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girlfromomegle · 1 month

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REPOSTING THIS AGAIN CUS THIS IS LITERALLY MY FAV

Rich Girl

series masterlist

pairing: Tate Langdon x f!reader

words: 4965

summary: The wealthy kinsley family moving into the murder house leads to: Cracks forming between family members, strange occurances in the house, and the feeling of being watched all the time.

warnings: underaged drinking, hints to stalking, some cursing

taglist: @iloveneilperry

song: rich girl by daryl hall and john oates

🎶 So far gone on your own. Well you could get along if you tried to be strong. But you'll never be strong cause you're a rich girl. And you've gone too far cause you know it don't matter anyway. You can rely on the old man's money...

October 21st 2014

It was always very clear that the west coast wasn't for you, yet here you were, stuck in LA traffic on a saturday morning. You had questioned if you had done anything horrific in your life to deserve to be here right now.

Olive was sitting next to you and was playing some Mario game on his nintendo, Frank was driving while whistling the lines of the horrible music on the radio and your mother was nervous. Usually she would touch her pearl necklace continuously in state of stress, however it was packed up in her suitcase in the back. Now she was staring blankly in front of her, biting her nails. It was a habit you inherited from her as you were plucking your own cuticles. However, instead of being nervous, you were bored out of your mind.

To try and kill time you had placed your headphones on and listened to your own music, but still, Nirvana couldn’t make time go by faster. It also didn't help that strands of hair were getting painfully stuck in your headphones and earrings every time you moved.

For hours since you left the hotel it was quiet in the car, until you heard Frank gasp. The whole ride from the hotel he had looked very neutral but now he broke the silence. “Oh my god.”

Your mom got out of her trance and turned her head, making her hat bump against the window. “What is it, honey?”

“I think I forgot to grab our charger from our hotel room,” Frank seemed visibly upset and your mom stopped biting her nails.

“It’s probably somewhere in the suitcases in the back.” She tried to reassure but Frank shook his head. “No, I remember plugging in the charger and thinking to myself I should unplug it and pack it in, but I forgot.”

"It's just a charger, honey. You got a backup charger and when we arrive at the house we'll buy another one." she was quick to come to a solution but Frank shook his head. He was always one to never forget anything. Even though you were very very wealthy and could buy millions of chargers, Frank always advocated to you and your little brother to never lose an item worth of any value. Every cent was worth something and could help. The way Frank looked at money was the way a mother would look at a newborn child.

"Fine." He murmured and you saw one of his famous frowns appear on his face whenever he was upset. He looked like a child really. Every time something like this happens he sulks in a corner and desperately tries to push the annoying feeling away for the sake of looking tough, however, deep inside he was boiling.

He gave a small smack on the side of the wheel and cursed.

“Shit.”

Before he could say anything else, your mother gave him a soft smack on the shoulder. “Don’t swear in front of Oliver. He doesn't need to hear that filth.”

Frank’s eyes widened and he said “whoops” before giving a guilty look at your mother. He quietly hoped Oliver didn’t hear it but once he turned his head to look at him, Oliver looked up from his Nintendo and gave him a cheeky smile. “Shit.”

Oliver always did the same thing Frank did. It was cute how he looked up to him. Your mother however wasn’t too fond of it.

“See? He’s starting to copy you. Next thing I know, he starts smoking and drinking as well. 1 version of you is enough.”

“Oh come on, Clarissa. A little swearing won’t hurt the world. It’ll make him tough like his sister. Right Y/n?” again, he looked at you with hope through the rear view mirror that you’ll back him up.

“No, I actually agree with mom.”

“Thank you, see Frank? I raised a well mannered daughter.”

You bit your nail and leaned your elbow against the window frame of the car while looking outside. “Yeah, I think it’s a very shitty thing to swear in front of Olive.”

“Very shit indeed.” Oliver answered.

Frank laughed out loud, his lost charger long forgotten and your mother facepalmed while closing her eyes. She rubbed her forehead as she leaned against the window and she looked visibly disappointed. You however, looked at your little brother and high fived him.

“One version of you,” your mom looked back and pointed at you “Is also enough.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. You then clicked on the pause button on your ipod to resume your song. Nirvana’s ‘come as you are’ was on a loop and you closed your eyes while daydreaming.

The feeling of sitting in one position for way too long made your body shiver and ache. It stung and you felt uncomfortable, but after shifting and finding a better way to sit, the vibrations managed to lull you to sleep.

Once the car came to a stop about 3 hours later, you opened your eyes.

“We’re here!” Frank said in excitement and placed a hand on your mother’s hand before exiting the vehicle. You had your ipod in hand and ‘glory box’ by Portishead was playing as you stretched your limbs.

From the moment you stepped out of the car and felt the California weather wrapped around you, you were surprised that it wasn’t that hot. Even though it was October, you expected it to feel like you were in a pit of hell. The autumn breeze however felt comfortable against your skin.

You grabbed your backpack with all the necessary stuff you needed, and grabbed your sunglasses from your pocket to shield the sunlight from your eyes. As you chewed on your bubblegum you got a view of the building in front of you.

