the cart, and you, to one of the corners and had you hand him the tapes.

“You know, a place called ‘Family Video’ having a section for porn is a little weird.” You say as he shelves Blondes in Heat.

“Can you stop saying porn?” he sighs over his shoulder before walking back to you.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What would you rather me call it? The erotic arts? Adult features?"

"Just shut up," Steve says, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

You hand him the next tape, which you had been staring at with an amused smirk. "How to Satisfy a Woman in Six Minutes or Less? Really?"

Steve groaned. "God, you're such a pain."

"I'm just saying. Unrealistic. Also why the rush?"

"Oh, my God. Shut up!" Steve says, trying not to laugh.

"What? I'm being serious! Six minutes is a lot to ask. That's barely any time for foreplay, and I don't think anyone wants a half-assed—"

"I am not talking about sex with you!" he says, a little too loudly.

You bite back a laugh. "Why not? It's not weird. I'm sure it's not even the most awkward conversation you've had this week."

He turns, an eyebrow raised. "Oh, really?"

"Uh-huh. Remember when Robin told you and Dustin the difference between tampons and pads?"

Steve visibly winced at the memory. "Okay, fair point."

"See? Not weird," you said, handing him the next tape. 

"Yeah, sure," Steve said, rolling his eyes as he took the tape and glanced at the cover. Then his eyes went wide, and his whole body seemed to freeze.

"What? What's wrong?" you asked, trying to peek at the case. "Don't tell me it's worse than the last one. Oh, is it—"

"It's nothing," Steve said quickly, cutting you off as he turned away.

"Uh-uh," you said, jumping off the cart and walking around so you could see the front. "I want to see."

"No, no way."

"If it's really nothing, then why can't I see it?" you challenged, crossing your arms.

"Because I said so!" Steve shot back, his voice high and panicked.

"Fine. Hand it over," you demanded, holding out your hand.

"No."

"Yes."

"No, really, I—"

"Steven Harrington," you snapped, your patience running thin. "If you don't give me that tape right now, I will—"

"Alright, fine! Just stop yelling," Steve sighed, relenting as he shoved the tape into your hand. You stared at him, surprised.

"I yelled once."

"Still."

"Whatever."

You glanced down, and immediately, you felt your own body freeze. In a flash, the situation felt way too real.

Because staring up at you from the tape cover was an image of a girl who could've been you, if her hair was a different color. A girl, sprawled out on her back, naked. The camera angle was positioned above her, the lens angled to give the viewer a full view of her body—her face, her breasts, her legs spread wide.

Your face was on fire, your mouth suddenly dry. Beside you, Steve shifted nervously, and it occurred to you that you were both just staring silently at a porno tape that was clearly made for a specific audience.

"Uh... this is awkward," you finally managed, your voice a little hoarse.

Steve made a sound that was half laugh, half strangled cry. "Yeah, I could've done without the reminder, honestly."

You shot him a confused look. "Reminder?"

He waved his hands in front of him, clearly flustered. "No, that's not what I meant. I just meant—forget it. Forget I said anything. Can we please move on?"

"Not yet," you said, narrowing your eyes. "What do you mean, reminder? Is there a girl in pornos who looks like me or something?"

"Uh... maybe," Steve said, wincing. "But it's not weird, or whatever. It's totally normal. I just... happened watch this one. I wasn't trying to... or anything. I didn't realize..."

He was rambling, and it was kind of adorable. But there was also something about his nervous energy that made your skin prickle in the best way.

"So, if I look like this girl..." you said, letting the words hang as you tilted your head and met his gaze, which was locked onto yours.

"Yeah?" he breathed, swallowing thickly.

You stepped closer, holding his gaze. "Does that mean you've thought about me like that?"

"What?" Steve said, his voice cracking. "No. No way. Of course not. Why would I—"

"Liar."

Your tone was gentle, playful. It was a challenge, not an accusation. Steve's lips parted slightly, but he didn't respond, his eyes still locked on yours. You tried to keep a straight face, but you couldn't help the laugh that escaped you.

"You know- just give me that." Steve said, snatching the tape back. You watched him shove it onto the shelf, the movement quick and jerky.

"Hey, I'm just teasing! It's not that serious." You say, hands up in mock defense as you walk backwards and hop back up to sit on the cart.

"Shut up," he muttered, his cheeks flushed.

You bit your lip, unable to stop grinning. "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

"Yeah, well, it's not funny."

You tilted your head, watching him as he fiddled with the shelf, his eyes not meeting yours. There was a vulnerability there, and a hint of shame. He looked almost hurt.

"Okay, seriously," you said, leaning forward and catching his gaze. "I didn't mean to actually upset you."

You hand him the next tape, attempting to make a joke about the absurd cover, but he just gives a noncommittal shrug. You frown.

"Steve, come on," you say, trying again. "I was just playing around. If it's really bothering you, I'll stop."

"It's not that," he said, shaking his head.

"Then what is it?"

He looked away, his jaw tight. You waited, giving him the space to say what he needed to. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, his words heavy with frustration.

"It's stupid," he said, still not meeting your gaze. "I just... we never talk about this stuff, okay? And then, the first time we do, it's because you think I'm some perv who gets off on looking at girls who look like you."

You blinked, caught off guard. "I... did not think that."

"Well, you should have," he snapped, turning to face you fully, his eyes burning. "Because that's how everyone thinks of me, isn't it? Steve Harrington, the former king of Hawkins High, screwing anything that moves."

You swallowed, not knowing what to say. Naturally, you went with humor to deflect.

"I mean if it helps, I've seen your luck with women lately, so I definitely don't think that..."

"Stop. Just—stop," Steve sighed, sounding exasperated. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. This is all we ever do. We can't have a serious conversation without joking about it, and it drives me insane."

You uncrossed your legs on the cart and let them dangle, leaning back against the wall of tapes, taken aback by his sudden honesty. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched. You had known each other through school, been friendly since he started at the store in July, but this was the first time he had ever really opened up. It was new, and a little scary, and definitely not something you knew how to deal with.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, and you meant it. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"Yeah, well," Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not the best at sharing. Ask anyone."

"Hey, I've got no room to talk," you said, smiling a little. "I've kept my walls pretty high too, I think."

"You're not wrong."

The air hung heavy between you. Steve shifted, his eyes darting from the cart to the shelves, clearly feeling just as awkward as you were.

"You know that the person you were in high school doesn't, like, define you right?" you offered, your voice quiet. "Like, I don't think of you as 'King Steve' or anything."

"Really?" he asked, his brow furrowing skeptically.

"Yeah," you said, nodding. "I mean, we work together. I get to see all of you. The Steve who's actually really good at his job, and a surprisingly good teacher when you're helping Robin study, and an actual nerd about movies. Plus, y'know, the dingus pirate."

Steve rolled his eyes but grinned a little.

"And I mean, maybe you'd have better luck if you were that guy when you tried to uh, pick up women. The fake charm kinda just... doesn't work with this version of you."

"Gee, thanks," he said, feigning annoyance.

"No, I mean it in a good way," you assured him. "I think you're more real like this."

He was quiet for a moment, chewing his lip. Then, unexpectedly, he reached for the next tape and you went to grab it from the dwindling stack. You handed him the tape, your fingertips brushing his palm, and a rush of heat flooded your cheeks.

Get it together, you told yourself. You're not suddenly crushing on the guy because he showed a little vulnerability are you?

Steve, oblivious, flipped the case over, studying the cover. "Okay, so this one is... not great," he said, shaking his head. "I've had the misfortune of having to put away more than one."

"Oh, boy," you said, laughing. "I'm ready."

"Okay, here goes," he said, turning the case toward you. "Blonde Bimbo Gets Banged."

"Jesus Christ," you snorted. "Is there any way this can get worse?"

"Let's find out," Steve said, flipping the case back and reading the synopsis. "She's blonde. She's a bimbo. And she knows it. She likes to flaunt her blonde beauty. Her boyfriend knows she's a whore, and that's just the way he likes her. They get wild and hot together, and soon the whole gang is banging the blonde bimbo."

"Jesus Christ how many times do they have to say 'blonde' in one synopsis. Does the target audience have the memory of a goldfish? Does this company need a new marketing team?"

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, it gets worse. The reviews call this a 'stand-out-of-the-pack classic.'"

"Please don't make me read the rest," you said, waving you hand in front of your face while laughing. "I'm already scarred."

"You wanted to know," Steve said, his lips pressed into a line to keep from laughing.

"You're right. I did. I shouldn't have."

You two fell back into a comfortable silence, and you found yourself studying Steve as he went about his task, staocking the last of the tapes neatly on the shelf. He had always been attractive, but he was starting to feel realer. You could see the details of him now, the cracks and rough edges and the parts of him he'd rather not share. It was a dangerous thought, and you knew it. He was still your coworker, after all. And, maybe, your friend?

You watched him finish shelving the last tape, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly with the movement, and your stomach did a somersault.

Oh no.

Steve turned and noticed you staring. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

You shook your head. "Nothing. I was just zoned out, I guess."

"Right," he said, clearly unconvinced. But he didn't push it.

"Last one," you say as your got to hand it to him. "And the survey says... oh. Wow."

"What is it?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Oh, no, it's just this is the first time we've actually stocked something decent," you say, turning the case toward him. "Like, this one doesn't make me want to scrub my brain out with soap."

Steve studied the case, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, yeah. I've seen this one."

"Really?" you asked, surprised.

"Yeah, it's actually pretty good," he admitted. "There's, like, a plot and everything."

"You don't say," you said, smirking. "Maybe we should put this in the Romance section."

Steve rolled his eyes, shelving the movie. "Okay, wiseass."

"I'm just saying. Plot, characters, and actual sex? That's practically a Jackie Collins novel."

"Very funny," Steve said, walking back toward the cart. You were still sitting on the edge, the wheels of the cart rattling slightly.

"Huh. We actually got through the whole cart," you said, grinning a little. "Go us."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, leaning his hands against the cart and looking over at the shelf. "That was surprisingly easy."

"We're a pretty good team," you pointed out.

"Yeah, we are."

You leaned back a little, balancing yourself on your hands and studying Steve. He seemed to be doing the same, his gaze locked on yours. The air felt thick, heavy, and somehow electric. You could practically feel the sparks.

"We should, um," Steve swallowed thickly, glancing over at the beaded curtain that led out to the main sales floor. "We should probably get to the front."

"Yeah," you agreed, though neither of you moved.

You held his gaze, and he held yours, the tension between you was overwhelming, and intoxicating, and you could barely breathe.

"You got a deposit to finish..." he whispered, his voice low.

"Yeah, the main lights are still on," you said, your throat dry.

Neither of you moved. You could feel the pull, the urge to close the space, the electricity between you threatening to overload. Your pulse was racing, your skin tingling. You wondered if he could hear the thunder of your heart, if he could feel the warmth of your breath on his lips.

"This is dumb," he murmured.

"So dumb," you breathed.

"We're not gonna..."

"Yeah, we're not..."

And then his lips were on yours, and everything else faded away. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle but firm, and the world seemed to stop. His mouth was soft, the kiss slow, lingering. You melted into him, letting him guide the pace, savoring every second. He tasted like coffee and popcorn and something sweet, and the scent of his cologne surrounded you, enveloping you.

When you finally pulled apart, your lips felt swollen, and you were breathless. Your eyes fluttered open, and you stared at each other, the air crackling around you.

"We are so fucking dumb," he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, a small, amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

You laughed, feeling giddy. "The dumbest. We should probably stop."

"Probably," he murmured. But his lips found yours again, his hand drifting into your hair, his fingers curling. You grabbed a fistful of his uniform vest, pulling him closer. He pressed into you, the pressure of him against your chest, between your legs, made your body ache. You moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue darting along your lower lip. You could feel his smirk as your lips parted, giving him access to the rest of your mouth. His tongue grazed yours, teasing, exploring. His free hand ran up the outside of your leg, his palm hot on your thigh even through the denim of your jeans. You arched against him, craving the friction, the feel of his weight, and he pushed back.

You tugged on his vest, and without breaking the kiss, he clumsily shed it and tossed it aside, his arms then circling your waist. Your hands slid under the hem of his shirt, and you shivered at the contact with his bare skin. He sucked on your lower lip, making you gasp. Your fingertips dug into the muscle of his back, and he pressed harder into you. His body was solid, but soft, and he still held you so carefully. You wanted more of him, all of him, everything.

One of his hands moved to you shoulder to take the same hideous Family Video vest off of you. He broke the kiss only to make sure that he didn't rip it or pop one of your many pins off while doing so, putting it on the bottom of the cart. The careful action made you giggle. He smiled down at you before capturing your mouth in another heated kiss. You pressed your tongue into his mouth this time, running it along his bottom lip. He moaned softly, pulling you even tighter against him.

Your fingers raked down his back, nails grazing the smooth skin, and he moaned into your mouth, grinding his hips into you. The friction of him between your legs sent a shiver of pleasure through your whole body, and you groaned. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs so that he could fit himself perfectly against you. He pressed hard, his body hot between your thighs, his chest pressed to your chest, his mouth on your mouth.

He rocked his hips into you, the slow friction driving you wild, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding on as he pressed his full weight against you, pinning you on the cart between him and the shelves. Your fingers gripped his shoulders as he moved again, his hands moving down to grip your hips. You could feel his arousal growing, and you shifted to match his pace, his hips rolling into you as yours rocked up to meet them, creating the perfect amount of friction, the pressure building with every thrust. You whimpered against his mouth as his fingers dug into your thighs.

"God, I want you," he breathed between kisses, his voice husky, sending a fresh wave of heat through your core.

"We—we have to—" you gasped, your words catching in your throat as he ground against you again, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding. His hands moved to your waist, pushing your shirt up and running his palms up the exposed skin, his thumbs grazing the soft skin of your stomach that that swelled gently over the waistband of your jeans, his touch reverent as he let his thumbs trace lazy circles there. You pulled away at the contact, suddenly feeling self concious with his hands on your exposed skin.

"Woah.. is this okay?" he asked, his voice a little strained. "If you're not—"

"It's not you, it's just..." you swallowed, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "I've never been with someone... like you before. Someone who... has expectations..."

His hands slid out from under your shirt as he took a step back, confusion on his face. "Wait, what?"

"I mean," you continued, struggling to find the right words, "You're so attractive, and I'm..." You gestured to your body with an open palm, not even able to find the words to express how self-concious you were about your body compared to the girls that usually got his attention. "You know," you finally added. "Me. So... I mean, I just want you to be sure, because..."

Steve's eyebrows pulled together in concern, his voice suddenly very serious. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean."

"No," he shook his head. "No, I really don't."

You stared at him for a moment, surprised, and then your eyes dropped to your hands, which were clasped in front of you. Your nails had been painted black with silver glitter, and the edges of your fingertips were rough, worn down from anxiously picking at them for so many years. Your thighs, while sat on the cart, pressed together, the soft curve of them spilling slightly over the edge, a reminder of how you never felt like you fit the mold of what guys like Steve usually went for. You thought about the way your jeans pinched at your waist or how you always avoided certain angles in photos because they made your arms look bigger than you liked. Your stomach churned at the idea of him seeing all of you—every mark, every curve, every imperfection that you’d tried so hard to ignore but couldn’t help cataloging in moments like this.

“I just…” you started again, your voice quieter now, “I don’t want you to feel like this is a mistake. Like maybe the weird girl is hot when you're at work, but in the real world...” You trailed off, biting your lip hard to keep it from trembling.

Steve crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his hands gentle as they rested on your thighs, grounding you. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady but insistent. “Look at me.”

When your eyes finally met his, the warmth in his expression nearly unraveled you. “You think I’m going to change my mind just because we take our clothes off? I'm rock hard in the middle of an adult section that smells like stale popcorn, and you think that's going to go away when your clothes are off? Really?" He asked incredulously, pausing to laugh at his own words. "That's pretty bold of you to assume."

Your breath hitched at the words. At his touch. The way his voice softened around your name. "Steve..."

"Seriously," he said, leaning a little closer. His voice was quiet now, almost a whisper, and his eyes darted between your eyes and your lips, his hands still gently kneading your thighs. "It's you that should be careful. I mean... I can barely focus on anything when you're just standing around in these jeans," he admitted, his eyes moving to your legs, his palms slowly moving up the curve of them. You bit your lip, heat flaring low in your stomach. "But naked?" His eyes returned to yours, his voice suddenly rough. "I wouldn't stand a chance."

Before you could even respond, he closed the distance, pressing his mouth to yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, his hands gently kneading the tops of your thighs. You moaned softly at his touch, your arms sliding over his shoulders and tangling in his hair as you melted against him. He wrapped one arm around you, pulling you to him, the other hand sliding up your waist.

"Now," he whispered against your lips as he went to lift your shirt a little again. "Can I continue where I left off, please?"

You smiled, kissing him in reply. You parted your lips, deepening the kiss. He moaned against your lips, his hand slowly trailing up your waist again, lifting your shirt up more this time. Your body tingled in anticipation of his hands on your skin, his fingertips warm on your bare stomach, slowly trailing up to your ribs, then higher still, his thumb brushing the edge of the cup of your bra.

Your head tipped back as he broke the kiss to trace his tongue over your collar bone, then dipped lower, his breath hot on the exposed skin as his thumb gently brushed your nipple through your bra, your back arching slightly at the sensation. He pressed another kiss to your throat, and you moaned as his hand dipped under your bra, cupping your breast and kneading the soft skin.

You slid a hand under his shirt, trailing your fingertips across his waist, tracing the trail of hair that lead lower, the muscles in his stomach contracting at your touch. His hand on your waist tugged at the hem of your shirt, and you took the hint, reluctantly pulling away for a moment to peel the fabric over your head. Steve let out a low groan at the sight of you in your bra, and you smiled shyly, letting him take a moment to appreciate your newly exposed skin. His hand went to the back of your neck, his touch firm, grounding as he leaned in to kiss you again. His free hand found its way to your other breast, palming it and gently tugging your bra strap down.

You were both panting now, his fingers on you and your fingers on him, and your whole body throbbing for more. You ran your palm along the front of his jeans, feeling the outline of him straining against the denim. His mouth left yours and moved to the skin above your bra as his hand left your chest and fumbled for the clasp at your back. You ran your nails over the front of his jeans, your own pulse racing. You had to touch him, you had to see him. Your fingers found his belt, but it was difficult to work with his hands on you and your mind a haze of arousal and nerves.

He seemed to be having the same problem, because after a few more attempts he stopped trying to work your bra clasp and tugged impatiently at the fabric, his voice husky.

"This—can you take this off? Or should we move? Because I can't—"

"Here," you gasped, shifting slightly and turning so your back was to him. "Try again."

Steve hummed softly in acknowledgement, his breath tickling your shoulder as he worked to free you from the offending fabric, his touch feather light and torturously slow. You leaned forward a little, letting your hair fall in a curtain over your face so he wouldn't see how much his teasing was affecting you. But you could feel the wetness between your legs, the ache of anticipation making your knees weak. Finally, with a quiet, satisfied noise, he freed you from your bra, and you sat back against the self again, letting your hair swing back to frame your face again as you watched his reaction to your body.

Steve's mouth dropped open at the sight of you, the slow grin tugging at his lips doing nothing to ease the ache.

"Well, this isn't fair," he breathed, standing straighter with one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair, as if to calm himself down. He looked over you as you leaned back, braced against your elbows. He then let out a long, deep exhale, his hands moving back to take his own shirt off. He paused about halfway through the motion to peer down at you, looking a little ridiculous with the collar halfway up his face, one arm free.

"Oh shit, sorry, did you want my shirt off too, or did you want me to leave it on, or—"

"Shirt. Off. Please," you said quickly. Steve grinned and finished the motion, tugging the tshirt off and letting it hit the floor. Your eyes darted to his torso, his skin flushed and his chest heaving slightly from the anticipation. He had a nice, lean build, with broad shoulders and a surprisingly strong-looking core. His chest hair was a light dusting that trailed across his pecs and tapered into a faint line down the center of his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. It added to his charm, giving him an effortlessly masculine edge. Your fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, to feel the softness of his skin under your palms, to trace the faint lines of his muscles beneath.

He definitely noticed you staring because he started grinning again, and when you noticed, he laughed a little. "What? Never seen a guy naked before?" he asked teasingly, making a joke of it to cover up the fact that he was suddenly a little self conscious under your scrutiny.

