#Jesus are you coming or should I send you an Uber?

[11oh1]

Why am I seeing a SHEIN ad on ig for the Margiela X Salomon sneakers? 🥲

[emchant3d]

part 2 of runaway bride stevie! modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington pt 1

Eddie Munson is not having a good day.

His phone died last night so his alarm didn’t go off, his bassist is sick so their gig tonight has to be canceled, and his last three Uber rides have stiffed him on a tip.

He accepts a request from some dude named Scott with a terrible comb-over in his profile picture and gives himself two seconds to bang his forehead into his steering wheel in frustration with a closed-mouth scream. Then he dials it back so he doesn’t seem absolutely fucking insane. He can see the suit he’s about to escort to some fucking meeting even though he’d rather be doing any-fucking-thing else, and he pastes a fake smile on to greet him. He’s gearing up to fall into the usual routine of this godforsaken job, but then it all goes a little sideways.

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and then a blur of a body is slamming into poor Scott from behind, shoulder checking him and almost sending him careening onto the sidewalk. The dude pinwheels his arms like a cartoon character, suit jacket puffing up around his shoulders awkwardly, expression so baffled it makes Eddie snort despite himself.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles, and he’s reaching for his seatbelt to see if the guy needs any help - he looks like he might break a hip if he hits the ground - but then a whirlwind of white fabric swoops into his backseat and a loud, desperate voice yells "DRIVE!" in his ear, and he sort of just thinks 'sure, why the fuck not,' and slams his foot on the gas.

The car fishtails a bit and the tires squeal as he swerves into traffic, horns honking after him, and he picks a direction at random, going way too fast for this area of town.

His heart is pounding in his chest, worst case scenarios running through his head. He’s going to get car jacked. He’s going to go to jail for being an unwitting getaway driver. But there isn’t any more yelling from the back seat, just heavy, panicked breathing, and he settles into traffic and slows down to a more normal speed before he cuts his eyes up to the rearview mirror.

Time stops.

It’s Stevie.

He can’t believe he didn’t recognize her the second he saw her, but in his defense, it's not like he was expecting to see his ex-girlfriend in a goddamn wedding dress running like she stole something today.

Pure panic wraps tight around his throat as he takes her in - is she hurt? In danger? Nothing good could have had her sprinting away from her own wedding, but it seems like she’s just shaken up.

His heart calms a bit once her tears dry and they get properly on the road.

And shit, it’s so unfair, because she's just as breathtaking as she was the day they split. She looks just as sad, too, which is certainly not how a woman like Stevie Harrington should look on her wedding day. But seeing her in a gown like that - Jesus Christ. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. It’s like something out of a fantasy, seeing her in the exact kind of dress she used to whisper to him about wanting, the kind of dress he’d once promised to marry her in. Of course, they fell apart before he could even get a ring on her finger, but it still sends his stomach swooping to see the future they’d spoken about come to life.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he can’t help but ask, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Yeah,” she says, voice high and a little squeaky. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Just in my ex-boyfriend's car after I left my fiance at the altar, it’s all fine, it’s chill.”

“Okay,” he says haltingly, delicately, because Stevie Harrington is not the kind of person who says it’s chill, “it’s just that, you know, all of that sounds decidedly not chill.”

“This is so chill. It’s the chillest I’ve ever been, actually - hold on–” she says, and next thing he knows a swirl of silk is blocking his view and he sputters a bit as the train of her dress smacks him in the face, but she’s clambering gracelessly from the back seat and over the console to plop down on the passenger side with a loud huff and a cloud of perfume.

It’s different from what she used to wear. She used to smell spicy and warm, with notes of amber and cinnamon. He’d kiss the little spots in her wrists where she’d spritz it on, trace the veins beneath the tan skin with his nose to keep the scent of her with him.

Now she smells like vanilla and something floral, airy and light. Like he stepped into a bakery. It’s not bad, of course it’s not bad, but it’s…different. Not her.

Or not his version of her, anyway.

This is someone else’s Stevie now, and she smells like fucking cookies instead of home.

Instead of commenting on it, he just tells her to put on her seat belt, and she looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“And wrinkle this dress?” she says, her nose curling a little, and God she’s such a bitch and he’s missed it so much.

“I hate to break it to you,” he tells her, “but some wrinkles are not the worst damage that thing has seen today.” There are small grey splotches on the bodice where her makeup dripped as she cried earlier, and the hemline has some muddy staining from her mad dash on the sidewalk. It’s not ruined, but it’ll have to be cleaned, and a couple of wrinkles will be the easiest thing to get out of the formerly pristine fabric.

He glances over at her in time to see her run her hands over the skirt of the dress, smoothing it out over her thighs. It shifts, the leg slit parting to show her skin, teasing at the hint of a crease where her thigh and stomach meet, and Eddie rips his gaze away to stare at the road instead.

“Probably for the best, anyway,” he says, and he feels her eyes latch onto his profile.

“And why’s that?” she asks, and he smirks.

“Well, pure white? C’mon, Stevie, we both know that’s a lie.” He flashes her a wicked grin and she makes an outraged sound, but a small smile is teasing at her mouth even as her cheeks flush.

She kicks off her heels - red bottoms, because of fucking course they are - and slouches in the seat. She pushes herself up, adjusting in the pile of silk and corsetry she’s been strapped into, and he sees the absolute mountain of a rock on her hand, and manages to bite his tongue about it being the gaudiest thing he’s ever seen.

"So who was the lucky guy?" Eddie asks before he can stop himself, and the glare Stevie gives him could cut glass. “Or lucky woman. Person? Far be it from me to deny you your bisexual rights.”

He probably sounds like a jealous asshole, but he can't help it. He's the getaway driver for his one that got away on her fucking wedding day, and he feels like he deserves to ask a few questions.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel as the silence lingers, but eventually, Stevie just groans, letting her head fall back against the headrest dramatically.

"Don't laugh," she demands, and Eddie shakes his head.

"Scout's honor," he promises, and he swears a wry little grin teases at her lips.

“You were never a scout. You would have been kicked out for inciting a riot.”

“Hey, I just ensured we all earned our arson badges, okay? I did every one of those kids a favor.” Stevie scoffs, and it almost sounds fond.

Then she says, “Tommy,” and he almost swerves into oncoming traffic.

"HAGAN?" he says, louder than he means to, and her hand flies up to grab the oh-shit bar.

“Eddie, Jesus!” she says, glaring at him, and he shakes his head, focusing back on the road.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but fucking - really? “Really?” He can’t help himself. “Tommy Hagan?”

“Yes, really, Tommy Hagan,” she says hotly, like she’s defensive, like she didn’t just leave the schmuck at the fucking altar.

“Well that explains the ring, at least.” She reaches over, smacking at his arm, which, thanks to the aforementioned ring, is probably going to bruise. “Hey, ow!” He glares at her, taking a hand off the wheel to rub his bicep. “Watch it, that thing’s a weapon.”

“Then stop sassing me about it,” she snaps, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms and her face falls into that adorable bitchy little pout he’s always fucking loved, and he looks away again.

He can’t help but glance back over at her left hand. The ring is…certainly something. Giant, square, one big diamond surrounded by other, smaller diamonds, with even more diamonds on the band. It looks heavy and cumbersome and like she’s going to smack it into every wall and door and get it caught in her hair and seriously, he’s pretty sure he’s already got a knot forming on his arm where the thing hit him.

It looks like Tommy walked into the priciest jewelry store he could find and asked for the most expensive ring they had.

It looks like a status symbol.

It doesn’t look like her.

“Apologies, highness,” he says, shaking himself free of his thoughts. It’s not fair to hold her to those standards. He hasn’t spoken to her in years. He can’t know what kind of person she is now.

But there’s still a bone-deep knowing that overtakes him at the feeling of the woman next to him. A sense of deja vu so strong it threatens to knock him over.

A different car, a different time, a different circumstance, but the same person. The same love.

He’d picked a direction at random, but as the streets become more familiar, he realizes he’s heading towards his place. It’s as good as any, he figures, and he shifts lanes, reaching to tap on his phone and shutting down his Uber account.

“You know, I almost expected you’d still be driving that beat up old van,” Stevie says suddenly, and he crows a laugh.

“Ah, Van Halen, you served me well until you almost blew up on the highway,” he says fondly. “Lost her about a year ago. It was tragic. I held a funeral.” She laughs again, shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she says, turning that pretty smile his way, and his heart does a somersault.

“That was a very impressive move back there, by the way,” he tells her, “that shoulder check of that old defenseless businessman?” He whistles. “Haven’t seen anybody move that quick to steal an old man’s ride before, really, it should have been documented.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” she says, but there’s a laugh in her voice, and she brings up her hands to press to her pink cheeks. He can’t help but keep digging.

“No, seriously! And sprinting like that in heels? And in that dress? What’s that thing weigh, like twenty pounds?”

“It’s a dress, not a suit of armor,” she tells him, but her smile is growing, making her eyes crinkle.

“Just saying, it was pretty metal,” he shrugs, and she snorts.

“Well, you would know,” she says, and he ignores the way his face flushes in response. She gives a little sigh, wiping below her eye and frowning at the smear of black on her fingers.

“Here,” he says, reaching across her. His arm brushes her leg as he opens the glove box and he’s so fucking normal about it. He pulls out a few fast food napkins, holding them out to her. “No makeup wipes in here, but that’ll help with the worst of it.”

“Thanks,” she says, and she flips the visor down, tapping a napkin to her tongue to wet it before wiping at the mascara tracks running down her face. “God,” she groans, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smear, “I look like a raccoon.”

“A very cute raccoon,” he says before he can stop himself. Jesus, Munson, dial it back. “Like the raccoon that’s about to get the best trash in the bin, she doesn’t even have to ask for it.” Stop talking. “The other raccoons are just gonna give it to her, on account of how cute she is.” He’s gonna throw himself into traffic.

“Did you just call me a raccoon on my wedding day,” she asks. Fine, commit to the bit.

“You called yourself a raccoon on your wedding day. I was just agreeing with you,” he replies, keeping his eyes fixed to the road.

Her eyes are on him - he can feel her stare burning into the side of his face, and his cheeks are going pink and blotchy and God, he’s an idiot–

And then she laughs. Not her polite little contained laugh, either, no, this is that loud, wide mouthed laugh that she hates, that makes her shoulders shake and her head fall back. It’s squeaky and hearty and a little obnoxious and he’s always been so obsessed with getting her to let it out, and he can’t help the smug beaming little smile he gives at the sound.

“You’re such an ass,” she says through her laugh, and Eddie can’t help but laugh with her even if it’s at his own expense, because at least she doesn’t look so goddamn sad anymore.

When they finally reach his apartment complex she’s a little more subdued, but the look on her face isn’t totally heartbreaking, and he’ll take what he can get. He comes around to the passenger side to open her door for her and helps her gather the dramatic skirt of her dress to keep it off the pavement as they head towards the stairs, and he knows he looks like an insane person as he carts a bride down the hall, but he just smiles at his nosy neighbors and lets this cement his reputation as the weird as fuck off-putting metalhead he knows they all think of him as.

He feels a little self conscious as he opens the apartment door for her, sweeping an arm dramatically to allow her to enter first. For the first time since she swept into his car, he wonders if this is a good idea. But it’s too late now – Stevie’s giving him a little smile and stepping into his home, and part of him knows this was inevitable. She may not have called him, but he was always going to come if she needed him.

He follows her inside and tries to calm the pounding of his heart, watching her take in his space, struck all over again by her beauty and the impossibility of her standing here, and silently prays he isn’t going to fuck it up all over again.

this was almost even longer, but I figure 2.5k is enough for a part 2! no tag lists, sorry, but part 3 will be here at some point. thank you to everyone who's had a kind word to say about this au these two are very near and dear to me 💕

[neochan]

FAULT LINE (M) - TEASER

PAIRING. ex!haechan x reader

GENRE. exes to lovers, toxic relationship, smut, plot of sorts, street racer au (barely)

WARNINGS. toxicity, smut mentions

WC. teaser is 1.1k

A. NOTE. so i needed a break from the pick me chronicles and stumbled across this type of hyuck characterization!

"where the fuck are you at?"

blearily blinking, you take a look around. when did you step outside? you think as hard as you can, but nothings coming too. you're drunk. very drunk.

people littered the front of the club - some waiting on ubers, others making out. but you - why were you out here? where were your friends?

"y/n. tell me where the fuck you are."

oh shit.

the phone pressed to your ear brings you back into a sort of semi-focus. you faintly remember crying to a random stranger in the bathroom about your recent break up. the poor girl had reassured you that everything would be okay, but you barely recall pushing her aside and mumbling something about calling your ex to make up.

that was until you had caught the attention of a guy at the bar and ended up doing green tea shots with him.

oh.

oh shit.

okay yeah, every memory was bombarding you now.

if the the still sticky cum dribbling down your thighs didn't serve as a reminder, than the memory of him pressing your hips against the porcelain sink while he fucked into you should have.

"y/n?"

and then you stepped outside to call your ex because. . . you felt bad? yeah you felt bad.

his voice was becoming more impatient with each passing silent second.

"hy-uck?" you hiccup.

he sighs, "god, i thought you passed out or something."

he didn't sound mad. had you already told him what you did? you can't remember.

"hyuck." the whimper trembles from your lips, "i need you."

"i know, that's why you called me." he seems to be fumbling around with something on his end, the muffled strain of his voice giving it away. "baby, where are you? i called you earlier but you didn't hit me back."

tears start to well in your eyes as you press against the brick wall of the club.

"i went out dancing and i did something bad. i-i'm sorry." your words are slurring together and it's becoming harder to breathe. "i didn't mean to, he- he just. . ." your voice trails off in a whisper.

"he? who the fuck are you with?" the jangle of keys sounds on the other line, a few seconds later accompanied by the slam of haechans front door. his temper is rising. he knows he should calm down. shit, he's probably scaring you bad right now, but the thought of you with another guy? you broke up two days ago. why the fuck would you be with another guy.

"i fucked up, hyuck."

"this isn't a game. send me your fucking address." the purr of his car engine rumbles through the phone.

shakily, you take the phone from your ear and send him your location.

"i'll be there in five." another sigh on his end... "if i see whoever this guy is, i'm not sure i'd be able to stop myself from killing him."

you hiccup, "yeah, i know."

four minutes and thirty eight seconds later a black ford shelby GT500 screeches to a halt against the curb.

through blurry eyes, you watch as grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt approach your slouched figure. his jaw is set, eyebrows drawn up - yet you feel nothing but relief.

"jesus, how much did you fucking drink?" he scoops you up in his arms to help you stand despite your wobbly frame. the earth is swimming in your frame with each step you take, but being pressed against his lean body grounds you. so does the cologne doting his chest - so familiar and warm, you press your nose into his t-shirt.

"you smell good." you hum.

"thanks." he peers down at you with a curiosity you don't notice. maybe the breakup affected you way more than he thought because he's never seen you this fucked up. "theres a curb right here, be careful."

deep in your muddled brain, you want to kiss him and thank him for coming to get you - for actually being worried about you for once.

but you don't.

instead, you climb into the rich leather interior of his car and settle back. it stings, being back in a place you once felt so comfortable in. tears pinprick the corner of your eyes for a quick second, but you blink them away. you just let hyuck reach across your chest and buckle you in.

"hyuck i'm sorry."

his gaze fall to yours, millions of emotions lurking deep in those luminous doe eyes. you look nearly innocent and he felt bad.

he swears underneath his breath, "your guilty conscious is gonna be the death of me."

a shaky hand reaches out to touch his cheek. a familiar gesture you can't yet get rid of - not when he's three inches away from you. "hyuck-"

"fuck this." he pulls back and cards a hand through his hair. "what were you doing with another guy?"

"we- we were doing shots and -"

"how many." he breathes.

"a couple? i don't know, maybe. . . maybe three?"

a forced huff leaves his chest, "three shots with a fucking stranger?"

"hyuck, i said i'm sorry-" your hands twist regrettably in your lap.

"yeah yeah, and then what?" he's leaning against the passenger doorframe, leg bouncing right next to you.

"and then he took me into the bathroom and we fucked."

a few seconds of silence. you try to face him. you can't. why did everything have to be so complicated.

"you fucked another guy but called me to come get you?" he sneers. he has to have lost all respect for you. there's no way he hasn't.

"i'm sorr-"

"i get it. you're sorry." he pushes off the doorframe and starts to pace. "what's his name?"

the lump in your throat grows when you realize you never caught his name. "i don't know."

"you don't know? so you fucked a complete stranger?" a laugh rips from his throat, "this is unbelievable."

"can we just go? please."

he ignores your question and presses you further, "what does he look like?"

"hyuck no. please, can we go."

each word is punctuated by the grit in his teeth. "what does he fucking look like."

it was futile to argue with hyuck when he got this way. he was gonna find out who this guy was either way.

"pink hair, silver button down, black pants, expensive watch. probably drinking green tea shots." the details of the night might have been distorted, but you could have picked out this handsome stranger in a line up.

"stay right here. i'll be back."

"no! hyu-" your cry is cut off by the slam of your door. anxiously, you watch his lithe figure move past the bouncer and into the club. a sinking feeling falls in the pit of your stomach.

what the fuck did you do.

ANOTHER NOTE. is this worth continuing? let me know if it is :)

[cosmal]

hozier — send me an au + character and i’ll write you a blurb. i.e rockstar!remus, rugby!james, stoner!peter

rockstar!sirius coming home from a long trip all clingy and whiny about how much he missed you omg

order in

summary sirius is clingy when he gets home from tour.

content sirius black x fem!reader

note um mal i love this idea shut up!!!!!!!!!

"Jesus Christ," Sirius says at the sight of you. A tiny vest, a pair of boxers he's sure are his. He forgets he thought they were lost almost immediately. You've got a laundry basket held to your hip.

"Sirius," you say. Really gently. Soft and sickly sweet. You don't flinch like he'd thought you would. He likes that more than he should. "Baby, when did your flight land? You didn't Uber here did you? Have you been home?"

He doesn't answer a single one of your questions and you shift on your feet, soft socks twisting into the crush of your rug. The anklet on your left leg clinks.

He drops his neck pillow next to his forgotten suitcase and closes the space between the two of you. He almost knocks into your dining table. You drop the basket on your couch like you know what he's about to do.

He hugs you so hard he worries you might bruise. He trusts you'd let him know if it might be too much because he still feels like it's not hard enough. He wants to feel you against him. Your hip pressed to his, your chest against his shoulder, the way your chin falls into the pit between his shoulder and neck.