Frank and your mom were stretching their limbs and you took a long and hard look. The building looked like it had been ripped out of a 1920s film. It was grand and had a pale reddish color. The windows were mosaic with washed out colors, but it suited the exterior well.

Frank looked in awe at the building. “Now, look at that beauty. It’s even better in person.” you cocked your head to the side and scanned the mural. “It looks…” you tried to find the right word, “Old.”

You and your best friend loved fashion styles and you were also both very interested in stylish architecture. Victorian homes were usually fascinating to you because it had so much character and history. This one in front of you however looked like one of those houses that had mold everywhere. It's probably because it had been a very long time since people lived here.

You cringed and scrunched your nose while touching your earring. "This place better have a maid."

Olive stood next to you while Frank and your mom stood behind you. Frank placed his arm around your mom’s waist and placed a hand on your shoulder. "I read online that it was built somewhere in the early 20th century." Your mom gave the boy a little squeeze of his shoulder.

“Great, so the chances are 99% that the house is haunted." you muttered and your mom gave you a sharp look.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” You gave her a smile and when she looked away, you rolled your eyes. Frank heard what you said and rubbed your shoulder. “Of course it’s not haunted, honey. You’ve seen way too many films,” the man looked at the little boy, “It’s beautiful and detailed, right Oliver?”

Oliver didn’t respond, instead he searched for your hand and clung to it. “Is this our new home?"

“It might be,” Frank walked with Marcy to the next room and squeezed Oliver’s shoulder. “Come on little man, let’s see the inside.”

Frank, Oliver and your mother were the first ones to walk towards the door and you were left behind to gaze at the window. You swore you saw movement for a split second and your eyes lingered for a moment, but after a while of staring you saw nothing. All that met your eye was the abyss behind colored tiles.

You shrugged it off and slowly made your way to the front door. Right before you stepped foot on the porch, the door opened and a strawberry blonde woman smiled brightly.

“You must be Frank and Clarissa,” she greeted and Frank shook the woman's hand. She introduced herself as Marcy and then saw you and your brother, "And you must be Y/n and Oliver." You shook her hand and smiled, showing your bright teeth, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Marcy stepped aside and let everyone in. “It’s a classic Victorian. Built around 1920 by the doctor to the stars at the time. It’s just fabulous, these are real Tiffany fixtures. And as you can see, the owners really loved this place like a child. They restored everything.”

Oliver followed them and you were still scanning the hall. The feelings you had when you walked on the creaking wood was indescribable. It looked intriguing yet menacing for some reason.

As Marcy explained some more historic facts about the building, you got bored and decided to walk around. You didn't know where to, but your feet moved before you could think. It felt like a strong gravitational pull enchanted you and took control of your legs, and your curious eyes met a lamp in the corner of the end of the hall. To the right there was nothing to meet your eyes but the walls, yet again you swore you saw movement. You frowned but shrugged it off once again. Maybe it was just the jetlag. You really did feel tired and almost choked on your bubblegum when you fell asleep.

You whipped out your phone as you walked through the hall and you sighed exaggeratedly. You were texting your best friend about the house. However you didn't have any service and you wondered if the place had wifi. No matter, even if it would send, she didn't respond right away as she was probably asleep due to the time difference. You put away your phone and looked around.

You had seen pictures before and thought everything was gonna be smaller. You knew the way people photographed houses to make it look bigger than in reality, but this house seemed to be an exception. You had to give props to that. You had great respect for honesty and integrity.

As you were checking all of the rooms on the ground floor, you were stopped by a barking sound from your right. As you followed the sound, you looked down and saw a Chi-poo looking up at you with whale eyes. It looked at you with its head cocked to the side and you crouched down. “Where did you come from, little guy?” your voice was higher pitched and you gently grabbed the collar and read the name, “Hallie.”

Your frown faded and you smiled brightly while scratching Hallie’s head. “Aren’t you a little beauty?” You whispered and you let Hallie find a comfortable spot in your arms. The moment seemed sweet and although it was, a clicking sound of heels that was heard from behind you ruined it. You could almost hear the entitlement in that sound and you let out an inaudible sigh.

“There you are,” You looked up and saw your mother standing in the doorway. “Want to see the rest of the house, sweetie?”

Clarissa leaned against the brown cabinet on the right. You put up a smile and stood up from your spot.

“Yeah I’m coming.” You grabbed the dog and cradled it in your arms.

After you saw the kitchen, you were marveled by the space of the house in its entirety. Sure everything looked old but there was no denying the house definitely had style. The kitchen island had a sink and the dark brown wood oddly complimented the black and white tiles. From the outside it definitely looked very stale and it definitely needed a paint job, but from the inside it was much more vibrant. You appreciated all the little crevices of details in each and every room and realized you shouldn't have judged too harshly on the first look.

Once you moved to another door and opened it, you saw two big shelves against the wall and a fireplace on the right.

“This could be the music room, right honey?” Frank asked your mother and she happily nodded.