"You're beautiful." It spilled out of your mouth before you could stop it, and he looked surprised by the sincerity. His hands froze in mid-air and his eyes darted to yours. He opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out, so instead he cleared his throat and grinned shyly at the ground.

"Okay," he said, clearly trying to collect himself, and you realized that he'd been flustered. By you. A wave of pride flooded your stomach, and you bit your lip as your smile grew wider. You weren't usually so forward, and it had surprised you too, but you were glad it came out. "Okay. Let me just, uh, find my brain."

"You left it over there, on the floor. With your shirt." You smirked at him and his eyes narrowed at the playful teasing. He bent down to place both his hands on either side of you on the cart, caging you in as he leaned closer to you and pressed his forehead to yours. He gave a slight push of his hips against you, just to make you aware of how much you were affecting him, before cupping one of your breasts in his hand and letting out a breath. He took your nipple in his fingers and rolled it gently. You moaned at his touch, your thighs spreading a little wider.

The sound was affirmation enough for him to take your other nipple in his mouth, and you leaned into his touch as he circled his tongue around you. His teeth grazed over it, biting just slightly and making you whimper with need. You could feel him smirk against your skin, and he slid his free hand down to your stomach, then lower. His fingers grazed over your jeans and pressed firmly against you through the thick denim.

He paused with his hand right above your waistband and he lifted his head to look into your eyes. He was clearly trying to make sure that he wasn't overstepping any boundaries and was silently asking for permission to keep going.

"You can always say no." His voice was barely more than a whisper as his fingers played with the button of your pants, not wanting to rush you.

You didn't hesitate, just leaned into him and whispered, "Please touch me. Please."

He gave a low groan, pressing a hard kiss to your lips and biting down on your lower lip, before breaking away and dropping his gaze to your jeans. You watched, biting your lip as he flicked open the button, pulling down the zipper, and slipping his fingers underneath the fabric of both your jeans and your underwear. He dragged a single finger over the slick, swollen heat between your legs, and you let out a shaky breath. He sucked in a breath, clearly affected, and then dipped his finger lower to stroke along your entrance. You shivered, letting out a low moan and trying to pull him closer.

You felt his breath hot on your shoulder as his other hand moved to tug the rest of your pants off, giving him easier access to you.

"So wet already," he breathed, and the feel of his lips moving against the soft skin of your shoulder made your thighs twitch, the tension of anticipation nearly overwhelming. He traced circles around your entrance with one finger before pushing in slowly. His movements were cautious at first, gauging your reaction as he worked up a slow pace. But it wasn't enough, not when you'd been craving the release for what felt like forever. You spread your thighs, trying to pull him closer.

"More," you breathed, gripping his wrist to guide him deeper, faster, harder. Steve gave a low moan as his finger curled inside you, finding that one spot that made your whole body ache with pleasure. He added a second finger, pushing deep and pumping into you again and again as you ground your hips up to meet him, chasing the feeling, desperate for more. You looked up to find him watching you, his lips parted and his pupils blown wide.

He leaned down to kiss you again, and the change in angle sent a new wave of heat through your core, a whimper escaping you. His free hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you into him and holding you steady as he pressed his thumb to your clit. You cried out at the new sensation, and Steve broke the kiss to let you breathe, his lips still pressed against yours, your breath mingling in the space between. His eyes locked on yours, he curled his fingers again and began working them in earnest, the heel of his palm pressed hard against you as his fingers pushed deeper and deeper with every thrust.

The pleasure was building, every nerve on fire as your orgasm neared, every stroke of his hand, every graze of his thumb making the tension build higher. His fingers moved faster, and you moaned his name, clinging to his shoulder, his arm, your hips rising to meet his hand.

"You're like...way too good at this..." You breathed between whimpers. Steve grinned, slowing his movements and teasing you.

"Well, I do have a pretty decent reputation..."

You gave a frustrated growl at the sudden slow down.

"Steve," you whined.

He chuckled softly. "Mm-mm," he hummed against your ear, nipping at it as he slowly slid his fingers out. "Not so fast."

"Are you... you're really doing this? Now?" you panted, incredulous. You needed more of him, more of his touch, more of the release you had been so close to, but now he was denying you? You opened your eyes, watching as he grinned down at you while he began to unbutton his jeans, still wearing a smug expression as he slowly pushed them down over his hips and down his legs. Your eyes darted from his face to the obvious bulge in his boxers as you swallowed.

"You want to keep complaining?" He asked, pulling down the boxers a little before taking himself in his hand and slowly pumping once, twice. His eyes never left yours, the grin you were used to seeing every day coming back "Because we can stop."

You couldn't even pretend to be angry as your gaze flicked between his face and his cock.

"Oh. You are... that's..." you stammered, taking a second to drink in the sight of him, so close but still so far from where you needed him. The smug grin turned genuine at your reaction and he pumped himself a few more times as if he was putting on a show for you. He let go of himself to slide his boxers all the way down and then stepped out of them to kick them to the side. He put his hands on sides of the cart and gave it a small shove, testing its durability, which illicited a small laugh from you.

"What's wrong? Not confident that we can stay in one piece for a few more minutes?" You teased. He scoffed in mock offense, giving you a quick kiss that lingered as he pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth.

"It's just precaution. Don't want you complaining if I get too excited and end up breaking this thing." He pulled away slowly, looking at the cart for a moment, thinking. "Actually, maybe I can—"

You wrapped a leg around his waist before he could finish his thought, pulling him to you so he was nestled perfectly against your hips. "You could also start with taking these off me," you suggested, grabbing the sides of your panties and tugging at the fabric. Steve let out a breath, his hands immediately moving to help you, though his mind was clearly distracted by what he wanted to do next. You watched as he pulled down the fabric over your hips, then your thighs, before dropping it on top of your jeans. His eyes trailed over the newly exposed skin, a look of pure desire on his face, his gaze hungry.

"God," he breathed. "You are..."

But you never found out what he was going to say, because your impatient hands had found him again, and you were pumping him slowly, watching him shiver in anticipation. His fingers dug into your hips, his mouth dropping open slightly, his gaze locked on yours as you moved, letting the feeling of your touch overwhelm him for a moment before he pulled your hand away with a small chuckle.

"Fuck. I almost forgot..." He bent to find his jeans and fished around in his back pocket. When he pulled his wallet free, your eyes went wide as you realized what he was getting. He held the square, foil wrapper in front of him.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he went to open the wrapper with his teeth.

"You brought a condom to work with you? Why would you ever think you'd need it here? In Family Video?" You questioned as he opened the packet, spitting the excess foil to the side, before looking at you with a lopsided smile.

"What, you think I put it there just in case we ran out of videos to restock? I had it there for after work one day, just in case," he explained as if it was the most obvious thing. You rolled your eyes, smiling and giving a slight laugh. "I mean, not with you. Not like... I had it there just in case I went on a date." He paused to wince a little. "Wait, no, that doesn't sound any better, does it?"

"I get what you're trying to say," you reassured him as you laughed a little harder, before the conversation took a slightly serious turn.

You glanced between the condom he was holding in his hand, and him. He was hard, aching even, and he looked desperate for your touch. You felt a small wave of pride that you could turn him on so much, and that you had the opportunity to be with him like this. To touch him and be touched.

You licked your lips, then said, "Put it on."

You felt like a teenager again, waiting with bated breath while he carefully slipped on the condom, his own breath shuddering as his fingers moved along his cock. When he finished, he leaned over you, caging you against the shelf once again with his arms on either side of your waist.

"For the record, I was hoping to take you on a date before… this happened. After work some time. Y'know, really take you out. Watch a movie with you, get dinner, go back to my car," He whispered the last bit into your ear, before kissing it gently and adding, "maybe get you in the backseat. But we can save that for another night."

You were too caught up in the feel of him against you to fully process what he just implied. A second night. This wouldn't just be a one time thing, you'd get to do this again... and maybe more?

Before you could react to that, you felt Steve line up at your entrance and your brain seemed to go on autopilot, your focus shifting to how you were about to get exactly what you needed. Your legs parted a little more, your heels resting against the lower shelves for leverage, your back arching slightly so your chest pressed against his. He paused there, looking down at you for a moment. Your breath caught at his expression—he was watching you intently, his gaze fixed on your face, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed.

"You want this, right?" The genuine question took you aback. The vulnerability was back in his eyes, and it suddenly became clear to you how nervous he was. "I just want to be sure this isn't—"

"Steve," you said, cupping his face in your hand. "Yes. I want this."

His breath left him in a rush as his lips curled into a smile, his relief clear. Then he gave a slight push of his hips and began to slide into you. His cock started to stretch you out, his length filling you inch by inch, and you whimpered at the feeling, the sensation of him inside you so overwhelming after having gone so long without being with anyone yourself. Steve stopped, his head falling to your shoulder as he groaned.

"Oh, god... you feel... Jesus, you're—" he was breathing hard, his chest pressed to yours, his hands gripping the shelf. His cock pulsed inside you, and you were trembling from the tension of it, the sweet ache of being filled, the need to have him buried in you fully. You slid your hands up his back and wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close to you as possible. He let out a ragged breath, then pressed a soft kiss to the curve of your neck, just below your jaw.

"Are you okay? Is it too much? We can stop—"

"I'm okay, just please—"

"What? Anything, just say—"

"Please keep going. Please," you whimpered. Your thighs twitched around him and you tried to pull him deeper, your body aching for him, for release. The angle was different and new, and it felt incredible. "I need more... please, I want you, all of you... "

Your words spurred him on. His mouth found your neck, sucking lightly at the spot just below your ear as he slowly thrust deeper, and deeper, until he was buried inside you. You felt your inner muscles stretch to accommodate his size, the pressure making you gasp as your legs quivered and your body flushed. Steve groaned, his breathing ragged, his body taut as he waited for you to adjust, every muscle in his back tense.

"God, I don't know how long I can hold out," he whispered.

"Then don't," you said. Your nails dug into his skin and you clenched around his cock. Steve bit down on your shoulder as he began to thrust in long, hard strokes, the friction making your legs tremble as you tried to keep up.

He pressed you to him, his arm looped under your waist, pulling you down on his length, the slow slide making you see stars. His hand snaked down between you, finding your clit and stroking you as he began to pick up the pace, the pressure building with every thrust. His moans were quieter now, more breathy as he drove into you over and over, the rhythm steady as he fucked you in time to the thud of the shelf against the wall.

You could feel yourself approaching the edge, every nerve tingling, every inch of you burning for release. The pressure of his body on yours, the way he moved, his moans, his scent, his hands—everything was pushing you higher, faster. His cock twitched inside you and you moaned, your own orgasm building with every stroke, every thrust, every touch. His pace became more erratic as you moved against him, your legs spread, your back arched, the angle deep and intense.

"I'm... fuck, I'm going to..." he managed between pants. "I want you... to come first..."

The way his voice shook, his hips stuttering with the effort of holding himself back, made your chest swell. He wanted you to finish before him, he wanted you to feel good. And it did, it felt good—so good, too good. Your heart hammered in your chest, the pressure of it making you feel like it might burst. He pushed harder, his fingers moving faster on your clit.

"Steve—" His name escaped your lips, breathy, as your body started to unravel. The tension in your core built higher, your hips jerking, the shelf hitting the wall harder. Your vision blurred as a wave of pleasure rolled through you, and you gasped his name again as you came around him, your body shuddering. Your muscles clamped down hard, making his pace stutter as he tried to push through. Steve groaned, his forehead resting on yours, his fingers digging into your side. He kept his pace even, thrusting through the aftershocks and holding you through your release, his mouth hovering near yours as he panted and moaned. You slid your arms to his back and raked your nails down, dragging your hands across the planes of his body, reveling in how his muscles twitched as your touch moved along his spine and to his ass, and you pulled him in deeper.

The angle was different now, the pressure intense as his pace sped up and he started chasing his own orgasm, his cock filling you up completely and sliding against every inch of you, sending another wave of pleasure through you. He looked so beautiful above you, his hair disheveled and falling in front of his face, his expression pinched as his pace increased. You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him closer and pressed a soft kiss to his neck. The tender touch made him shiver, and he pushed in hard and fast, his whole body going tense as his cock pulsed, the waves of his own release flooding through him. He moaned softly and your name tumbled from his lips.

For a moment you stayed there, his arms around you, his face pressed into your shoulder. Then, as the aftershocks ebbed away, he pulled out, giving you one last slow stroke as he did so. The loss of his touch made you whimper. You felt so empty now, aching for him, and you couldn't help but feel a little vulnerable at the thought of him pulling away from you. Steve stayed close for a moment longer, kissing you softly, tenderly, and you could feel your heart clench. He wasn't rushing off, he wasn't pushing you away. He was taking care of you.

Your body hummed with the lingering buzz of pleasure as Steve pulled off the condom, knotted the end, and threw it into the wastebasket in the corner, grinning proudly when it landed in the trash.

"Nice," he said, nodding as if impressed with himself. "And with my left hand, no less. Maybe I should have tried for pro basketball."

He was being a dingus again. A post-sex dingus, but still, a dingus. And it was such a relief.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, watching him carefully as he found his discarded clothing on the ground and began getting dressed. You had no idea what would come after, what the dynamic of things would be. What were the rules here? The guys you'd been with in the past didn't stick around to help you get dressed. You just put on your clothes, left the guys to clean up their mess, and went home.

"So," you said, taking your time to gather your own clothes from the bottom of the cart, putting your underwear on first. "Now what?"

He gave you a small grin, buttoning his pants as you grabbed your bra. "Now..." he trailed off, as if in thought. You slipped your bra over your arms, reaching back to do the clasps as best you could with limited reach. Steve noticed you struggling, and stepped towards you. He reached a hand up, motioning for you to turn around so that he could help you.

You did as he instructed, turning so that he had easy access to the hooks. His fingers grazed along the skin on your back as he slowly clasped each of them together. Once he finished, his hands slid up to your shoulders and he turned you around to face him again. You smiled up at him as you continued to put on your bra, adjusting yourself slightly. He didn't pull back right away. He kept his hands on you, running his thumbs across the fabric on your shoulders, a content smile on his face as he stared at you.

"What is it?" you asked, noticing that he seemed to be stuck in his head. He didn't answer you right away. His smile widened and he leaned down, kissing you gently. It was so soft and slow, that you forgot what you had asked him to begin with. All you could think about was his mouth on yours, and his hands on your waist, and the smell of his cologne and sweat, and the way his hair was completely messed up. He pulled away after a moment and you blinked, dazed.

"Nothing," he answered after what seemed like forever. "Just... this."

"This?" you asked. You could feel your heart racing again. He was still smiling, and he kissed you once more before pulling away and reaching down to pick up his shirt.

"This. You and me," he said, as if the answer was obvious. He pulled his shirt over his head and cocked his head at you as you began to put your jeans on, not answering. "Unless you didn't... I mean, I kind of assumed... unless you just wanted to forget this happened? That's not really my thing, but I mean, it's okay, we could pretend if—"

"I like you." It just blurted out of you and he froze, looking surprised. You realized you were holding your breath. He blinked.

"Really?"

"Really. But I mean... I know you like to take girls out, so maybe this was just a—"

"You really don't know me that well, do you?" he laughed. Your heart was hammering.

"What do you mean?" you asked cautiously. You'd said too much. He was going to take it back now. You knew he would.

"I mean..." he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, but he didn't look like he wanted to back down. "I'm not just gonna... y'know, get with you at work and then bail on you. I like you, I like... being around you. A lot. I wanna keep doing it. Just in other places. Like outside of this shithole. And definitely without my uniform on. I mean, unless you're into that. I could probably bring my uniform home."

Your mind was going in about twenty directions at once, and it took you a second to process what he'd just said. He'd never... he liked being around you. And he wanted to take you out. You realized your mouth was open slightly and you closed it, biting your lip and feeling a wave of relief.

"You like me?" you repeated. "Not... you actually want to be around me?"

Steve stared at you for a second, a mix of disbelief and concern on his face, like you were the biggest idiot in the world for doubting him. Then his eyes narrowed, like he'd suddenly understood. He grabbed your waist again and pulled you back into him, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Are you telling me I'm so bad at flirting you didn't realize I've had a crush on you for the past four months? Are you kidding me?" He laughed a little at that. "You're actually insane. I thought it was so obvious..."

"I... what?" you stammered. "No! I had no idea."

"I mean," Steve started, pulling away slightly as he began to run through the list of times he'd been blatantly obvious in his interest for you, "I'm always trying to spend more time with you, asking you about yourself, finding stupid ways to make you smile or laugh or just... you know... pay attention to you... and like, the way I talk about you. Robin constantly call me out on it." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up a little more, which somehow only added to how endearing he looked.

"Well..." you mumbled, feeling your cheeks redden, "I just thought it was, y'know. Steve Harrington being Steve Harrington. Being a flirt."

Steve stared at you in silence for a moment, looking slightly disappointed that you were that clueless.

"Wait... do you really not know? About—" he looked up to the ceiling, and let out a short huff of air, before he looked back at you with his eyebrows raised. "The flirting, the winking, the talking about my parents not being home? Like... is it actually not obvious?"

Your face fell as you thought back on all the interactions the two of you had over the past few months, trying to pick up on clues. Had you really missed every hint that he had been dropping? You wanted to bury your head in your hands. You wanted the ground to swallow you up. But... he was still here. Still smiling. Still standing close and looking at you with the same interest that he'd had the whole night, since you had walked through the front door.

"You argue with me about everything, though," you said with a laugh, thinking of the many debates that the two of you had over what was a good movie, what was a bad one, which character in a movie was the hottest, if the latest rom com was really that good (spoiler: it wasn't), or even over the smallest, dumbest things that didn't even matter. "If I hadn't known you, I'd think that we just didn't like each other."

"That's just the chemistry," Steve shrugged, "You think I argue with all my coworkers about every little thing? Please." He chuckled as you blushed and shook your head, before he took another step closer to you, closing the distance between the two of you. "I like getting a rise out of you. You get so annoyed when you're trying to argue your point but can't think of the words. It's really cute."

You playfully nudged him with your elbow, before you finally put on the last of your clothes. Steve did the same, and when you looked down, you were both fully dressed. There was no trace that either of you had just fucked each other senseless a few moments ago. You glanced back up at him as he adjusted his vest.

"Lets go finish that deposit and then get the hell out of here."

You followed him back to the register, and he took the deposit bag and signed it, passing it to you. He waited patiently as you double checked to make sure that the deposit slip and the money matched. Once everything was correct, he gave a nod.

"Looks good. Ready to lock up?" he asked.

You nodded, and you both went to the breakroom to punch out. He opened the door for you, and you punched out on your time clock and gathered your things. You put your vest in your locker and closed it, turning around to see that Steve had already waited for you, patiently leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. You walked past him and out of the door, flipping the light switch as you walked out.

Whe you were outside the store, Steve locked the doors, then took the key and tossed it up and caught it. He turned and started walking backwards in the direction of the parking lot, as you headed to the bike rack to unlock your bike. Steve turned around, thinking you were right behind him and when he saw you at the bike rack, he spoke again.

"What are you doing? Are you riding that?"

"Um. Yes?" you raised an eyebrow, giving him a strange look as if to question what his problem was. "That's the plan. It's how I usually get home from work."

"It's freezing and it's late and I'm not letting you ride that back." He was being insistent. "No."

"Um. Yeah? It's really not that bad. I have a coat."

"Get in the car, leave your bike chained up. I have a morning shift tomorrow, I'll make sure it's there" he insisted, "Please? It's already past ten."

"Steve."

"C'mon. Just get in." he shrugged, his keys jingling in his hands. He wasn't going to budge and you were starting to get annoyed.

"It's really not—"

"Get in the damn car already." He rolled his eyes at you, clearly not buying the argument that you could get home by yourself and in one piece. It was dark outside, and a bit chilly, but that wasn't exactly uncommon for Hawkins. You sighed. You knew you wouldn't win this battle and it wasn't worth it to continue to argue.

"Fine. But just for the record, it's not that cold and I would have been fine. You know that."

"Mhm. Sure." Steve grinned, leading the way to the parking lot. When you got there, you stopped and glanced at all the empty cars and he frowned, before he gave a laugh of relief when he saw his BMW in the back corner. He unlocked the doors, you both climbed inside and he started the engine. He drove out of the parking lot, turning right onto the main street. You leaned your head on the window, your mind still spinning with the events of the last hour. Steve Harrington wanted you. You wanted Steve Harrington. This wasn't a one time thing, you could do this again. It was really happening.