"Sirius," you say into his skin. Right behind his ear where you know he likes it. "I was supposed to pick you up. You were supposed to ring."

"Don't care," he says and means it. "I didn't want you to drive through the traffic, I know you hate it."

You do. Last time you picked him up at Heathrow you almost had a prang. He was just as upset as you were. He had to drive the two of you home.

"I would've been okay," you sigh. He knows what you mean. "I'm sure you're exhausted."

"I am," he says. He starts to walk backwards until the backs of his legs hit the edge of your sofa. He sits down and takes you with him. You gasp like you weren't expecting it. Silly. "I am, but Christ, baby, I missed you."

You tuck your knees into his sides where he's got your legs parted over his lap. Pressing your palms into his soft hoodie, right over his chest. "Missed you more," you say before kissing his cheek. You pull back and he's frowning.

He reaches his hands up to your neck to tug you back down to his face. "That's really not possible," he mumbles before kissing you. Properly, he thinks, warm and slow into your mouth to show how much he means it.

You pull back, and despite the slow nature of his kiss, you're breathless. A little gaspy as you blink slowly and try to tamp back your shy grin. "Sure," you say.

"Promise."

You tuck your hands into his hair and look as lovesick as he feels. Pushing flat locks of hair behind his ears. Kinked where he's had his headphones on for the past thirteen hours. If he's lucky, he thinks he might get you into the shower later on with him tonight while he washes it. If he's even luckier, he might not have time to wash it at all.

"You gonna let me make you some dinner?" you ask, twisting a strand of hair around your finger.

"No," he says and means it. You're not going anywhere if he can help it. "No, stay here, baby."

"You're not hungry?" you ask. Your hand stills and he doesn't have it in him to ask you to keep twisting his hair. He knows you would but he thinks he's being whiny enough.

"Not really," he lies. He’s starved. Plane food is awful. "Thanks, though, honey."

You smile at the nickname like he'd expected. "You don't want me to make that linguine? The one with the little shrimp? I think the market might still be open."

Sirius wants to kiss you again. He wants to kiss you and hug you. He wants to tuck his arms under your shirt and hide his face in your neck until he gets bored. He doesn't think there are enough days left in existence to achieve it.

"We could order in?" he suggests. "Not that I don't love your cooking, it's just, I can order from my phone and you can stay right here in my lap."

"Sirius," you mumble.

"Yeah, and then while we wait, you can tell me about everything you did while I was away." He's smiling so hard he can't help it. It's an amazing idea.

You pretend to think about it but then reach down to pull his phone from his pocket. You hand it to him, smiling, and say, "Two conditions."

"I'm listening."

"We order from the Indian place around the block. Girl and The Goat?" He knows you only suggest it because it's his favourite. He tosses up arguing with you over it. He knows you'll want Greek. You always do.

He doesn't. "Right."

"And," you add, "You have to tell me everything you haven't already about tour."

Sirius rolls his eyes like that's an inconvenience. He really did want to let you ramble away. He's been gone two months. "Okay."

You smile like you're actually excited. "Yay."

Sirius pulls out his phone and finds the right number in his favourited contacts. He holds the dialling phone to his ear. "Good, I can complain to you then. James is such a fu- Hello, could I please place an order?"

You laugh until he finishes the order.

-

fixing the readmore glitch <3

[pugh-bug]

No.42 Chapter 4

Art Donaldson x reader slow burn friends to lovers

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list 💕 thank you so much for the love on this series so far I’m really grateful !

Part 3

——————————————————————

‘You should see him after a few games, it’s a lot.’

With a mouth full of burrito, you still managed to laugh at the image Liam and Art were conjuring of Patrick’s sunburn turning him beetroot. The three of you were sat at a cute little place you’d somehow never seen before, probably because you didn’t know the area that well. Art’s choice.

‘So how’s living with this one?’ Liam asked, spitting hummus everywhere as he spoke. Neither you or Art had known who his question was for so you both yelped

‘Good!’

A little too enthusiastically for Liam.

Art’s hair had dried perfectly in the piercing sun rays and the smell of his mint shampoo kept wafting in your direction whenever the breeze turned. Shit. You were supposed to be listening to Liam. What was he saying?’

‘Fridays good.’ Art nodded at his friend, not looking at you for conformation. Clearly someone had been listening. You waited until Liam was texting his girlfriend to hiss at Art what he’d just agreed to - the answer ? - a party at Liam’s.

‘Are you sure it’s okay … if I come?’ Neither boy missed the slight sadness in your question. Your search for validation and fear of the wrong outcome. As Liam beamed at you, reassuring your brain that you were indeed very much wanted at his party and that ‘it won’t be the same without you’ Art’s eyes were locked on your face. You failed to notice.

‘So don’t worry about it okay? It’s not a tennis people thing, just a Liam friends thing.’ He smiled, very genuinely, and you smiled back. When Liam went to the bathroom he noticed Art was picking aggressively at the table, something he’d never seen him do before.

Without looking up from his task of picking through wood one mm at a time, Art asked coldly. ‘When did Patrick say he’d be back?’ Oh fuck it was Sunday! Better check your phone.

2 missed messages.

12:03pm - Text from Patrick

It’s not going well at all. She keeps starting shit with me for no reason she’s a lot to deal with if I’m being honest. Hope your day is better than mine so far

1:26pm - Text from Patrick

You’ve gotta pick me up Y/N I can’t stay here with these people until 9 I’ll catch arsehole disease

Just as you thought of a reply that was both supportive and concerned your phone lit up. Patrick was calling.

‘Pat hey! I didn’t expect to hear fro-‘

‘Pick me up.’

‘Jesus okay-‘

‘Pretty please Y/N I’ll send you my location right now just get here.’

He had a tendency to overreact to uncomfortable situations but you could hear the genuine panic and defeat in his voice. You had to help him.

‘Okay okay but … what’s wrong with Uber?’

‘I can’t afford it.’

You took a deep breath, gesturing to Art to stop mouthing ‘what’s happening?’ so you could concentrate.

‘Okay let me just tell Art-‘

‘Art’s there? Get him to come, he knows the way.’

‘Okay.’

Whilst you explained to Liam the rough situation, Art ran to your flat to fetch his car. With how little time it took him to return you wondered why he hadn’t become a runner instead? He must have done track, at-least.

——————————————————————

It was an hour drive to Patrick’s girls place. 45 minutes on Sundays. You waited until Art had gotten to the motorway before you asked the million dollar question.

‘So… Patrick said you knew the way. How? This is nowhere near anyone’s house that we know.’

Art chuckled, his delicate hand barely touching the wheel when he casually changed lanes at 70mph. His car smelt like him, you tried not to breathe heavier to encase yourself in his scent more intensely. It was growing difficult.

‘Well, I actually … dated Hannah before he did.’

He adjusted his mirror to watch the arsehole behind drive up his ass, for a moment you noticed him looking at the window. If Art ‘his mother could have knitted him’ Donaldson was about to roll the window down to flip someone off you were in for a treat.

‘How long for? Did Patrick even ask bef-‘

‘Does Patrick ever ask you for permission to do something?’

No. Not once.

‘It doesn’t bother me. We weren’t serious and it was a few years before he asked her out.’

You both envied and pitied this Hannah girl who Art seemed to care so little for.

‘Is it not a bit weird though? I wouldn’t want my exes fucking my friends.’

Art glanced over to you, he was driving at 60 again so you weren’t as inclined to grasp the door handle. He looked a little puzzled at your remarks or maybe it was amusement. ‘You thought we’d have different types?’

‘Yes, one hundred percent.’

‘We usually do. Hannah is probably more Patrick’s type.’

Your pity for Hannah grew once again.

‘But clearly, not more compatible.’

When you looked at Art he was frowning. He might have been looking at the road but you knew he was remembering something, something bitter.

You reread Patrick’s text: ‘She’s a lot to deal with.’ but that could mean anything from she takes too long getting ready to she needs to be kept away from others. Once Art said you were close you felt a little uneasy, like you needed to mentally prepare to deal with this girl. If she’d frightened Patrick she had to have something very wrong with her.

‘Art?’

He looked out of it.

‘Is there anything I should know, anything I should maybe avoid saying or doing with this… Hannah? Patrick sounded - I don’t wanna say scared bu-‘

‘Oh he’ll be scared,’ you felt genuine dread for a moment until you saw Art looked solemn not worried. He hid it behind a forced chuckle, as if what he was about to say was a funny anecdote he whipped out at parties to break the ice. ‘She can be a lot.’ There goes that word again. ‘She’s probably the only person I’ve ever met who puts tennis above - well - breathing and she thinks if you’re not playing tennis twelve hours a day everyday you’re letting yourself and her down.’

‘Sounds obsessive.’

‘I did warn him.’

As you pulled up to Hannah’s house you felt a twinge, or an aggressive increase, of guilt for your comment the night before. You should have saved your judgement for Hannah, clearly tennis was her entire life and Art had disagreed with her. Patrick certainly would.

He was sat on her doorstep, like a lost puppy waiting for its owner, but he still gave a quick wave before walking over.

‘Thank you!’ Patrick exclaimed once he was in the car. ‘You two just saved me, I was about to let her coach me just so she’d stop fucking yelling.’ He was sweating and slightly out of breath, poor thing.

‘Art, don’t you wanna go say hi?’

‘Funny…’

Chapter 5

Masterlist

Taglist: @gatorgirl007 @imblushingrn

[red-writes]

Enji Todoroki x Reader

Summary: With your marriage arriving so soon, you and shoto needed to gain the approval from his father but with his approval came the old todoroki tradition: the father must sleep with the child’s future partner

Warnings: dub-con/non-con, forced sex, fucked up family dynamics, step-cest (reader is enji’s soon-to-be daughter in law)

Red’s notes: I’ve had this in my drafts for uber long and it’s so fucked up yet so hot I couldn't not share 

You’ve heard little about your soon to be father in law from Shoto. Little hints about him were sprinkled throughout your conversations over the years—but nothing important or noteworthy was ever shared. Having no information about the man you were about to meet was, for the lack of a better word, scary. Enji Todoroki. His name was shroud in mystery. Shoto could go on and on about his mother, brothers and sister. But when it came to his dad, not much was said.

Shoto seemed restless on the drive over. His jaw clenched, thumbs tapping away at the steering wheel. It threw you off, knowing that your usually stoic and calm fiancé was so nervous. Even now as you sat on the couch waiting for your father in law’s arrival his leg was bouncing up and down anxiously. Anxiety was a virus, it spread so easily and infected anyone nearby. Fear that lie dormant in your gut before began to bubble, you could feel the bile rising in your throat as the only door in the room opens.

You heard several pairs of footsteps walk in and your head rose to look at who entered. It was all of the Todoroki siblings. A sigh of relief escaped you as fuyumi, touya and natsuo join you on the couch. 

“Nervous?” fuyumi asks, her face genuinely concerned and you let out a nervous chuckle, “Like you wouldn't believe, Sho doesn't tell me much about my almost father in law so..” 

Touya, who is seated next to Shoto shoves him playfully, “Jesus baby bro, you're scaring my sister in law” he jokes and Shoto says nothing, eyes still planted on the floor. Natsuo mumbles something under his breath before getting up and leaving the room. It seems as if no one else heard with the way fuyumi and touya carry on about how they wish mom could meet you. It seemed like you were the only one who heard Natsuo. 

you should be scared.

The topic of marriage arose and fuyumi casually mentioned how she tied the knot a few years back and touya did as well mere months ago. 

“Is marriage an important family value or something?” you ask fuyumi and she hums thoughtfully, “I wouldn't say that, our family is more traditional than most, before a certain age we must get married” her clarification only makes you more confused. 

“How come Natsuo isn't married then?” you wonder, the room is quiet, the air is stagnant somehow it feels as if gravity is pressing down on your very soul at that moment. 

“He doesn't want to follow tradition.” Shoto states simply. You're turning to face him, you're eager to know more. 

“What could possibly be so frightening about marriage?” You say, voice lighthearted and curious. 

“It’s not tradition he's afraid of, it’s dad” touya says, fuyumi  glares at touya from across the couch and at that very moment the door is opened rather harshly. The handle bangs against the wall and the jarring sound makes you jump. There he is. That monster of a man is standing in the doorway, arms folded in front of his chest as he walks over to where the two couches are settled.

He takes a seat in the one in front of you and the three todoroki siblings stand and bow, you fumble to follow behind them, your bow was late and sloppy while theirs was clearly organized and practiced. Enji Todoroki looks a lot different than you imagined. His hair was short and spiked upwards, blue eyes beady and cold, his frame muscular; outcome of having trained it up for years. 

“Shoto, I’m glad you decided to come, I’ve missed you my son” Enji says, his voice gruff and deep. It sends chills down your spine. 

“Father- there is much I want to say to you..” Shoto begins and Enji allows him to continue speaking, “I simply came here as a formality, I just wanted you to meet her, not for the ritual to take place” he says and you're confused, head turning to Shoto for some answers. 

formality? ritual? 

“If you think you intend to leave here without it taking place, you're mistaken.” Enji says, he stands and walks around the couch, his large hands rest on your shoulders.

“E-excuse me, Mr.Todoroki, what is the ritual?” you squeak out, you're sure if he was in front of you, you'd never have the courage to ask.

“Shoto, what the hell? You didn't even tell her about it before coming here?” Touya says, voice raising at his younger brother.

“I was trying to protect her..” Shoto whispers and that terrifying gut feeling you have is back, it gnaws away at your stomach until it twists into knots, you feel sick.

“The ritual, is one which takes place every todoroki wedding, to truly become a member of the Todoroki household you must become one with the name itself, to do that one must give themselves over completely to that names original owner” Enji says, his hold on your shoulders is released as your mind tries to desperately make sense of the words.

“What..I don't..”

“Put simpler, you must conjugate with me.” 

“Dad please...I love her..” Shoto begs and Enji huffs out an amused puff of air. 

“This is the only way, if you want to be married, then you’ll do as the tradition says”

Enji walks around the couch and stands in front of you, he holds out his hand and you place your smaller one in his, Shoto’s fingers run through his hair and pull on it anxiously. Enji slowly walks with you out the room. He takes you to a room that seems oddly placed compared to the others. You’re confused, you want to find shoto but his grip is so strong it silences any thought of rebellion instantly. He unlocks the door and inside is nothing, the room is completely empty except for a single bed.  

You’re completely unnerved. He let’s you go and shuts the door, he sits on the bed and pats the space next to him, encouraging you to sit. You do.

“Mr.Todoroki...I...I’m scared, what’s going on?” you ask, your eyes glued to your hands that stay perfectly folded in your lap.

“We’re going to have sex” he says straightforwardly and you lift your head slowly, waiting for him to say it’s a joke. But he doesn't.

“But- I’ve alway had plans on saving myself for Shoto...o-on our wedding night, I don’t want to disrespect your traditions but..I won’t have sex with my fiancé's father” you state, voice gaining a little bit of confidence at the end. 

He grips your chin in his hand, your eyes meet his and the look in them makes you want to run and hide, he isn’t a man. He’s a monster. 

“My dear, the moment you stepped foot in my house was the moment you lost your right to choose.” 

A knock on the door makes you jump as the Todoroki siblings file in one by one.  Shoto is last, his hair is messed up as if he’d been pulling on it relentlessly, his eyes are red and his cheeks are visibly wet. 

“Sorry..y/n I’m sorry, but this is the only way” Shoto whispers and he turns around, defacing you as his siblings approach where you're sitting and begin undressing you. Shoto flinches as he hears your screams of struggle and panic. He can feel his heart sinking into the depths of his gut and tears fill his eyes once more. You fight desperately to keep your clothes on but they tear them off of you, leaving you in nothing but underwear. Your eyes begin to water as you cover yourself up with your arms, trying to hide as much as your body as you can. 

“Now now, you should know who I am and what I’m capable of, surely you don’t think hiding yourself with those twigs you call arms will stop me” Enji gloats, narcissistically parading about his own strength. He tears your arms from in front of your chest and pins them above your head. The Todoroki siblings tie your hands with a dark red rope that feels itchy and rough against the skin on your wrists. 

Enji pries open your legs and leans down to be eye level with your pussy. The man’s serious face is enough to still your writing for a bit as he hums. One of his thumbs pulls at the lip of your cunt, exposing more of the sensitive flesh to the man’s beady cerulean eyes. His thumb presses down against your clit and you jump, a soft mewl escaping shamefully from your lips at the sudden touch. 

You hear a thud and see Shoto leaving the room and disgust for yourself fills your gut and all of sudden you could hardly breathe. You in took and exhaled shaky breaths and fuyumi takes a seat on the bed next to your head, she shushes you and pets your head softly. 

“It’ll be okay..shh don't worry” she says in a soft voice with a gentle smile and you look past her with tear filled eyes to see Touya standing against the wall with a hard-on pressing against his pants. 

“Please..help me I-fuyumi please” you beg and she presses a kiss to your forehead. Enji begins rubbing circles over your clit and your hips raise off the bed, against your own will. You shake your head back and forth with small pleas falling from your mouth as the coil of heat tightens in your tummy and just as you’re about to cum he pulls away and you whine. He chuckles, 

“Silly girl, don't you know you're only meant to cum for your husband?” 

You hardly get what he means but even so, the fact that you were going to cum just from having your clit played with a bit by the father of your soon to be husband was extremely humiliating and taboo, extremely taboo. And yet, here you were, cunt slick with your own arousal, pussy clenching anxiously around nothing as the desperation, the need, to be fucked was eating away at your morality.

Enji shuffled out of his pants and suddenly you felt a wave of anxiety pass through you. You peered down from between your legs and saw the monster that was his cock resting between your folds. It was huge. Thick, with veins lining the shaft. The head of his cock was cherry red and angry, it leaked a few drops of pre-cum from the slit and you could feel the bile once again rising in your throat. The previous haze of arousal you had simmered down into a deduction of pure horror. You squirmed. Fat globs of tears and snot running down your face as an attempt to stop what was happening. But your movements were meaningless as he pressed the head of his cock against your weeping cunt and pushed in. You yelled. You screwed your eyes shut as he pushed in until he was fully seated inside of you. It burned and it hurt, felt like being torn apart. You yelled out for Shoto. You screamed his name as his father began roughly fucking you, not minding the calls of his son. 

After a while however, you cried not because of the pain but because of the pleasure. His cock was so thick he had no need for precision because he seemed to hit every spot that managed to melt your mind into a puddle of goo. Shamefully, your cries turned into ones for “Enji! Oh gods! Enji fuck me harder!” and less for your beloved Shoto. 