Marcy looked amused, “You’re a musician?”

Frank shook his head. “No, unfortunately I’m not musically gifted, Y/n is. She plays the piano.”

"She definitely didn't get that from me, I am tone deaf." Your mother laughed and you smiled sheepishly.

Marcy gave you a smile in return and walked a bit further towards the window. “I think the piano is such a lovely instrument, I think it will look amazing here.” She pointed at the spot near the window and Frank happily continued talking. “Y/n has been dying to get a Grand Piano. We had one years ago but sold it when we moved again. We want to buy one as soon as possible for her so she can practice again.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a proud smile as he rubbed softly, “Oliver always listened whenever she played. Y/n even taught him a song or two."

“That sounds lovely, the previous owners of the house were also musically gifted. The mother played the Cello.” Marcy continued and her face fell, “Speaking about the previous owners, full disclosure requires that I tell you what happened to them.”

You let out a soft chuckle and walked forward, causing Frank's hand to let go off your shoulder. “Let me guess, they died?”

You actually meant for it to be a joke, but Marcy nodded.

“Yes they did, actually. All three of them. The dog you’re holding is Hallie. The only one left of the Harmon family. The mother died while giving birth and the daughter and the father both committed suicide. I sold them the house too. They were just the sweetest family. You never know, I guess.”

Your face fell and your mouth opened and closed a few times as your eyebrows were raised. Before you could say anything, Frank came to your rescue. “That explains why it’s half the price of every other house in the neighborhood and why it was on sale for 3 years I guess.”

You could have guessed Frank wanted the biggest house for the least amount of money. One thing he didn't forsee was there was always a catch.

"I told you it was too good to be true." you whispered to yourself. The house market was shit, and so when Frank found this house on the listings he marveled at how much money he could save and invest if you were to move in. You were very skeptical of it and had warned him that there could be a very concerning reason as to why it was this cheap.

Murders were definitely a valid reason as to why.

Marcy continued. “I do have a very nice mid-century ranch, but it’s in the valley and you’re going to get a third of the house for twice the price.”

Your mother held the arm of Frank and seemingly didn’t care about the information about the demise of the previous tenants. “The price doesn’t really matter to us. We just need a spaceious place where there is silence and peace. I get these horrible migraines that cause insomnia and my psychiatrist recommended moving to a more quiet area.”

“And you thought you would find silence in LA?” You tried but your mother ignored your comment and continued talking to Marcy. “He prescribed me pills that could help me fall asleep and stay asleep. But still, the loudness of central New Orleans was too much.”

“Don’t worry, mrs. Kinsley. Los Angeles is not all loud and noisy. This house is in the perfect neighborhood and in the perfect shape. The sounds of anything outside are drowned out by the thick walls and even then, it’s rare for it to be busy outside. The only times when the neighborhood comes alive is on holidays,” Marcy continued. “As halloween is approaching, the peak will be on october 31st, but after that you can expect everything to be quiet. Also, the neighbors don't really tend to socialise a lot from what I've heard.”

“That sounds lovely.” your mother smiled brightly and Marcy walked away to talk with Frank about the next room that was perfect for his work. You could faintly the voice of Marcy saying the man from the previous family was a psychiatrist and you found it ironic since Frank was a psychologist. What a coincidence.

As soon as she was out of your sight, you turned to your mother and removed the smile from your face. “Okay, it might be in a good neighborhood, and everything might be all quiet or whatever. But are we really gonna gloss over the fact that a family died here? I mean, what happened to the tenants before them? Are you not concerned about that?"

“The history of the house isn't that important," she shrugged, "You didn't seem to have a problem with our old house. It's even older and also a lot of things have happened there. Probably a few murders here and there. There is a ton of history on that as well." She said as if it was the most casual thing ever. Yeah sure, it's not like murder is a crime and is very bad

"Yes, but this is a house where random people died," you whisper-shouted, "Our old house was old, yes, but it's family history. Our history. I don't mind that because it's a part of us. It's part of our family."

Your mother didn't answer that and looked at the side. She was as stubborn like you and you let out a mocking laugh. "Right, I forgot family doesn't mean anything to you, it's why you got a new shitty boyfriend Frank and decided to move to the other side of the fucking country." That made her head snap back to you and you almost missed the way her head moved to Frank and Marcy, afraid that they would hear her daughter's outburst.

"Y/n, let’s not do this now. It’s not the timing.” Your mother warned with closed teeth and but before you could protest and ask when the right time was, Oliver stood in the doorway. “Mom?”

Hallie, who had a warm spot in your arms, jumped out and ran towards the younger boy. Oliver looked surprised but happily pet the dog and Clarissa smiled as if nothing happened.

“Hey honey, what do you think of the house so far?"

“It’s very big,” Hallie licked his hand and the boy smiled, “I like it.”

Clarissa nodded in agreement and glanced at Frank and Marcy for a second before facing the two of you again. “I think it’s absolutely gorgeous. Exactly what we're looking for.”

You raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms over each other.