As your eyes closed, you thought about the conversation you'd just had and something clicked. Steve's comment about him having a crush on you for months finally sank in. Your head whipped towards Steve in the driver's seat and you stared at him, as if you hadn't seen him in this light before. You couldn't help but stare. He was... perfect. He was absolutely, flawlessly beautiful and you just couldn't believe that someone like him could be so infatuated with someone like you. You leaned back in your seat, watching him carefully as he drove. You felt like you were going to burst, or pass out. You'd never been more attracted to someone before, but there was something else there. It felt more intense, more intense than it had felt before with anyone else. You felt your face turn a few shades of pink again as you thought of him.

The ride to your house wasn't a long one. Hawkins wasn't exactly known for being large, after all, and you didn't live too far from the store. Before you knew it, you were parked on the side of the road right in front of your driveway. You smiled at the sight of the familiar streetlight flickering every now and then. Home.

"Thanks," you mumbled quietly, as Steve put the car in park. "I... I mean... um, yeah, just... thanks." You fidgeted a little with the seatbelt strap and he nodded at you. He didn't move to take his hand off the wheel.

"Yeah... so," Steve gave a slight sigh as he leaned back, finally looking away from the windshield and meeting your eyes again. "Can we go back to talking about the whole you having no clue thing, because... I gotta be honest with you. I don't think I've ever been this embarrassed in my life. You thought I was just..."

You stared at him for a second, watching the way he spoke, watching how animated he was as he explained his side of the story, as if it had actually been some huge deal that you didn't notice him pining over you. The thought of it was... sweet, and it was such a contrast from what you thought you knew about him before. He really cared about how you felt.

"You know that I would never use you, right?" Steve continued. "Like I really like you. I think I made that pretty clear at the store, but like, if I made you uncomfortable or—"

You reached forward and took his hand in yours. You took it gently at first, testing to see his reaction, before he took your hand in return. He glanced down at where your fingers laced together, as his thumb moved over your skin.

"Steve," you interrupted softly, and his head tilted up to look back at you again. He had been rambling.

"Hm?" He asked, clearly unsure of how to react to what you just said. He watched as you brought his hand up to your mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his hand. When your gaze met his again, you smiled, feeling the warmth of your breath on his hand, your nose brushing against him.

"Take me out." It was a request, a gentle demand, as if he didn't know that you would follow him anywhere at this point.

He grinned at that. The idea was definitely appealing. You saw the wheels turning in his head, imagining all the places that you could go on a date. What movies you could see, which ones would be worth sitting through for two hours with you, and which ones wouldn't. You were certain he had the entire month mapped out already.

"Can I pick you up at five on Saturday? There's this drive in theatre down the next town over." Steve offered, his eyes lit up with excitement.

"Yeah, I'm off on Saturday."

"I know. I've been staring at that calendar in the breakroom all week. I know all the dates you have off." Steve explained, as you looked at him in awe, with your mouth hanging open in surprise. "What? I wasn't lying back there. I had been planning to ask you out."

He didn't seem ashamed to admit it either, as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then brushed his fingers over your cheek, as if to check that you were really there. You leaned into the touch and he smiled, letting out a content sigh. He took your hand and pulled you towards him, pressing his lips to your temple.

"I should get inside, my parents are probably wondering why I'm home from work so late." You whispered, looking up at Steve, whose face fell. He pulled you a little closer to him, leaning his head down to meet you, as if he didn't want you to leave.

"Saturday." He said it more to remind himself than to remind you. "I'll pick you up here."

"I'll be ready. Promise." you grinned, and he nodded in confirmation. With that, he gave you one final kiss, pressing his lips gently to yours for what felt like an eternity, but ended up only being about three seconds, before letting you go. He sat back up, putting the car back into drive, as you reached for the door handle.

"Have a good night."

"Yeah. You too." Steve smiled as he put the car back in drive.

---

extra lil bonus scene for the platonic!Stobin lovers:

The next morning at Family Video, Steve leaned lazily against the counter, flipping through a stack of tapes with all the enthusiasm of a kid forced to do summer homework. Robin, meanwhile, was loading the last of the returns into a cart, muttering about how she always got the worst tasks.

“You could at least pretend to help,” Robin said, giving him a pointed look as she pushed the cart toward the back.

“I’m on very important rewinder duty,” Steve replied, smirking as he leaned back against the counter.

Robin rolled her eyes. “You’re on very important doing nothing duty.”

She disappeared into the aisles, her voice carrying back to him as she headed toward the adult section. “Why do I always get stuck with the beaded curtain of doom? I didn’t sign up to alphabetize Hawkins’ finest porn collection !”

“Because you’re the captain, and I’m just a humble first mate,” Steve called after her, grinning to himself.

A moment later, Robin’s horrified yell shattered the calm.

“STEVE!”

Steve’s heart leapt into his throat as he sprinted toward the back, shoving through the beads to find Robin standing stock-still, staring at the trash can with a look of utter disgust.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, panting slightly.

Robin pointed at the trash can like it was radioactive. “There is a used condom in the trash can!”

Steve froze, his stomach dropping. “Uh…”

Robin turned to him, her expression a mix of shock and dawning realization. “Wait. Wait. Harrington. No. Tell me you didn’t—”

“I—it’s not what it looks like!” Steve stammered, raising his hands in defense. “I mean, technically, it is what it looks like, but it’s not like that!”

Robin’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. Oh my God, you and—wait— you and her?! In the adult section?!”

“No! Well… yes. But it wasn’t—it was after close!” Steve groaned, running a hand through his hair, clearly panicking. “And it wasn’t planned ! It just… happened!”

Robin stared at him, blinking slowly. Then, she tilted her head. “So let me get this straight. You, Steve Harrington, had sex here, surrounded by titles like Butt Bandits 3 and Debbie Does Dallas? ”

Steve’s face turned bright red as he buried his face in his hands. “Please don’t say it like that.”

Robin then let out a bark of laughter. “Steve, do you have any idea how lucky you are that I found this and not Keith? Can you even imagine? He’d have a field day!”

Steve groaned again, his face still buried in his hands. “Please, don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m not joking!” Robin said, laughing harder now. “You’d never live it down. He’d probably give you some gross high-five and call you ‘stud’ every time he saw you.”

“God, please stop. I’m already dying of embarrassment.”

Robin folded her arms, a wicked grin on her face. “Oh, I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. Who even does this? At work, Steve? In the adult section? What, were you inspired by the ambiance?”

“It wasn’t planned!” Steve repeated, throwing his head back. “It just… happened!”

Robin smirked. “Oh, I’m sure it just happened. ”

“Robin,” Steve said, glaring at her. “Please. I’m begging you. Just pretend this didn’t happen.”

Robin pretended to consider it, then shrugged. “Fine. But you’re taking the trash out.”

“What? No way!”

“Oh, yes way,” she said, shoving the trash can toward him. “You made this mess. Literally. Now deal with it.”

Steve sighed dramatically, grabbing the trash can and stomping toward the back door as Robin’s laughter echoed behind him.

As he reached the exit, Robin called after him, her voice dripping with amusement. “Oh, and for the record? Since she clearly likes you back, maybe next time, take her somewhere that doesn’t smell like old popcorn and desperation!”

Steve froze mid-step, turning to glare at her. “Robin!”

She just grinned, wiggling her fingers in a wave. “Have fun with the trash, lover boy!”

Steve groaned loudly, stomping outside as Robin’s laughter rang through the store, the last thing he heard before the door slammed shut.

[babybl00s]

all i need

warnings: smut, kiss kiss fall in love, dry humping (hell yeah) mdni 18+, explicit language etc.

summary: you’ve been working as congressman barnes’ assistant since the start of his campaign. bob has had a thing for you since you showed up one night, giving barnes hell for leaving alpine at your door. he’s smitten, you’re kind of oblivious, and it all comes to a head when bucky has to head out for another mission. (f!reader)

author's note: this is my first smut fic go easy on me. may write a part two to this idk. crossposted on ao3!

update: part two here

It seems like the past few weeks have been filled with nothing but endless stacks of paperwork. You wagered that if you’d stack them all together it’d rival the size of the Empire State Building. You’re so delirious from lack of sleep one night that you almost attempt to test that theory. the thought of it toppling over and you having to reorganize it sobered you up pretty quick, though.

Regardless, it’s a lot. And if it’s not paperwork, it’s responding to emails, and if it’s not responding to emails, it’s warding off the press so your boss doesn’t stumble over his words. Again. He’s gotten better at it, actually, once you’ve given him a bare-bones script of how to give neutral responses that make it seem like he’s saying something of value. Typical politician jargon.

The soft hum of the office today is appreciated. You’d gotten through a bulk of your work last night, so you only have to sift through a couple of files today. Your cubicle is directly in front of Bucky’s office, the paneling high enough to give you some privacy but low enough that you can catch someone slacking off. Decorated with fairy lights and photos of your friends, your dog Ladybug, one of you and Bucky the day he got sworn in. A splash of color in this otherwise grey hellscape.

It’s busy, as it usually is, but not the type of busy that demands frequent coffee runs, or god forbid another all-nighter. The pace is steady, consistent. Your phone buzzes, and you take a quick peek at the screen - Bucky has a meeting in half an hour. You sigh, capping the end of your highlighter and neatly organizing the stack of papers before you. You’d hoped that you didn’t have to bring work home with you again, but that probably was asking too much. 

The file containing information about today’s meeting and Bucky’s talking points are stored securely in the bottom drawer of your desk, which you pull out. You stand, clutching the file to your chest, smoothing out the folds of your skirt and tugging it so it’s properly mid-thigh. You grab your purse and stuff it with the rest of the paperwork you’d been working on, careful not to crease anything. 

Bucky’s at his desk when you peer through the glass, preparing his own notes for the meeting. Two quick raps at the door gather his attention, and he motions for you to enter when he sees it’s you. 

“You have a meeting in 30,” you tell him as you hand the file over to him.

“Thanks,” he gruffs, flipping through the pages. A sense of pride swells within you. You keep the door open as he grabs his stuff, letting it shut behind you as he walks through the office. 

You peruse through his schedule as you follow him to the town car. “After that you have lunch with Congresswomanman Diaz; she’s nice, her wife’s a preschool teacher and they have three kids.”

He leans his head back against the headrest, eyes closed, but you know he’s still listening. You’ve been working for Bucky since the start of his campaign, which was just about a year ago now. You were fresh out of grad-school, desperate for a job. You’d stumbled on an ad online, not expecting much. Imagine your surprise when you went in for the interview and it was freakin’ James Buchanan Barnes in front of you. 

(You’d almost squealed like a schoolgirl in front of him, but you kept your cool. You didn’t want your potential boss to know you had a crush on him when you were younger).

You’d landed the job and you’re here, a year later, helping keep him afloat and bridging the gap between him and his constituents. He’s a chill boss, lets you take the day off whenever you want (although, he has to kinda force you to take those breaks). He actually cares about the people of Brooklyn, fights for them. Listens to your advice, comes to you with questions. Trusts you to keep an eye on his cat, Alpine, when he’s on missions.

It’s a pretty solid gig.

“We’re here,” you announce as the car comes to a stop. He’s the first to hop out of, opening your door for you before you can even unbuckle yourself. You thank him as you step out, smoothing your skirt as you shoulder your bag on. 

Thankfully, his meeting goes by pretty smoothly. He follows your talking points and you’re able to sit on the side and take a couple of notes on your laptop. 

He drops you off at the office before his lunch with Congresswoman Diaz. You take the time to have a quick bite yourself before diving back into work.

It’s the end of the workday and the sun is setting. Bucky never came back from his lunch but you’re not surprised; he tends to go home after he’s had a meeting anyways. Most of the office headed out a bit early too, having finished their work. The office is quieter now, but you’ve just wrapped up the final stack of paperwork so you can finally head home with a clear mind and probably a good night’s rest.

The bus ride to your apartment in Bushwick is uneventful. You see a couple of familiar faces and give them polite smiles, but otherwise mind your business until you reach your stop.

When you enter the lobby, you find that the elevator is busted for like, the millionth time this month. You sigh. It could be worse; you’re on the third floor, which isn’t too bad. But you’ve been wearing these heels all day and they’re starting to pinch your feet. You trek along anyways, wincing until you reach the final step.

Your phone buzzes in your hand. It’s Joaquin, the Falcon (!!!) himself asking if you could relay a message to Bucky. You’re halfway through your message when you see it, sitting at your front door.

Alpine’s carrier. With Alpine in it, meowing at you.

Oh, you could kill Bucky. 

You hit send on your message to Joaquin. Muttering under your breath as you unlock your front door, picking up Alpine as you step into your apartment. You set her on your couch, opening her carrier and watching as she steps out and gives a big stretch, scratching up your furniture like she owns the place. 

The soft sound of nails along your floorboard makes your ears perk up. You feel Ladybug’s form pressing along your thighs, her body wiggling in excitement.

“Hi, Lady,” you coo, turning to greet her appropriately. She pants, wagging her tail in excitement.

You’d adopted her from the shelter not long after you began working for Bucky. A tiny black puppy, shivering in fear in the corner of her kennel. Unusual for a Lab. She pulled at your heartstrings and although you swore you wouldn’t take in a puppy, she had won you over. She’s been thriving at your side ever since.

Luckily, she was still a puppy when you started cat-sitting for Bucky, so she loves the cat like her own. Alpine tolerates her, but you don’t blame her. Ladybug can be a lot sometimes.

Unluckily for Bucky, you were going to murder him. 

Cat sitting Alpine was supposed to have been a one-time deal. Months ago, he had dropped the cat off at your doorstep with a bag of her food and nothing else. No note, no text. Nothing. You hadn’t even known he was dropping her off in the first place. You’d grown up with cats, so you knew how to care for her. So it was fine, in that aspect. Ladybug was a quick learner, so that wasn’t a problem either. 

What you did not appreciate, however, was the lack of communication from Bucky.

So, after a long day of writing emails and drafting up speeches for him, you were fed up. You (stupidly) had left your apartment and drove all the way to Downtown Manhattan, to the Watchtower. Because if he wasn’t at his apartment in Brooklyn, this was the next best guess.

And there he was, lounged up on the sofa with the other members of The New Avengers. Watching a goddamn movie.

But you didn’t see that; you saw red. You had torn Bucky a new one, right there, in front of everyone. Telling him how irresponsible it was, leaving his cat unattended on your doorstep. You, a new grad, tearing into the Winter Soldier himself. When the anger faded you had been mortified, mentally preparing for the worst. Fired. Killed. You were so embarrassed, you’d hoped it was the latter.

Alexei, the Red Guardian, had broken the silence with his booming laughter. “Oh, Winter Soldier, you are so shaken. Like little kitten left out in the cold. Never seen you so scared.” He’d wiped a tear from his eye, body still shaking with laughter. “That was good.”

Bucky had explained to you he had a mission the next day, and didn’t have anyone to watch Alpine. It had slipped his mind. He promised to never do that again, and you kept your job (somehow). 

He hadn’t done it again. Until now.

You should probably let it go. Would, normally. But you’re running on fumes and obviously not thinking clearly because somehow you’ve found yourself at the Watchtower. Again.

You tap your foot impatiently as the elevator brings you to their common room. You can already see him now, sprawled out on the couch sipping on a beer. And if he wasn’t there then you’d march to his bedroom and give him a piece of your mind.

“Barnes,” you fumed as you step out, “what have I told you about -”

You pause. Bucky’s not here. But the figure on the couch jumps at your entrance and turns to you with wide eyes.

“H-hey. Hi,” Bob stutters out, “you’re - wow, um - you’re here.” He stands up and picks up the remote from somewhere on the couch and pauses the movie he’s watching.

Your shoulders drop, and a smile replaces the frown you’d been sporting. “Hey, Bob,” you greet sweetly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I was…looking for Bucky. He left Alpine at my place. Without telling me. Again.”

Bob gives you a nod, understanding. He had been there the first time you blew up on Bucky. Kinda hard to forget. But you’d been so terrified afterwards that you didn’t really pay much attention to your surroundings. 

But then he was kinda always there, not that you minded. A little awkward, but always so kind to you. Cute, too, which was definitely a bonus. Had that nerdy white boy charm that you definitely fell victim to many times in your life. You’d climb him like a tree if he let you.

You haven’t spent that much one-on-one time with him, given your job. And him being a superhero-in-training, or whatever limbo he’s in right now. But the time you have spent with him showed you he was thoughtful, caring. Came to visit Bucky a few times, bringing snacks for him and the whole office. He’d always sneak in a couple more of your favorites, for you to take home and enjoy later, which you were ever so grateful for. 

Sometimes you’d come by the tower, to drop off Bucky’s dry cleaning or an important file he’d left on the desk that he’d need for tomorrow morning’s meeting. And Bob would be there, either in the kitchen whipping up something to eat or by the bookshelf by the floor-to-ceiling windows, sitting on a beanbag chair you’re sure Bucky had you buy. He’d always stop what he was doing, wave to you shyly and pair it with a ‘hi’.

You’re aware of what he’s done. What he…is. A man with more power than the Avengers combined. The guy who made the entire island of Manhattan experience their worst nightmares on repeat. The Blackout.

But you look at him now, in his dark grey sweats and black oversized pullover and a messy head of brown curls and…you can’t see anyone else but Bob. Sweet, soft-spoken Bob.

“He’s not here. They, uh, left. Last minute mission. It’s - it’s just me.” His lips curl up into a smile, but he ducks his head down as if he’s afraid to look at you. You don’t blame him, you kinda stormed in like a bat out of hell.

You sigh, shifting on your feet. You ran all the way over here (lie, you drove here) to give Bucky hell and he’s not even here. And now you’re standing in front of Bob, in your work uniform, probably looking like a lunatic. Ugh. “Any chance he’s coming back soon enough for me to kick his ass?”

That gets a laugh out of him. “I dunno. Maybe. But he’s probably realized by now what he did, right? So he might not be back tonight if he knows that - that you’ll…kick his ass.” You laugh, bringing up a hand to cover your mouth. You don’t see the starry-eyed look Bob sends your way.

You glance down at the time on your watch. It’s getting pretty late. You can kick Bucky’s ass another time, right.

“I should -”

“Did you wanna - sorry, sorry,” he winces, “I didn’t mean to cut you off.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s - you’re fine. Go ahead.”

He takes a minute to respond, looking scared shitless. He wrings his hands together for a bit before he finally says something. “Did you, um, wanna…wanna watch a movie? With - with me?” 

You should probably say no, tell him you have to head back and watch Alpine (even though she’s so self-dependent, you doubt she really needs you) and Ladybug (who’s probably asleep). Tell him you have work to do (which you don’t). That you have work tomorrow (true, but you have a late start). 

This isn’t…appropriate. You think. He’s your boss’ friend. Slash coworker? Which makes him, like, your boss-in-law? Or your boss once-removed. Well, whatever he is, it has to be inappropriate, right? That whole don’t shit where you eat rule definitely has to apply here somewhere.

You take too long to respond, which causes him to back track. He rubs the back of his neck anxiously and adopts a pained expression. “Sorry. That’s - that’s probably weird. You can say no, I was just - I figured that if you came all - all this way, we could -”

“Yes,” you blurt out. He blinks rapidly at your response, unsure if he heard you right. “Yes, I’ll - we can watch. A movie. I don’t - it’s not weird.” Just probably illegal somehow, but you don’t tell him that. You felt bad, what were you supposed to do? Look him in his sad blue eyes and tell him no? You’re not a monster.

You walk over to the couch, your heels clicking softly on the floor. You settle in the spot next to him, on his right side, toeing off your heels as you make yourself comfortable. You almost cry in relief.

Bob sits back down, blanket in his lap as he quietly resumes the movie. The soft light of the TV casts flickering light around the room. Pulp Fiction; a classic. You’d seen it once or twice, enough to know the plot to a degree. Which helps, because your heart is beating out of your chest right now and if Bob were to ask your opinion on the movie you could choke out a believable response. 

Again, cute nerdy guy. Need you say more?

He’s so warm, you could feel his body heat radiating off of him from a foot away. You want to lean into it - lean into him. Your skin feels like it’s buzzing, itching. You shuffle a bit, which catches his attention. He wordlessly shifts in his seat, sitting just a hair closer to you so he can drape the blanket over your stocking covered legs. You feel your face heat up, but thank him regardless. You probably should’ve thrown on a change of clothes before coming here. 