It felt sinfully good, sex with your fiancé’s father, the thought alone had your cunt squeezing down on the girthy cock like a vice. Your vision was blurring from the tears that began form in your eyes, every thrust he made rocked the bed into the headboard. Slick drooled from your cunt and formed a pool under your ass, the head of his cock brushed against your g-spot with every thrust and you couldn't hold back the desperate plea to cum. Enji hissed as he announced the arrival of his own orgasm. You were teetering on the edge right as he came inside of you, leaving your cunt throbbing and unsatisfied as he pulled out. He stood up with and walked around the bed to untie you. 

He kissed your cheek, 

“Welcome to the family.”

[banannabethchase]

Secrets to Hide - also on AO3

~

"Be very careful who you lie to" is advice Claudio Castagnoli should have taken before he married Jon Moxley, and before he started sleeping with Wheeler Yuta on the side.

Warnings: Major character death, infidelity, murder, graphic depictions of violence (see AO3 for more details)

~

This is very loosely inspired by Two Black Cadillacs and Sarah's prompt, but I went the Sara route and Schrodinger's Prompt-ed this bitch. Tis a dark one, folks!

~

+6 months, 12 hours, 24 minutes, 5 seconds

Mox slings his arms around Wheeler’s shoulders. “I mean, it’s one of those things you can’t explain, right?” He gazes at Wheeler, feeling something too close to love bloom in his chest. “Sometimes people are brought together by grief. Memory of the loved ones lost, you know.”

Wheeler beams at Mox. “It’s weird, but it works for us.”

Eddie snickers from where he’s head first in a bowl of soup.

“What?” Wheeler asks. “Not a fan of love?”

“You guys are terrible,” Eddie laughs. “Jesus.”

Mox and Wheeler share a knowing glance, then turn back to the group.

Ruby laughs into her soda. “Eddie’s just jealous because Mox promoted Wheeler over him.”

“He wasn’t even working there at the time,” Mox says, taking his arm back. He turns to Wheeler. “And Claudio, rest his soul, rated you highly in your performance reviews. You were the only reasonable person to become the gym manager.”

Eddie shrugs. “He’s right, Roo. I’m just glad I got a steady job again. Beauty in tragedy, right?”

Mox nods. “Beauty in tragedy.”

Wheeler leans over and kisses Mox’s cheek. “I gotta get home, baby, but I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

Mox kisses Wheeler gently, still reeling from how different this is from before. From who he used to kiss. “Okay,” he murmurs against Wheeler’s lips. “I’ll see you later.”

He watches Wheeler walk off and turns to Eddie, who has the most knowing of smiles. “You two sure are a picture,” he says.

Mox shrugs. “You find love in the weirdest ways.”

~

+7 days

Mox gets home from the service past midnight to see the door cracked open, just the slightest. He pulls out his pocket knife, wishing he’d listened to Eddie years back telling him to grab something bigger, and slowly walks into the house, locking the door behind him. There was no car out front, no bike, nothing.

“Hello?” he calls. “I just came home from my fuckin’ husband’s funeral, so if you wanna die, now’s a good time to show yourself.”

He recognizes the chuckle as the figure slides out from behind the door. “Hey,” Wheeler says, smiling. “I had the Uber drop me off at Kroger, then walked here.”

Mox freezes. “Shit, did I awaken some sort of serial killer shit in you?” He holds out the pocket knife. “It’d be great if you didn’t kill me.”

Wheeler laughs a little as he shakes his head, a glint in his eye that intrigues and worries Mox. “Not my plan,” he says. His steps are slow and deliberate as he comes up to Mox. “What do you say to a little celebration?”

Mox raises an eyebrow. “That’s – that is not where I saw you going with this.”

Wheeler drops to his knees in front of Mox, and his brain starts to scream in a combination of his blood zooming southward and the alarm bells of fucking the guy who just helped kill your husband. “Come on,” Wheeler says, and he begins to see how easily Claudio was seduced by those eyes and that smile. “I can’t be the only one who felt it.”

His hands settle on Mox’s belt buckle.

Mox should refuse. Mox should kick him out, not even pay for the cab, and send this kid packing. He should go back on the promise, should make sure Wheeler Yuta can’t set foot in this town again without getting his ass beat.

“Fuck, yeah,” Mox says, and Wheeler’s hands undo his belt.

Wheeler’s smile feels like heaven around his cock, and it’s only a few moments before he’s in this, fully. Good decisions be damned. He’s at worst a murderer – this doesn’t even make the list of bad things he’s done.

“Get up,” Mox says. “Gotta – there’s no bed in the main bedroom, obviously, but the guest –”

Wheeler stands and wipes his mouth, nodding. “I, uh. I know where that is.” He shrugs, apologetic eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Mox says. “It’s all mine now.” He grins at Wheeler. “Including you, I guess.”

Wheeler laughs as they tug each other into the guest bedroom, bite marks and scratches blooming as Wheeler fucks him into the mattress without a care in the world.

“Surprised,” Mox gasps, scrabbling for purchase against the cheap mattress and bedspread. “When I walked in on you and Claudio, you were bent over for him.”

Wheeler laughs, hands gripping Mox’s hips tighter to drive into him. Mox whimpers. “Yeah, well, Claudio always liked to be on top, didn’t he?”

“He always did.” Mox groans as Wheeler wraps a hand around his cock, unrelenting thrusts meeting focused, concentrated strokes. It’s strangely easy to speak of Claudio in the past tense. He’d expected it to take longer. “Liked his – oh, god – liked his men on his knees for him.”

“Now you’re on your knees for me,” Wheeler growls, and Mox comes without warning.

~

+6 days

The funniest thing about how the memorial service was set up, Mox thinks, is that there’s a massive area specifically for former colleagues. There’s about a dozen of them, and Mox has only met around half. He wonders if Claudio was fucking anybody else in this group, if anyone else should have been in on the plan.

If Claudio lied to everybody about who Mox was.

“Mox?” says a small, blonde woman. “Are you – you were Claudio’s husband right?”

Mox nods. “I was.”

She takes his hands and smiles at him. “He was a wonderful man,” she says gently. “I’m sure you miss him dearly.” Mox tries his best to smile back at her. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Did everyone know about me?” he asks.

“Some, yes,” she says. “But we were all quite focused on the work. You know how it is.”

Mox doesn’t. In his line of work, you often learn who people are before you join them in the ring. “I know,” he lies. “Thank you.”

The line of people stretches far, and Mox is wondering if he should have just had Claudio be cremated with how long this is taking.

And then a familiar pair of eyes meet his further down the line, and he nods once.

He braces himself to meet Wheeler for the first time officially, talking aimlessly for a moment with one of Claudio’s aunts, who weeps into his shoulder until she moves down to Claudio’s mother.

“Hi,” says Wheeler, smiling sadly. “I’m Wheeler Yuta – I worked with Claudio.”

Mox nods, holding his hand out to shake. Wheeler does, and it’s a completely different shake than the first one: meek, gentle. As much as a show as everything else the two of them are doing. “Oh?”

Wheeler nods. “He was a good man.”

“Yes,” Mox says, the lie sparkling between the two of them like a firework, “he was.”

Wheeler joins Claudio’s work friends in throwing roses into the casket, bumping the back of Mox’s hand with his as they pass wordlessly on the path. Mox knees in front of the casket, hearing the weeping of Claudio’s family behind him. His eyes are dry but red.

“Good riddance,” he murmurs, so quiet he can barely hear himself. “Until we meet on the other side.”

He exhales and stands, and meets Wheeler’s eyes one last time.

~

0

“Babe?” Mox yells, throwing open the door. He drops the groceries on the ground. He hopes it’s not suspicious he only got things that don’t need the freezer.

His heart is already racing, expecting to see Claudio tidying the bathroom or making dinner. Maybe half alive on the floor of the bathroom, puking up every last ounce of life in his body. “Claudio, where are you?”

His hands shake as he walks through the rooms of their house. The kitchen, where they’d cooked countless meals: empty. The living room, where Claudio had fallen asleep in Mox’s lap more times than any one man could count: empty. The bathroom: empty. The guest room: empty.

Mox takes a deep breath before pushing open the door to their bedroom.

Claudio lay in the bed, color wrong, completely still.

“Claudio?!” Mox shrieks. He runs to him. Despite how much he wanted this, despite the fact that this was the ultimate outcome, the panic of a dead body in front of him, of his husband’s dead body in front of him, sends shocks of adrenaline and fear through him. He shakes Claudio’s shoulders, frantic, trying to see if there’s anything left in him. His head shakes around violently, and Mox realizes the chill against his fingers is Claudio’s skin.

He makes the strangest wailing noise as he fumbles in his pocket for his phone, dialing 9-1-1 with shaking hands. “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“I – I came home, and he was in bed – he’s so cold.”

“Who is, sir?”

Mox takes a deep breath, voice shaking. He’d thought he’d have to act this part. He didn’t think his reaction would be genuine. “My husband.”

The next hours are a blur – police officers, EMTs, the phrase, “Dead on arrival,” the bedroom blocked off. He doesn’t stop shaking the whole time.

“Sir, is there anyone you can call?” The police officer – Mox thinks her name was Grant – asks gently.

He nods. “I – my friend Eddie.” He fumbles for his phone. “I – I’ll stay with him.”

She slides him her card. “If you need anything, or have an idea of who may have done this.”

Mox nods absently, putting his phone to his ear as it rings. “Eddie,” he says. “Claudio’s gone.”

~

-5 days

“Alright,” Eddie says. “I got the stuff. All I gotta do is get Ruby to give it to her friend Toni, Toni drops it off for the DoorDash order, and we’re in the clear.”

Mox fidgets, glancing down to the phone, where Wheeler is on the other line. “Are you sure we can pull this off? If they can trace it back to us, we’re all fucked.”

Eddie shakes his head. “This shit’s fast acting and it can’t be detected after four hours, so, as long as you’re out of the house while it takes effect…”

“I’ll be out of there,” Mox assures him. “I’ll run errands or something, be somewhere with lots of cameras.” He turns to the phone on the table and leans in. “Wheeler, your job is to make sure he takes his ass home the second he starts showing symptoms. If he doesn’t get home, the plan doesn’t work.”

“I can make that happen,” Wheeler says through gritted teeth. “He…he listens to me. Trusts me with the gym.”

Mox holds back a laugh. “Course he does. But, Wheeler. You have to make sure he drinks that specific coffee,” Mox says in a low voice over the phone. “If he doesn’t, or if it gets into somebody else’s hands…”

“He’ll drink it,” Wheeler assures Mox. “He always chugs the coffee when Door Dash brings it at 9:45. Like clockwork.”

“Is it the same person every time?” Mox asks. “Because if it is…”

Wheeler shakes his head. “Different people, and he never interacts with them.”

“Okay,” Mox says, exhaling. “Okay, this is gonna work. It’ll work.”

~

-10 days

“You want to what?!”

Mox glances around the sports bar. He’d never be caught dead in here, is the thing, which is why it works so well for cover. People all around them are screaming about some hockey game. They’re completely drowned out, and no security cameras in the place makes for the perfect hidden spot. “He’s gonna keep doing this shit if we don’t stop him,” he says quietly. “And if I leave him, I’m left with nothing, and so are you.” He glances around again. “The only way out of this is killing him.”

“That seems extreme,” Wheeler says, dark eyes panicked. “Mox, I know we both hate him, but – is murder the answer?”

“Legally?” Mox says, stretching out. Wheeler’s eyes slide to his tattoos, and Mox decides not to be too much of a dick about that. “No. Logically? Rationally? Hell, morally? Yeah. Yeah it fucking is.” He focuses his eyes on Wheeler’s. “You’ll lose your job at the gym if you tell him. His next of kin might promote you to manager if you kill him.”

Wheeler’s eyes widen. “You – really?”

Mox nods. “And nobody would suspect it. Not for a fuckin’ second. If I knew about you, I’d hate you, right? That’s what everybody would think. But if it’s you and me behind the scenes and everybody else thinks I’m just a grieving husband promoting my late husband’s best reviewed employee, nobody’ll look twice.”

Wheeler stares at a knot on the sticky wood table for a few minutes. “Okay.” He lifts his head, finally, to meet Mox’s eyes. “If you take care of the – of the logistics, I’ll do what I need to do to help.” He nods. “You swear I get the gym after this?”

“I’ll be owner in name only,” Mox says, sticking out his hand. “I mean, I need a little cash flow to pay the bills, but, other than that? It’s all you.”

Wheeler nods, shaking Mox’s hand without an ounce of hesitance. His grip is strong, which Mox should have expected, but then there’s a fascinating fire in his eyes that Mox wants to get to know better. “Okay,” Wheeler decides, nodding. “Okay.”

~

-12 days

The text comes at 7:30 before his match, when Mox is backstage smoking a cigarette.

“The fuck is that?” Eddie asks, leaning over to check his phone. “Everybody you know is either here or – well, wherever the fuck Claudio’s at.” He shakes his head and scoffs as he takes another drag of his cigarette. “Not here, I’m guessing.”

Mox exhales. “If I tell you something, your ass better shut the fuck up for the rest of your life about it, you hear?”

Eddie pauses. “Oh. That sounds interesting. Lay it on me.”

“He’s been fucking one of his employees. Told the kid I was dead.”

Eddie’s jaw drops, and Mox allows himself a moment to be pleased, because it’s hard to rattle Eddie with something as simple as words. “No fuckin’ shit.”

“None,” Mox replies. “You were right about him.”

“Yeah, but I’m not happy about it!” Eddie says. He chucks his cigarette to the ground and stops on it with the heel of his boots. “The fuck you gonna do about it?”

Mox wiggles his phone. “Answer this text, first.”

“You gonna give me, like, an ounce of detail for what that’s about?”

“This is Wheeler Yuta,” Mox says, shoving the phone to Eddie. “The sidepiece. The other man. The –”

“Fuck, I get it,” Eddie grumbles. He scans the text. “You guys are gonna meet up?”

Mox takes the phone back and nods. “Kid seemed pretty pissed about the whole thing. Didn’t like how he was sympathetic for a widower who was actually a sleazebag.” He looks at Eddie. “What’s with that look?”

“Just,” Eddie exhales and drops his head against the wall. “He fucked me around at the gym, then he cheats on you and pretends you’re dead?” He looks at Mox, eyes bright with anger. “This fucker deserves more than just a consequence.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Eddie says, “that you have a decision to make.”

~

-13 days

Mox is fidgety and panicked outside the Starbucks. It’s probably a terrible decision, harassing this kid at work. But a more terrible decision was fucking his husband, and the kid did that first. So.

He shoves open the door once the rest of the customers have left and the kid, Wheeler Yuta, looks up at him, almost bored.

“Are you here to rob us?” he asks cooly. “We’ve been watching you pace back and forth outside for, like, an hour.”

“Actually I’m here to ask why you’re fucking my husband.”

Dead silence.

The girl behind Yuta, one with brown and blue hair and admittedly impressive galaxy makeup on her face, steps away. “I’m gonna make the guess this doesn’t have to do with me,” she says, backing out of the situation, “but yell cantaloupe if you need help, Wheels.”

“It’s not me either,” Wheeler says. “I’m not fucking anybody married.”

Mox boils with rage.

“Oh, really?” Mox asks. He whips out the framed photo of he and Claudio kissing at their wedding in navy suits with matching floral patterned ties, then the one of the two of them showing off their rings in front of the courthouse. “You didn’t have this guy’s dick in your ass yesterday?”

Mox watches the kid – confusion, recognition, horror. He’s either the actor of a generation, or something far more insidious is happening here. “You’re – Claudio’s still married?” he asks, voice pinched. He braces himself on the counter. “This – no. He said he – he said…” He trails off. “Are you Jon?”

Mox nods slowly, unsure of where this is going. “Uh. Yeah. Jon Moxley. Formally Jon Castagnoli.”

Wheeler shakes his head, then barks out the coldest laugh Mox has ever heard. “He told me you died,” Wheeler mutters. He finally looks up at Mox. “He said he was a widower, that you died in some weird – I think he said incident with a table?”

Mox exhales long at that. “Of course. I’m a wrestler – I had a rough table spot a few years back, but it sure as shit didn’t kill me.” He clenches his fists, then realizes he’s mirroring the kid in front of him. Hunched over the counter, bearing the weight of life changing news.

“We should meet up and – and go over this more,” Mox says. He scrawls his number on a napkin and shoves it across to Wheeler. “A place you’re not at work.”

Wheeler nods, holding the paper in his hands. “Yeah. I’ll, uh. I’ll text you.”

“Hold that thought.” Mox pulls out his phone and changes his Pin number. Now it’s the date Claudio has been claiming Mox had “died.” “Alright. Text me any time. And please don’t fuck my husband again.”

Wheeler laughs, a little panicked. “I don’t plan on it.”

~

-14 days

“How was work?”

Mox does his best to keep a mild, disinterested look on his face as Claudio saunters into their kitchen. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat. Mox doesn’t want to know from what.

“Lovely, darling.” He leans in to kiss Mox, who makes the mistake of flinching. “Everything alright?”

“You’re sweaty,” Mox says, forcing a laugh. “As hot as you are, armpits are armpits.”

Claudio laughs, easy and jovial, and Mox wonders if this is how he feels after nailing the client. “Alright, alright, I’ll take a shower. Then dinner?”

Mox nods. “Was thinking we could order in – I’m feeling something Italian.”

“Hmm,” Claudio says. “I was thinking sushi.”

Mox refuses to let out the scathing remark that pops into his mind. “We could do sushi.”

Claudio empties his pockets onto the kitchen table, as always, and Mox does everything he can not to snap up the phone right now and demand an explanation. Claudio leans in and kisses his forehead. “After my shower, we’ll order.”

Mox nods and follows Claudio with his eyes until the water starts. He takes note of where everything on the table sits, then snatches the phone up. Long ago Claudio had admitted to using his birthday for every four-digit password, and it works in Mox’s favor. He scrolls through the messages as quickly as he can – everything is innocuous, other than his communications with Claudio, of course. Nothing’s in the texts, in the phone log.

At every noise, Mox’s head snaps up and he checks the hallway, ensures he can still hear the water running and Claudio’s warble of whatever pop song is popular right now.

Mox is taken back to a few weeks ago, when the gym had shifted from an 80s playlist to something more modern, and he’s horrified to realize it’s probably on the recommendation of Claudio’s boy toy.

His entire body goes cold.

“Playlists,” he mutters, opening Claudio’s Spotify app. He checks – and there it is. His heart races as he pulls up a playlist called Gym Songs. There’s only one collaborator, and Mox can’t help himself from smiling cruelly. These stupid Gen Zers not knowing basic internet safety. His entire name is there.