Olive's eyes sparkled. “Does this mean that we’ll take it?”

“I think it’s perfect," she said and she gave Olive a smile. “Your opinion matters too, of course. What do you say?” You gave your mother a side eye.

“Yes!" she then turned to look at you and waited for your approval. "And you? Y/n?" her eyes stood void of emotions and you watched Frank and Marcy in the corner of your eyes and sighed. “Why are you asking me? I know you don’t care about my opinion anyways.”

“Y/n…” Clarissa smiled through her teeth and gave you a warning look again. Hallie barked at something and ran out of Olive's arms into the hallway. Olive followed the dog and you continued the conversation you had with your mom.

"What? It's literally why you forced me to come with you. Ever since Frank came we everything changed and I'm tired of it, okay? I just... I can't. Give me a break." you exhaled deeply and rubbed your forehead.

"I will have none of this at the moment,” she repeated her standard line with a calm tone, “We both know it was for the best, and you like quiet too right? There are great schools here and I'm sure you'll make loads of new friends." She didn't know she was literally proving your point right then and there. She didn't care about your opinion. She already had her own the minute she forced you to pack your things and dragged you into the car. You were tempted to open the window and yell 'Help, I'm being kidnapped' but you knew that would only worsen things. You also didn't really felt like sitting in a police bureau sulking while your mother explained the situation.

You scoffed and crossed your arms. "LA is full of stuck up people who care only about followers and fame. I never wanted this."

Your mother rolled her eyes. "Don't act like a brat, Y/n I am so over it. Tons of girls your age dream of moving to this city in a big house like this. They would do anything to be in your position right now, to have the opportunities you have. Besides there are people like that everywhere, your old friends were exactly like that. And sweetie, don't tell me you're not like them cause you are.”

Ah, the old classic "you can't feel sad because you have it better than majority of the people on this shitty planet".

You were starting to boil.

“Just because you’re not a fan of them doesn’t mean they’re immediately conceited.” you tried to keep your voice low to avoid Olive hearing the conversation if he were to lurk somewhere nearby. He had witnessed a few outbursts a few times before and you didn't want Olive to see that as an example of good behavior.

Before the conversation truly went downhill, Marcy and Frank walked back into the room and you turned around to smile again as if nothing happened. Your mother did the same and now you realized the older you got, the more you looked like your mother.

Frank gave Clarissa a kiss on the cheek before he looked at you and asked the same question. “So, Y/n. What do you say?”

It was quiet for a few seconds before you realized that there was absolutely no way of going home anytime soon. You gave Frank one last look before giving Marcy a grin, hoping she wouldn’t notice your twitching eye.

“Does this place come with the dog?”

After Clarissa and Frank signed some papers and discussed the next plans with Marcy, it was already night time. Most of the moving boxes were in the living room and you were currently in your new bedroom. You didn't want to speak with anyone today and so you sulked while sitting on your bed.

The room wasn't all too bad, it was way smaller and darker than your previous room but oddly enough you didn't really mind. Plus, the door had a lock so that was very convenient for you. It took a little while to get the key but after a thorough search you found it lying in a cabinet.

You locked the door, closed the blinds and made sure no one could peek. You were tired from everything and you were in desperate need of some distraction. A bottle of vodka was hidden somewhere deep in one of the boxes as well as a can of cola, and you mixed the two drinks.

"At least I still have alcohol and a designer handbag." You muttered and as you sat on the chair in front of the mirror at your desk, you took a swig of the liquid.

“The blinds are see through, anyone standing in the yard can see what you're doing.”

You spat out the remaining drink and turned around to see a young, blonde man stand near the door. He had his hands in his pockets and simply blinked at you.

“What the-” you wiped the remains from your mouth. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” You saw that the door behind him was open, and you were visibly confused. You thought you locked your door.

“Also, the lock is old, you should double turn the key for it to work.”

Before you could say anything else, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Your eyebrows were frowned and you turned around one more time to blink at the door. Once you looked back at the mirror, you saw the spatters of vodka mixed with cola painted the glass and rubbed your eyes.

What the fuck?

You stood up from your place after a few seconds and walked to your door. To test out what he said you locked the door while twisting the key once. As you pushed the door, it opened and you did the same thing again, this time you turned the key twice.

You pushed the door and it didn’t budge.

Who the fuck was he and how did he get into your house? Was he one of the movers who helped with the boxes from the truck? No that can't be possible, you scanned everyone's faces as they moved in and out, but everyone was middle aged.

So perhaps he was one of Frank's clients? You didn't really know anything about his job but it seemed very logical that clients first had to book an appointment before showing up.

Even though you were kind of freaked out, you didn't alarm anyone. Maybe that was a dumb decision, but you really didn't feel like walking downstairs to see the smug face of Frank and your mother, especially after everything that happened today.

If he was a thief, you hoped he'd steal Frank's backup charger.

If you thought the situation with the blonde boy was weird, what happened after was a lot weirder.

It was about an hour later and you had a bathroom break. You could still walk in a straight line and only felt a bit buzzed. Trying to avoid the living room where Frank and your mother were seated, you walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the tray.