You lean back against the cushions, glancing at him from your peripheral. He’s completely absorbed in the movie, eyes unblinking. You swear you see his eyes sparkle, so you’re glad he’s having a good time.

You think back to the last time you saw Bob. 

It was a couple of weeks ago, at a Gala thrown by Valentina. You were forced invited by Bucky to be his plus-one. It wasn’t exactly your forté, per say. You didn’t like parties all that much - at least, not the stiff, boring ones thrown by people with way too much money. You’d lost sight of Bucky halfway through, which left you alone. In a room full of people you didn’t know.

Fun. 

So you’d sat at a random table, far off from the crowd as you waited for the night to wrap up. Picking at your nails, trying to fight the urge to bite off your press-on’s. Then Bob showed up, in a fitted black and white suit. His hair gelled back, but a few stray curls lay perfectly on his forehead. He cleaned up nicely. 

He took a seat next to you, his lips quirking up into a shy grin. You return one to him, happy to have company. Happy it’s him sitting next to you. 

“You look pretty,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together nervously. You look down at your dress: a black, thin-strapped, square-neck bodice paired with an A-line skirt that brushes along the floor, even with your heels. You feel a rush of heat over your face, flustered.

“Thanks,” you whispered, chewing on your lip in thought. You nudge his knee with yours. “You look nice, too.”

He’d asked you to dance, which you said yes to. He was a pretty good dancer, to your surprise. Never stepped on your feet and kept his hand respectfully on your waist, never straying too high nor too low. It was…nice. Really nice.

And now you’re here, sitting next to him, wondering if he can hear your heart pounding, because you sure can. You can also feel a flutter in your stomach, which. Okay. Not like you’re nervous as it is already. You lean your head back on the couch, angling it so your head is tilted towards him

He chuckles at something that happens on screen and you copy him with one of your own, but it feels empty even to you. You steal another glance, surprised to see that he’s already looking at you.

“Hi,” you whisper softly.

“Hey,” he returns, just as quiet. He looks back at the TV, finding the remote to lower the volume a bit, then leans back on the couch, mirroring your position. He leans on his side, head propped up by the cushions. “I haven’t…haven’t seen you since the party.”

You trace along the pattern of the couch. “Yeah. It’s been a busy month. Lots of paperwork, trying to keep Bucky on track.”

His eyes flicker down to your lips, just for a second. It’s…probably just the reflection from the TV. You both hold each other’s gaze for a moment, the world around you turning to static. The conversation lulls into a tense silence, and you find your breath hitching in your throat. Bob’s expression shifts; his teeth catching his bottom lip. It’s your turn to stare now, blinking back up at him dumbly.

He shifts the tiniest bit more, his knee knocking against yours. 

“Sorry if - if the movie is boring you. I can change it,” but he makes no move for the remote. Keeps his eyes on yours. You trace the flush that develops across his cheeks, down his neck, across his ears. Cute.

You lick your bottom lip. He traces the movement with his eyes. Oh. Okay, so maybe not a trick of the light. You should…probably nip this in the bud. This has to be crossing some sort of professional boundary. Or something, you’re not sure. Bob moves in a little bit closer and it’s kind of hard to think clearly right now. The scent of bergamot overwhelms you.

He raises a hand hesitantly, cups the side of your face tenderly. Rubs your cheekbone with his rough, calloused thumb. Traces it along your cheek, down to your jaw. He cups the back of your neck, stroking your jaw gently. You’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off of your face by now. You bite your lower lip and he follows it again.

He hesitates for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “Can I,” he takes in a shuddering breath, “can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you all but whine. 

He leans in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss is tentative at first, the sudden rush of warmth making a gasp get stuck in your throat. His lips are soft, firm. His nose nudges against yours. 

You kiss him back, just as eagerly, lips moving against his. Your hand finds purchase on his side, your fingertips grazing along the fabric. You lean into him, the warmth of his lips igniting something within you. Your hand travels up and finds its way into the curls that lay nestled at the nape of his neck. He melts, groaning into your mouth, sliding his hand from your jaw to your waist, his pinky stroking your waist. He pulls you in closer, fingers pressing into your skin. Lips pressing harder against yours.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers against your lips, “so so pretty.” He tilts his head, deepening the kiss. The softness gives way to a passionate, hungry intensity that makes you breathless.

“Bob,” you gasp, placing a hand on his chest. You’re starting to get a crick in your neck, but you don’t want to stop kissing him.

“Mm?” he muffles, reaching up to place a hand between your shoulder blades, urging you to fall into him. 

You push away from him, his lips chasing after yours. He breathes heavily, eyes searching yours.

“I’m - I’m sorry,” he stutters, “was that too much? I -” The words die in his throat as you climb onto his lap, your legs straddling his. The blanket tossed onto the ground. His large hands come up to your waist and steady you. 

You wrap both arms around his neck as you pull him in for another kiss, tilting his head back. You feel his lips moving against yours, with a need that mirrors your own. Your fingers find their way into his hair, and his grip on your waist tightens, pulling you even closer. 

He bites your lip and tugs on it, sucking on it. You open your mouth to let out a gasp, and he takes this as an opportunity to lick into your mouth. He groans at the taste of you, pulling you in closer. Heat starts to blossom in your belly. You feel your skirt riding up your thighs but you can’t be bothered to care right now.

The kiss becomes frantic, wild. His hands have traveled lower, one firmly on your thigh, his thumb rubbing the bit of skin that’s been exposed, while the other is at the junction where your hip meets your thigh. 

“Wanted you for so long,” he pulls away to leave a trail of wet kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. Your hands roam over his broad shoulders, your head leaning against his as you try to catch your breath. You don’t know where he’s gotten this confidence but you are not one to complain.

Bob pulls back and cups your face again, his thumb tracing along your kiss-swollen lips. You give his thumb a tiny peck and he groans, pulling you back in for another kiss. Your giggle morphs into a moan, which prompts him to kiss you with even more fervor.

The sound of the movie continues to play softly in the background, but you’re lost in your own world, blurring with every kiss. You can feel Bob’s hands exploring, tracing light patterns along your back as he pulls you even closer, your chest firmly against his. The heat in your belly is starting to simmer, travel; you can feel it all the way down to your fingertips.

You felt a surge of boldness take over. You press yourself against him, your hips meeting his. A playful teasing of your hips against his makes him whine, which you find that you like very much. Like, a lot. His hands grip the skin of your thighs, right where your stockings end. Right where he can feel the flesh of your thighs.

Bob feels like he’s fucking dreaming.

“Please,” he whimpers against your lips, his breathing uneven and desperate. You give another roll of your hips, relishing in the way he throws his head back against the couch and lets out a pained groan. You stamp wet, loving kisses along the side of his throat, biting down at the junction of his neck. His grip on your thighs tightens, bruising. Encourages your hips to continue that delicious rhythm against his. 

You can feel him, below you. Hard, straining against his sweats. Thick. It makes you gasp, stuttering in your movements. The ache between your thighs is becoming unbearable. You press down on him and Bob groans like you’ve killed him.

“Fuck, you’re killing me,” well, maybe you are. His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he breathes harshly through his nose. You study his face for a bit; he’s got nice, long lashes. Fluttering against his cheeks. You roll your hips again.

You squeal as the world seems to turn on its axis, your back meeting the soft cushion of the couch. Feel Bob settle between your legs, your calves pressed against his hips. He’s leaning on his forearms, caging your head between them. Your eyes catch his and you watch in wonder as his irises seem to have a golden hue around them.

“Hi,” you giggle.

“Hey,” he parrots back. Brushes a strand of your hair out of your face. Leaves tiny pecks across your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. Pulls you into another kiss - sweeter, this time, but passionate all the same. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He starts to grind against you, the head of his cock catching against your clit. You whine, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, panting against your skin.

This is so risky. Too risky. Anyone could come back at any second. You could - you could lose your job over this. Maybe. Probably. Hooking up with your boss’ friend is grounds for termination, right? You’d die if Bucky saw you like this.

Bob circles his hips, his length dragging alongside your cunt. Whatever thoughts you were having disappear, too caught up in the pleasure. The friction of his sweatpants against your lacy boyshorts makes you gasp, has you wrapping your legs tighter around him, pulling him closer.

Your hand trails down, rubs along the small of his back. You push up the pullover, your fingers meeting his warm skin. His hips stutter, but continue grinding against you. The couch squeaks quietly beneath you. You can feel just how wet your underwear has gotten, sticky and cold against you. It’s filthy. He’s making a mess of you and you haven’t even taken your clothes off.

You trace along the skin of his defined back. Brush along the ridges of his abdomen, nails catching along his abs. Jesus, sleeper build much? The contact makes Bob moan, and he licks a strip up your neck, biting down and sucking at the skin.

“Bob,” you sob, scrunching your eyes in pleasure as he circles his hips just the right way, “fuck, please. Please.”

He whines, leaving a kiss where he’s left a mark on you and pulling you in for a desperate kiss. You feel his cock throb against your cunt.

“I’ll take care of you, baby, I promise,” his lips brush over yours. His hips jerk desperately, losing the steady pace. He’s becoming frantic. “Dreamt of this for so long. Dreamt of you,” he confesses. You whine, feeling yourself clench around nothing, your thighs trembling.

“Mmph, Bob, Bob,” your fingers weave against his curls, pulling tightly. You feel it building up, the pressure threatening to snap. He’s hard, aching. You’re sure he’s feeling it too. “Fuck. Fuck me, I’m -”

His cock catches on your clit again and you lose it. Your squeal is muffled by his lips smothering yours, your body shuddering as your orgasm wrecks through you. Your thighs clamp around him, your hips canting to help him reach his. He reaches under you and pushes you towards his cock, his hand on the small of your back. Soft, broken whines leave you as he grinds his hips faster against you. It’s - it’s almost too much. 

“You’re so perfect,” he pants. “Fuck,” he chokes out another groan, longer this time, and his hips start to slow down. Ducks his head into your neck and whimpers so loud you could come at the sound of it. You look down and - fuck, that’s so embarrassing. His sweatpants have a wet spot against him, courtesy of you. But you see a little wet spot where the head of his cock is and a sense of pride swells within you.

He presses his lips against you again, slower this time. Like he’s savoring it. He meets your lips again, pushes his tongue in, licking along the roof of your mouth. You moan, nails digging into his shoulders. You feel a bit of drool sliding down your face but he wipes it along your cheek. 

Fuck. He’s so hot it’s ridiculous. 

“M’sorry,” he says through kisses, “if it was, mmph, too - too much,” he sucks on your bottom lip again, making you whimper “did it - did it feel good?”

You could kill him. Here you are, trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm and he’s asking you if it felt good? 

God. It makes you wanna kiss the shit out of him.

You nod against his lips, tugging his face closer to yours. “Mm-hm,” you add, sucking on his tongue. 

He looks like he’s just about ready to make a mess of you again when the elevator dings. He freezes, meeting your bewildered gaze. You spring away from each other, him wiping his face and finding a pillow to hide the mess on his lap, you pulling down your skirt and trying to make yourself look more presentable. But it's too late.

"Hey Bob, Valentina said to - OH MY GOD," Mel hollered, bringing up her clipboard to hide the scene before her. You know you look a mess, swollen lips and mussed up clothes. Bob is no better, face entirely red and refusing to look anyone in the eyes, staring at the TV like the movie didn't end a while ago. "This isn't happening, this isn't happening," you hear Mel mutter to herself. You'd laugh under different circumstances.

Well now you've got nothing to lose. You grab your heels off the floor and scurry to the elevator, apologizing to Mel as you pass her. You press the button that'll take you to the garage. Bob's eyes never leave yours, his hand in front of him like he'd tried to reach out and grab you. The doors close and you give him a pathetic wave, and you have just enough time to see him return it.

You lean against the railing of the elevator, heart racing and toes still tingling.

Fuck. What did you just do?

[sugarcoatedheartt]

luxurious

“ champagne kisses, hold me in your lap of luxury ”

parrings: rich!heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis: in which the intimidatingly rich heeseung is absolutely and undeniably down bad for his sweet little girlfriend

genre: romance, fluff, drabble/headcannon

warnings; vulgar language, suggestive (more towards the end), lowkey kinda subby heeseung

bella/sugars notes: first little writing thing idk💔anyways do we fw the layout??

not proofread!

rich!heeseung who doesnt even care if youre using him or not. hes literally just so down bad that he only cares to have the ability to be close to you and spoil the shit out of you. as long as youre by his side he doesnt care, he’ll be right at your feet. he might not admit it to your face, but the feeling of swiping his card for you really turns him on. the larger the price, the better.

you were at a grand mall with him, one of those ones where it seems you have to be wealthy enough to even look in the direction of (his idea), when you were glancing at a painfully pricey but gorgeous dress for a second too long. being attentive as he is, he notices and leans closer down to your level and says; “you should get it, itll look beautiful on you”. you hum, looking at the price tag and slightly wince at the sight of the four digit number. “yeah, but i dont need it, and i dont want to waste your money on unnecessary things.” he finds it so endearing how youre still worrying about money after all this time. “but you want it, no? dont worry princess, this wont even make a dent in my bank account. go try it on pretty girl.” he replies, gently patting the small of your back before calling over a worker to help you out, not giving you the chance to say anything else.

rich!heeseung who worships the ground you walk on. you ask for anything and he hands it to you on a diamond platter. initially, when you first started dating you were hesitant to ask him for things or favours in fear of him getting the wrong idea about using him, but he insisted so much with those pretty doe eyes in which you only get to see, you couldnt even say no.

youre about to leave to go on a nice date with heeseung at one of those stupidly expensive and fancy restaurants he booked. when you go to put on your pretty heels, he stops dead in his tracks and says; “dont move a muscle.” youre obviously confused but comply before he walks over to you in all his glory and gets down on his knees, picks up a heel and takes your foot with the utmost care and ever so gently slides the shoe onto your foot before taking the other and sliding it on with same amount of gentleness. he gave the top of your soft, exposed foot a feather-light kiss before he looks up at you from the ground like the happiest man alive, and goodness did he feel like it.

rich!heeseung who loovvess calling you adorable pet names. he basks in the way a rosy blush spreads across your soft cheeks as your eyes subtly sparkle when he calls you something sweet. on his part, he just feels so fortunate that he can even be acknowledged by you. he loves the way his name rolls off your tongue, and it sends electric shots through his body when you call him something endearing.

“here’s a small snack angel, i picked out your favourite fruits and biscuits” he says softly as he makes his way towards the couch youre sitting on, plate in hand. he always makes your food for you because he doesnt believe his personal chefs can make it perfect enough for someone as perfect as you. he puts his heart and soul into your meals, even if its small snacks like this. “aww, thank you sweetheart!” you exclaim with a bright smile on your face after tearing your gaze away from the tv, reaching out for the plate. he swears he almost died on the spot by how the butterflies were violently banging against his ribs.

rich!heeseung who cant stand being away from you. he can also only fall asleep in your arms. at first he was able to go off on sleep calling, but it soon got so bad to the point that he has to take you on business trips with him. he just needs to physical contact with you to fall asleep. the way your arms wrap around him, fingers gently threading through his dark locks as he nuzzles into your neck, wanting to be impossibly closer. he loves the way your sweet sugary scent envelopes him and lulls him to sleep.

a smile grows on his face as he finally sees you walking through your shared bedroom door after an eternity (it was 10 minutes), all fresh and finished with your skincare. he scooches over on the bed to make room for you and pulls back the covers to silently invite you in. upon getting into bed, he immediately wraps his arms around your waist and tangling his limbs with yours as his nose nuzzles into your bare neck, smiling against it and taking in the intoxicating scent of your hairwash. you wrap an arm around him in return, using the other to gently scratch your nails against his scalp through his hair, sending shivers down his spine and earning a satisfied hum from him. “goodnight, darling” he says, already half asleep. “sleep well, seungie” you reply, pressing a sweet kiss on his temple. his heart rate speeds up at the sensation.

rich!heeseung who cant help but be all soft and mushy with you. people go as far to say hes a completely different person with you. they know him as sharp and intimidating, but when he’s interacting with you, all they see is a lovesick puppy, gazing at you longingly with hearts in his eyes as you speak.

heeseung is in his office, talking to a freshly hired servant, a stern expression on his face before you walk through the door of his office. upon noticing you’re interrupting something seemingly important, you say “oh! im sorry, i didnt notice there was a meeting going on in here.” you were about to leave them be and close the door before he intervenes, “it’s okay angel! come over here actually, i should introduce you.” the new employee is startled by how fast he just switched up. one second heeseung was firm and scary, the next he was all soft, as if speaking too harsh or moving too fast will shatter you. he doesnt take his eyes off of you as you walk over to his desk, making your way next to him. as he looks back at the servant, his expression turns cold and his voice is once again sharp. “this is my girlfriend, Y/N. whatever she says goes. you touch her, youre dead.” he states, a hand sitting protectively around your waist. heeseung looks back up at you from where he’s sitting on his chair, his features warming up instantly and his eye’s brightening. “yeah, princess?” he says, looking for your validation. you nod, giving the servant a look close to apologetic. its safe to say the new servant is scared shitless.

rich!heeseung who gets super desperate for you while kissing or making out. the feeling of your soft lips moving against his makes him weak in the knees and powerless. he’s completely at your mercy, hands firmly on your waist, almost shaking due to the sensations.

you tug at his hair, guiding his head to where you want him to be as he whines into your mouth, not caring for whoever’s listening. he kisses you so desperately and needy that you cant help but want to give him more, so when you graze your tongue over his bottom lip, he immediately obeys, opening his mouth, allowing you to slip it inside. after a moment, you pull back slightly to catch your breath, lightly panting as you relish at the sight of him, all sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead, flushed face, hazy eyes. “please,” he begins, “please dont stop, not now. please keep kissing me, i’ll get you whatever you want, i— i’ll do whatever you want!” he begs, almost at the verge of tears, assuming youre just gonna leave him hanging like that. you smirk at him before leaning back in, practically shoving your tongue down his throat. he whimpers at the feeling of your tongues clashing together and your fingers pulling at his dark locks. he might even do it in his pants right there, without being touched.

“ i only wanna fly first class desires, youre my limousine ”

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

goodnight moon

how spencer turns college!reader's bad sleeping habits into very good sleeping habits.

MDNI | smut! word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), slightest teensiest bit of overstim, fluff to the moon, spence and reader just being sweet, spence just being obsessed and concerned with every little thing about reader authors note: hiiii. soooo this is TERRIFYING. why is smut soooooo scary and vulgar. but i've been working on this one for a long while and i think i'm happyish with it??? idk. its not really adding anything new or revolutionary to the world but i think its cute!! lemme know your thoughts. i think smut is something i'll get better at writing with time but yk. okay whatever have a lovely day and i hope you enjoy!!

There’s a noticeable tension in your shoulders as you lay down on top of the covers of your bed. Your face crushes into the soft down of many pillows, nose buried into the crevices. You trace out the clean smell of Spencer's shampoo that manages to linger on your sheets even after a week of him being away on a case, the fragrance making your head become even heavier with each deep inhale you take.

You can physically feel the exhaustion clawing at your soul. Eyes shut, blocking out the harsh shine of the overhead light you definitely forgot to turn off, you reach your arm up to work on the knot in your shoulder. You roll it back, feeling an unsettling click that probably shouldn’t be there. 

Spencer would be able to work the knot out like it was nothing, if he were here.

You shift your leg up, thinking. When did he say he’d be home earlier today? You had called him before your final exam this afternoon, for some encouragement and reminders on the principles of astronomy.

The all-consuming fog in your brain prevents you from remembering any of the important details of the conversation, such as when he’d be home, so you choose instead to just replay the soft I love yous he had said into your ear. 

By this point you’re sprawled across a good portion of your bed, back to the ceiling with one leg bent, head turned to the side. Your spine sinks down into the mattress, relieving the aches just a bit, and the sweet, sweet release of sleep ensues minutes later.

Until it gets quite rudely interrupted.

You don’t hear him enter the room. You haven’t even opened your eyes to see him. The only thing you notice when you wake is the feeling that you’re being picked up from your hips and rotated, a complete 180.

“Hello?” you ask loudly even before your eyes open.

When they do open, they see your lovely boyfriend standing above you, grimacing like he’s been caught. Spencer’s hands are holding you mid air, and you look at him, wildly confused, as you blink away the sleep in your eyes.

He’s still wearing his work clothes, the thick sweater vest that you got him last year for his birthday layered over his button-up. He must have just gotten inside, his bag was still crossed over his body. 