Wheeler Yuta.

“Stupid fuckin’ name,” Mox mutters. He opens the Facebook profile attached to the Spotify account and memorizes every detail he can. The kid is 26, works at the gym and a Starbucks around the corner from where Mox and Claudio live. Mox is disgusted even further – Claudio should know better than to fuck a employee. The kid’s got a degree in kinesiology, which Mox will have to google later, from some fancy private school. It stings.

He sets Claudio’s phone down after deleting the search history from Claudio’s Facebook and clearing the Spotify screen back to the home page.

He grabs his own phone, scrolling through random car videos on Instagram just for something to do.

“There we are,” Claudio says, beaming as he saunters back into the kitchen. He smells like the body wash Mox bought him for their anniversary a few weeks before, smoky sweet. Mox wants to squirt it into Claudio’s eyes. “Sushi, yes?”

Mox nods, holding up his phone. “Already got DoorDash ready.”

~

-14 days, 19 hours, 42 minutes, 8 seconds

Mox had expected this to be a sweet little surprise – grab the Swiss chocolates, put the pretty flowers in a vase, hold the card awkwardly so he can push open the door to his husband’s gym. It should have been flawless.

So why the fuck is Claudio bent over a twink-adjacent, too hot for his own good client in the owner’s office, railing him into oblivion?

Both grateful and infuriated by the small door window, Mox hightails it out of there and chucks the gifts in the trash.

“On our fuckin’ anniversary,” Mox grumbles, slamming the car door shut. He can’t decide if he wants Claudio to know he walked in on him, and instead drives himself home to stare at the bed he’s shared with a man he thought he knew.

[ddejavvu]

for mvm!!

could i get a remus version of hockey player x ice skater reader where like he’s late for practice and as he gets there sirius & james are helping reader off the ice bc shes badly injured and he just goes into super protective mode or smth??

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

--

"Come on darlin'." Sirius urges, your ankle hanging limply as it hovers off the ice, "Just a few more steps."

James's shoulder, broad and muscled under your arm, offers perfect leverage as you hunch over onto the bench. The cool metal seeps through your leotard, your tights offering absolutely no protection from the stinging sensation.

"It doesn't look broken," James squints at your injured ankle, "Maybe you just twisted it?"

"Probably." You wince, tender pain spreading through up your leg as you set your foot gently on the rubber mats that pad the bench, "Still hurts like a bitch, though."

"Hey guys," Remus's voice comes from behind you and you strain to turn his way, "Sorry I'm late."

He lets Sirius grab his hand, tugging him close to hit their shoulders together. Then he repeats the action with James, leaning down to hug you in a much more courteous display of affection as you're sitting down.

"Remus don't-" You try to warn him before his foot can nudge yours, but his skate bumps into your own and your face crumples in a grimace.

"What," He panics immediately, glancing wildly up and down your frame, "What's wrong?"

"I hurt my ankle," You supply weakly, shifting it back into a semi-comfortable position, "It's fine, I just-"

'It's not fine." Remus doesn't bother letting you finish, crouching to where your ankle has a swollen red ring around it, "Jesus Christ, you guys did nothing?"

"Hey!" Sirius scoffs indignantly, "We helped her off the ice! It looks worse now, though," He cringes, "Maybe you should see a doctor, Y/N."

"No, no, I'll be okay. I just need to get home and in bed."

How, you aren't sure, because you definitely can't drive with your injured ankle. Luckily, Remus has already decided that for you, standing and tossing his stuff to the benches.

"Come on, Y/N, I'll drive you home."

"No, Remus, it's okay! I'll get an uber or something."

"You're not calling an uber." Remus scolds, "I'll drop you off in your car and take the bus back, then I'll come over after practice and see how you're doing."

"Remus it's really not necessary," You hate the thought of inconveniencing him, hellbent on driving yourself rather than making him make the several trips, "Just go to practice!"

"Stop arguing." He snaps, and you know it's out of concern, not anger. Nevertheless, it shuts you up, and you let him haul you up off of the bench, scooping you into his arms bridal style.

"You two keep my stuff here," Remus motions to his bag on the bench, "I'll be back."

"Have fun," There's a suggestive wiggle to James's brows and it makes your cheeks burn, a rosy tint flying to Remus's.

"Shut up, Prongs, she's dying." Remus mutters.

'I'm not dying," You gripe, "It's not that bad!"

"Whatever." Remus grumbles, glaring once more at James, "Still shut up, Prongs."

[cevansbrat0007]

A Good Lesson

Summary: You are Andy’s baby girl, whether you like it or not. Read the sequel, Laying Down the Rules. Andy Barber x Black!Reader

*Warnings: Protective Andy, Angry Andy, Spanking, Daddy Kink, Light Smut, Possessive Behavior, Cursing, Bratty Reader, Punishment, Pet Names, Minors DNI

A/N: Takes place early in my Growing Pains Series. As always, I’d love your feedback, so please let me know what you think. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own. ___ You were in an absolute panic. You knew you’d parked your car here. Right here. And you’d only been in the bakery for, like, ten minutes. Oh, god…what were you going to do? You needed to call the police and then you needed to call your boyfriend. That was the tricky part. Andy had warned you about this particular part of town. In fact, he’d forbade you from even stepping foot in this neighborhood. Which had been weird to you because you’d been coming to Chanelle’s Sweet Treats your entire life. He just didn’t know that. If he knew the truth about where his favorite danishes and lemon squares really came from, he’d hit the roof.

But now it looked like you didn’t have much of a choice. It wasn’t like you could walk home or anything. Pulling your phone out of your purse you quickly dial 911.

You quickly run the female dispatcher through the details of what happened and where you were located. As an aside, you also may have let it slip that you were currently dating the local District Attorney, thinking that might prompt a faster response. Understanding, the woman let you know that a car would be out to you soon. 

You: “Alright, thank you. I’ll keep an eye out. In the meantime, I need to call my boyfriend.

Dispatcher: “Understood, ma’am. Call back if you need us.” 

You thank her and then end the call. Steeling yourself, you prepare for the next conversation. Blowing out a breath, you decide to just dial his number and get it over with. Yes, he’d be mad. But you were out of options. 

“Hey baby,” he answers on the second ring. “I was just thinking about you. My meeting ended early and I wanted to take you to lunch. There’s a new Pho spot that just opened by my office. And I know how much you like Vietnamese.” Your stomach grumbles at the mention of food. You two had only been together for four months but he already knew you so well. 

You bite your thumb, still not wanting to drop the bomb. “Um, about that, honey. Ordinarily I would love to, but uhh…someonemighthavestolenmycar”. You ramble out as fast as you can. 

“Please tell me you’re joking right now!” Andy yells. You heard something clang to the floor. Probably a paper weight. “No, I’m afraid I’m not.”

“Are you alright?! Did you get carjacked? Fuck!”

“Yes, I’m okay. And no, I wasn’t held up or anything.”   

“Jesus fucking Christ, where are you, baby? I’m coming to get you right now.” You bite your thumb again. Maybe you should have called an Uber. Or a Lyft. 

“Don’t be mad, but I’m at 105th and Crenshaw. I was picking up some of those lemon bars you like. I swear I was only away from the car for just a few minutes. I’ve already called 911 and they’re sending an officer out. I’m just going to go back into the bakery until they get here and maybe they’ll give me a ride home.”

“I’ll be to you in less than 20 minutes. You wait inside there for me.” His tone is short and clipped. Fuck, he was angry. “But Andy, the cops will be here any minute and -”

“And I will speak to them when I arrive. I’m the fucking DA and if they know what’s good for them they will wait for me. You stray even a foot from that bakery and I will happily whoop your ass. You got that, Y/N?” You stare at your phone for a moment. Andy had never spoken to you like that before.

“Um, okay.” You mumble back, feeling the tears threatening to fall. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you are.” He fires back as he packs up his briefcase. “Stay fucking put for me, baby.”

Of course, the officers make it to you before Andy does. But when they find out he’s the District Attorney they agree to wait. Andy arrives in less than 12 minutes. You know he sped the whole way to you. 

You watch as he exits his vehicle, six-feet of pure muscle decked out in a suit and tie. He looks positively delectable. The first thing he does is take you into his arms, his bearded face pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’ve got this.”  

He proceeds to handle everything for you, barely letting you get a word in. His body is stiff and unyielding - the vein in his forehead is prominent and throbbing. Once he’s given them both all of your information, he dismisses them. You’re teetering on pins and needles as you hand him the box of pastries you’ve been holding for ages. “These are for you, baby.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Andy proceeds to dismissively toss the box into the backseat of his car and then opens your door. “Get in, sweetheart.” He grits out through clenched teeth. “Fair warning, I’m pretty upset right now. I’m going to try not to take it out on you, but we’re going to go to lunch and then I’m going to take you home. We’ll discuss this then.”

“Andy…” You lean in to press your forehead against his. “I said I was sorry.”

“I get it, but I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet. You know how I feel about this neighborhood, how many folks my job has forced me to put away. The reason I didn’t want you coming here was because I knew that there were so many people who would jump at the chance to hurt the girlfriend of the DA. And yet you came here anyway.” He scrubs a hand over his eyes before putting the car in drive. 

“Andy, I’ve been coming down here since I was a kid. Plus, I’m plenty safe. I bought a gun and everything.” The tires screech to a halt. Making you jerk.

“Did I hear that right, sweetheart?” He chuckles softly, but there is nothing funny about it. “You bought a weapon and didn’t tell me? Is that what I just heard?”

“Um, I’d like to amend that statement if I could.” God, you were fucking this up. 

“Too late, Y/N. Where is the gun? Give it to me now.” He holds out his hand expectantly. “When did you even learn how to use one? Do you even have the safety on?”

You feel your eyes roll before you can stop them. “Yes, I’ve been taking classes when business is slow. And yes, the safety is on. The gun is staying in my purse where it belongs.”

“Okay, okay.” He smacks his hand against the steering wheel, accidentally honking his horn in the process. “You know what, sweetheart? Since you don’t want to cooperate like the good girl I know you can be, we’re going to get something to-go, and then I’m going to take you home and wear your ass out.” He runs his hand through his brown locks. “That’s what we’re going to do.” 

“Huh? I don’t understand.” You say, pushing at his broad shoulder. “Did you just threaten to…punish me?” He chuckles again. The lack of humor in his voice makes you nervous.

“You’re in so much trouble that you don’t even know it, Y/N. You lied to me, telling me that those little confections I love came from down the street. You disobeyed me when I told you not to come over here. You bought a gun without a word. You willingly put yourself in harm’s way. And you don’t think Daddy has a right to be pissed?” Andy’s large hand wraps around your neck, squeezing gently. “I am fucking livid right now, baby.”

“Andy, please. Wait a moment.” You whine as he pulls into a local deli he knew you both enjoyed. “Get out of the car, honey. We’re going to order a couple of sandwiches and then I’m going to take you back to my place. I’ll sort you out there.” He grabs his keys and exits the car, while you sit there in shock. 

Had your affectionate, loving boyfriend just said he was going to punish you? And had he really called himself your Daddy? 

He jerks your door open. “Let’s go, sweetheart. I’m anxious to feed you and then get you home.” Andy runs his hand through your hair. “You sure you’re not hurt, honey?”

“No, I’m not hurt. But I sure would like some clarification in regards to what you were referring to just a little bit ago.” He blinks at you, his teeth grazing his bottom lip. “You said you were going to spank me, as if I’m not grown. And you called yourself my Daddy. Where is this coming from? Tell me before I get out of this car. Please.”

“Y/N, if you don’t know that you’re my baby by now then I haven’t been doing my job. You’re my favorite person on the entire planet, you’re my best friend, the love of my fucking life.” He kisses your hand. “You are precious, but you need to learn to listen to me though. I know things you don’t, things that will keep you safe.” Andy gently pulls you out of his car.

His hands cup your face. “I’m not your father, and I’m not trying to be. But I will take every precaution to keep you safe. If you don’t hear me when I say things, then I will make sure your bottom feels it as a reminder. And I will always kiss it better.” 

You balk at him, unsure of what to say. Yes, you were triggered. Why did this turn you on so much? Why did you feel your pussy gush at his words? This was a whole new world you were navigating. You silently let him lead you inside, where he orders you both a turkey club.                          

His with mayo, yours without, substituting oil and vinegar on your behalf. Snagging two bags of chips and couple cokes as they wrap up your orders, he pays for them and then picks up the bag before walking out the door with you in tow.

The two of you decide to eat in the car, which gives you time to process what he’d told you earlier. You lick your fingers when you finish, not feeling the least bit ashamed of appearing uncivilized around him. “That was tasty,” you mutter as you take another sip of your Coca-Cola. “Now that we’re no longer hangry, how about we go back to your house and just talk about things? This whole concept is super new to me.”

You’d only read about it in the romance novels you had downloaded on your Kindle.

“We can talk about it all you want when your panties are around your ankles.” You look at him with worried eyes. “Yeah, something tells me you’re going to start feeling real chatty.”  

Eventually, you pull into his driveway - something you’d been dreading. “Let’s head inside, baby.”

“Andy, I’m - I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. I’d die before I’d ever hurt you. I know you’ve never been spanked. You’re a good girl. We’ll take it slow.” You stifle a sniffle at that. No, you hadn’t been spanked before.

You sit in your seat, clutching your half empty bottle of soda until he comes around to your side to open the door. 

“Here’s what you’re going to do for me.” He murmurs into your ear. “We are going to walk in this house and you are going to go to the living room. You are going to bend over and take your panties off for me - but no bending your knees. But I want to see that pretty pussy, baby. And then I’m to guide you over my knee, understand?” 

You sniffle again, feeling way out of your depth. “And then you and I are going to talk. I’m going to use my hand, and only my hand to spank you. And when we’re through you’re going to give me that gun. Have I been clear enough?”

“Yes.” You whisper. 

“In a case like this, I would like you to respond with a yes, Sir, or a yes, Daddy.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He smiles at you, a look of pride on his face. “I’m not trying to take your fire from you, or break your spirit, sweetheart. But you scared the fuck out of me today. I need you to understand how I feel about this.” His thumb traces your lower lip, his eyes bore into yours. You are the only thing on his mind.

Andy helps you out of the car - no yelling, no screaming. It’s honestly something you’re not used to. When you’re inside, you do as he asks. You remove your panties, letting him get a generous look at your traitorous pussy. 

Could you really go through with this?

“Baby, I’m going to bruise this curvy little bottom. And I’m sorry for that. And then I’m going to make this pussy cry. It’s my job, you know?” He sits down on the couch and smiles. “And I’m serious about my work.”

“C’mere and lay down, Y/N. I think it’s time Daddy taught that ass a good lesson.” 

You whimper softly as you lie over his lap. His big hand immediately reaches between your legs to rub your wet cunt. “I think my baby is anxious for her spanking, no?” Andy rumbles.

“No!” 

“How about we check-in when we’re done, hmm? Let’s start with fifteen. Now just hold on to my leg, sweetheart.”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

END   

[sebastianstansqueen]

He Rescues Her Right Back 2

A/N: I just finished writing this part, I hope you guys like it! As always Feedback is always appreciated if you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 2,696

Warnings: Fluff, little angst, fear of highest, and I think that's it? I missed any thing tell me pleas!

Masterlist //  Taglist open // Series Masterlist

Tags: @cherryblossomskye - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2writes - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel -

The next morning you were abruptly woken by a phone call from your production team representative, you walked into the living room leaving Bucky be in bed. “Hello?” You asked, Alex started to explain what was going on, you paced back and forth while the phone call continued on. 

Bucky walked in while you were on another phone call, but had a delicious breakfast laid out on the kitchen island, you sat at one of the stools, on the phone. “Okay, so what we need to do is move the shoot day to the thirtieth so that I can be there to monitor what's happening.” You spoke quickly, the conversation continued until your assistant had to go and help someone, you looked up at Bucky. “Morning.” 

“I see you already got a start.” He smirked as he chewed on a piece of toast, pouring a glass of champagne. “So when is the uber coming?”

You sighed. “Fuck, I forgot.” You rolled your eyes at yourself. 

“Hey look it’s alright, I can get one of my roommates to come get me.” He shrugged, continuing to get food off the plates. 

Then your phone rang, it was Val. “Hey, so are you still planning on coming to the club thing this afternoon after your meetings?” She asked.

“Yeah, I mean some important clientele are going to be there.” You told her. Bucky stood up. “I’m gonna go wash up before I go.” He whispered as you nodded at what he said. 

You walked away back to the bedroom to get ready. “Look Y/n, I don't like you going by yourself, you should have a date. I have a lot of hot guy friends. I could find you someone.” 

You heard a low hum from the bathroom, walking in finding Bucky in the shower wearing a pair of airpods, you watched as he stood in the shower slightly dancing to the song. “No, I have someone in mind, I gotta go.” You hung up, then walked into the bathroom taking off the white fluffy robe you wore all morning, you got into the shower with Bucky, he finally came back to the real world taking out the earbuds. “I was wondering would you stay a few days?” You asked. 

“What for?” He asked you.

You sighed. “I have a full week of things to do, and my friend and lawyer, Val, thinks I should have a date for them, think of it as a uh business proposition, and I’ll pay you for every night you stay.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay, yeah that’s alright, sounds great.” He smiled.

“So uh ballpark me how much is it gonna cost for the full week excluding tonight?” You asked, looking fully confident with your hands on your nude hips. 

“8,000.” He stated. 

 “8,000?” You scoffed. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You're asking for days too, so what does your math put you at?”

“Exact math would be, about 2,700.” You stated. 

“Fine 5,000.” He huffed out. 

You shook your head. “3,000.” 

“6,000.” He went first. “4,000.” You shot back “7,000.” He stated.

You smirked.“Deal.” 

“Holy shit!” He laughed. 

You smiled laughing with the man.“Alright, I gotta get ready, and I’m gonna leave you some money to get a suit and some nice clothes, along with the money from last night.” You told him, before getting out.

You walked into the closet that you had all the clothes you packed, you chose a maroon shirt and gray pants to wear for the majority of the day. Up until you had to go to the country club thing that afternoon, you walked into the living room finding Bucky in the same clothes as the night prior, you walked over and handed him a wad of cash. “Here, as payment and for clothes.” You smiled at him.

“Jesus!” Bucky exclaimed at the thick wad. “I mean yeah I get three hundred an hour and that adds to like 1200-1800 up but there's gotta be like I dunno like 3,700$?” 

You laughed. “4,266 exact, 2,4oo for the night, and 1,866 for clothes and a nice suit. I did my math and got the money this morning, I’ve gotta go but I’ll be back later.” You went to the elevator to  head down. 