Walking back upstairs, you accidentally dropped the apple and cursed. However, as it rolled into the hallway, you were startled to see the apple roll back to you as though it hit an invisible wall in the middle. You grabbed your forehead, crouching down and taking the apple in your hand. How was that possible?

Looking around once or twice to see anything out of the ordinary, you struggled to clear your thoughts. Eventually you blamed it on the alcohol. Although a feeling deep inside told you that it wasn't that. You knew you weren't drunk enough to imagine this.

You didn't make a big deal out of it mainly because you always scared yourself by thinking the most random creepy things. Walking to the bathroom at night; what if someone is standing behind the corner? Sitting on the couch; what if someone's hand suddenly snatches you into a shadow realm? Every thought was so random. You did it to yourself and you didn't want to scare yourself again.

You blinked once or twice before returning your trek upstairs.

Walking through the hall to find the right door back to your room, you struggled. Having a big house meant there were more rooms, which meant that it would take a while longer to get used to finding your way. Your old house was the same, maybe even bigger. It was the perfect place for hide and seek. You could hide in a closet in one of the many rooms and it would take hours or maybe days to find you.

As you finally found your bedroom, you stopped in your tracks. You heard noise behind the door, and when you opened it, you frowned. You saw that someone unplugged your headphones from your ipod on your bed and had played a song by Daryl Hall and John Oates.

So far gone on your own. Well you could get along if you tried to be strong. But you'll never be strong cause you're a rich girl. And you've gone too far cause you know it don't matter anyway. You can rely on the old man's money...

You paused the device and walked out of your room.

“Olive!”

“Yes?”

You opened the door to his room and saw he was still on his nintendo. He didn’t look up when you stood in the doorway with your arms crossed. “You can’t just go into my room and do that shit. We need some boundaries, I value privacy."

Oliver looked up from his nintendo and looked confused. “I didn’t go into your room?”

“Very funny Olive.” Oliver had pulled pranks on you before and so you weren't buying it. "First of all, don't call me Olive, I'm a person not food, and second of all, I never stepped foot off my bed since I jumped on it. That was like an hour ago."

You were very skeptical and crossed your arms.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not, I swear!”

You narrowed your eyes before deciding to drop the subject. You didn't want to argue, especially knowing you would get a lecture from Frank about family positivity.

“Whatever.”

You walked back and looked at your ipod once again and rubbed your eyes, cursing because you wore mascara. Trying not to cry because everything frustrated you, you fell ontop of your bed and groaned in your pillow, smudging mascara on the sheets. You just simply didn't care anymore.

These were very interesting first days of your new house. Nothing really seemed to work in your favor, you hated this city, you missed everyone back at home, everything seemed to be out of the ordinary, and you didn't know if the constant feeling of being watched was because of the new house, or if it was just you being paranoid.

No matter, every feeling you held wasn't gonna last long. Because as soon as you would turn 18, you would pack your bags and leave this place. Ever since Frank came into the picture you had everything planned out. All you had to do was wait a couple of weeks and survive the constant bickering of your family members, Frank, and the weirdness of the house. You just have to hold on a little longer.

This is going to be challenging, but surviving for a bit longer can't be that hard... Right?

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girlfromomegle · 2 months

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Babe wake up, my fav writer just posted

The Dork Theory ; Max Cooperman x reader

summary: Against better judgement, you decide to go to a college party. You run into a familiar face there, and you decide to test a long running theory to do with dorks and big 🍆 . Shameless smut ensues.

warnings: smut without plot, pnv, car sex, unprotected sex, handjobs, oral sex, degradation/shaming, recording.

a/n: max deserves it. he really does. not beta-read. this was just a whim kinda fic, so I hope it's not total garbage. enjoy! thanks for reading if you did.

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

It was a party, so you were forcing yourself to do party things. Or so you kept telling yourself. Really, it was a live streaming event for some stupid college fight, which was an event that you wouldn’t be caught dead at – under any circumstances. It wasn’t your scene, you couldn’t care less about fighting – outside of the carnal, hormonal fact that you got to see rippling muscles and displays of strength. At times, even you were simple. Whatever fight had already happened and judging by the sudden uptick in shouts and cheers, you assumed the preferred candidate won. The party was now in full swing with people mingling and drinking excessively. Ah, college.

Admittedly, you weren’t one for college parties either. It was a place to drink, screw, and in most cases, as a byproduct of the previous two mixing, fight. Of those three things, you only really enjoyed one of them and hadn’t done it in a while – long enough for you to crave it. Maybe that’s why you came to the party to begin with; to get some tail. Albeit hypocritically, you were also drinking. You weren’t drunk, but definitely heading there; your head felt fuzzy as you stared into your half-empty red Solo cup. Whoever had mixed the drinks had erred on the side of too strong.

“Well… hey there.”