“Hi honey. What are you, um, doing?” you ask quietly. His nose scrunches in a cute attempt to push his glasses up his nose without using his already occupied hands.

“Hi. Sorry for waking you up.” He ducks down to kiss your forehead. “You just really shouldn’t be sleeping on your stomach. Bad sleeping posture can actually worsen chronic pain more than any other factor in your daily life,” he explains, setting you down but keeping a firm grasp on your waist. Your mouth forms an awkward little smile, matching his. “I had to intervene.”

“I know. It’s just so uncomfy. But why’d you pick me up? You could’ve just nudged me, or, you know, asked…” you grumble. You make room for him, however, as you speak. He sets his bag down and clambers into bed next to you, body seemingly rivaling yours in exhaustion. He leans against the headboard, turning his head to look at you.

“I wouldn’t normally do that, but I knew you were exhausted, so I figured you’d be less likely to wake up if your body was physically touching fewer things,” he justifies, logic drawing a soft giggle from you. You settle into a comfortable silence, the room still bathed in artificial light and Spencer still in his work clothes.

He eventually breaks the stillness after a minute, turning towards you. “How did your astronomy final go today?”

“I think I did alright. Our study sessions paid off, I think. But it was never my strong suit,” you reply, tracing your fingers over his leg. “I’m so achy now though. It’s strange what four hours of math can do to your body.” 

His hand slides up your arm in response, lightly pressing on the tense spots. 

“It’s strange what four hours of math and sleeping like a contortionist does to your body,” he corrects with his little know-it-all look, fingers circling a bit more firmly into your shoulder.

“I also really, really missed you,” you add, smiling back at him. “So be nice to me.”

“I missed you,” Spencer responds, even sweeter. “And I am being nice.”

You roll your eyes and he reaches over to kiss you gently. “Would you like me to be nicer?” he whispers softly. Your brain is all but short circuiting as you look at him, his eyes flitting between yours like he was searching the stars.

Your head is nodding even before you can actually realize what he means.

Then, his body is gone from yours. You stay silent, trying to regulate your breath, eyes following him as he stands and walks over to turn off the big light. Your eyes flicker to adjust, but with the moon’s gentle shine pouring into your window, it’s absolutely perfect. 

A blush, that you're hoping the new darkness will conceal, creeps up your cheeks when you see the soft outline of Spencer’s back as he takes off his sweater vest and pulls at his tie. He turns back and looks at you, eyes all soft and full of adoration. “Yeah? Not too tired?”

“Nope,” you murmur, convincing yourself as much as him. He finishes getting into his PJ’s and walks back to you. You straighten your back, trying to appear as awake as possible. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he says back at you, voice gentle. “You can barely keep your eyes open.” A kiss, this one to your cheek, softens the blow of his words. You shake your head, but he continues. “You were sound asleep not even ten minutes ago, and you’ve yawned six times in the last five minutes.” His hand strokes the side of your waist.

“Spencer. I'm fine,” you huff. He smiles a little and sits next to you on the bed. His mouth is on yours, kissing you firmly, sweetly. 

A hand, always in motion, always calculated, slides up to your nape and presses you closer. The other slides down and thumbs under the hem of your top, grazing lightly over your skin, making it erupt in goosebumps.

His brow scrunches softly. “You’re so worked up.”

You stay silent, begging him with your eyes. He dips down and kisses right where he touched, and your hips lift a bit in response. 

“Honey. Lie back,” he says, and you do so. He readjusts his body so he’s on top of you, one leg slotted between yours. He kisses your forehead, cheeks, nose, and then moves down to your neck. He kisses that one spot beneath your ear that makes you gasp quietly. He then does it again, and again, and again, in that focused way of his. 

Wordlessly, he slides down further. His nose bumps underneath your belly button, in the thin stripe of skin showing where your top meets your panties. “Okay?” he asks.

“Yes. Please. Please, Spence,” you whimper softly, head feeling like a cloud of gas from the endorphins. He peppers even more kisses there and ghosts his fingers over your hip bone. He slides your panties down an inch and immediately kisses the skin that’s revealed.

“I thought about doing this to you all the time while I was away,” he murmurs. He presses another kiss more firmly on your hips, even closer to your soaked core, sucking gently and leaving a mark. “These should be off by now,” he muses, gently pulling your underwear down. 

His hand is immediately where you want it, two fingers pushing up against your folds, and to your clit. He touches in little circles, sending jolts of pleasure up your stomach, eyes looking up to yours to gauge your feelings. 

You almost hate Spencer for how fucking good it feels. You let out a soft moan, heart pounding. And when his middle finger sinks into your entrance with no word of warning, you toss your head back and close your legs around his hand. Spencer’s mouth twists into that little smile of his, pushing ever so deep into you, and says, “It feels better when you keep your legs open, sweet girl. If you need more, tell me.” You nod immediately, desperately. 

“Yeah. I need more,” you whisper, and he bends down and gives your clit a kitten lick. Your hand goes to his hair, softly pushing him closer. He gets the message and presses his tongue flat against it, eliciting a moan from you.

“You’re so pretty like this, under me. I missed you.”

You really do almost forget just how nice it was to have him on top of you after a week, telling you nice things and making you feel so good. He pushes his ring finger in to match his middle, stretching you slightly and adding pressure to where he knows it feels good. Your eyes screw shut and you furrow your brow in overwhelming pleasure, a soft exhale coming from deep within you.

“This good?” he asks, other hand coming to take care of your clit in his mouth’s absence. You nod frantically, looking down at Spencer. He watches where his hand comes in contact with you, pushing in and out at a steady pace. “You’re not normally this quiet. Is it a lot?”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “Feel so sensitive.” He presses a soft kiss onto your clit, and you jolt.

“Sweet girl. It’s been a little while, huh? Even right before I left, I didn’t use my mouth." You shake your head in agreement. “You’re doing so well for me though.” 

He resumes with his tongue, working you into oblivion. His free hand holds your hips steady, hindering you from writhing away from the mind-numbing pleasure.

His mouth is occupied and your brain is utterly ruined, so the only noises coming from the two of you are your soft exhales and whimpers, and the obscene sound of his hand pushing incessantly into you.

And eventually it does, in fact, become too much. He sends you into orbit. You lift your hips, practically pushing yourself into his face, pleasure coursing through you.

“Spence, I’m. I-” your voice gets caught in your throat. 

“I know,” he says, calm and collected. A stark contrast to whatever the fuck you’re feeling right now. 

He keeps going in the same way, steadily driving you through your orgasm. You let out one last moan and your body relaxes and limps around him, chest moving up and down rapidly. 

You come back to earth and grab his arm to tug him away. But he stays, pressing kisses all over you, watching you with his imploring eyes.

“You can take it. Missed you so much. Just one more,” he says in broken little sentences, parting with your core for just a second before resuming, hand picking up speed again. But this time, you don’t feel as awake. As alert. Your chest feels heavy, and your eyelids even heavier.

The post-orgasmic haze has settled even more into your bones, pressing you down deeper and deeper into the dark chasm of sleep once again.

The last thing you see before you succumb is the moon casting a perfect glow onto Spencer, still diligently pressing soft kisses onto you, holding your hips still so you won’t roll over in your sleep like before.

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

choi soobin x afab!reader

summary: After you found out the smarty-pants in your class was in love with you you thought it would be fun to play around with him a bit, but things take a wrong turn when he is the only one you can text when you are horny and he doesn't hesitate and runs to you, making you feel better than any of your ex boyfriends could.

words count: 3.9k

warnings: smut content, she/her pronouns used twice (in the texting part) sorry 🙏, oral, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (don't!!), cum eating, gentle sex, squiting, idk tbh

You glanced to your side, watching the black-haired boy on the other side of the classroom as he wrote down some notes. If you were to be honest, you weren’t paying any attention to what the teacher was saying, so you had no idea what he was writing down either. But it didn't matter anyway, you knew he would let you copy his notes later. 

It was one of the perks of having the class’s smarty-pants be in love with you. You chuckled when you saw him look your way too, smiling at him before you turned away again. 

“What's going on there?” The black-haired girl next to you asked, her eyebrow raised as she pointed at the male on the other side of the class. “Why do you two keep stealing glances at each other?” 

“You know Yeonjun, right?” You asked, watching as the girl next to you nodded. “Who doesn't,” your best friend scoffed. “What does he have to do with anything?” 

“Well, he is the one that told me last week our little nerdy here has a crush on me. It all makes sense now if you think about it. I couldn't wrap my head around why he would always send me the lesson notes when I asked for them but not to others. I told Ryan he could ask Soob because I thought he wouldn't have any problems with it, but it turns out he only sent them to me to get me to like him, or something,” You explained, watching as your best friend laughed quietly. 

“It's kind of cute though that he does that.” 

“But I don't want ‘cute’ anymore,” you rolled your eyes. “I want someone who can actually make me cum and not just stare at me questioning why I wouldn't finish as if he even tried.” 

“Okay, I know the last boy was a fail as fuck, literally, but who knows,” the black-haired girl shrugged. “You want to tell me you think he of all people could make me cum?” You scoffed. “Please, he probably hasn't fucked a girl in his life.” 

You said that, but God, you had no idea what was coming your way. 

“Who are we gossiping about?” You turned as you heard the male’s voice, scoffing at how needy he was for the tea. “No one,” you shook your head. “Your rival,” your best friend grinned, answering instead when you didn’t do so. The blond boy scoffed, looking at the black-haired boy. “Oh yeah, I am so sure he didn’t fuck a girl - or anyone else - in his life,” he agreed. 

“I am pretty sure I’ve been with a girl more times than he has,” Ryan next to him nodded, joining their conversation. “Kinda crazy,” you commented, laughing. Before you could say anything else, you were stopped by the teacher hitting the board with his hand, making you look his way. “As I was saying,” he started his speech again, giving you a warning look before he turned around, facing the board again so he could write down a few things. 

Your head fell on the table soon after out of boredom, and before you could even start paying attention to what the teacher was talking about, the bell rang, announcing the end of the lesson. 

“Okay, guys, who is coming with me to grab lunch?” Your best friend turned towards you and the two boys behind you. “I am passing,” you mumbled immediately, not even fully sitting up and simply turning your head towards her. “I am going,” Ryan proclaimed, already standing up from his place, the blond following him right after. 

“Okay, I see you guys later, then,” you smiled at them, waving them off as they left the classroom. You knew you should get up too and move to your next class, but you were starting to feel unwell, and the thought of getting up sounded terrible. You sighed, closing your eyes for a few seconds. You knew this classroom was empty for another hour or so anyway. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You opened your eyes again upon hearing the soft voice and feeling the tap on your shoulder, blinking a few times to make your eyes focus again. “Mhm, sure I am,” you mumbled, sitting up straight as you looked around. The class was empty by now, only the two of you were left there. “Why? Were you worried about me?” You chuckled, teasing him. Suddenly, it was as if your headache completely disappeared when you saw the nervous look on his face. “Relax, I am joking,” you shook your head, but couldn’t hide your smile. 

“I don’t want to annoy you,” you started, slowly packing your stuff as he stood beside you, waiting like a puppy. “But do you think you could give me today’s notes, Soob?” 

“You-” he gulped, trying to ignore the nickname. There was simply something about you calling him Soob. “I don’t want it for free though. You could consider it as me owing you one and helping you when you’d need it?” You suggested as you stood up, grabbing your now packed bag. “Uhm, sure,” he nodded, not even paying full attention to what you were saying. 

“I’ll text you tonight about the notes then,” you beamed happily, looking like a completely different person as you placed your hand on his arm as a sign of thank you. You were devastated minutes ago, but whoever would see you now wouldn’t believe him if he told them so. Soobin wasn’t sure why, but he was glad you looked fine again. 

Soobin threw his bag on the side of his room, jumping into his bed immediately after the long day. He laid down on his back, simply staring at the ceiling of his room. He reached into his pocket for his phone, seeing two unread messages from his best friend. He opened his phone, staring at the two texts. “Look at Instagram” “Thank me later” There wasn’t much for him to question. Even though to many it might seem confusing, he knew exactly whose Instagram he should check. There was only one person that the two of them talked about together after all. 

The black-haired male clicked on the icon, waiting for the story to load for a second. Then his eyes widened at the sight. It was a picture of you, but not just any picture. He sat up immediately, looking properly at your body. You were wearing a white top, cropped slightly above your waist. He couldn’t help but notice you weren't wearing a bra underneath, your nipples showing through the fabric. Then he saw the black miniskirt, that you definitely pulled higher than you should. He gulped, remembering how you touched his arm earlier today, your fingers brushing on his skin as your hair fell in front of your face. 

He whined silently as he felt his boxers becoming tighter the more he stared at the picture, your body curves exposed for anyone to see. He shared the story with Yeonjun, his best friend, and immediately texted him how good you looked. 

Only, did he not know it wasn’t Yeonjun he shared the story to.  

Soobin stared at the messages, screaming as he turned his phone off faster than ever before. He couldn’t believe it. He just told you he needed you. There wasn’t anything worse that could be happening at the moment. Not to mention the image of your body was still stuck in his head, making him hard. 

He stared at the messages again, his heart fighting with his brain at that moment. He didn’t want to make you do anything, he felt like it would be too forced, even though you were the one suggesting it. But a part of him knew this was his only chance. There was no way he could get you differently. He knew about your dating history, so he also knew you had never been with anyone like him. It was always the boys like Yeonjun, who just understood how to talk to girls properly, how to make them fall for them. But he wasn’t like that, he had no idea what he was doing. 

And just like that, he was in front of your place, rethinking his decisions as he knocked on the front door, trying his best to ignore the boner in his pants that still hadn’t gone down. How could it be when you shared a picture like that with him?

“You came,” you mumbled as you opened the door, looking up at him. Soobin looked down on you, noticing the same top you had in the Instagram picture. He gulped, his eyes then falling on the bottom part of your body and the white panties that were the only thing you were wearing. “How could I not?” He whispered, making sure this picture would stay in his mind. 

You grabbed his hand as you took him inside, closing the door behind you immediately. It was only now that you noticed how big his hands were against yours. You just hoped he could use them too. 

Soobin blindly followed you to your bedroom, his mind full of thoughts about how he should go about this, while his eyes were stuck on your ass, unable to look away as you walked in front of him. 

“Can I-” he started as his eyes followed you while you sat on your bed. “You can do absolutely anything, Soob,” you interrupted him, watching as his face turned red. “Soob? Soobie?” You smirked, noticing what the nicknames did to him. “Is that what turns you on?” 

“Everything about you turns me on,” he admitted, slowly getting closer to you while you moved back, not taking your eyes off him. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. You simply bit your bottom lip as you found him above yourself, holding eye contact. This was becoming more intimate than you thought it would. 

“Is it okay for me to kiss you?” He wanted to assure himself one more time. You thought about it for a second, not wanting to give him any hope, but also desperately needing his lips on yours. You nodded to him in the end, grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing him closer to yourself, pressing your lips on his, your mouth slightly opened which only made it easier for him. 

His right hand found its way to your boob, carefully sliding under your top, his cold fingers brushing over your nipple. You groaned into the kiss, clenching around nothing but thin air. It felt pathetic. He had barely touched you and you were already getting wet. 

Soobin left your mouth for a second, getting a disagreeing whine immediately that made him smile as he started placing wet kisses all over your neck, slowly moving down to your collarbone and then between your boobs. Your lips parted as you breathed out from the pleasure, raising your head to look at him. “Mhm, take it off,” you whispered, your hand reaching for his sleeve. He didn’t hesitate for a second and listened to you, taking his shirt off while you took down your own, exposing your breast to him completely. 

“Fuck,” he groaned at the sight, feeling more and more uncomfortable in his sweatpants. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking at your body one more time before his lips found their way to your breast again, his hand cupping one of them as he pressed kisses on your other boob, his tongue making wet circles around your nipple. 

“Fuck,” it was you groaning this time, quiet moans escaping your lips as your nipples became hard at his touch. “Soob, please,” you whined, throwing your head back into the pillow. “Please, what? Hm?” He asked, not even looking up and just continuing what he had been doing until now, his lips moving down again, leaving wet traces on your stomach now as his hands found their way to your waist. “I don’t know. Just- fuck,” you moaned out again when you felt his lips on your clit through your panties. 

“Just?” He asked again, looking up at you. You could swear you had never seen anything better in your life. The male was in between your legs, his breath landing right on your clit as he looked at you, absolute need in his eyes. 

“Just fuck me already,” you begged, watching as he took down your panties, his eyes fixated on your already leaking pussy. “I don’t think so,” he informed you, moving up again so he would face you. “I doubt you could take it just like that,” he whispered, moving his fingers to your lips. You didn’t need to hear anything else and immediately opened your mouth, sucking on his fingers. 

Before you could even register his actions you felt him slowly inserting his two fingers into you, carefully watching you. He did so to make sure he was doing everything right. You weren't completely wrong when you said he probably hasn’t been with a girl in his life. He couldn’t say he would have much experience, but all of his friends were sex addicts - and now he could finally see why - and they couldn’t keep their mouths shut every time the topic came up, so it was only natural for Soobin to catch on to a few things. 

You gasped, your eyes rolling back. You knew there was an obvious difference in your hand sizes but god, his fingers were bigger than you thought. “Fuck, curl them now,” you commanded, not daring to look down. He did as you said, feeling his precum on his boxers. He wanted nothing more but to fuck you right then and there, but he knew he had to wait. 

It didn’t take much longer for you to squirt on his fingers, especially after he added pressure to your clit too, his thumb making slow circles around while his fingers were stretching your inside. 

“Can I eat you out, please?” He asked, looking up at you again, his thumb still rubbing your clit slowly. “Please, y/n,” he begged, making you go crazy. You weren't sure if it was the way he begged you, the way he said your name, or because of his breath on your skin, but you couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted to. “God, please do,” you whined out and just like that, his tongue was pressed on your pussy right away, not wasting any second of the time he had with you. 

It had been months since you had cummed thanks to a boy, so you didn’t have any expectations for him when you invited him over. But you were wrong when you thought no boys knew how to take care of their girls anymore because he did exactly what he should, making you cum on his tongue a few minutes after he went down on you, not leaving your trembling cunt even then, letting you ride out your orgasm as his nose was pressed on your clit, his tongue carefully licking every last bit of your cum. 

“Soob,” you groaned, pulling his hair, making him finally raise his head and look at you. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbled, going up again to kiss you. “And delicious,” he informed you, pressing his lips on yours. “Fuck, Soob, you’re too good,” you mumbled before you kissed him again, slowly sitting up. “Come closer,” you said, grabbing the hem of his pants, and pulling him closer at the same time. 

He groaned, his eyes shut tight, his lips unable to stay away from yours. You smirked into the kiss, your hand grabbing his trembling cock over his pants, making him moan. “I don’t usually do this but…” you started, breaking your kiss so you could look at his body properly. “You were so good earlier,” you praised him, not breaking your eye contact as you changed your position so you would be kneeling. “Pants off, baby,” 

That alone was enough to make him go crazy. You calling him baby just did something with his head. And with his dick. 

“Fuck,” You breathed out when you finally pulled down Soobin’s pants and boxers, your pussy clenching around nothing again. You knew he would be bigger because of his height, but this was more than you had expected. 

He cupped your cheeks, making you look up at him. “Are you sure?” You chuckled, simply nodding. “I can take good care of you too, you know,” you proclaimed, looking up at him as your right hand wrapped around his cock, not breaking your eye contact. You knew it must have been making him go insane. 

You started slowly, simply kissing his tip and licking off his precum. Then, you decided to try to take his full length into your mouth, but stopped shortly after getting to his half, already feeling like you were going to gag any second. There was no way you could do this. 

However, Soobin saw it differently. To him, it looked like you were playing with him, moving slowly and carefully on purpose to tease him. His hand found its way to your head, carefully tugging the hair that was getting in front of your face behind your ears before he held your chin up, making you look at him, his dick still in your mouth. “Think you can go faster, pretty? Please,” He asked, hoping maybe begging would help him. 

He groaned when he felt you suck harder, trying to go faster too but failing miserably. He chuckled at the sight, his hand in your hair so he could control the speed himself. “If you want to stop, just punch me, or something, okay? Try not to bite my dick off if you can’t take it anymore, though,” he told you, and before you could even look up at him again and question what he was talking about, he was moving with your head on his own as if you were just a toy to fulfill his needs. If you were honest, you were glad he did so. It was turning you on more. 