“I would have stayed for 2700 you know.” Bucky spoke. 

“And I would have paid 8,000.” You smirked just as the elevator doors closed in front of you.

Bucky was ecstatic at the deal, it was going to be worth it pulse he got new clothes basically for free, he headed down to the lobby walking towards the doors. “Sir.” He was stopped by a man. “One of the employees here last night told me you were up in Mis. Y/l/n's room last night with her look we uh don’t allow-”

“It’s alright, she and I are business partners.” He started walking away. 

The man followed him. “If that’s what you wanna call it. Look sir, I’m gonna need you to leave, and don’t come back.” 

“Look, you can call her and ask her.” Bucky changed direction’s heading to the front desk instead, the man left to call you, once there Bucky held the 2,400$. “Hey, uh my friend will be coming here while I’m gone to get it, will you give it to either Steve Rogers or Sam Willson.” The lady replied with a smile and a yes. 

You were in a taxi figuring it would be the quickest way to your business brunch, when your phone rang. “Hello?” You asked. 

“Hello, Mis. Y/l/n, this is Jarvis the l manager, there is a man here who says you are ‘business partners’.” He explained to you. 

You nodded, sighing. “Uh yeah he’s James Barnes, he’s my current boyfriend we’re just trying to keep it under wraps right now, if he does need any help with anything, would you be willing to help?” 

“Yes ma’am thank you for explaining, have a good day.” He replied before hanging up. 

Bucky walked out of the hotel looking for a store, he walked into a random store and looked around, he walked up front to ask one of the women for help. “Hey uh i’m looking for a suit, like a really nice one.” He almost exaggerated. 

The woman looked at him. “I’m sorry sir, I’m not quite sure we’re what you're looking for.”

“I-I mean you had men’s clothing up front I just assumed you would have suits.” He explained to her. 

“We do, I just don’t think you’d have enough to get clothes from here.” She said judgingly. 

“Whatever, just going to warn you, you just made a big mistake.” He warned before leaving once out of the store he walked away. After a few more failures he went back to the hotel empty handed, when walking in, Jarvis. “Look man now isn’t really the time.” Bucky told him.

“Mis. Y/l/n said to help you if you needed any and you looked a little long.” Jarvis said. “What can I do for you Mr. Barnes?” “I need a nice suit pulse some nicer clothing.” Bucky replied. 

Jarvis nodded before dialing someone and talking to someone on one of the hotel's front desk phones, once off the phone, he walked over to Bucky. “Go to this address, my friend Maria will help you.” 

Bucky left once again and got a taxi, the taxi pulled up to the nice building and Bucky paid the driver, before getting out, he walked into the building, when a strawberry blond woman walked up she looked maybe about fifty-sixty. “Hello, are you James?” She asked. 

“Yeah, but just call me Bucky, are you Maria?” He asked, the woman nodded. 

She smiled. “Let's find you some clothes.” 

Later Bucky walked into the hotel once again, now wearing some of the clothes he bought, he rode up in the elevator to the room. 

You were in a very heated phone call with a friend of yours who was also an associate, it calmed down. “It’s alright, okay, I’ll see you later today, bye.” The call ended, you turned to see Bucky standing there, in some of his new clothes, a white sweater shirt, along with gray pants similar to what you currently wore but less baggy and black loafers, the shirt defined your muscles, your eyes felt as though there was a trick being pulled on you. 

“Do you like it?” He asked with a bit of hesitation. 

You nodded. “Um y-yes I do like it, it looks goo-great.” 

“What time are we going to the thing?” He asked, now smirking a little cocky knowing he made you flustered. 

“Soon, I just gotta get dressed real quick, then we’ll leave, also we gotta drive the car again because I need to give it back to Val.” You explained, before heading towards the master bedroom.

“I’m driving, you scare me when you drive.” He called after you. 

You laughed. “I was hoping you would.” Once in the master bedroom, you walked into the closet, pulled out a dress and shoes, kicked off your heels, then pulled the shirt over your head, and slid down your pants. You pulled on the black dress with the sheer sleeves, and the ankle boots on. You fixed your makeup so that it would match this outfit, it was a muted and natural look with lip gloss on your light pink lips, you walked out to the living room. Bucky looked up at you with a smile and you could see him taking you in. “Are you ready to leave?” 

“Uh yeah.” He nodded, blinking a few times after staring. 

The two of you rode down to the underground parking structure, Bucky put on his charm, he opened the passenger door for you, before you got in, and he followed getting in the driver seat, he started the nice car and started driving, putting the location in on the map on his phone, as he drove you looked at him. “So, I got the phone call from Mr. Jarvis, I’m not mad I promise, but in order to cover for you I said that we’re in a relationship and we’re just keeping it under wraps at the moment.” 

Bucky smirked and side eyed at you. “I’m alright with that.” He said it slyly. 

You rolled your eyes. “So, where did you get your clothes?” 

“Jarvis helped me after a bunch of places turned me away, he had a friend help me choose it out.” He explained. “Um I did get a suit and this, but not much else.” 

You nodded. “How about, tomorrow morning we go and get some other things for you and I, ‘take the morning off’.”  You said with a quotation. 

“What does that mean?” Bucky asked, confused. 

You huffed a laugh. “We go get more clothes for ya’ and I’ll be there, but I will still be taking phone calls and stuff.” 

“What? Y/n I really don’t need all this.” He said. 

You nodded. “I know but I want to do this for you.” You smiled at him softly. 

The two of you arrived at the club and parked, walking in, one of the older sons of a business partner, was playing polo in the background, Val came walking up. “Do you actually like this?” She asked about the men on the horses. 

You side eyed her. “No, not really my sport, but whatever it’s the most entertaining thing here at the moment.” 

“Really because that guy you brought seems to be the most entertaining to everyone else.” She arched her brow when looking at the man, you turned to see Bucky talking to a group of your friends, and you smiled. 

“Excuse me, Y/n can I have a word.” The older man, about the age your father was, and you excused yourself from Val and followed the man. “How can I help you, Mr. Osborn?” You asked him with a polite smile. 

“Well Mis. Y/l/n, I have a business proposition for you.” He offered  as the two of you walking away from the group of people. 

Bucky had gotten caught up in a conversation, while the person who he was speaking to spoke he looked up to try and find you, but you weren’t where you were before, he looked in different directions seeing you walking and talking with an older man, a cigarette between your soft lips, he excused himself walking towards you and the stranger. 

“I would like to bring the companies together fifty fifty from both profits.” Normand spoke as you let the smoke slip though your lips. 

“My lawyer Val could write up a contract, but first I’d like to know why would you want to combine?” You asked seriously.

“Because imagine what we could do bringing  my scientist along with your engineers together, but what I also want to propose is no contract, I know you haven’t been able to find a partner as flexible as you need one to be, because I understand being work oriented, and so does my son, I was thinking what if you two marry one another to actually tie them together?” He offered. 

You huffed. “Mr. Osborne, I and Harry have no common interest.” 

“I mean your a large company owner, and he is learning to take over a large company and he-” 

Bucky cut him off. “Hey, uh Y/n, people are looking for you.” 

Osborne looked at Bucky. “Who is this Mis. Y/l/n?” 

“I’m her boyfriend, I have been for a while now.” He lied to the stranger, having seen how right before he came up you looked uncomfortable. “I just couldn’t make it to the party yesterday because of an important meeting, James Barnes, now if you don’t mind my gal has some other important things she should get to.” He led you away.  

Once far enough, you looked up at him with minimal irritation. “I had it under control.” 

He arched his brow. “You did?” You nodded. “It didn’t look like that, what the hell was he saying to you?” 

You huffed, more smoke coming out from your cigarette, in which Bucky took from between your lips and put it out, you glared up at him. “I was smoking th-” “No at the moment, besides I'm lookin’ out for ya.” He shrugged. 

You rolled your eyes. “Anyways he was talking about a business deal, including me marrying his son.” 

Bucky laughed. “Okay so now you think you're ready for marriage when you already don’t really know how to love people, and I thought you were smart, I’m joking you are, but thats a stupid idea as I see it, pluse isn’t he one of the guys on the horses?” You nodded. “Too snobby for you.” 

The two of you got back to the hotel that night via a taxi, once in the room, you turned to Bucky. “Thank you I guess for pulling me away from the conversation, also there’s a dinner tomorrow, I did say a full week of stuff.”

“I know.” He smirked, he stretched. “Fuck I’m tiered, I’ll see you later.” 

“Night.” You smiled at him. 

Later you sat in a chair you brought from the living room looking at the night sky from afar sitting at the door of the balcony nursing a hard scotch, and a cigarette. Bucky came from behind you. “I thought you didn’t like heights.” He spoke up. 

“As long as I don’t look forward or down, I’ll be fine.” You smiled at him, he walked onto the balcony and hiked himself up on the thick edge. “Please don’t.” You looked away out of fear. 

“I’m fine.” He smirked, then got off seeing how discomforted you were by what he was doing. He kneeled in front of you, cupping your face. “Look I’m alright.” 

You looked at him. “Never do that again.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck, in a hug.

“Come on, let me take you to bed.” He mumbled into your hair. 

[ticketstomydaydreams]

5:3666

(All We Have: Part Two)

Part One

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson fall into a night time studio routine when he starts keeping you company through your insomnia and you decide to work though some past demons

Word count: 3,200 (ish, I lost count editing)

Feels: Fluff with a dash of past trauma

Warnings: Drug & alcohol consumption, domestic violence, cursing, Colson being so sweet it almost makes your teeth hurt

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - 5:3666

Warren Zevon - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

The Vamps - All Night

Halsey - You Should Be Sad

A/N: If you've been affected by anything in this story, please know you're not alone. My inbox is always open and I'm all ears 🖤

______

During the first couple of weeks of moving in, you’d been partying A LOT. The guys wanted to show you just how mad it got, breaking you into their chaotic household, blending the days together. Everyone was hyper and the house was buzzing with energy. You'd been so exhausted from all of it that you'd been all but passing out each night, but you couldn’t lie, it was great fun.

You’d tried to pass on a few nights but Colson would never hear of it, often forcing you out of your room to get involved as the house was filled with people, jam sessions taking place in between drinking games. It was a far cry from your usual homelife, your last housemate mainly kept to themselves so your place was normally pretty chilled. Colson had used your place as a quiet escape over the years, but it seemed you wouldn’t have the same set up extended to you here with this lot.

With the pandemic unfolding, the house had started getting quieter, less people in and out every night and everyone was settling into a lazier way of life. The gang were mooching around the house throughout the day and while the house was still lively at night, it wasn’t quite the party central you’d almost started getting used to. Your normal working routine went out the window as everyone had started working from home mainly and without your daily routine, followed by nights out partying, your insomnia was back with full force.

______

You were lying in your bed, trying to force sleep on yourself but after trying to nod off for a couple of hours, you accepted defeat and got back up. Throwing some sweats on and one of Colson’s huge hoodies (you’d been slowly sneaking them out of his closet, finding that the masses of material drowning your small frame were super comforting), you headed down to the kitchen, turned the stove on and filled the kettle up. You were scrolling through your phone when you heard footsteps on the tiled floor. Colson strolled into the kitchen looking disheveled in a white tank top and boxer shorts, hair ruffled and looking sleepy

“Dude, it’s 3am how come you’re up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, living that oh so fun insomnia life again” you sighed “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was already awake. Couldn’t sleep either and heard someone moving about so thought I’d come down” He replied, climbing onto one of the breakfast stools

“Yeah, I think it’s not having much of a routine. Hate lying in bed staring at the ceiling so just got up. You want a cup?” you offered, pointing to the chamomile tea you were brewing

“Sure, thanks” he says, taking the steaming mug from you

You sit down at the breakfast bar with him and start chatting, scrolling through instagram as you do. After about an hour, as you’re talking about an article you’re reading, you notice Colson doesn’t respond and you look to your right and see he’s fallen asleep, leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Hey, sleeping beauty” you whisper, rubbing his back with your hand “Go to bed”

He slightly jolts at your touch, opening his eyes “Nah man, I’m keeping you company”

“Some company” you laugh softly “pretty sure you just slept through all my rambling there”

He leans against your shoulder, closing his eyes again “Hey, at least you’re not sitting here alone. That’s something right?”

“That’s true” you smile, leaning your head against his “You’re very appreciated, do you know that”

You gently push him upright and stand up “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m pretty tired myself, so you’ve definitely helped”

He’s laid his head down on his arm on the counter, his breathing getting heavy immediately so you pull his other hand making him stand up. He stands up and puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs, your legs feeling heavy as you climb each step, carrying some of Colson’s weight as he sleepily walks with you

Once you’re standing outside your bedroom doors, he pulls you in for a hug

“Night kid, don’t be wandering around bored if you can’t sleep yeah? Just come get me. Nothing worse than sitting up alone at night…”

“Will do. Thanks Col” You squeeze him a bit tighter as he kisses the top of your head

“Night” you smile, as he let’s you go and turns and heads into his room, waving his hand up behind him

Undressing and crawling into bed, your eyes feel heavy as your head hits the pillow. Colson was right, insomnia was a much less lonely experience with a friend.

______

Of course, as is always the way after your sleepless nights, you sleep in super late the following day meaning the cycle continues and you find yourself wide awake as the witching hour approaches. Feeling restless in your bedroom, you get up, and decide to head downstairs and out into the studio because you figure you might as well put this time to good use. You settle into a chair with your acoustic guitar and started playing, stopping and starting as you figure out a melody, working your latest lyrics in with it

“I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest. Got no anger, got no malice…”

“I thought I told you to come get me if you couldn’t sleep”

You almost drop your guitar as you hear Colson’s voice behind you, “Jesus, how are you such an enormous human but you still manage to creep up on me all the time?”

“Just a stealthy motherfucker I guess” He laughs, flopping into the chair next to you

“Whatcha working on? That sounded sweet, keep playing…”

Colson knows you sometimes get a bit self-conscious with people watching you sing, so he lights his joint, rests his head on his hand and closes his eyes. You smile as you see what he's doing, thankful he always understands what you're like.

You turn back to your notepad, reading over your lyric outline quickly before repositioning the guitar in your lap and resetting the metronome

___

‘I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest

Got no anger, got no malice, Just a little bit of regret

No, nobody else will tell you, so there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out and then I'll be on my way

No, you're not half the man you think that you are

And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs, and cars

I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you

'Cause you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you

Oh, I feel so sorry, I feel so sad

I tried to help you, it just made you mad

And I had no warning about who you are

I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down

And then ran so fuckin' far, that you would never ever touch me again

Won't see your alligator tears

'Cause, no, I've had enough of them’

___

“Man, that was beautiful Y/N. I got some chills right there…You just wrote that?”

“Nah, it’s something I dug up from ‘back then’. Been going through some old lyrics and samples while we’ve got all this time on our hands. It’s kinda cathartic to go over some of that stuff now there’s a bit more distance you know”

______

A couple of years ago, you’d been stuck in a really toxic relationship with your ex, Stevie. Your time with him had been a tornado of arguments, drugs and the constant heartache of him cheating on you. Every time you’d get close to having the strength to leave, you’d always cave in and the mess would continue with you losing a bit of yourself each time you stayed. You’d become pretty used to his violent outbursts, he had always been controlling and short tempered, often pushing you and throwing stuff around your apartment. Despite his own frequent infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage with you constantly.

He’d always hated Colson, despite him being one of your best friends, and while he’d play nice to his face you’d always get it in the neck once you were alone about how you and Colson were ‘too close’ and he ‘didn’t trust him’. Before that final night you’d spent with him, things had been pretty good with the two of you for a few weeks, there hadn’t been much drama and so you hadn’t thought too much of inviting him out with you and the gang for a night out clubbing. Your good run had clearly come to an end, when you felt his hand grab your arm tightly and drag you off the dancefloor where you’d been dancing with Colson. You’d been bundled into an uber so quickly, you hadn’t even managed to get your handbag from inside. You saw Colson running out of the club, followed by Rook and Slim who was holding your bag, as the cab pulled away.

Once you were back at the apartment, he flew into a rage. You’d never seen him this bad before, his eyes were dark and when you tried to argue back, calling his jealousy ‘pathetic’ he snapped. He’d grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall, “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again” he’d spat in your face, before striking you so hard with his fist that the skin across your cheek split open. It was as if his actions had knocked him back to reality, he’d let go of you and you ran to your bedroom, locked the door behind you and started packing a bag. He hammered on the door, begging you to open it and you could hear that he was crying. You looked around for your phone before you remembered you’d left it at the club. Desperate to get away, you opened your laptop and brought up instagram, managing to send Colson a message asking him to send you an uber to his house straight away. You’d thrown your laptop and a few more bits in your bag, the battery dying before you had a chance to wait for a reply, before pulling the bedroom door open and barging past Stevie. He’d tried to grab you, but you’d finally had enough “Never fucking touch me again” you spat, pushing him off you. The hatred in your voice rooted him to the spot and he said nothing as you walked out, the door slamming behind you.

Once you were outside the apartment building, the reality of what had just happened and the situation you were in started to wash over you. You had no phone, no wallet, your laptop was dead. Just as you were starting to seriously panic, an uber pulled up and Colson had leapt out of the backseat. You’d been in total shock and had just let Colson guide you into the cab and then out into his house, up to his room. He didn’t say anything as he led you to his bathroom and lifted you up onto the counter. He grabbed a flannel and soaked it with warm water, rinsing it out before pressing it softly against the cut on your cheek, gently wiping away the blood that had mixed with your mascara laced tears. The tenderness of his actions was almost too much and you started to sob again.

“Hey, hey. Y/N, look at me” he said softly, lifting your chin so you looked at him, his blue eyes misty themselves “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Don’t move, I’ll be back in a sec”

He left the bathroom and returned with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Putting them on the counter next to you, he crouched down and undid the straps on your heels, slipping them off your feet and then helping you down from the counter. “I’ll leave you to change”

When you came out of the bathroom, Colson was lying in his bed “Come here” he said, holding his arm and beckoning into his side. You crawled under the covers next to him and snuggled into him, his long arms wrapping around you.