You looked up from said cup, one brow quirked. In front of you, stood a guy who looked oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place him. Eyes narrowed, you scanned him from his shoes to his lush, curly brown locks. He wore jeans and a Something Corporate t-shirt. Really? You realized you’d seen him earlier, schmoozing with girls, explaining something very passionately. They hung on his arms, but seemed distant – but no, that still wasn’t where you recognized him from.

He was scanning you up and down, lingering on all the right parts of your body; your hips, your breasts, your face. Finally, he spoke. "My name's Max, what's yer--"

"Wait, hold on." You pressed a single finger against his lips, which pressed back into your finger, almost like he was kissing it.

"Max?"

He nodded, still compressed against your fingertip. He didn't need to confirm it, really, because just like that, it all came rushing back; it had been years but you knew exactly who he was and you were about to make sure he remembered, too. You withdrew your hand with a breathy chuckle.

"Like... Max.... Cooperman? The chubby kid who was always recording fights in the schoolyard?"

Ouch. Max cringed, knotting his mouth up to one side. Starting off strong with this one. “Yep, that – was me. And for the record, I was a part of those fights from time to time. And I trained -”

"Ohhhh my god," you breathed, cutting him off as you covered your mouth with your hand. "You were such a dork, you know that, don't you? Like, such a dork.”

“Okay, alright.” he said, looking behind him for a brief moment. “I came over ‘cause I have a policy that no cute girls are allowed to stand alone, especially at one of my parties. Are you just gonna’ stand here and bust my balls all night?”

So he thought you were cute. Your cunt clenched — you’d take that thought to the bank. You grinned inwardly, rocking back and forth on your heels. “I can, if you want me to.”

He cocked his head like a dog, unsure how to take that. “What, are we gonna’ play fight?”

“Something like that.”

You reached forward, teasingly slapping his cheek. With an intrigued expression, Max caught your hand and yanked you towards him, looking at your lips. You mirrored his gaze, wondering what they tasted like, and if they were as soft as they looked.

You couldn’t deny the facts; he wasn’t the dorky kid that you passively paid attention to. He stood taller and had trimmed down, a result of likely more physical activity and maybe better eating habits. The attraction that bubbled up in your core wasn’t new, it had just been dormant for many years. You ran your tongue along your bottom lip, wetting it and Max’s dark brown eyes followed your tongue as it travelled, a smirk stretching across his lips.

"You still have that Mustang?"

"Pffft, of course I do."

“You wanna’ um…”

Wide-eyed and eager, Max nodded. “Uh, YEAH?”

The two of you made your way outside, with Max quickly navigating you to where his car was parked. The cool night air bit at your skin, goose flesh erupting over anything that was exposed – mostly your legs. Now in front of the car, your eyes swept over the Mustang, admiring it. You weren’t a car girl, by any means, but you knew when to appreciate them. This was decidedly one of those times. He took care of his car, that much was apparent.

With a deep breath, you turned back to Max, an expectant smirk on your lips. “So, is this the part where you tell me you’ve had a crush on me since high school?”

Max laughed as he leaned against the door of the car, shaking his head. You were cute, but this wasn’t a teenage romcom. “Actually, no, I don’t know you. I mean… I wanna’ know you.”

He reached for you, snaking his hands around your hips to pull you closer.

“Ohhoh shit, someone gained some confidence when they lost that baby fat, huh?”

“Damn, okay.” He looked away, almost annoyed, but the lust that was now coursing through his system trumped any fleeting anger. “You seem to know a lot about me.”

You paused, taken aback as you stared at him. You did. Because while he didn’t remember you, you remembered him. You’d always had an affinity for dorks and paid attention to them, despite cringing at their cornball behaviour – because if you knew one thing, it was that the weird, shy guys were always hung – and there was one particular day where you’d made your opinions about Max Cooperman.

It was May, somewhere in the middle of the month. You were in a hurry to get to 4th period when you heard a bunch of guys shouting and jeering at each other. The natural instinct to watch a fight took over and you slowed your steps.

You’d only paused for a second, not wanting to be late to class. He was fighting behind the bleachers, bright, red blood running down his top lip, fists up in front of his face, shouting at some guy: “I got this, bro! I got this!”

You blinked. Back to reality.

“Maybe I knew you. Maybe I thought you were cute,” you confessed, letting the alcohol take over your nerves. “Maybe I have a theory that dorky dudes have big cocks.”

“Butterball Cooperman? Cute? What am I now then, huh?”

You chewed your lip, not saying anything. Max caught your glance, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes that promised it would lead somewhere — it was the kind of look that said, Hey. My dick just woke up and it’s because of you. You crushed your lips against his, tangling both of your hands in his warm curls. A whisper of fucking hot echoed in your mind. Max didn’t need to hear it, he felt the heat coming off your body, rolling towards him in waves. With his groin throbbing, he connected your bodies again, pulling you tight at the waist. His free hand stretched behind him, fumbling for the door handle.

“Wanna’ find out?” He asked, breaking the kiss.

You nodded.

Max threw the door open, and pulled the driver’s seat up, allowing you some space to crawl in first. You leaned in — making sure your ass was on full display in the short, denim skirt you’d chosen earlier that night — and moved quickly to the passenger side. With your knees pressing into the black, leather interior of his backseat, you sat upright, making room for him as he joined you.