“Fuck, just a bit more,” he moaned out, thrusting his hips into your mouth as you sucked on him. He didn’t dare to look at you just yet, he felt like he would stop if he saw you in the moment, scared he might have been hurting you by determining his speed. 

When Soobin finally looked at you there were tears in your eyes, and his cum was all over your mouth. He cupped your cheeks, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumbs. “Sorry,” he mumbled. You looked up at him, high on all the pleasure you felt until now thanks to him. God, you knew you needed to do this more often from now on. You licked the corner of your mouth, making sure not a single drop was wasted. 

“You’re not done yet, are you?” You asked, your puppy eyes almost making him cum again right away. “Fuck, no I am not,” he answered, leaning down to you to kiss you again. 

Soon after, Soobin found himself sitting on the edge of your bed, his back pressed against the white walls while you sat on him, your head on his shoulder, biting into his skin so you wouldn’t get too loud as he fucked you. Holding your ass, he was helping you remain at the same speed, moaning along with you. “So close, Soob,” you cried out. “Hold in a bit more,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he felt himself getting closer to finishing again, too. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, a mixture of your own and Soobin’s cum leaking from your pussy. You raised your head slowly, your cheeks completely red as you looked into his eyes, still sitting on his cock. “Soob, this was the best sex I’ve ever had. God, you were so good.” He bit onto his bottom lip, watching your fucked out face. “Oh, yeah?” He asked, even more embarrassed than you were. “Does that mean you’ll let me fuck you again next time?” 

“Soob…” you mumbled, just watching him for a second before you carefully got off him. He just shook his head before you could say anything else. “I know, I know, don’t worry,” he muttered. “I still needed to try it,” he smiled awkwardly, his dimples being the cutest thing you had ever seen. “Let me help you clean yourself up before I leave. It's the least I can do,” He suggested. You nodded to him, convinced this was the last time you were together like this. You couldn't be more wrong though. 

You knew you couldn’t stay away from him for too long when he helped you to get into your bathroom and his fingers found their way to your clit again, making you melt at his touch. Even worse was when he carried you to your bed after he switched your bedsheet for you, asking you to let him eat you out one more time before he would leave you alone for good. 

You just couldn’t let him get away. 

“Fuck, Soob,” you mumbled, sitting on the edge of your bed, watching him kneeling in front of you, begging to feel your cum on his tongue again. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” His innocent eyes looked up at you, his hands rubbing your thighs. You sighed, “Just stay here.” 

You could swear you saw sparks in his eyes as the words left your mouth. “Really? Can I?” 

You nodded, agreeing. “Sleep here tonight, I’ll let you eat me out again next time.” 

Soobin smiled proudly, his hands squeezing your thighs. “Only next time?” 

“God, just come here,” you proclaimed, pulling him up from the floor into a warm kiss, feeling his hands roaming on your body again. The night was still nowhere to be done.

[inseobts]

Law x reader but it's angst and both of them didn't have a happy ending please ☹️. It'll start where the reader obsess over Law for months and he doesn't give a damn about y/n. He'll continue acting cold and harsh towards her. And then overtime Law slowly develops feelings for her but it's too late because y/n decided to leave the crew. The ending goes like ".... as I watch her disappear from the crowd. if only she'd known that, I... loved her." (I swear it sounds better in my head)

or instead of leaving the crew, Penguin was always there for her and y/n slowly falls for him and then Law gets jealous and knows that he doesn't have a chance with y/n anymore. He's guilty for not appreciating y/n all those months.

Idk anymore 😞.

That's all, bye:>

If Only She Knew

law × reader

a/n: omg I love angst so much akswk thanks for the request eheh

words count: 2.2k

tags: angst

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

“Captain! I made you some tea.”

The moment the words leave your lips, you already know how this will end.

Trafalgar Law doesn’t even look up from the map sprawled across his desk. His fingers tap against the parchment absentmindedly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“Leave it” he mutters, eyes scanning the paper.

You hesitate “But you haven’t eaten anything all day—”

“I said leave it, Y/N.” His tone is sharp, edged with irritation. His golden eyes flicker toward you, cold and dismissive “Stop wasting your time.”

Your breath catches for just a second before you force a small smile “Right… Sorry, Captain.”

You place the cup on his desk anyway before turning to leave, your hands curling into fists. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, this time he’ll take a sip.

But as you step out onto the deck, you already know he won’t.

“Still chasing after the captain, huh?”

Shachi’s voice startles you from your thoughts as you lean against the railing, staring at the open sea. He and Penguin stand beside you, both wearing matching smirks, though there’s something sympathetic in their eyes.

“I’m not chasing him” you mumble, kicking at the wooden deck.

Penguin snorts “Right. You just happen to bring him tea every day, patch him up first after every fight, and stare at him when you think no one’s looking.”

Heat rushes to your face “I don’t stare at him.”

Shachi grins “Yeah? Anyway what were you just doing in his office?”

You look away, biting your lip. You don’t need to answer. They already know.

Everyone does.

The entire crew has seen how much effort you put into Law, how you linger in his presence, how you always try to ease his burdens, how you’d do anything just to get a sliver of warmth from him.

And they’ve seen how he never gives you anything in return.

“He’s never going to change, you know,” Penguin says, quieter this time “Law’s… Law. He’s not the kind of guy to let people in.”

“I know.” You exhale, trying to ignore the ache in your chest “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”

Shachi sighs, exchanging a look with Penguin, but neither of them argue. What’s the point?

That night, you find yourself outside Law’s office again, a plate of food in your hands. The lamp inside is still lit, and you can hear the faint scratching of his pen against paper.

You hesitate before knocking “Captain?”

There’s no response.

You take a deep breath before pushing the door open just enough to peek inside. As expected, he’s still at his desk, completely absorbed in whatever he’s writing. His brows are furrowed, dark circles prominent under his eyes.

He looks exhausted.

“You should eat something,” you say softly, stepping inside “You’ve been working all day.”

Law sighs heavily, rubbing his temples “I don’t have time for this.”

“You have time to starve?” You set the plate down beside him, crossing your arms “At least take a break.”

He finally looks at you then, and for a second, you think he might actually listen. But instead, his gaze hardens.

“You don’t need to take care of me, Y/N.”

Your heart sinks.

“I want to...” you whisper.

Law pushes the plate away without another word. And just like that, you’re dismissed.

You don’t sleep that night. Instead, you stare at the ceiling of your cabin, the weight of reality pressing down on you.

No matter what you do, how much you try... he will never see you the way you want him to.

And maybe it’s time to stop hoping he will.

Days pass. Then weeks.

Nothing changes.

Law remains the same... distant, cold, utterly indifferent to your presence. No matter how many times you try to reach him, he never lets you in.

At first, it hurt, but now, it’s exhausting.

“You should stop, I'm saying this for your own good y/n” Bepo says one evening as you sit on the deck, staring at the horizon.

“Stop what?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Bepo sighs, settling beside you “You know what. The captain… he isn’t good at showing how he feels.”

You let out a dry laugh “That’s assuming he feels anything at all.”

“He does,” Bepo insists “He’s just… complicated.”

Complicated. That’s one way to put it.

But after months of being ignored, pushed away, and dismissed, you’re tired of making excuses for him.

“You know what? You're right. Trafalgar Law doesn’t care about me,” you say quietly “and I think it’s time I stop caring about him, too.”

The words taste bitter, but the moment they leave your lips, something inside you shifts.

Maybe this is what acceptance feels like.

Maybe this is freedom.

Law notices it before anyone else.

It’s subtle at first, the way you stop lingering in his office, the way you no longer bring him tea or remind him to rest.

Then, it becomes impossible to ignore.

“You’ve been acting different lately,” Shachi comments one afternoon “Not that I’m complaining, but you’re not hovering around the captain anymore.”

You shrug “Got tired of it.”

Penguin raises a brow “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

It’s a lie, of course.

It wasn’t easy. It still isn’t. But you’ve spent too much time chasing after someone who doesn’t want to be caught.

And you refuse to keep running after a lost cause.

Law watches from the upper deck as you laugh with the others, a sight that should be normal, except it isn’t.

Because for the first time in months, you look… light. Unburdened. And you’re not looking for him, you're not looking at him.

Something about that unsettles him, but he shoves the feeling down.

It shouldn’t matter and it doesn’t matter.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

But when he finds himself missing the way you used to call his name, the way you always made sure he ate, the way you cared—

He realizes, too late, that maybe it does matter.

“You seem happier these days” Bepo comments one evening as you sit together.

You hum in response, resting your chin on your knees “More than happier I think I feel lighter...”

It’s not entirely true. A part of you still aches when you think about Law, when you remember all the time and love you wasted on someone who never gave anything back.

But at the very least, you’re not waiting for something that will never come.

And that’s enough.

Or so you tell yourself.

Law watches you from afar, as always, something unfamiliar twisting in his chest.

For months, you were always there, persistent, unwavering. You never gave up on him, no matter how many times he pushed you away.

And yet, now that you’ve stopped trying…

He finds himself wishing you hadn’t. But it’s too late.

“You’re really leaving?”

Bepo’s voice is thick with sadness as he watches you pack your things. His ears droop, his large paws clenching at his sides.

You force a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes “Yeah. I think it’s time.”

The words feel foreign, even as you say them. You’ve been on this ship for so long, pouring your heart into someone who never wanted it. But now, for the first time, you’re choosing yourself.

“You don’t have to go,” Bepo says desperately “The crew loves you. I love you.”

Your heart clenches at the raw emotion in his voice, but you shake your head “I know, Bepo. And I love you guys, too. But… staying here will only hurt me more. I'll never be truly happy here.”

He doesn’t argue. He knows you’re right.

Shachi and Penguin stand in the doorway, silent for once. Their usual teasing is gone, replaced by something heavier.

“You deserve better” Shachi finally says.

You smile, though it trembles at the edges “Yeah. I think so, too.”

The crew gathers at the dock the next morning, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

You exhale, adjusting the strap of your bag “Take care of yourselves, alright?”

Bepo sniffs, pulling you into a crushing hug “Come visit us someday.”

You hesitate before nodding “Yeah… Maybe.”

Everyone is there. Everyone except a certain someone.

You say nothing to Law about your leaving and you made the crew promise they wouldn't tell him neither.

You keep your plans quiet, your thoughts heavier than usual. There’s no need for a grand goodbye, he won’t notice anyway. So, instead, you quietly gather your things, packing only what’s essential, leaving behind the small mementos of a life you’re trying to forget.

The others know. Bepo, Shachi, Penguin—they’ve all seen the way things have shifted, the way you’ve slowly withdrawn over the past few weeks. They know why you’re leaving, even if they wish you didn’t.

You make your rounds, saying goodbye to each one of them.

“Bepo…” you pause as he wraps his arms around you, his voice thick with emotion “Are you sure about this?”

“I have to be,” you say softly, pressing your cheek against his fur “I’ve given up too much of myself already.”

He squeezes you tighter, his breath shaky “You’ll always have a place here with us.”

You pull away, offering him a watery smile “I know. I’ll miss you guys.”

Shachi claps you on the back with his usual grin, but it’s tempered with sadness “You’ll be fine out there, Y/N. You always manage to land on your feet.”

“I’m not sure about that” you reply softly, but you appreciate the sentiment.

Penguin gives you a quiet nod, his usual teasing grin gone “Good luck.”. Actually he's using his at to hide his tears.

It’s not the kind of goodbye you expected when you first joined the crew, but it’s the one you’ve come to accept. They know, and they understand.

But then you turn to face the ship.

Law has been absent for most of the morning, as he usually is, buried in his work. His door is closed, but you know he’s there, just like always. You don’t go near his office.

You make sure to leave your things in a small pile in the corner of the deck, making it look like nothing out of the ordinary. You pick up your bag one last time, glancing back at the crew as they quietly wish you well.

And then you leave without a word.

No one stops you.

Law doesn’t know.

He walks onto the deck just as the crew is finishing their work, wiping his hands on his coat as he steps toward his office. He’s tired, his head still pounding from the hours of paperwork he’s been handling.

But something catches his attention.

A folded piece of paper sits on his desk, placed neatly in the center of it. He blinks at it for a moment, confused. Who left this?

He walks over, picking it up with a frown. His gaze flickers over the familiar handwriting—Y/N’s handwriting.

For a moment, he hesitates. But then, he unfolds the letter, eager to read whatever you’ve written.

He doesn’t expect what’s inside.

Law,

I can’t keep doing this. I’ve tried for months to ignore it, but I’ve come to realize that you’ll never feel the same as me. I’m tired of waiting for something that will never come. I can’t keep living in the hope that one day, you’ll notice me the way I’ve always noticed you. I do accept rejection tho, I just think it's too hard for me to stay and pretend I feel happy like this.

I’m leaving the crew, and I don’t think I’ll be back.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His mind races, unable to comprehend what he’s just read. You… you’re leaving?

He stands frozen for a few seconds, his hands shaking slightly as he grips the letter. Why didn’t you tell me?

He rushes out the door, heading for the deck, his heart pounding in his chest.

He doesn’t see you.

He runs to the edge of the ship, scanning the horizon frantically, his breath catching in his throat.

“Y/N!?”

But there’s no response. No sign of you. Only the distant sound of the waves crashing against the ship, the wind whipping through the air.

“She just left” Bepo says looking like he just stopped crying and then he point over the crowd “Please stop hurting her, Captain”

He grits his teeth, his chest tight with a strange mix of panic and regret.

I’m sorry if I ever seemed too pushy for your liking, I was just trying to help you. I never meant to hurt you or annoy you.

I had a good time with the rest of the crew but my feelings can’t be ignored anymore.

This is something I need to do for myself. Maybe it’s selfish but for once I want to put you second and protect myself.

I loved you.

Goodbye,

Y/N

—

—

I loved you.

I loved you.

And now you’re gone.

As he watches you slowly disappear in the crowd he whispers so that only himself could hear “… if only she’d known that I loved her.”

[shadowbriar]

Bucky Barnes — Make a Lover of an Enemy

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x (she/her) agent!Reader Word Count : 4.1k Warning : Kissing. Foul words. Cliffhanger. Synopsis : A kiss exchanged during a mission has made Bucky toss and turn in turmoil. Notes : don't ask me for part two, idk if i can write another part that could live up to this fic. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

The itchiness around his neck was only getting worse as he whisked himself deeper into the crowd. He hates undercover ops, especially ones where he’s out in the open with no knowledge of what he’s up against. It wasn’t that he was afraid—he made peace with fear years ago to ever actually be bothered by it—he was more anxious about the other end of this rope. The partner that he’s supposed to cavort with.

“Lose the frown a little, you’re scaring all the women,”

Bucky closes his eyes in annoyance, breathing in a good amount of air to help ease the building temper as he speaks through the comm, “I have no business with the women here,”

“Yeah? Where do you have business with women, then?”

“Will you hurry up on finding this Gerald, already?”

“I’m working on it,” she seethes, taking a sip of her champagne “And it’s Harold, not Gerald,”

“Doesn’t matter what the asshole’s name is, just get the intel,”

Bucky could see from where he stands, one of the big pillars where he’s currently seeking discretion from, the vexation that’s threatening to bleed out of her. The ridiculously low cut of the back of her dress was making it easy for him to see the rise and fall of her shoulders, moving in an undeniably provoked manner. He’s pulled her hair alright, just like she pulled his.

His ears were still partly deaf from all the arguments they’ve shared over the past days. At this point, Bucky couldn’t decide if he should strangle or drown Sam for setting him up with her for this mission. A whole week of undercover, sharing one single hotel room where he would grumbly sleep on the floor because he’s too vexed to share it with her, was more than enough reason for him to ultimately end Wilson’s life.

It was the most cruel joke. Out of billions of people in this world, millions that he’s met, and thousands that he’s worked with, she just has to be the one person he could never find the middle ground with. There’s always something wrong, something to argue about whenever it comes to her. She’d always take too long to decide, too much calculations, and too much demands that it would just drive him nuts. Pairing him with her was certainly a choice. An absurd, diabolical choice.

Bucky’s train of bitter thoughts were put on a halt as he watched a man advance to her. He fits the description of Gerald—Harold. The three bodyguards that are doing their worst attempt of pretend-guests were following him like bees, making it easier for him to pinpoint their target.

“Cupcake at three o’clock,”

“Cupcake?” she asks, a sense of amusement evident in her tone.

“Harold,”

“I know what you meant, but cupcake? Really? Couldn’t have picked a better codename, James?”

Once again, Bucky seethes in anger. Even when he tipped her off, she still couldn’t find it in her goodwill to thank him and criticises his choice of word instead. He watches with bottled anger as she pretends to play with her earring, clicking on the item so that the comm would pick up the surrounding noise as their target approaches.

“Excuse me, Miss,” Harold greets her, plastering his disgustingly wide smile for her “You seem a bit lost, would you like a little help?”

“Oh, is it that obvious?” she feigns an embarrassed laughter, leaning on him to whisper “I was actually trying to hide from my partner. He’s been too much of a pain in my arse all evening, but I supposed I wandered a bit too far away, I couldn’t find my way back now,”

Bucky rolls his eyes, listening to their conversation in silence.

Harold chuckles, offering an arm for her, “Well, I reckon you wouldn’t mind another’s companion, then?”

“Certainly, Mister..?”

“Bricks, Harold Bricks,” the man introduces himself “I can show you around the club, if you’d like. Maybe we can find your partner then,”

She encircles his arm, smiling in an alluring way, “I would love that very much, Mr. Bricks,”

“Please, call me Harry,”

Bucky mocks their conversation in his head. He knows that being one of the most elite agents from SHIELDS, she must possess better than most skill sets and exceptional proficiencies, but watching her have Bricks right in the hook, boasting about all his illegal assets to her and spilling every illicit informations, Bucky would be lying if he says he isn’t impressed.

Now he keeps his distance from the flock. Walking a few metres behind, but still close enough to rescue her should anything happen. Not that she would need it. The three bodyguards that are following them would only be like a fight against toddlers for her should they try anything. Still, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

“What about your study? I know men like you love to keep his toys where they spend most of their time,” she lures, leaning even closer to him now that it makes Bucky’s stomach twist for some reason “What would a girl find in your study, Harry?”

Bricks smirks as he moves his arm and places his hand on her waist, slipping his fingers under the hem of her low cut dress, “See, unlike any other men, I don’t waste too much time in my study. Why stay in just one room when you have a whole manor to occupy?”

And that’s when he knew he needed to step in.

Bucky rushes to her, not even bothered to hide the disgusted look on his face as he stops her, “We’re going.”

“Cupcake,” she greets, showing slight surprise of his unannounced presence “This is my friend, Mr. Harold Bricks. He’s been kind enough to show me around the club after I lost you in the crowd,”

“Pleased to meet you,” Bricks greets, taking the hand off of her and offering it to Bucky “The lady was distraught looking for you, I thought it would help to ease her mind by walking around the place,”

“How thoughtful,” Bucky comments unimpressed “Come on, we have to go,”

“You go ahead, Dear. Let me bid my goodbye to Harry,”

Bucky stares at her with a disapproving look, questioning why she would still spend another second with this repulsing man, but nodded anyway as he walked a few metres away. Waiting for her behind yet another pillar.

“I see the kind of pain you’re talking about,” Harold comments with a sneer.

“That’s hardly a fraction of what I truly have to bear,” she replies, this time placing a kiss on his cheek “Thank you for everything, Harry. You’ve no idea how much you’ve made my night,”

She walks away from Bricks, readjusting her comm as she walks to Bucky’s direction.

“It’s in his study,” she says as she joins him, walking on his side with long strides.

“Yeah, I heard,” he scoffed “Along with that pathetically disgusting attempt you call flirting,”

“Hey, I got the work done, alright! You think I want his filthy hand on me, rubbing his scummy fingers on my skin? I’m disgusted, alright, no need to rub me in,”

Bucky huffs in annoyance. He takes two glasses of champagne from the passing waiter, gulping down one after the other to help keep himself collected. The anger boiling in his veins is getting too hard to be kept to the curb.

“You’re not supposed to drink during missions,”

“Yeah, well, none of the alcohol served here is gonna get me drunk, so don’t twist your panties, woman,”

“What’s the point of drinking if you can’t get drunk, then? Isn’t that what you wanted to do, to lose a few screws in your head?”

“Can you just— Shut up for a few minutes?!” he explodes, pressing on the lift button “Please, just a few minutes of silence until we get to his study, is that really too much to ask?”