“Col…” you said quietly

“Yeah?” he whispered back, stroking your hair off your forehead

“Thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve always got you Y/N”

______

“I hated that fucking guy. That night...I wanted to kill him after what he’d done to you”

You see him tense up at the memory and you lean over and squeeze his knee “You’re such an amazing friend, do you know that. I don’t know what I would’ve done that night without you”

"You're a fucking warrior Y/N, you'd have handled your shit. I was just happy you trusted me enough to let me be there for you. You deserve so much better than that" he says, covering the hand you'd placed on his knee with his, staring you in the eyes and returning the smile that's crept across your face

"You know there's been a few punches I've wanted to dole out on behalf of you over the years, but you've never let me" you tell him

"Too right I'd never let you. I never want you in the drama, you're too good for getting caught up in that shit" he replies, pointing at you with mock sternness

"Hey" he says, seeing your expression wash over with a tint of sadness "At least the sleepless nights aren't what they were then…

… If we're gonna work through some old demons this lockdown, I'm sure I've got some songs and lyrics that have never seen the light of day" He reaches over the desk and pulls his laptop towards him "You've inspired me… "

"Oh no, are we gonna fuck our heads up with this?" you joke nervously, worrying that Colson's going to delve into something that's going to upset him

"Nah, I got you covered and you got me, right?"

"True dat" you say, as he holds his fist out so you can fistbump, his eyes now focused on his laptop screen

______

You felt kinda bad, having kept Colson up all night with you the last two nights, especially as you'd got him reminiscing about some tough memories, so tonight you tried to sneak past his room when your restlessness got the better of you.

"Nice try kid!" Colson says as he throws his bedroom door open, causing you to yelp in fright. standing there topless with his sweatpants hung low in his hips, he lights the joint hanging from his mouth "I told you we were in this together now"

"I felt bad, making you stay up with me"

"You didn't make me do shit…Wait a sec, let me find a hoodie. If I have any left in here…" he says, giving a pointed look towards the huge blue hoodie you were wrapped in before walking back into his room and rummaging through his drawers

"Oh shush, you have like a hundred…"

"Right come on" he says, pulling a pink hoodie over his head and flipping the hood up over his messy hair "Let's see what we get into tonight…"

______

And so the nights went on like this, the two of you falling into an easygoing studio routine. If there wasn't anything else going on in the house, you'd eat dinner together then head to the studio and work through the night into the small hours, skipping out the pretense of trying to sleep. You were both pretty productive at this time it seemed, both being proclaimed night owls, and keeping busy during these uncertain times was keeping your minds off the unfolding pandemic.

Considering he’d referred to his home studio in the past as the ‘rage cage’ (and it certainly could still be party central when the entire crew got involved), it was actually a place you drifted towards to relax these days. You’d always worked well together in a studio, but over the weeks spending so much time just the two of you, you became more in tune with each other, noticing when one of you had hit a wall and it was time for bed. Sometimes you'd work in comfortable silence, side by side, engrossed in your own seperate tasks. Sometimes barely any work would get done as you put the world to rights talking about anything and everything in a late night impromptu therapy session.

This evening, you'd been sitting cross legged in your chair for hours now, focusing so hard on editing a song which was driving you mad, you hadn't realised your feet had gone numb. As you try to move, your knees crack and pins and needles shoot through your legs. Colson looks up from the screen he'd been engrossed in after hearing you groan and sees you rubbing your feet trying to bring back the feeling to them

‘C’mere’ he said, before turning his chair towards you and leaning down to grab your legs, bringing your feet up onto his lap. He pulls your socks off and begins massaging your feet. You lean your head back, eyes closed and let out a long ‘hmmm’. You don’t see Colson glancing over at you and shifting in his seat as he lets out slow breath before turning back to his screen

“Now this is the kind of work session I could get used to”, you sighed "You being my studio bitch on hand for foot rubs. Although, I imagine this enjoyment goes both ways Mr Foot Lover” you tease, throwing him an exaggerated wink

Colson throws his head back with a hearty chuckle, and light heartedly slaps your calf

"Keep it in your pants Y/N"

You laugh and wiggle your toes, Colson letting out a dramatic, throaty groan in response. "Those are some sexy little toes though" he states, sticking his tongue out.

Still laughing, you put your hand to your chest, and gasp as you feign prudishness and try to pull your feet away. He grabs both your feet in one of his hands, keeping them in place then leans over the desk and pulls your laptop towards you

"Get on with some work you, this is supposed to be keeping you motivated, not distracted"

He scolds affectionately, with a smile on his face

“Okay, okay, spoilsport” you grumble as you pull your computer onto your lap

Half an hour passes, your legs still on Colson’s lap with him still massaging your feet absentmindedly with one hand while he works, and your eyes begin to feel heavy. You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep, until you’re awoken by a “woah” from Colson as he catches your laptop which is about to fall. Taking it from your lap, he states “Right, time for bed you”

You check your phone and see it’s already 5:36am.

You stand up and stretch then walk over behind Colson, putting your arms around his shoulders, and resting your chin on his head. Looking at his screen, you yawn “You got much left to do?”

He leans back into you, bringing his hand up to rest on your arm, “Making some good progress so just gonna finish a couple of bits”

“Okay dude” you gently kiss the top of his head and squeeze the back of his neck a couple of times as you turn to leave “Try and get some rest, we’ve got a long day of sweet fuck all to do tomorrow” you say through another big yawn

“Heh yeah, Night Kid” he says softly, letting out a yawn himself. Colson turns and watches you head out of the studio and lets out a big sigh. Feeling the back of his neck still tingle from where you’d squeezed it, he’s suddenly aware of how empty the room feels without you in it....

______

Taglist: @triplexdoublex @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @brightblaqkkheaven

Lace Up! ❌❌

[timextoxhajima]

Not For Sale: Week 14

NOT FOR SALE CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Member: Heeseung + Jay [ft. Sunghoon and Jake]

Pairings: [fem] uni exchange student! reader x uni student! HS x uni student! Jay

Genres: Fluff | Slice of Life | Comedy | Angst | Teenage Romance | Thriller

Warnings: scenes in the hospital

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis/Quote: In which your oblivious ass cannot tell that a popular boy in your class has a big, fat crush on you | “It seems like the one who was ruined was me.”

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @seasideheeseung @wooya1224 @gratefulmaria @sunshineshouchan @youreverydayzebra @fayqj @witheeseung @haechanhues @w-o-o-y-a-a @miingxuxi @reallysmolrenjun @hrrhmay-primaryblog @rosie112703 @ac-ewow @liliansun​​ [drop me a dm/ask/comment to be added!]

You’re staring at the project document blankly, the pages filled with words and tables of the work you’ve done with Heeseung in the last few weeks or so. The weekend felt like three weeks, even when it was just three days - simply because you were in the hospital watching Jay flit in and out of consciousness and Heeseung’s still in a comatose state. 

The seat next to you is empty and there is no other word to describe being alone on your last week of school than ‘sad’. 

The Uber that picked Jay and Heeseung up had just been in school compounds and the police had found a rig in the brakes - the Uber had been stopped by another car driving straight into it.

Heeseung was on the side the car was rammed into. It’s a miracle he’s even still alive. 

“y/n?” 

The call jolts you out of your dissociation.

“Hey,” The professor walks up the stairs, and only now do you realise everybody else had left the lecture hall besides you. “I had the others hand up their projects but I saw you zoning out and I couldn’t do it.”

“Sorry,” Mumbling under your breath, you give the folder a quick flip-through before handing him the document. “Here.”

With pursed lips, he takes the folder and glances through it, skimming through the contents and pausing on the last page where you and Heeseung had signed off on. 

“I’m sorry it happened.”

“I’m sorry the school had to go through so much to catch the idiot,” Through gritted teeth, you offer him a small wince. 

“Well, yeah, that too,” The professor pulls up the lecture table from the seat next to you and sits himself in the plastic grove. “But it’s not important now. He’s going to be charged for God knows how many felonies, but I just- I wanted to know how you’re holding up.”

The concerned question thrums chills through you. Heeseung would’ve asked that. Jay would’ve too.

Jake and Sunghoon have probably tried, but you’re too busy crying or zoning out at the hospital to process anything else even if they did try. 

“I’m fine,” You shake your head and stuff your iPad into your bag. “There’s nothing anybody can do to make him wake up faster.”

“I know that. It’s just... I don’t want a student ending her semester like this.”

The grumble of the zip as you close your bag is disgustingly loud in the empty lecture hall. You hug your bag, slowly looping your arm through one of the holes as you push the lecture table away. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m leaving next week anyway and Heeseung’s not dead, so.”

The professor goes quiet upon the declaration. 

“Thanks for the fun sem, Prof,” You give him a tiny, wretched smile that’s not genuine at all, lifting a leg over the backrest of the seat in front of you. “I’ll tell my dad to say hi to you every now and then.”

Finally on both your feet one row before him, he looks at you with sad, tired eyes. 

“It’s been a pleasure having you and Heeseung as students, y/n. Do come back to visit when you come visit your father.”

A bare nod shakes your head.

“Bye prof.”

The ceiling looks the same. The light dangling from the beige, crusty roof looks dusty.

The room looks the same - except the fact that 80% of it were in boxes now. The clock hung on the wall has the loudest ticking you’ve ever heard - had it been this loud since the start?

Bzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzt. Bzzz-

“Hello.”

“Jesus Christ, how many times do you want me to call you before you’d pick up?”

Maybe until Heeseung wakes up.

“You know what? Don’t answer that.”

A pause.

“How are you holding up?”

“Great. I mean the sem’s over. I’ve handed up almost every project I need to submit.”

“Fuck you, you know I don’t mean that.”

“What am I supposed to tell you? I’m great, while I wait for my two friends to recover in the hospital? One of them’s not even awake.”

“I don’t want to be that person but no matter how much you cry or pray that he wakes up, it’s going to take time, okay? Let him rest and recuperate and he’ll spring back to life like he wasn’t just in an accident.”

“I shouldn’t have let them take the Uber.”

“For crying out loud, it is not your fault. You told them your dad was coming to get you and Jay didn’t want to cancel it for the fee. It’s a normal reaction. Who was supposed to know the Uber was rigged?”

You blink. 

“Have you packed?”

You count the boxes in your room. “Mostly.”

“I’ll be at your place when you come home. We can bake cupcakes and cookies and you can tell me about the school there.”

Your ears are taking in her words but your eyes are on the paper bag on your desk. It’s the tumbler that Jay got you. 

“Hello? You there?”

“Byeol, what if they don’t wake up before I leave? I have 8 days.”

“Have some faith in them, would you? Jay’s already awake right? He’s just flitting in and out of consciousness and Heeseung... They haven’t said he’s in critical condition, right?”

“But he’s been in the ER and it’s been three days.”

“Sis, I could sleep for three days. He’ll be awake before you leave.”

“Hope so.”

“Not going to the hospital?”

“Nah,” You roll over onto your side and stare at yourself in the mirror on your wardrobe doors. “Their friends are swarming the wards. It’s fine, Jake and Hoon got me onto the special visitors’ list.”

“There’s a special visitors’ list?”

“It’s Jay and it’s an expensive hospital with classier management. So yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s nice.”

Silence - except the occasional crackling of the static on the phone. 

“They’ll do fine, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I have to go now. I’ll call you tonight or tomorrow, I’ll text you?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye bye.”

The car ride with your father is quiet, the gentle music from the stereo playing and you’re thinking about how your mother is back at home. She is a busy woman back home too so you hadn’t really had the time to call or text her.

For the first time in a long time, your father knows more about your life than she does. 

“I know you’re probably not in the mood to answer this but...” The car slows at a red light. “Have you started packing?”

You don’t turn. The trees outside are swaying gently in the light breeze on this sunny day. It reminds you of the day Heeseung brought you out to the beach for your picnic. 

“I’m about 80% done. The stuff left’s like my laptop and iPad and daily appliances.”

“That’s good,” You see him nod in the window’s reflection and glance at you. “Well, I’ll come by and hand you the documents for credit transfer later this week and I’ll send you to the bus terminal next Wednesday too, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Humming to yourself, the refracted red light turns green. “Sure.”

The car starts again. “Hun, I... I just wanted you to know that I know this sem has been difficult for you. I’m- I’m sorry that I suggested you come. Had I known that there was going to be a lunatic running on the loose, I would’ve stopped you from coming.”

“You wouldn’t have known,” You mumble, but still loud enough for him to hear. “It’s fine, it’s over.”

“And with what happened with Jay and Heeseung... I’m sorry. I really am.”

“They would’ve gotten caught up in this crazy shitfest with the psycho anyway, regardless of my presence,” Finally turning to look at your father, he side-eyes you while keeping his hands on the steering wheel. “It’s not anybody’s fault except that psycho’s that this happened.”

Your father remains quiet, unable to respond. The car drives into the sheltered drop-off point at the hospital and he watches you unbuckle the seat belt to let yourself out the car.

“Hey.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and rest a hand on the car door. 

“They’ll be okay.”

A weak smile pulls your lips up your cheeks. 

“I hope so.”

By the time you’ve reached the floor where the wads were, you’ve run into a good number of their friends. Of course, there were one or two bad apples among the bunch, but most of them knew you were on a special visitors’ list and that’s why you came so late. 

It never gets easier though, the look on their faces when you know they want to tell you that they’ll be okay, but promises should not be made if they cannot be kept.

Walking into Jay’s ward, you see his mother helping to sponge his face while Jake and Sunghoon speak to a friend on the other side of the bed. 

You catch the room’s attention when you pull the plastic bag out from your bag and let the door shut behind you, Jay’s mother looking up and offering you a tired smile. 

“Oh, hey,” Jake grins and beckons you over. 

“Hi Mrs Park,” You gesture to Jake to wait before holding out the plastic bag to Jay’s mother. “It’s a box of tonic for you and Mr Park. Thought of getting fruits but I don’t think Jay can have them yet.”

“Gosh, you really didn’t have to,” She shakes her head and sets the cloth down by the bed. “Thank you. Are you sure you’re okay, coming to visit so often? You’re here everyday, aren’t you?”

You return her a tight, pursed smile. “Yeah, but it’s fine. I’m leaving to go home next week so I don’t have much time left to spend with them. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, honey,” She stands and takes the box from you, turning to set it down on the table behind her before returning you her attention. “I... I don’t know what to say. This must be all a lot for you.”

You break the eye contact first, knowing that you were probably going to cry if you hadn’t stopped looking at her.

“No, it’s fine,” You raise a palm and rub her upper arm. “All I want is to have a decent conversation with Jay before I leave, and I’ll be more than satisfied.”

“Oh!” She exclaims, nose crunching into a threatened crying mess. She holds her arms open and coerces you into her arms, patting the back of your head. “Of course. Of course, Jay will be fine by the time you need to go home. I promise.”

“I really do hope so,” You pull away first and smile weakly at her.

“By the way, Mr and Mrs Lee are with Heeseung in the ward next door,” She sniffles, anxiously rubbing her palms together.

“Oh, right- Do they know I’m on the-”

“Yes, of course they do, sweet heart,” She quickly rubs your arm to comfort you, then slides her hands down to yours to keep them in her palms. “Their parents are the sweetest couple ever and they’d be so grateful that Heeseung has a friend like you. How about I have Jake or Sunghoon bring you over to meet them?”

“Oh,” You watch as she waves to get one of the boys’ attention, Sunghoon quickly pulling away from the crowd to attend to you. 

“Would you do me a favour and bring her over to Heeseung’s ward? Introduce her to his parents.”

“Of course,” Sunghoon hurriedly nods and lowers his head out of respect. “Come on.”

“Thanks, Mrs Park,” You turn your feet to follow Sunghoon, but your hands are reluctant to leave hers. “I’ll come back later.”

“No, take your time, sweet.”

With a slight nod, you pull away and trail after Sunghoon out of the ward after leaving your bag with Jake.

The ward door closes with a soft hiss, then Sunghoon pauses right before you can come into view of Heeseung’s ward door, turning over his shoulder to look down at you. 

“I don’t mean to bring this up at a bad time but...”

“I know,” You nod. “I know I’ve been an ass the last few weeks. Honestly, I... I didn’t know who I wanted to be endgame either.”

Sunghoon gives your word one more second of thought before he turns around to face you. 

“It’s not my business but are you going to choose? Or... just go home next week?”

You frown and look down at your hands, reminiscing the warmth from Jay’s mother.

“I don’t know,” Your voice cracks. “I don’t think I can choose. Even if I do, I have 8 days, and neither of them are awake yet. I don’t... I don’t want to do that to them.”

He takes a deep breath and looks away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It’s Heeseung. Choose Heeseung,” He says without looking at you. “The night they got into a crash, Jay texted Jake to tell us that Heeseung kissed you, and that was the moment he decided he would give up.”

The statement tears you apart on the inside. 

“Jay’s a tough guy to hurt and he plays his cards fairly and maturely,” Sunghoon nods and finally looks at you. “Don’t feel bad you’re choosing Heeseung over him. He had a truce with Heeseung. About you. And he knows he lost fair and square, so don’t feel upset. Just pour your heart and soul into Heeseung for the rest of the time you’re here, and worry about committing anything else after you’ve gone home.”

You part your lips to breathe, as if it would help you understand any faster or better.

“Anyway, both Heeseung’s parents are in there and they already have an idea who you are so... Just be nice.”

He watches you nod, slightly zoned-out, then pushes the door open. 

His parents can tell you’re more preoccupied with the limp, breathing body on the bed than their presence, but they still take it with grace and greet you like they’ve known you your entire life.

The sight of Heeseung being bandaged up with a leg hanging in the air makes you feel like shit.

Who wouldn’t?

Later in the night, after Heeseung’s mother had gone home and his father had left to get coffee, you’re left alone with him and the occasional beeping from the Holter monitor. 

There was a bruise and scratch on his left cheek, and his neck, arms and right leg were in a cast. You think about how much he was going to miss dancing when he gets told he’ll need to be on a 6-month break from anything strenuous. 

Tired, you pull your earpieces out and plug it into your phone, laying it on the bed while you hover over him to fit the earbuds into his ears. Then you sit back down and scroll through your playlist, playing with the volume buttons to make sure it was softer than the volume you’d normally listen to your music at. 

You make your selection, then quietly lay on the mattress with the faint music drizzling the atmosphere’s noise. That’s how quiet the room was. 

His fingers were sticking out of his cast, so you play with them. His hair was in his shut eyes, so you gently push them out in case he were to open them. 

“One more time, Heeseung. Just one more time before I leave.”

Jay’s mother was sleeping by his bed when you walk in to check on them, bag hanging from your right shoulder and lids heavy from the terrible sleep schedule the past few days. 

“Hi.”

And a smile stretches your lips out when you can see him blink, offer you his bright grin, apart from the cut on his eyebrow.

“Hey,” You whisper, walking towards him on the other side of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Jay clears his throat and blinks. “Had better days, but at least I’m alive.”

A snigger threatens to wake his mother up. “Good. Do you want me to wake your mom up? Maybe get a doctor in to give you a check up or something.”