He faced you, leaning his back against the window and angled his hips towards you, knees to his chest. You stretched forward, tapped one side of his closed knees. “Lemme in, Cooperman.”

Immediately, they fell open, exposing the bulge in his jeans. There was a dirty, devilish little smirk on his face; he knew you were looking, sizing him up. Not such a dork now, huh?

“Theory proven?”

“Maybe. I’ve gotta’ see.”

You palmed his half-hard cock outside of his jeans, the tips of your fingers tracing the faint outline, until they came to the tip. Applying pressure, the pad of your pointer finger swept back and forth into the squishy flesh until your finger was met with a wet spot. You’d given a fair number of handjobs in your life, enough to be confident in your skills.

“Shit,” Max hissed above you. “Shit.”

Underneath the fabric, you felt his dick shift in his jeans. With a pleased smirk, giving him what he so clearly wanted, you unbuttoned and unzipped, allowing his hard-on some room to breathe. The bulge pitched forward slightly as you reached for the ruched edge of his boxers, and pulled them down over his balls. His cock now free, it flopped heavily against his stomach, searing hot on his abdomen. It was about as long as you’d expected, but much thicker. With a wanton gaze, you took hold of the shaft and began stroking, feeling the veins swell with each pass. Every so often, you paid special attention to the underside, gliding your fingers over the thickest veins. Eventually, his cock stood at attention, the tip reddened and leaking profusely. You bit your lip.

“Ooooooh, Max Cooperman has a big thick cock.” You tittered in a teasing lilt, still fondling it. He whimpered loud, a high pitched desperate sound that filled the car. You hadn’t expected him to be so whiny, but somehow you weren’t surprised — it seemed appropriate for that nerd in the schoolyard. Whiny then, whiny now. Every obscene word was punctuated with a whine, like a teenager getting his first handjob. He rutted his hips helplessly against your fingers, grinding his stiffness into your grip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, just like that - fuck.”

Almost to shut him up, you craned forward to kiss him again, your mouths crushing together in violent desperation. After a few seconds, Max sloppily broke the kiss to look down at your hand, saliva stringing from his bottom lip to yours.

“Oh my fuckin’ god,” he breathed, watching your fingers as they stroked his swollen cock, paying special attention to the scarlet, almost purple head. His cock twitched again in your grip, expelling more precum. “Oh my fuckin’ god, holy shit, holy shit…”

You were delighted by the position of power you were in, and even more than that, delighted by the way that Max was literally coming undone in front of you. All his acquired cockiness had melted away, replaced by the desperate dork you remembered.

“I knew he was in there,” you whispered under your breath before giving his cock a firm grip, milking another whine from his lips. Max was too far gone to even respond logically to anything, you weren’t sure he’d even heard you over his ragged, uneven pants.

Feeling adventurous (and perhaps cruel), you extended your tongue, flattening it against the underside of his cock. The salty pre-cum oozed onto it. Max gasped, lifting his hips upright, which forced his dick further into your mouth. You pulled back, shaking your head softly. For a moment, he did nothing but stare at his own cock, watching it as your hand drug up and down over it, working it inches from your lips. You thought he was going to lose it, but with a heavy breath, he lowered his hips again and went back to breathing unevenly.

“Please,” he begged incessantly, his voice a few octaves higher than usual. “Please lemme’ fuck you…”

“Uh-uh.”

Max whimpered again, bumping his head against the window repeatedly like a kid throwing a tantrum.

“You can’t, Max. There isn’t enough room here.”

“Yeaaah, baby, yeah there is. We’ll make it work.”

You paused for a moment, surveying your surroundings. Even with the seats pushed forward, the backseat left little room for moving around, and the oddly placed hump in the center was undeniably impeding any laying down. Max’s hips were already jutted up oddly, you couldn’t picture laying down atop of it… unless….

“You wanna’ fuck me, Max? How bad you wanna’ fuck me?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

Slack-jawed, he nodded, his curls bouncing. The collar of his shirt was a shade darker with sweat. “So bad. So fuckin’ bad, you have no idea. You can’t even fathom.”

You thought about it. And thought about it some more, until finally, you said: “Move over.”

Obediently, Max scooted his hips up, his dick bobbing before he shifted himself onto the floor, allowing you to crawl forward, using the curve of the backseat like a sex pillow, your ass tilted up towards the now very fogged up back window. Your cunt was already warm and aching from giving him head, and with a deep breath, you imagined the wet slit that would greet him as soon as he got up behind you.

Curious, you reached up between your legs, pressing them into the satin fabric – just as you thought. Soaked. Finding the hem of your underwear, you yanked them to the side, exposing her. Your middle finger then slipped inside, dragging some of the slick down to your clit, which you tapped, bringing the sensitivity higher.