She glares at him, disapproving of his little outburst but shuts her mouth nonetheless.

This part of the mansion was eerily too quiet. No guests nor waiters crowding the hallways. There were a few cameras on the corners, ones that she could easily override through her watch, but other than those, the corridor was pretty much defenceless.

It took them little to no time to find Bricks’ study. The place was decorated with books and paintings that are too pristine, undusted to the point that they looked like they’ve never been touched by anything other than the fine feathers of a duster. Perhaps Bricks was an honest man, he never did step in his study.

She immediately looked for the reports in the stack of papers by the table while Bucky busied himself with the books by the cabinet. The piece of paper they’re looking for might be anywhere in this twenty five metre square room. They just have to figure out where someone would hide some confidential information in a room that they never even bother to visit.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Bucky mutters as he hits the jackpot, looking at the stack of unopened letters “Is this guy stupid or what?”

She rolls her eyes, taking the piece of paper before tucking it in his chest pocket, “Come on. We better go before they realise I hijacked their cameras,”

Bucky follows as she leads the way out of the room. Their breath of relief was short lived as one of the patrolling guards caught Bucky’s shadow, calling him out as they began to run through the hallways.

“You know we can just punch these guys, right?” Bucky says he matches her pace.

“No, we have to do this discreetly. Bricks might become a useful asset for us,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Are you bullshitting me? He’s a criminal!”

“He’s a criminal with connections, we can use him!” she argues “Just run faster, alright? I’m with heels and I can still outpace you without breaking a sweat,”

Bucky lets out a small growl of annoyance, picking up a pace that he’s now in front of her.

They begin to look for an escape by turning each of the door handles, him checking on the left while she on the right. The mansion was big, but it seems like they’re reaching the end of it as they find no other turn to take. The right door by the end of the brick wall was their only hope of salvation but when she turned to face him, her back pressed against the white door and hand still clutched to the handle, the shake of her head was all Bucky needed to reach for the minigun in his suit.

But before he could take it out, before he could point it to the direction of where the guards were coming, she pushed his hand back in, “No,”

“What are you doing?” he asked, clearly confused about the course of action she’s taking.

“Just— Don’t punch me, alright?”

There was no time for another question as Bucky felt her lips pressed against his. She has one of her legs up, rubbing onto his upper thigh in a seductive manner that he couldn’t help but to hold it there, putting a hand to keep her thigh locked on his waist line. His other hand now rests on her neck, pulling her face closer as he deepens the kiss. Whatever dam that was around them has bursted, flowing with a tidal wave of emotions he wasn’t even familiar with.

Her hands were reaching for the paper in his suit before they found themselves around his neck, clutching onto him like he was her one tether to life. Their kiss was vigorous, almost animalistic as their teeth clash with each other. Bucky’s hands were just about to pull her other leg up to his waist before the guards finally called them.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Sir, Ma’am,”

“Oh, good God!” she exclaims, flushed from all the action the two of them have just committed “How embarrassing. Please, excuse us—”

“Not so fast, Ma’am,” the other guard says, stopping her from leaving “We’re gonna have to search you,”

“Search us?” she feigns deep insult from the inquiry “Whatever would you need us searched for?”

“It's just standard procedure, Ma’am. You’re not supposed to be on this side of the mansion. I’m sure you understand,”

“No, I don’t. Cupcake, tell them that this is ridiculous,”

Bucky was still quiet, not saying a word. 

Getting a little worried at his lack of response, she places a hand on his cheek and asks genuinely, “Hey, are you alright?”

“Alright, Ma’am, please step aside so we can search the both of you. This shouldn’t take too long,”

Bucky was still in a daze as the men began to run their hands around his clothes, not even giving the slightest blink when their hands were far too close to the gun he hides underneath. His eyes were still on her as he watched another guard search for her too. The only thing breaking his silence was when the guard’s hand was a little too close to her breasts, “Touch her any second longer and I’ll rip those hands off of you,”

She was stunned. Blinking as she tries to digest the venom that was thick in his tone. If he was just trying to keep the piece of paper she now hides under her bra safe from the guard’s search, then there’s no doubt to his apparent success, but the fury that was filling his eyes tells another story. Bucky’s eyes were locked on the guard now, showing on full display that he’s not the man you should mess with. A sight that she’s not sure she’s ever seen before, even after the countless missions they’ve done in the past.

“Gentlemen, I believe this is just a big misunderstanding,” she says, trying to diffuse the tension “Me and my partner might have just taken a little too much of the champagne and stumbled ourselves in places we don’t belong. Please convey my apology to Harry, we mean no harm,”

“You’re Mr. Bricks’ guest?” one of the guards asks.

“Why, yes, he’s a close friend of mine,” she says with a smile “We just took the wrong turn on one of these corridors, we didn’t mean to intrude on anything,”

The guards were exchanging looks now, clearly debating if they should let them go or bring this up to their boss.

“Or perhaps you could just lead us to Harry so I could explain and apologise to him myself?”

“No, there would be no need, Ma’am. We’re all good here,” one of the guards finally says, letting their hold on Bucky lose “Just don’t wander around,”

“Of course. We’ll find ourselves out. Thank you, gentlemen,”

Bucky’s eyes were still locked on the one guard that searched her as she pulled him out of the scene. He saw how the other guards opened the door of the room they were standing in front of, raising his brows as he thought it was locked.

He looks up front to see her. Her hand was still clasped with his, her dainty fingers interlocking with his gloved ones. Bucky takes a painful swallow, wondering what the hell just happened and how he’s supposed to take it in. Whatever it is that made her pull such a stunt was far beyond his comprehension. A little too bizarre, a little too unpredicted, a little too astonishing, but it certainly would be a lie if Bucky says he wasn’t pleased with it.

—-

Days passed fast and nights stretched incredibly long now that they’re back in the compound. Neither of them tried to melt the invisible barrier between them that’s altered from a concrete brick wall into an icy glass confinement. The silence that fell whenever they’re in the same room has only grown thicker, added by the new sense of tension and stolen glances that lingered a little longer than it did before.

Bucky didn’t know where to start or if he should do anything about it. The memory of that night from Bricks’ mansion always plays in his head before sleep like a broken record. A daunting introduction to the nightmare that would follow once he closes his eyes. He wonders if he should’ve said something on the way back, if he should have asked the one billion dollar question as they checked out of the hotel. He asks himself if there’s anything he should’ve done, anything he should’ve said before time spoils his short window to crush this conundrum.

Now trying to find the chance to bump into her, Bucky couldn’t recall if she’s always been this busy before their last mission. It was practically impossible to see her during the day. She was always out for some meetings with the government or entangling herself with reports and plans for future missions. He could still count it with one hand the few times he’s met her when the sun was still out after their return. They didn’t even get the chance to do their reporting together. Another thing for him to ponder at night: is she avoiding him?

“Are you even listening, Barnes?” Sam asks, sounding a little annoyed at the distracted man.

“No,” Bucky answers honestly, readjusting his seat “Sorry, can you repeat that again?”

Sam sighs, placing the report papers on his hand to the table, “I was saying, that as per the requests made before your last mission, you’re eligible for a week of vacation, but given the prosperous intel you’ve given us, I don’t think they would’ve minded if you take another extra week,”

“Right, the vacation,” Bucky sighs, rubbing his forehead.

It was one of the special requests she made before they agreed to sign up for the mission. At that time, Bucky thought that a week off sounded like a pass to heaven, especially since he’d be doing the mission with her—the very bane of his existence—but now that the mission’s past and a new splinter nested between them, Bucky feels rather regretful that he’s agreed to such a clause.

“So where’s she going then? For her vacation?” Bucky asks as he takes the report papers off of Sam’s hand.

“Nowhere. She’s not taking it.”

Bucky’s brow raised, looking up to meet Sam’s eyes, “What do you mean she’s not taking it? She’s the one who requested it,”

“I know, but she’s just not taking it,”

“Well, where is she then? I haven’t seen her in days,”

“West,”

“West? What’s she doing in West?”

“She’s looking for new intel about the suspected Hydra base around the area. Listen, I’m not supposed to be talking to you about this—,”

“I thought Sharon was taking that mission?”

“She was—,”

“Then why is she the one in West?”

“I don’t know, okay! Stop interrogating me, man, I’m not one of your suspects,” Sam bursts, but his anger was quick to simmer when he looked at the confusion in Bucky’s eyes “Look, I don’t know why she’s not taking her leave or why she’s in West now. All I know, and I’m not even supposed to tell you, is that she was looking for new missions right after you both came back. Now I don’t know what happened between you two in that mission, but whatever it is, I think you should really take that break and ease down a little,”

Bucky flashes an insulted look, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, man, you tell me! Why is she suddenly a workaholic now? And why are you an even bigger brooder than you usually are?”

“I don’t brood,” Bucky argues.

“Yes, you do,” Sam snorts “Much, much worse since the mission,”

Bucky glares, not sparing a word to say.

“Look, just take the vacation, Buck. Whatever issue you have with her, you can ask her yourself when you’re back,” Sam reasoned, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder in persuasion “Take the leave, come back in a week,”

Bucky nodded with a tight lip, watching as Sam leaves him alone in the meeting room.

He runs a hand through his hair in despair. So it’s true, she is avoiding him. Now the next question rings louder in his ears: why?

Was the hostility he showed towards the guards scared her? Was the possessiveness that leaked through his tone made her uncomfortable? Was the lack of response he showed as she dragged him away from the mansion irked her?

So many questions, so little answers.

—-

By the third day of staying in his apartment, doing nothing but watching cheap programs on the television and drinking cold beer throughout the day, Bucky realised that this vacation was doing him more harm than good. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. How she must be using her charm, coaxing all the information she could gather with her sweet words and that God gifted smile that would always tug on her lips whenever she wanted something.

That goddamn smile.

A beautiful ghost that haunts his mind, giving no space for anything else. He’s been living less life, sleepless with no rest as his eyes glued on the ticking hand of the clock. He worries not about her safety, hell, he knew better than to doubt her ability to handle herself. What worries him, he couldn’t even put a word.

Bucky knew, more often than not, that the sentiments he held for her were not so typical. He wasn’t just irritated nor bothered by her relenting arguments. The questions she asked and the orders she demanded were ones he would agree to most of the time. Yet, he still couldn’t stop himself from toying around with her. From jabbing on her stance a little too frequently than he should. He loves their squabbles. Their headstrong quarrels that would make his heart beat a little faster in his chest. He yearns for their arguments, keen on having her vexed over some stupid question he would throw or a slight change of action from what she’s ordered him to do.

To hell with the vacation, he thought as he grabbed his keys. 

There’s no telling what his ride would lead up. He’s not even sure he would still have the courage to ask her the question that’s been plaguing his mind. If he would even have the strength to drag himself and find her. But staying put gives him no better remedy. He needs to do something, to at least try and give whatever it is he’s feeling a fight. Whatever he will do then would be a question to be asked in the future.

And so he drives. Riding his bike through the night, ignoring the cold wind that seeps through the zipper of his leather jacket. The only thing in his mind was: the faster he got there, the faster he could find her and see if he could actually get some answers. That’s all that matters.

An hour turns into two as he reaches the hotel where she’s supposed to be staying. It’s far too late at night for him to find her now, so he reckons to just book a room and hope to see her during breakfast. That would be the better plan to take, to just lie his teeth out when they meet and say it was a coincidence because he was supposed to be on vacation, than to wait in the lobby the whole night like the complete stalker he discreetly is.

Bucky tossed the keys of his bike to the valet, walking in with his hands deep in his pocket. He didn’t even bring any clothes with him. An utter idiocy that he’s realised a little too late now.

“I’d like to book a room, please,” he says to the receptionist, tapping on the marbled table as he begins to feel the ache from the drive settling in.

The woman begins to prepare his booking, collecting his ID and card to secure his payment. He studies the hotel, taking in the unfamiliar setting to try and ease his mind. He runs his thumb on his lower lip, scratching the non itchy spot just to try to distract his mind from creating imaginative scenarios of their ‘accidental’ reunion.

But the thought of their happenstance encounter was put to a halt when his gaze found a familiar face. She enters the hotel, waist being held by some random man that he’s never seen before, not even on the reports he snitched from Sam. This face was new, a stranger, yet the comfortable smile on her face shows nothing but pleasant affinity. She leans her head on his arm, giggling when he seals their lips together.

It feels like all air was being sucked out of his lungs. Bucky’s gut twisted, a steel knife stuck on his windpipe. Suddenly, it all makes sense. She was an elite spy, afterall. Acting the part is what she does. Her brain is wired to take whatever action necessary to get the job done, even when such action might affect someone a little differently than her.

What they shared at Bricks’ Mansion meant nothing for her. Not the gentle touch, not the sweet vulnerable stare, not the kiss, nothing. They were all just part of the job. Nothing more, nothing less.

[charmedimsure]

uuuhhhhhm can i pretty pretty please with cherries on top request a Dae-ho x reader where the reader was also in the military? but its like that ep. where they revolutionized? if that makes sense? idk i think it be cool if reader eas good eith a gun

anyways HAVE A LOVELY DAY/ NIGHT love reading your stuff (i binge read it :p)

WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x gn!reader

summary: As a former soldier, you know just what to do when all hell breaks loose.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: guns, death, blood, squid game stuff, panic attacks, ptsd

A/N: i've played so many shooting games i feel like i've been training to write this fic my entire life. i even named it after a shield from my favorite game (brownie points if you know which game). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3 tried to make this gender neutral but if you find any slip ups lmk so i can fix it

**this can be read as romantic or platonic**

You look at the woman standing between bunks with wide eyes. You weren't sure earlier when you saw her on the screen, but seeing her standing ten feet away from you, you're absolutely positive that you know who this is.

"Sergeant?"

Cho Hyun-ju turns and gasps when she sees you, a smile lighting up her face. She quickly embraces you, you happily hugging her back. You were always her favorite soldier (she never admitted it, being the sergeant of the Brigade, but you both knew she liked you best). You were one of the only people who supported her when she came out. You tried to fight against her discharge but, as a low-ranking soldier, you had no say in the matter.

"I knew it had to be you!" you say, pulling back with a smile. "When I saw someone go back into the playing field to help a guy with only ten seconds left, I just knew it was my sergeant!"

"It's good to see you," she says. "Though, I wish it was under better circumstances."

You nod solemnly. You had just watched at least a hundred people die while screaming and begging for their lives. As a former soldier, it was hard that you couldn't do anything to help the civilians. All you could do was stand there and listen to the screams and gunshots, and then the silence.

"How are you here? Are you not part of the Brigade anymore?" Hyun-ju asks.

You shake your head. "No, I actually left not long after you were discharged. It wasn't the same without you, and I just couldn't be civil with the others after how they treated you."

She nods, understanding. "Well, if I'm going to be here with anyone, I'm glad it's you. I trust you with my life, soldier."

You smile. "And I you, Sergeant."

<>

You and Hyun-ju had made it through the next two games together, along with some allies you made along the way. Together with Young-mi, Yong-sik, and Geum-ja, you had been the first team to succeed in the six-legged pentathlon.

You had also made it though Mingle with some new allies, though not all of your old allies made it. Young-mi's death was hard on your whole group, but Hyun-ju had been taking it the worst. While you had grown closer with Yong-sik and Geum-ja, she had formed a special bond with the young girl and had to watch her die right in front of her.

While you would like to take the time to mourn Young-mi, a lot has happened in the few hours since the third game ended. The vote on whether to go home or stay ended in a 50-50 tie, meaning you're going to have to redo the vote tomorrow. Then, a huge fight apparently broke out in the men's bathroom, leaving five players dead.

Both sides group together to count their numbers, and you find that there's now one more X than O. While the players around you celebrate, a feeling of dread shoots through you.

"Attention please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime."

Shit.

Player 047 stands in front of the group. "Listen, you cannot change your minds. We have to win the second vote and get out of here tomorrow, alright?"

As the other players around you nod and move to their beds, you stay sitting, watching the O players. They're already looking at your group. Watching. Waiting. You look at Gi-hun, the previous winner, and know that he's thinking the same thing you are.

<>

"Those bastards are acting suspicious," Dae-ho says, returning to the small circle you formed on the ground. "It looks like they're up to something."

Jung-bae breathes out a laugh. "Whatever those idiots do, once we win the vote tomorrow, it'll all be over."

"You think we'll be okay?" Dae-ho asks, concerned. "They say things were really crazy in the bathroom earlier."

"We need to be ready," you say from your place between Dae-ho and Gyeong-seok. "They've been watching us since the moment they found out the prize money goes up if we kill each other."

The group around you tenses before Gi-hun speaks up as well. "Once the lights go out, people on the other side will attack us."

"Really?" Yong-sik asks from beside his mother.

Gi-hun nods. "Because if they kill us, they'll be able to win the vote and increase the prize."

"So what do we do?" Yong-sik asks.

"Let's attack them first," Young-il suggests. "They're probably thinking we'll just wait for the second vote. We can use it to our advantage. We'll attack them first once the lights go out."

"That's right," Player 047 says. "It'd be better to attack them first. We have more women and elderly on our side. If we get attacked we'll be at a disadvantage." You send him a glare that makes him freeze for a moment before continuing. "Attacking them first would give us a better chance of winning."

"I agree," Player 145 adds.

"We can't do that," Gi-hun says.

"But we have to get out of here," Young-il argues. "You said it yourself. Staying calm won't get us anywhere now."

"That doesn't mean we should kill each other," Gi-hun says. "That's exactly what they want us to do."

Jung-bae leans forward. "'They'?"

Gi-hun looks at him. "The ones who created this game." He turns to face the rest of the circle. "The ones who watch us play. If we're going to fight someone, it should be them."

It's silent before Dae-ho speaks up. "Where are they?"

Gi-hun looks to the ceiling. "Up there."

You all follow his gaze before looking around at each other.

"On the upper levels," Gi-hun says, "are the rooms they control the games from. The man in the black mask is their leader. Once we capture him, we'll be able to win."

"How are you going to fight them?" Young-il asks. "They have guns."

"We'll fight them with guns, too," Gi-hun says.

"But we don't have any," Jung-bae says.

Gi-hun turns to him. "We'll take their guns."

You and Hyun-ju look at each other. This is what you were trained for.

"From those masked men?" Gyeong-seok asks nervously.

Gi-hun nods.

"That's too dangerous," Young-il says. "Even if we manage to take a few guns, we'll still be outnumbered."

"What then?" Gi-hun argues. "Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive? Is that what you want, Young-il?"

Hyun-ju breaks the silence. "Do we... stand a chance?"

"We do if we catch them off guard," Gi-hun says. "Out of everyone, they're the ones who would least expect us to attack first. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all."

"How are you going to take their guns?" Young-il asks.

"Once the fight begins tonight, we'll have our chance."

<>

"Lights out in ten seconds."

"Ten,

nine,

eight,

seven,

six,

five,

four,

three,

two,

one."

The lights dim, then turn off completely, leaving only the red and blue lights from the floor.

You roll out of bed, getting under the frame. You feel someone else trying to get under your bed, and you move a bit to make room for Dae-ho. Just as you get in position, you see bodies creeping towards your side of the room, illuminated by the bright blue O on the floor.

There's a scream, and all hell breaks loose.

The lights strobe as you hear the sounds of screaming and bottles being smashed coming from all around you. Somewhere to your right, a bunk is toppled over, sending someone to the ground. Another player runs up to them, stabbing their fork into their neck.

You feel the ex-Marine next to you tense up and put a hand over his, trying to bring him some comfort, or at the very least trying to keep him from blowing your cover.

You hear the buzzer of the door and the lights come on. One of the soldiers fires into the air to stop the fighting as about twenty masked guards come into the room, all armed.

You quickly army crawl out from under the bed, Dae-ho following you as you lay down on the ground.

You hear footsteps getting closer to you, and your ear is moved as a device scans behind it.

You open your eyes, grabbing the soldier so they can't move. "Dae-ho! Now!"

The ex-Marine smashes a bottle over the head of the guard, knocking him unconscious. You take the opportunity to grab the submachine gun off of the soldier, shooting another soldier coming toward you and Dae-ho. You're so focused on the fight that you fail to notice the quivering boy holding his hands over his ears against the bunks.

Grabbing another gun, you quickly scale one of the bunks to get a better vantage of the fight.

"Sergeant!" You yell, gaining the attention of Hyun-ju. She looks to you and you toss the SMG to her. She drops her pistol and catches the weapon, turning just in time to shoot one of the pink guards coming for her.