He shakes his head, even managing a small wave in his fingers laying by his hip. “No, I’m good. I’m going back to sleep soon anyway.”

You lean over and adjust his pillow. “Well, then I shan’t disturb you. I’ll come by again tomorrow.”

“Sure,” He looks up at you and nods. Your gazes meet, for a split second, he can kind of know what you’re thinking of, and you know what he was. 

“Thank you for this sem, Jay. I really am.”

He shakes his head. “No, thank you. It was a fun sem because of you.”

“You call being in a hospital ward fun?”

Chuckling, he turns back to look at the ceiling for a second. “You will come back to visit us, won’t you? Zoom call us or something.”

“Of course. We could meet up during the summer break if anything.”

Satisfied, he nods again. “Good.”

“Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow,” You shove your hands into your pockets. 

“Okay,” He quietly responds, watching you turn on your heels. “Oh, y/n.”

You turn and raise a brow.

“Heeseung. He’s the one for you, and... he’ll wake up for you. I know he will.”

With a slightly ached grin, you nod and look down at your feet. 

“Bye Jay.”

“Bye.”

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Little One (M)

Jung Hoseok Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: You find yourself in a position where you must choose between certainly addicting or below-average satisfaction for the rest of your life.

•••> Pairing(s): Hoseok/Reader

•••> Requested by Anon: “Hey I was wondering if you could possibly do a Hoseok smut oneshot and like hes a super dom? Love you 💜”

•••> Word Count: 6.41k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: smut | ceo!au(?) | office!au | Hoseok!AU | Strangers to Lovers | Dominant!Hoseok | Submissive!Reader | 

•••> Warnings: smut, slight impreg!kink, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, mention(s) of masturbation, slight choking/strangulation, spanking, dirty talk, slight mention(s) of BDSM, dom/little one relationship, hobi is filthy, but he’s also respectful, cursing, pining, mild stalking?, alcohol use

Copyright © 2020 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for the request, anon! Sorry, it took me like a week to get it done, but here it is! I hope you enjoy :) I didn’t go back and edit it so please excuse any mistakes.

~#~

The light from the chandeliers of the ballroom dimmed as the night came undeniably closer to its end.

The event was organized by your company- a Friday evening to relax and celebrate the closing of another fiscal year. The flurries of snow that dusted the sidewalks outside the venue served as a reminder that the year, in itself, was coming to an end too.

Smooth, Christmas-themed jazz music acted as a factor in your sleepy demeanor, relaxing you into a comfortable glow of warmth despite failing your mission.

You were here strictly on business; there was no time to mess around and slack off. A handful of flutes of champagne and a double pour of whiskey- which you hardly ever drank- were enough to relax you and make you confident in the success of your duty to find a proper suitor to make you cum tonight.

In the past, you had tried flings with acquaintances and a few friends, but they had turned out to be absolutely disdainful in the fact that, despite them, you had only cum twice at the hands of another in the last year and a half. Instead, you wanted to give a one night stand a try- purely for research purposes, of course. Who knew? Maybe you were into the riskiness and detachment of it all.

As the hours passed, however, you found yourself slowly resorting to the quiet and dark corners of the room, sipping on another flute of champagne in hopeless surrender with your warm buzz fading pathetically.

Unbeknownst to you, a set of dark eyes had been tracking you for a good portion of the evening. On the prowl for its prey, the owner of those eyes weighed the options sat before him, but he needed to make sure you were alone before he could risk indulging too far.

There was no ring on your finger; no one bringing you a drink; no one you interacted with longer than a short greeting and the occasional hug.

It didn’t take him very long to realize that you were incredibly and unbelievably by your lonesome.

He couldn’t help the smirk from pulling up the corner of his lips while his friends spoke loudly around him. From his seat at the table, he had a perfect view of where you stood in the shadows, however, staring too hard could prove to be the downfall of his plan as he did not want to get caught. Instead, the glass of scotch in his hand held his gaze while he rolled the sphere of ice around it in thought. He would have to be patient.

He recognized the look of defeat when he saw one. He read the way your flawless lips had slowly formed a permanent scowl of self-pity as the minutes turned into hours.

What a pitiful look on such a gorgeous little thing. He mused in thought.

By the time your phone read 12:45 am, you accepted defeat in its ugliest form. Shoulders no longer held back with your chest out and back no longer purposely arched to attract anyone, you allowed yourself to slouch.

Fuck it. You thought. Guess it’s just another date night with my magic wand.

Sourly, you left the large room to retrieve your dress coat from the coat check counter, pulling out your phone to order your Uber once you gave the desk man your ticket.

In your hunt for a ride and the slight tipsiness of alcohol still in your system, you failed to notice the presence of someone behind you.

“Excuse me, Miss.“ You jumped, knees slightly buckling in the process, and turned to find a slightly familiar man dressed in a finely-tailored Armani suit standing behind you.

“Jesus.” You mumbled before speaking up. “You scared me.”

“I apologize for the intrusion.” He laughed, sending an unexpected rush of flutters through your chest and straight to your lower belly. “I just couldn’t help myself in worrying if you were going to get home safe.”

You studied him for a moment, trying to remember who he was. His undercut, despite being a more unpopular haircut around the office, exhumed modern professionalism. A few of his black hairs that were gelled back had fallen over his forehead after several hours of holding its form throughout the night. Milky brown eyes and a narrow nose sat upon his lightly tanned but beautifully contoured face with a dark pink set of lips to grace his regal-like look.

You couldn’t help the sense of familiarity as you gazed at him. Instead of addressing his statement, you blurted out your thoughts, curiosity getting the best of you.

“I’m sorry, but… do I know you? You look so familiar to me.” He was about to respond when the desk man came back to the front with your coat in hand. Before you could reach out to grab it from him, your mystery man was taking it from his grasp.

“I’m Jung Hoseok.” He smiled, holding your coat out for you to place your arm in. So he’s a Jung, huh? Maybe he’s related to the chairman. Would be a nice snag for the night.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hoseok. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You held your hand out to shake his once you successfully slid both arms into the coat. With a smoothness uncanny to any man’s hands you’ve ever felt, he took your fingers in his grasp and leaned down to touch his lips to your knuckles.

“Believe me, Ms. Y/N.” His eyes lifted to meet yours as the warm surface of his lips met your skin followed by the warm teasing exhale of his breath. You suppressed a whimper from growing in your throat. “The pleasure is all mine.”

He stood straight abruptly, shocking you out of your stupor. “So is Uber your way of getting home tonight?”

“Ah, yes. I’ve had a few drinks and I was planning on it, so I didn’t drive here.” You replied to him, hoping he would fall for the action and jump in. He nodded his head in understanding whilst you falsely resumed the task of securing a ride from a few moments ago. Please ask to take me home. Please don’t be nonchalant.

“Are you returning home alone?” Hook, line and sinker.

“Yes, I am. I do have a cat to welcome me though, so no need to worry.” You joked, hoping to push him along and give him the hint that you were very single and very available at the moment.

Deciding that your conversation should be taken outside and away from the prying eyes of your associates, you made your way out the door and into the crisp night as you spoke. The small flurries of snow began lightly pelleting your face, catching on your eyelashes. Hoseok followed close behind you, intent on listening to what you had to say.

You came to a stop on the sidewalk and faced him, shivering slightly.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your homecoming with your cat. I’m sure he misses you dearly.” He smiled smugly, his breath forming visibly in front of him. Wow. So he’s an intellectual. He knows the game.

Fine. I’ll play.

“The homecoming won’t be too glorious. He doesn’t even greet me at the door.” You faked a pout.

Hoseok took a step closer, eliminating some of the distance between the two of you and effectively removing acquaintanceship from the air between you as he spoke. His previous polite behavior wavered slightly, transitioning your small talk “Oh? Is that so? Why?”

“I’m pretty sure he hates me even though I feed him and give him a roof over his head every day.” You chuckled with an air of breathlessness. “He’s a brat.”

“And are you?” He took another step and circled his arm around you to place his hand on your lower back, chest lightly brushing against yours. He was radiating an incredible amount of heat through the layers of his suit. You almost missed the random question with the way your vaginal floor tightened in anticipation.

“A-am I what?” You stuttered, looking up into his eyes and quickly crumbling. You hoped that he would catch you past the heady sensation of lust that crowded your veins.

“A brat.” He graveled, lifting his hand to pinch your chin between his thumb and index finger. You gasped and couldn’t help bringing your lower lip between your teeth as you were rendered silent, biting down in an attempt to use the pain as a distraction from the pooling of desire in your belly and panties. Good god, he just went right in.

Hoseok’s thumb brushed over your trapped lip, dragging it out and pinning it below his nail before he leaned in. His lips, inches from yours, held your attention and his eyes, locked on your own lips, grew dark with arousal. You thought he was going to kiss you but, instead, he only tutted and answered his own question for you. “So you are.”

The taste of his breath on your tongue was sinful with the tangible scent of his scotch overpowering the aftertaste of your whiskey and champagne. His cologne surrounded you, turning your body into a live wire as your olfactory senses were ambushed with his masculine musk.

“I’m going to need an actual answer when I ask you this, little one.” He whispered, lips mere millimeters from brushing yours. All you could do was gulp and nod in suspense of his question- but he wasn’t having it. He squeezed your chin sternly. “Verbalize.”

“O-okay.” You croaked through the lump in your throat. Hoseok smiled and released your chin from his grip, sliding his hand to your cheek to caress it instead.

“Good enough… for now.” He drew his own lip between his teeth as he slightly pulled away to scan your body in his grasp. His eyes locked on yours again, the closeness of his face scrambling your thoughts completely.

“May I be the one to take you home tonight, Ms. Y/N?” He asked genuinely.

With almost no hesitation, your desperation rose to the surface once more. “Yes. Yes, you may.”

It took mere seconds for Hoseok to back away and wave his hand in the air before a black SUV pulled up in front of the two of you. Grabbing onto your hand, he tugged you towards the vehicle.

“Mine or yours?” You asked as he opened the door for you to slide yourself across the leather seats to settle towards the far window. Following suit and settling behind the passenger seat, he spoke.

“Hm… Are you alright with coming to mine?” He asked, crowding himself on you as he shut the door behind him. His closeness was suffocating- in a good way. The way you felt the heat from his face on yours reminded you of just how close the two of you were about to get.

“I’m alright with anything, Hoseok.” You breathed, eyelashes fluttering in pure bliss. Your panties were clinging to your heat uncomfortably, begging to be removed.

“Be careful of what you say, darling. I might get a little excited.” He laughed lowly. Turning to his driver, he quickly ordered him to take him home. For a brief moment, you wondered what his place looked like and where it was.

Hoseok’s beauty was uncanny; even in the dark, you marveled at his features as the shadows of the street lights passed over them. His hands were constantly attached to you yet no kiss had been shared, causing your nerves to run rampant with tension and excitement.

After a short fifteen-minute ride, the vehicle pulled up in front of large gates and you gazed in wonder at the house that stood behind them. Situated up a small hill past a large courtyard with a giant fountain in the middle was a mansion. The mansion, from what you could see in the night, was dark brown in color due to the bricks it was built by. The fountain lit the front of it in a soft multicolored glow as it transitioned between colors.

“Wow.” You breathed, eyes locked on it as the gate opened and you were dropped off at the front steps into the cold of the night.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” He asked from behind you, his body heat immediately returning to your cold form.

“Absolutely.” You turned to him as you whispered, noticing the snowflakes gathering in his hair. Even as your bones chattered from how little your dress and coat properly covered your body, you still felt the heat of want flooding your veins and warming your blood deliciously. Looking into his eyes felt like the call of the wild, the sun, and anything and everything that could cause the bout of excitement and pure joy in your heart.

You just hoped he was able to make you cum tonight. At this point, with his beauty and smooth game, getting you to cum was just a plus.

“Y/N.” He muttered, taking a step to you while pushing you against the large front door to his manor.

“Yes?” You answered nervously, heart racing in your chest. Could he hear it?

“May I open my door?” He chuckled. You quickly looked behind you and realized that you were blocking the slot for his key, quickly moving to the side and rushing an apology with a blush on your cheeks. Looking at the ground, you waited until he opened the door behind you to look back up.

He was pulling you by the waist into his foyer before you could fully look at him again. “C’mere.”

Shutting the door behind you, he pressed you against the wall and pressed a kiss to your lips unexpectedly. Finally. Oh, good god he tastes so good.

His lips moved tentatively at first, smoothly molding yours to his will and pressing against your body with his. Hoseok placed his hands on your hips, sliding them delicately up your sides to your shoulders and under your coat, sliding it off with ease. He was pulling away before you could fully kiss him back, your lips chasing after his in dislike of the loss of contact.

“I’m sorry,” He heaved. “I couldn’t control myself for a moment.”

“No, Hoseok,” You whispered, sliding your hand to the back of his neck and bringing his face back to yours. “It’s okay. I want you to.” He pulled you tightly to his body with a hissed breath between his teeth.

“What? What do you want me to do, Y/N?” He picked you up by the backs of your thighs and you squealed in surprise. Automatically, you locked your ankles around him, cocktail dress making it easy to spread your legs. Hoseok continued to speak before you could reply, carrying you up the stairs as you stared intently at him. “Do you want me to nail your pussy into the bed? Do you want me to rail you until you lose your voice? Do you want me to spank you until you get welts? What? What do you want me to do?”

Wow.

Again, he made you speechless. The way his change of pace had victoriously shut you the fuck up for the second time was shocking. 

Hoseok shoving you against the wall next to a door and grinding his hips into your own pulled you from the silence-rendering shock.

“Fucking speak, Y/N. What do you want?” He said sharply.

“I want it all- all of it. Please.” You were quick to reply as his domineering tone sunk into the pores of your skin whilst you whimpered from the friction. He only smiled and took one hand out from under your leg to open the door.

“As you wish, little one.” He smirked. Swiftly, he brought you into the dark room. How he found his way to the bed, you were unsure, for even a person living in a room for years has a difficult time finding their way under such circumstances- and he was carrying you. Regardless of your wonder, you still felt the cool sheets of his bed below you as he threw you onto it with a grunt.

You laid there in the dark, confusion following when he did not follow you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, eyes attempting to adjust themselves. Hoseok chuckled, the sound ensuring you that he did not move from his spot in front of you.

“I must undress first before I can fuck you.” He laughed lowly. You blushed again, realizing that the removal of clothes was definitely a necessity. You moved to strip off your dress when he abruptly stopped you. “No. Don’t. I will undress you.”

You laid back in wait, listening to the ruffling of his clothes as you heard the articles hit the ground one by one. The sound of his belt unbuckling reawakened the jitters in your limbs, excitement reappearing in the form of more of your juices in your panties.

A deep ache sat itself on your clit, pulsing away with your heartbeat in an almost painful sensation. Trembling, you reached a hand down to relieve some of the pressure that built up over the past hour, emitting a quiet sigh from your lips once you lightly cupped your heat.

Briefly, you felt the mattress dip in front of you before his body covered yours. Tearing your hand away from your pulsing heat quickly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to allow him to slot himself onto your body. The warm, smooth skin of his arms underneath yours felt heavenly yet extremely intimate.

“What do you think you’re doing, little one?” He muttered onto the exposed skin of your neck, grinding himself into you and eliciting a mewl from your throat. He cracked a hand down on the side of your thigh, the hot lick of pain doing wonders to your clenched core.

“I’m sorry,” You whined as he slowly rocked against you again. “It was just hurting so bad.”

“Don’t touch yourself.” He said, pulling away to glide his hands over your calves and thighs. “That’s my job.”

In the darkness, you were beginning to make out Hoseok’s figure; a dark and foreboding form that covered your own- and he was moving downward.

“I was watching you all night.” He pressed his nose to the skin of your inner thigh, inhaling deeply. “And I just can’t find it in myself to believe that someone let you go to that thing alone.”

It was hard to think with Hoseok so close to where you needed him, but it didn’t stop the words from slipping past your lips. “Well, you obviously came alone too. How did someone let you go alone?”

Hoseok chuckled in response, tracing his nose up to your hamstrings before moving further, passing your hip bone to trail over your underwear.

“I have a very particular taste in women and you happen to be the one I was looking for.” You froze for a moment as you felt his teeth on your skin, goosebumps littering your skin again. “You smell so damn good.”

He passed his nose and mouth over your abdomen before you felt his mouth latch onto your panties and bring them down. Your heart rate picked up once more.

“Hoseok.” You breathed, watching his figure as he pulled your underwear to your knees before grabbing them with his hands and sliding them the rest of the way off.

“Y/N.” He whispered in response. “I’m going to ruin you.”

Hoseok slid his hands back up your legs, sliding under your dress and grabbing it to pull it off you.

Once your dress hit the floor, you expected him to go for your heals, but all he did was sit back and stare.

“Y/N, before we start, I must insist that you choose your safeword.” His large hand made itself present on your naked waist, gripping it lightly.

Shock filled your veins and caused a mild sense of panic within you. “S-safeword?” You stuttered. He was one of those people? Fuck. I’ve never done anything like that before.

“I assure you that I will not bring you harm and that we won’t do anything like that… yet.” You quivered under the word. “Things like that require a contract so that I have your explicit consent. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

“That’s…” You trailed off. “Actually amazing.”

“What, that there’s a contract?” He asked, scooping his arms under you to pick up your body and move you to the headboard.

“No, that you’re actually asking.” You replied, staring at the contours of his body that was now punctuated by the small amount of moonlight streaming in through his window.

“I can promise you that I never do anything like that without asking.” His voice, volume a mere breath, feathered deliciously over the skin of your chest as he looked down at you. “It’s why I am asking you to tell me what you want me to do. I don’t want to become a danger to you.”

You raised your handle to cradle his cheek, wondering how in the world someone who looked like this could be a danger to you, however, you knew that there were much more dangerous games to play than the one you had played with him earlier.

Hoseok leaned into your touch as you spoke with a newfound sense of confidence in his words, an unfamiliar sense of reassurance filling you. “My safeword will be consent, then. And Hoseok? Ask me what I want and I will answer you.”

“Y/N.” He hovered over you to ghost his lips over yours. “What do you want me to do?”

You moved your hand from his cheek to tangle in his hair. “I want you to touch me.”

“Thank god.” Hoseok delivered a soft smack straight to your heat as he smothered you with his lips, the quick contact forcing a whimper to burst from you into his mouth. He was quick to smooth it with a caress of his fingers straight to your clit, shock subsiding into pleasure.

At this point, you’re drenched. Constantly flexing your walls around nothing had created an accumulation of your wetness between the lips of your pussy. Hoseok groaned when he began spreading it around your bundle of nerves.