“Oh shit,” he gasped, seeing this erotic display that sent spikes of arousal straight to his already engorged and aching cock. Still on the floor, but now behind the passenger’s seat, Max leaned forward. Still awkwardly positioned – you silently applauded the desperation in which he did it – Max went for your cunt, bending his head at angle so that his tongue could flick out against your wet folds, getting a taste of your sweet, leaking juices. You couldn’t help but moan into the leather, clenching and shaking as he lingered there for a moment, just lapping at it, swallowing and mouth breathing heavily onto her.

“Fuck–” He straightened up, and used the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. “You taste so good, baby.”

You wiggled your ass in response, smiling against the seat. After a little bit of strained and clumsy maneuvering, Max was finally behind you, dick in hand. He shuffled closer, his jean-clad thighs pressing into the backs of your bare ones. Using his free hand, he glided over the curve of your ass and down your spine, as far as the jean skirt would let him. You felt the warm head bumping into her over and over again with a haphazard rhythm, strings of precum dripping down onto the seat below you – he was jerking off into your cunt.

“I thought you were going to fuck me.”

“I am,” he panted. “I am… this is just too good. Fuck! I wish I had my camera.”

After using the tip to play with your wetness for a bit longer, Max finally lined up and sunk his cock inside of you, using your hips to pull himself deeper. He bottomed out – the stretching heat burned, filling you from wall to wall as his hips began bucking instinctively, finding a carnal rhythm – you let out a low moan. You begged, wanting him to press himself as deep into you as he could.

“Record it,” you suddenly ordered.

“Wha-?” he choked, out of breath and still pumping himself into you.

“Record it. You have your phone, don’t you?” You arched your back, pushing up into him.

“You serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. It’d be hot.”

Still in awe of your lustful demand, Max reached in his back pocket and pulled his phone out. He quickly navigated to the camera app, tapped the red button, and held the phone above you, getting a wider angle. The flash was on; he pulled his thick, glistening cock out of you slowly, while his dark eyes darted back and forth between watching you and watching it on the screen. Knowing he was going to have this to later jerk it to… shit – his breath hitched in his throat. He bumped his hips into you a few times, popping the head into your cunt.

“Yeah, you like that?”

At first, Max breathily answered, but remembering he was recording, cleared his throat and answered in a lower tone. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh stop,” you laughed, wiggling your hips on his cock. “Afraid to let your dorky voice out again?”

“Shut up, I’m not a dork.”

“Yeaaaah, yeah you are. A big dork with a big cock.”

Much to his own dismay, Max whined, picking up speed as he hammered into you, his little desperate bunny humps rutting against your pussy, sending shockwaves through your core. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, paired with your broken moans and Max’s pathetic, horny whines filled the car. He’d never really been one for degradation, but the way you teased him, throwing your verbal right hooks every chance you got, had him in pieces. Every time you did it, his dick twinged painfully, stiffening past the point of comfort. He took hold of it, jerking it a few times into your pussy. Making sure the camera was capturing it, Max went back to thrusting, sinking his aching cock halfway in before bottoming out again. The video would never see the light of day, you knew it. He’d have to mute it to save his ego, and what was the point of muting porn? Max was way too whiny to show his macho friends, every other thrust was accompanied by a desperate little whimper.

“Shit, I’m gonna’ - I’m gonna’ baby, oh my god, I’m sorry I’m gonna’ – auuggh!”

With a final whimper, Max yanked his cock from your pussy, allowing his orgasm to burst out over your exposed cunt; hot, milky strings decorating your folds and ass cheeks.

Immediately after pumping the rest of his cum onto your ass, like a gentleman, Max sunk two fingers in your pussy, curling them up to masterfully find the sensitive, spongy flesh inside. So, he’d had practice, too. You took fistfuls of the seat, digging your nails into the soft, polished leather. Thankfully for him, you were close, so the way he pumped his fingers in and out of you brought you over the edge within a matter of seconds.

With a final: “Ffffuck!!”, you clenched around his fingers, pleasure rupturing your entire core. You squeezed your eyes shut, riding out the orgasm and backing up into his fingers to increase the pressure. You heard Max hiss in a breath through his teeth as he watched you, enjoyed you, and recorded you in your most intimate moments. The thought drove your orgasm forward even further.

As the pulses subsided, you flopped down heavily, out of breath and drenched in sweat. You pivoted your body, rolling back over onto your back. Max was still recording, absentmindedly playing with your still weeping cunt. You watched him with a smile, entertained and enamoured that he was so invested with you. With a little dinging sound, the recording finally ended, and he tucked the phone back into his pocket.

You two sat in silence, breathing heavily until, in a moment of post-nut clarity, Max said: “Shit, I was supposed to spar with Matt.”

“Who?” You couldn’t care less.

“Uh, my friend.”

“Mm, well… Matt is just gonna’ have to take a rain check. That’s too bad.”

He laughed, leaning his head against the window again. After a few moments, he spoke again, his voice soft and low.

“So, your theory is true, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s true. Took me years to prove it, but… it’s definitely true.” You leaned up and ran your pointer finger along the inseam of his jeans, smirking to yourself. “Definitely true.”

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