You use your position to fire at the guards hiding behind bunks. You pull the trigger until you hear a click, cursing as the mag runs empty. You jump down from the bunk, using the butt of the gun to knock a guard out cold. You quickly take his ammo and reload your own gun, firing at a guard trying to shoot Gi-hun.

"Retreat. Retreat."

The voice over the intercom announces and the pink soldiers make their way towards the door. You're able to shoot two more, but most of the soldiers who are still alive are able to make it out of the room. The main guard with the square on his mask is too busy firing back to realize that the door has closed behind him, sealing him in the room with you just as he runs out of ammo.

"Stop! Hold fire!" Gi-hun yells.

Jung-bae and another player run over to the square guard, making sure he won't fight.

"You goddamn bastards!" you hear someone yell on the other side of the room and turn to see Player 047 aiming his gun at a bunch of O players.

"No!" Gi-hun yells, stopping the man before he can shoot. "This is not what we took these guns for. If we do this, we'll be no different from those masked men."

Player 047 lowers his gun, hanging his head and he softly cries.

Gi-hun steps to the center of the room. "Everyone! Don't be scared. Gather round, please! We're not trying to hurt you!"

You walk to stand by Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok.

"Get the guns and ammo from the dead," she tells the both of you.

You nod, doing as your sergeant says while she takes out the cameras in the room.

<>

Placing one of the last guns on the mattress in the center of the room, you move to stand in line between Jung-bae and Dae-ho, handing the extra SMG in your hand to Dae-ho.

Gi-hun steps forward. "Everyone. We will now head up to the masked men's headquarters. We'll capture the ones who captured us, put an end to this game, and make them pay. Anyone who knows how to use a gun and wishes to join us, please step forward."

You look at the crowd in front of you, but everyone stays where they are.

"Hey," you hear a voice next to you say and turn your head to see Jung-bae stepping forward. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But this may be our last chance to make it out of this place alive. Fight with us so we can go home together. All together."

One of the players in the back of the crowd steps forward. "I'll fight with you."

Gi-hun waves at him to come and take a gun. Two other players come forward as well.

You watch as Yong-sik makes a move to step forward, but he catches your gaze as you shake your head at him. It's very brave of him to think about volunteering, but he hasn't even served his mandatory military service yet, and it would kill his mother if he didn't come back. You breathe a sigh of relief when Yong-sik stays where he is.

When it's clear that no one else is stepping forward, Gi-hun turns to you all. "Please check your guns and ammo."

"Let's take one radio each," Jung-bae says. "We'll use channel 7, the lucky number."

You put the strap of your gun around you, checking the mag and putting it back in place when you're satisfied with the amount of ammo that is left. You look to your right to see Dae-ho fiddling with his own gun. Just as you're about to help him, Hyun-ju steps forward.

"Attention," she says, holding up her gun. "This is the MP5, a submachine gun." She continues on the demonstrate how to load the weapon and set it to the mode you should be using. When she's done, she looks at you all. "Are we clear?"

"Yes," you answer, falling right back into the rhythm with your sergeant.

Hyun-ju nods to you, silently telling you to stay by her when you get out there.

"How do you two know each other?" Dae-ho questions, his voice a bit shaky.

You smirk, cocking the MP5. "I was in the 13th Special Missions Brigade. Hyun-ju was my sergeant."

Dae-ho stares at you, completely stunned. "You were in the Decapitation Unit?!"

You chuckle at his disbelief, nodding.

The man can't believe it. He's been bragging about being an ex-Marine while there's been two ex-Special Forces soldiers right next to him the whole time.

Gi-hun points a pistol at the square-masked guard. "Take it off."

The guard slowly removes his mask, revealing a boy no older than 25.

"Good God," Jung-bae says. "Do your parents know what you're doing here?"

The guard just stares at him.

Gi-hun cocks the pistol. "Take us to your captain."

<>

"All players, it is bedtime now. Please return to your quarters immediately. Otherwise, you will be eliminated from the game. Let me repeat..."

Gi-hun fires at the speaker, effectively shutting up the voice. Three guards are stood over you. "Get down!"

You duck behind the wall of the stairs. Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you turn to look at Hyun-ju behind you.

"Cover me!"

You nod, shooting at the guards while she sprints to the top of the stairs. From her new vantage point, she is able to take out one of the guards, causing their body to fall over the ledge and down to the floor.

When you duck down to reload, you see Dae-ho next to you. The ex-Marine is sitting in a ball, covering his ears and flinching every time a shot rings out. You look at him with concern, but your attention is stolen by Gi-hun telling everyone to hold their fire. Dae-ho gets a grip on his weapon and you all move, following Gi-hun and the un-masked guard.

As you move down an alleyway, Gi-hun stops the guard. "How much farther? Is this the right way?"

The boy points toward the end of the hall. "The entrance to the management area is around that corner. The control room is right above it."

Gi-hun pushes him. "Move it, then!"

"Wait," the guard says, reaching toward his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Gi-hun stops him.

"I need my mask to pass security," the guard explains. Gi-hun nods and the guard takes the mask out. He looks up, but before he can say anything else, a bullet goes right through his head.

You all take cover as more shots are fired at you. Something slashes onto your face, and you turn to see Player 072's lifeless body falling to the ground.

You drop the floor and crawl over to Hyun-ju, both of you taking positions in a green square area of the stairs. You nod to each other and duck out of cover, firing at the guards. You can hear the men speaking to each other at the other end of the line, but you focus on taking out as many guards as possible.

You and Hyun-ju alternate firing and taking cover, both of you shooting with deadly precision, doing your best to not waste any of the already low supply of ammo you have.

A player next to you screams and is shot. You turn, shooting at the guard approaching from your rear, taking out a few that are behind that one as well.

"Everyone! Check your magazines!" Hyun-ju calls out.

You take the mag out of the gun, seeing that you have about half of a clip left. Everyone announces that they're around the same.

"Young-il, Dae-ho, can you hear me?" The voice of Jung-bae erupts from your radio.

"Go ahead!" Young-il says.

"I think we're right below the control room." Shots can be heard in the background. "But we need backup and more ammo."

"We're running out of ammo, too!"

"There should be spare magazines in the soldiers' pockets in our quarters. Go get them!" Gi-hun yells through the radio.

"Did you hear that?" Young-il turns to the group. "They need backup! Three of us will go, and the rest will stay! Join us once you get the magazines! Who wants to go with me?"

Players 047 and ... volunteer and they run off towards the end of the hall.

"I'll go get the magazines!" Hyun-ju yells. "I'll come back as soon as I can, so just hold on until then!"

"Hyun-ju!" A voice yells. You turn to see Dae-ho raising his hand. "I'll go!" He hurries over to where you and Hyun-ju are taking cover. "I- I'm out of ammo."

"Do you know the way?" Gyeong-seok asks. Dae-ho nods.

"We destroyed the cameras on the way, follow them," Hyun-ju says.

"I'll go with him," you say. "I still have some ammo, so I'll cover him."

Hyun-ju nods. "I'll cover you. Go!"

You and Dae-ho take off down the stairs. He stops a few times, but you pull him along, keeping your eyes up to watch for the broken cameras. As you're running down the stairs, Dae-ho stops, and you turn to see him staring at a dead guard hanging over the ledge of a window.

"Dae-ho!" Jung-bae yells. "Can you hear me? Where are those magazines?"

You lift your own radio to your mouth. "We're getting them now."

"Alright! We're counting on you!"

You put your radio back in your pocket, grabbing Dae-ho's hand and pulling him along behind you.

You burst into the quarters, letting go of Dae-ho's hand as you sprint to a guard, taking the spare mags out of their pockets. You hear someone say your name and look up to see Yong-sik.

"What happened? Why are you back by yourselves?"

"We're low on ammo," you say, not looking up from the guard you're looting. "We need to get the magazines from their pockets. Help us!"

You look up to the boy to see him nod and run over to a nearby guard. Geum-ja and Jun-hee come over to the help, as well.

Once you've looted all the ammo from the guards, you place them into a jacket you found on one of the dead players. You tie it up and give it to Dae-ho, thanking the others as you lead him out of the room.

Gunshots can be heard as soon as you step outside. You keep moving but when you check behind you, you see that Dae-ho has stopped where he is.

"Dae-ho, we need to go," you urge.

He looks at you silently, but the fear in his eyes sends the message. You've seen soldiers like this before you joined the Special Forces.

Dae-ho stands in his spot, paralyzed other than the shake of his body in fear.

You hear your name and Dae-ho's through the radio. "Where are you? Can you hear me?"

You watch as Dae-ho lifts his radio, staring at it as Hyun-ju's voice comes through.

"Did you find the magazines? Are you on your way?"

Dae-ho looks at you. "I'm sorry," he whispers, dropping the radio on the ground and running back into the quarters with the magazines.

"Shit," you say under your breath. You follow Dae-ho into the room, looking around to find where he went. Yong-sik points toward a bunk and you find Dae-ho curled up there, rocking back and forth. Running over to him, you take the jacket with the mags, ready to run out of there. You take a look at Dae-ho, the pure fear coursing through him as he whispers apologies over and over.

You sigh, remembering one of the lessons Hyun-ju taught you as your sergeant.

Never leave a man behind.

Taking out your radio, you bring it to your lips and press the button. "Charlie Foxtrot."

You put your radio down, knowing that Hyun-ju will know what to do. You had picked up the phrase from your U.S. counterparts, saying it to each other when something goes wrong.

Moving to sit on the bed, you take Dae-ho's hands into yours. "Dae-ho, I need you to breathe with me, alright."

He slowly looks at your face before launching himself into your arms, sobbing into your shoulder. You rub his back comfortingly, knowing you can't leave him alone like this.

After a few minutes, Hyun-ju runs into the room shouting you and Dae-ho's names. She comes running over to you, stopping when she sees Dae-ho in your arms.

"What happened?"

Dae-ho jumps a bit at the new voice, burying his face farther into your jacket.

You look up a Hyun-ju, shaking your head at her. She nods, understanding. You point at the magazines and she scoops them into her arms, ready to take them to the others when the buzzer for the door goes off and more pink guards enter the room, firing in the air and making everyone scream.

Hyun-ju reloads her SMG, ready to take on the entire group on guards by herself. You watch as Geum-ja puts a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"You can't die like this."

You sigh in relief as Hyun-ju puts the gun down. From your hidden area, you try to get the guns and mags away from you, making it seem as though the three of you have been here the whole time.

As the guards come further into the room, you use your body to shield Dae-ho from them as he whimpers. You make eye contact with Hyun-ju. Whatever happens next, you'll face it as a team.

~

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck @ally1uvsu @thebiggestigurosimp @come-as-you-are-111 @hiphip-horray @k1michii @tpwkcaryslizb @louissst28 @sshwaa @jennwonwoo @sunnysurvives @lalalaa2210 @tayshs @sunshinethatlooksalive @plntmxrss @lxnnrobin @mariaxman @alexx-iia @batty-barty-crouchjr @kxsm3t @takuma-talkz @peacemakersbeloved @skywalker0809 @soobinbunnie5

[literaticat]

Is it ethical to use Chat GPT or Grammarly for line editing purposes? I have a finished book, 100% written by me and line edited by me already--and I do hope to get it traditionally published. But I think it could benefit from a line edit from someone who isn't me, obviously, before querying. But line editing services run $3-4k for a 75k book, which is beyond my budget.

I was chatting with someone recently who self-publishes. They said they use Chat GPT Plus to actually train a model for their projects to line edit using instructions like (do not rewrite or rephrase for content /edit only for rhythm, clarity, tone, and pacing /preserve my voice, sentence structure, and story intent with precision). Those are a few inputs she used and she said it actually worked really well.

So in that case, is AI viewed in the same way you'd collaborate with a human editor? Or does that cross ethical boundaries in traditional publishing? Like say for instance AI rewords your sentence and maybe switches out for a stronger verb or adjective or a stronger metaphor--is using that crossing a line? And if I were to use it for that purpose, would I need to disclose that? I know AI is practically a swear word among authors and publishers right now, so I think even having to say "I used AI tools" might raise eyebrows and make an agent hesitant during the querying process. But obviously, I wouldn't lie if it needs to be disclosed... just not sure I even want to go there and risk having to worry about that. Thoughts? Am I fine? Overthinking it?

Thanks!

I gotta be honest, this question made me flinch so hard I'm surprised my face didn't turn inside out.

Feeding your original work into ChatGPT or a similar generative AI large language model -- which are WELL KNOWN FOR STEALING EVERYTHING THAT GETS PUT INTO THEM AND SPITTING OUT STOLEN MATERIAL-- feels like, idk, just a terrible idea. Letting that AI have ANY kind of control over your words and steal them feels like a terrible idea. Using any words that a literal plagiarism-bot might come up with for you feels like a terrible idea.

And ethical questions aside: AI is simply not good at writing fiction. It doesn't KNOW anything. You want to take its "advice" on your book? Come on. Get it together.

Better idea: Get a good critique group that can tell you if there are major plot holes, characters whose motivations are unclear, anything like that -- those are things that AI can't help you with, anyway. Then read Self-Editing for Fiction Writers -- that info combined with a bit of patience should stand you in good stead.

Finally, I do think that using spell-check/grammarly, either as you work or to check your work, is fine. It's not rewriting your work for you, it's just pointing out typos/mistakes/potential issues, and YOU, PERSONALLY, are going through each and every one to make the decision of how to fix any actual errors that might have snuck in there, and you, personally, are making the decision about when to use a "stronger" word or phrase or recast a sentence that it thinks might be unclear or when to stet for voice, etc. Yes, get rid of typos and real mistakes, by all means!

(And no, I don't think use of that kind of "spell-check/grammar-check" tool is a problem or anything that you need to "disclose" or feel weird about -- spell-check is like, integrated into most word processing software as a rule, it's ubiquitous and helpful, and it's different from feeding your work into some third-party AI thing!)

[copilot-crashout]

Oh em gee I love ur writing so much it physically cleanses me sjsjjsjsj

Anyhoo, I was wondering if I could politely request Mouthwashing x reader (separate) where reader writes them “anonymous” love letters. Reader thinks they are being sneaky but the crew have known from the first letter its them and just chose to keep quiet^^? Idk I am kinda crazy about dorky!reader..

Ps #1(If u don’t wanna do all the characters, that fine!)

Pairing: Tulpar crew x gn!reader

Content Warning: None! [except I gave up on proofreading.. ( ᐡ๐ ·̫ ๐)〣]

[A/N]: You're so sweet! Thank you, lovely anon!! (°´˘`°) I default to all the characters, so don't worry! I don't want to leave anyone's favourites out! I wonder if you can tell who my favourite is from my work... ( ⩌⩊⩌)✧

CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> What a charming admirer he has! He grins when he notices you nervously looking around before entering his room, only to find the cutest little letter in his room professing their love to him.

-> He keeps hold of all of them. They're worth more than gold anyway. He doesn't have the heart to tell you right away, not when he sees your chest puffed out with pride when you place another letter in his room, a mission successful in your eyes. Instead, he focuses on noticing the little details he'd never seemed to pick up on initially. You had it bad for him, huh?

-> Curly teases you about it. He never mentions them directly, but he will often exaggerate his behaviours to the most recent letter he read. You mentioned how tall he was. He's sure to flaunt it off more.

Since when were things in this kitchen placed so high?

You sighed to yourself, stretching to try and grab some simple condiment packets you swore were placed on the countertop the last time you saw them. Luckily for you, Curly walks in at the perfect moment. When you ask for help, he gives a confident grin as he nods, stepping towards you. As expected of him.

What you didn't expect was the warm hand he placed on your hip or the way his chest pressed into your back as he grabbed exactly what you were asking for, the steady thrum of his heartbeat only making yours speed up. You're left red-faced and stuttering, nervous hands taking the packets out of his larger one.

"You're all red. If you're not feeling well, you should take a visit to Anya. I can walk you there."

JIMMY:

-> He loves it. End of. They boost his confidence in ways he didn't even know was possible. The idea of you watching him when he didn't notice was one he found sickly sweet, prideful that someone loved him as much as he deserved.

-> He was initially planning to tell you he knew after the first letter. He had dreamed about the way he'd hold your letter back to you, a sly grin as he watched you scramble for an answer, flustered before ultimately coming clean about your attempts to court him. Once he sees the second letter, however, his mindset changes.

-> It's simply too cute. The way you sneak around to keep it anonymous and the way you wear your heart on your sleeve. He's delighted by how much of your mind he occupies. It excites him to think about how much you try to learn about him. Do you know his routine by heart? What about his likes and dislikes? Better yet, were you trying to mould yourself into the perfect partner for him (although this seems more of a dream on his part than a genuine question...)? He gets a sick kick out of it.

-> He finds himself re-reading the letters in the middle of the night, the ones that point out the smallest parts of himself that you talked about so affectionately. It made him nauseous. Words so tender weren't something he came by so easily, nor was it something he believed he deserved. He's used to one-night stands, a cheap fuck, nothing so... romantic. Perhaps he could get used to this.

-> He's not going to be soft, though, as he teases you about it. Offhandedly mentions the letter and if you knew who could leave such a thing in his room and grins when you instantly deny it and make a show of him believing you. He gets incredibly touchy, too. His hands linger for a fraction longer than they need to. He stands as close to you as he can, looming over you whenever he has the time. Have you noticed the way the atmosphere changes when it's just the two of you alone? He'll look forward to your next letter. Maybe you wrote about it.

-> He could try playing the long game for once. The reward feels so much sweeter that way.

ANYA:

-> Anya is perceptive first and foremost. Rather than catching her admirer mid-delivery, she uncovers your identity through your handwriting.

-> The letters cheer her up endlessly. They're a sweet reminder of how someone adores her, even when she's overwhelmed. It's hard on board, but your letters become a routine that she looks forward to. I think she's one of the only characters who would tell you she knows, feeling guilty about leaving you in the dark about something that could embarrass you. However, she'd never ask you to stop. Anya gushes about how much she appreciates every single letter, keeping them and re-reading them when she can and she tells you how she figured it out, giggling when you stare at her like you're begging for the floor to swallow you whole.

-> Anya makes it a priority to keep you happy. Your letters do so much for her, she only wants you to feel the same. You'll find her lingering around you more, offering hugs or a shoulder to lean on whenever possible. If you're especially tired, she'll help finish your work with you. Another set of hands would always help.

-> She begins to write small compliments on her Post-it notes, leaving them in places you frequent. If you have tools you use, she places a note talking about how hardworking you are on there. Otherwise, you begin to find small notes in your room. It becomes a ritual between the both of you, sending each other letters when you can. She just wants you to know how loved you are.

DAISUKE:

-> For him!? Really!?

-> He's kicking his feet and giggling, rolling around in his bed, head buried into his pillows. If you thought you were dorky, then he's 100 times worse.

-> He's attached to your hip. You thought he was helpful and sweet? Well, he'll help you with your work! Fun to be around? In his free time, he's running to you for another round of board games or to play on his Game Boy.

-> He wouldn't know subtle if it slapped him in his face. It's unfortunate for the rest of the crew, who have to watch two love-sick adults pine for each other as if they're not reciprocated.

-> Whenever he feels especially sad, he re-reads the letters. Even if he might feel useless at times, that he doesn't have a plan for his future, he does have the assurance that you'll be there by his side. You're a great person. If you can find all these amazing things about him then... He's sure he can make something great of himself.

SWANSEA:

"Jesus, this kids got it rough."

-> That's his first thought before it slowly dissolves into a fond affection. He's a bit too old for this lovey-dovey yearning shtick, right? Initially, he finds himself sighing at the letters, wondering when and how would be the best way to stop this little game of yours. He feels undeserving of it. You have so much going for you. You simply don't deserve someone like him. He wants to push you away, but the letters mean too much to him. Instead, he becomes charmed by it all, awaiting every letter with bated breath.

-> You do know how to make him feel young again. Each letter leaves his heart pounding, feeling like a young schoolboy rather than a washed-out mechanic.

-> He keeps every single one. If you place them in little envelopes or place small gifts like stickers in them, you'll be glad to know he keeps it all in his bedside drawer.

-> He's one to return the favour, too. He's picked up a few skills with his work. Blue-collar jobs like this have enough transferable skills to help in the creative department. He hopes you're not too surprised if you find your broken items repaired or a small figure of your favourite animal made out of scraps in your room.

-> Perhaps... He's the one who's got it bad.