“May I eat you out? Please?” He pulled his lips from yours and pressed his thumb to you, softly rubbing circles. Your thighs spasmed every so often.

“Yes, Hoseok, yes.” You wobbled. His lips and eyes, now visible, pulled into a grin as he lowered himself down your body.

Without warning, he pressed his face into you, tongue out and lips agape. Immediately, you brought your hands to his hair with a low, breathy groan building in your chest. He started with zero hesitation.

Hands holding you by your thighs, he licked once, then twice, and then shoved his tongue past your folds to slightly enter you. You couldn’t help the groan as it escaped you, tossing your head back and widening your legs for him. He removed one of his hands from your leg, realizing he didn’t need to do much to keep you pliant, and used it to spread your lips further apart.

Blissed out and not paying attention, you didn’t feel his eyes on you as he surveyed your body, growing dangerously hard as he watched you slowly rock yourself into him. Your breasts swayed just slightly with the movement and his hungry eyes struggled to capture your entire body all at once. Experimentally, he slid a finger into your heat, loving how one of your hands that was tangled in his hair yanked back to tangle into your own.

He dropped his tongue back to your clit as he watched your body, a beautiful instrument that he was playing to produce the most beautiful sounds he ever heard.

You were in complete bliss. Hoseok laved his tongue over you in rhythm with his finger as he began pumping you. You couldn’t think straight anymore. The texture of his tongue was slightly rougher than the fragile skin of your folds, sending you into a quivering mess as you felt it attack you with fervor.

It wasn’t long before you were approaching your first orgasm that Hoseok added a second finger, the feel of the stretch paired with his tongue truly exquisite. You were losing your mind if your wails of pleasure were any sign of that.

The knot that began forming in your lower belly had begun to pull your legs closed as it was pulled tighter with each stroke of Hoseok’s tongue and fingers.

“Hoseok-“ You moaned past your labored breaths, gasping aloud. “I think I’m-“

“Then cum on my face, little one. Give it to me.” He moaned with you, pumping his fingers into you with the pads dipping against that specific spongy spot within you.

To say your orgasm was glorious was a heavy understatement. Your legs clapped against the sides of his head, trapping his face against you as he pulled his fingers out, tongue pushing past your folds into your pussy to welcome the juices that rushed out of your tremoring walls. His lips sloppily locked with you as if in a heated french kiss, driving you to a babbling mess whilst you let your climax riddle your body into a trembling heap. Breathless and high with ecstasy, you felt the strokes of his tongue lick you up and assist your spasms of sensitivity.

“Fuck.” You croaked, staring up at the ceiling which you then noticed was graced with a large chandelier, the crystals twinkling in the moonlit room like stars. Hoseok moved over you again, obstructing your view with his face that glistened with your release.

“Y/N,” He whispered, voice almost straining. “What else do you want me to do?”

You took a moment to look down, noticing his considerable, weeping erection mere inches from touching your skin with a pearly bead of cum at the tip glinting at you teasingly. Your mouth watered despite your post-orgasm stupor. He’s fucking huge.

Your response was almost automatic and robotic as you lifted your eyes back to his.

“I want you to fuck me. Now.”

Hoseok was quick to kiss you again, groaning with relief while he lowered his body to yours. The sheen of sweat that covered your skin caused his to slightly stick to yours. The weight of his cock on your stomach and the taste of yourself on his lips only made you press your shaking body up to his in anticipation, locking your ankles around his back.

“Y/N,” He muttered in between his kisses. “You may call me Hobi if you’d like. My full name is a little difficult to scream coherently.”

“Hobi?” You tested the name on your tongue, distracted, before smiling at him. “I like it.”

“Very good. Use it as much as you’d like.” He smirked, reaching for his cock to rub it into your pussy lips, spreading them slightly so that it massaged your clit and folds. The halted groan that Hoseok choked down proved that the feel of you on his dick affected him just as much as the feel of his dick affected you. “You’re wet as fuck.”

“Only for you.” You moaned, widening your legs to allow him more room. You held your breath as he gripped himself and positioned.

Slowly, Hoseok entered you. You were wet and prepared enough that the stretch of his girth was only mildly uncomfortable- not painful. The hiss drawn in between his clenched and bared teeth made you bristle with pride as you were able to make him feel good.

You watched the way your bodies slid together, inch by magnificent inch. The sight overpowered any previous exhaustion you felt from the first orgasm. You became completely hyperaware from the way he had seemed to reach the end of you, stuffing you full, with a bit more of him still unsheathed. Dammit. You want to fit him all.

“Shit.” He spluttered and hiccuped, causing you to realize that he was holding his breath. “You’re tight.”

Gathering your legs up into his arms, he began fucking you just as you wished.

He began his pace brutally, hips snapping into yours with abandon and stunning precision. Despite wanting to watch him, your eyes couldn’t focus, constantly fighting the urge to roll to the back of your head. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as he leaned over and spread you wide.

“H-Hobi.” You sobbed. The sounds of your pussy slurping on Hoseok’s dick was ungodly, yet you couldn’t help but love the sound of him invading your depths with your body greedily taking him in.

You felt his cock deep within you as if he was pushing into your lungs with each surge of his body into yours. Could you breathe? You quickly determined that yes, you could breathe, because of the loud sounds that you made that were a mix of gasps and screams.

Sweat began dribbling down Hoseok’s forehead, gelled hair now damp and falling over his face into his eyes with a look of determined ecstasy plastered across his features. His eyes, accompanied by his drawn up eyebrows, focused in concentration on where your bodies met before scaling up the expanse of your bodies, locking on your breasts bouncing with the hammering force. Hoseok brought his hand down to rub circles into your clit so that he could watch you squirm even more.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, the second came to you much quicker. With Hoseok grunting over you, his dick railing into your heat like a jackhammer, and the feel of just him, you were coming undone quickly. Grasping onto his neck with one hand and using the other to dig your nails into his back, you began caving in on yourself, unable to leave any muscle relaxed whilst your climax approached. Your legs tensed, heels digging into the globes of his ass to bring him on top of you.

“You really want my cum, don’t you?” He chuckled darkly, to which you only managed to nod and release a quick mhm. Hoseok’s growl in your ear only brought you closer. “I’m going to pump you full of my kids, little one. Just be patient.”

But being patient was impossible with the way he was in your guts and the fact that he had slowed his rhythm in exchange for more depth. Stroke after punishing stroke, you could feel his tip battering your cervix, the slight pain making for a dizzying sensation as it mixed with the onslaught of his thumb on your swollen nub. The concern that he could possibly get you pregnant was only an after thought as you were on the pill, but you had to admit that thinking about taking Hoseok’s seed straight into your womb was a sinfully pleasing idea.

He was much too deep; too far into the pits of your stomach for you to fathom how you had never been fucked this thoroughly before. You were going to fucking die. You were going to be killed if you didn’t stop it now. There was no way you wouldn’t come back begging for more if you didn’t stop now. He would own you because you would be obsessed- but he would want nothing to do with you come morning.

You desperately tried to escape him, legs digging into the mattress to push yourself away in order to gain some sense of mind, but you only crowded yourself further into the headboard with Hoseok following you, wrapped around you, on you, in you- everywhere. Hoseok delivered a solid smack straight to the underside of your ass, the ‘clap’ resonating through the room and mixing with the slurping sounds of your body eagerly pulling him in.

“Don’t you run from me, baby. Take it like a big girl.” He smiled devilishly whilst wrapping a hand around your neck, forcing your gaze to meet his. You sobbed loudly, clawing at his back in a fruitless attempt to detach him from your body. Hopelessly, you tried to press your hand to his stomach in an effort to push him away.

His grip tightened slightly on the sides of your neck, effectively leaving your airway unbothered yet the blood flow to your head stinted. “Move-” He thrust into you roughly, triggering a cry from your lips through the lightheaded feeling of being mildly strangled. “Your fucking hand.”

What was the damned safeword? Your thoughts were jumbled as you tried to remember it, yet you found yourself wondering why you were trying to remember when he wasn’t hurting you in the slightest. The ache in your cervix was an unholy and iniquitous sensation that you found yourself literally drooling out the side of your mouth for. You were fucking addicted to it.

“Hobi!” You cried, tears welling up in your eyes as you called for him. You couldn’t wait any longer. You were about to cum and nothing could stop it. “Hobi!”

“Cum on my dick, Y/N. That’s it. Swallow me up.” He muttered softly, aggression in his tone completely gone as he softened his hold on you in order to focus on ravishing your heat.

You brought him in one last time, body seizing and clawing for him as if you wanted to completely absorb him into yourself, before your orgasm exploded on you in the form of your juices rushing from your snatch around his girth. Mere moments after, before your orgasm was done climaxing, Hoseok came with a curse, pressing himself entirely inside you to spill his cum onto your abused cervix.

In the decrescendo of your orgasm, you found your mind and body unreservedly satisfied.

This man, Jung Hoseok, was a god- in the purest human form. Your entire world was shaken as he panted over you, sweat dripping down both of your bodies. It was no use trying to reason any other way that he had ruined you for any other man on the planet. You had gone through such a dry spell only to be welcomed back by him? You were going to be one spoiled brat if you ever hoped to bed another man again; you knew that, even as a one-night stand, there was no other like him.

With a sore, pulsing body and a slowly calming heart, you watched him as he removed himself from the bed. “Hold onto yourself for a second, will you?” He asked, bringing your hand down to stop his cum from leaking out of your depths. The touch of your fingers on your heat warranted a gasp of oversensitivity, causing him to smirk at you while he got up. He seemed to smile to himself as he mused, “Maybe next time.”

You watched him as he approached a set of doors in the dark, contemplating his words. Next time? My god, yes, please.

Reaching for a towel, you got a divine view of him from the back, perfectly muscular, and plump in the right areas. He looked as if he was sculpted by the Greeks themselves.

You tried to speak but your voice cracked into silence, making you clear your throat to try again. “There’s a next time?”

He turned around quickly with the dark towel in hand, stalking towards you. “If you desire one, that is.”

“Oh! I do very much…” You trailed off as you realized how fast you were to respond to his statement. You grew quiet in embarrassment. “… desire a… next time.” All Hoseok did was grin down at you, eyes flickering to your hold on your core. He was quick to help you clean his essence from your body while he chuckled.

“I guess I made a good impression on you?” He laughed lightly as you laid there, vulnerable and spread out before him in the glow of his aftercare.

“You could say that…” You blushed, turning to look out the window into the night, grateful that it was too dark for him to see the embarrassing flush.

“I hope I satisfied your needs, Y/N. Please tell me if I didn’t.” Hoseok turned serious, lightly placing his fingers on your arm in a feather-light caress so that you would look at him.

“No! No.” You were quick to jump in and assure him. “You were… amazing. The best I’ve ever had, in fact.”

“Really?” He asked whilst tossing the soiled towel to the floor. “And why do you say that?”

You shrunk under his gaze as he laid back in the bed with you, circling his arms around you to roll the two of you over to the side that wasn’t wet with your cum in the sheets. He wasn’t going to kick you out? No. Don’t jump to conclusions. He’s probably just trying to be nice. “Let’s just say that my past escapades were a little less than satisfactory.”

Hoseok sat with his elbow propping him up so that he could look down at you.

“Y/N,” His eyes turned concerned. “When was the last time you had a proper orgasm?”

Stupidly, you replied almost monotonously. “Uh… a few nights ago with my vibra-“

“No. No.” He chuckled, cutting you off. “I meant when was the last time someone else gave you a proper orgasm?”

“Oh, god.” You laughed. You raised your hands to cover your face. “Probably about… ten months ago? Give or take.”

“That explains the brattiness earlier.” He snickered. You only looked at him in confusion. 

He looked back at you, waiting for you to understand, but you were only drawing a blank. Hoseok looked down and grimaced in disdain, shaking his head slightly. With his free hand, he placed it on the side of your neck, thumb brushing your cheek delicately. “You haven’t been taken care of, little one. Would you like me to properly take care of you?”

Hoseok began to lightly trace patterns with his thumb while his eyes searched yours for an answer. Gulping, you nodded and breathed the word ‘yes.’ Are we about to go again?

“Good.” He said lowly, ghosting his lips over yours. Oh fuck, we’re going again. Your heartbeat skipped back into the race, accelerating in speed.

As quickly as he leaned into you, he pulled away and stood up. “We’ll start by getting something to eat because I’m hungry as fuck and I didn’t see you eat anything at the ball. What’re we feeling, McDonald’s?”

And good lord. If you weren’t addicted and stupidly in love then, you were now.

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Series Masterlist! If you’d like to read my first fic, check out the DHYB Masterlist!

[moldisgoodforyou]

you didn’t kiss her back

wordcount: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of nsfw content, brooklyn :/

_____

In hindsight, he should have known. 

He should have known when Brooklyn texted him the group invite for dinner in a separate text thread, not the intern groupchat, but he was too busy with work that day to even question it. Just liked the message as his usual form of RSVP. 

He should have known when Brooklyn was ultra-polite to him at work that day, not adding any of her usual flirty comments or going out of her way to stroll by his desk. Instead, he was too caught up in work assignments and trying to figure out how late he could FaceTime Sophie that night without waking her up.

After the workday, Rafe was walking out to his car when Brooklyn jogged after him to catch up. “Hey, Rafe, wait up!” 

He grimaced but turned around - he’d learnt to just deal with her presence over time. “What?”

“Um, my car’s almost out of gas and I don’t think I’ll make it to the restaurant and be able to make it home. Would you be able to give me a ride?” She asked, almost shyly. 

Rafe calculated the drive time in his head. Eight minutes. “Uh...yeah. That’s fine.” He nodded shortly, then nodded his head in the direction of his car. 

Brooklyn gave him a grateful smile, matching his quick pace to the car. “How was work for you today?” 

“Fine.” Once he got in the car he dropped the act, just turning up the radio so they didn’t have to make more small talk. Just being near her made him feel on edge - the same way he often felt around his father. She reached out to touch his arm and he flinched away, making her giggle. “Someone’s tense.” 

“Can you not?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Touchy.” 

“I’m trying to be civil here.” He remarked. 

“Hm.” She let him sit in silence for a solid half minute, then spoke up again. “I saw Sophia posted some picture of her wearing a Cartier ring on her Instagram. Did you pay for that?” Brooklyn pushed, sounding almost nervous. 

Rafe shrugged. “So what if I did?” 

“You never bought me designer.” She glanced at her nails, trying to appear nonchalant. 

He snorted. “You can buy yourself designer things just fine. We both know that.” 

“Not the same.” She mumbled, then opened her mouth only to let out a sigh. “It’s just - never mind.”

He looked over with an annoyed glance, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “What.” 

“Surely your dad doesn’t approve?” 

Rafe tensed and she resisted a smile, knowing she had struck a nerve. Exactly what she wanted. “Since when have I cared about my dad’s approval?” 

He might have gotten away with that with someone else, but Brooklyn could read him well. Too well. She’d seen him deal with his dad’s disappointment only a few times, - Ward was always on his best behavior whenever she was around, the model of a perfect parent. 

Brooklyn laughed at that, shaking her head. “You’ve always cared about his approval, I find it hard to believe that’s changed in just a few months with some girl.” 

“Eight months.” He corrected, his jaw clenched tight. “And you know her name. Don’t be rude.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Sophia or something. I just don’t get it.” 

“It’s Sophie. Still. And good thing there’s nothing you need to get about my relationship.” His knuckles were nearly white around the steering wheel as he pulled into the small parking lot, then glanced around with a frown. “Where’s the other interns? Shouldn’t they be here by now?” 

“Oh.” She raised her eyebrows, surprised. “I just sent the invite to you. You didn’t notice?” 

He hadn’t, of course, but he wasn’t about to let her know that. He parked the car and turned it off, looking over at her with a confused expression. “What?” 

“I didn’t send it in the group message, Rafe, I thought we could go out, um, with just us.” She gave him a small, earnest smile. “Like old times.” 

He grimaced, closing his eyes for a second and taking a breath. “Are you forgetting that you broke up with me?” 

“I mean - Rafe, come on. We worked well together. We could at least be friends.” Her tone took on a pleading edge and she leaned in a little closer, her arm nearly touching his on the center console. 

“You made me feel like shit, Brooklyn.” He told her flatly, frowning. The last thing he wanted to do that day was rehash a conversation with his ex that they’d already had at least three times since breaking up. (The first was more akin to a drunken screaming match that ended in tears for both of them, the second was just bitter insults hurled back and forth, and the third was as short as possible, on the campus quad in between classes.) 

“I just wanted to help you.” She murmured, then suddenly leaned over and kissed him quickly. He was so taken aback that it took him a second to spring back, eyes wide. “Brooklyn! What the hell!” 

She blushed, embarrassed as she started stammering. “I didn’t mean - I wasn’t thinking -” 

“Fuck.” He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and shuddered, looking disgusted. “Get out.” 

She sat there for a moment longer, not looking at him. Her voice grew impossibly small and she picked at her cuticles, radiating anxious energy. “I didn’t drive.” 

“I don’t care. Get an Uber or something, get the fuck out.” Rafe was practically fuming as he glared out his window, not wanting to acknowledge her. 

“I - Rafe, I want -”

“Out.” He insisted. 

She nodded quickly and scrambled out of the car, casting a wayward glance back after walking away. Once he was sure she was around the corner, Rafe slammed his fist on the steering wheel. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do more - throw up or go scrub his body clean of any trace of her. Brooklyn’s floral perfume lingered in the car and he felt nauseous, unable to think of anything but Sophie and how she’d react once she found out. 

After he took a few moments to center himself, absolutely livid, he punched the ignition and peeled out of the parking lot, repeatedly swiping his hand over his lips in an attempt to get Brooklyn’s signature cake batter-flavored lip gloss off. (The summer after the breakup, Wheezie had started wearing a vanilla sugar perfume that smelled all too similar - Rafe had a headache for weeks.) He drove to a nearby park and sat out by the water to get away from the overwhelming perfume scent in his car, and his hand was nearly shaking as he hit the app to FaceTime Sophie, nervous as hell. 

She picked up right away, grinning once his face filled her screen. “Hi! It’s good to see you. I can’t talk long, I’m getting ready to go out, but what’s up?” 

“Um...” Rafe briefly debated bringing it up, anxiously pulling at a loose thread on his shorts. “Just checking in. How’s your day been?”

“Oh my god, so...” She launched into a ramble about a cool new project she was working on, and how she got to be with some of her new friends, and how she aced her Spanish test. He listened, a little impatient, as guilt ate at him.

“Soph -” He tried interrupting, knowing if he put it off any longer he’d make himself sick. 

She didn’t notice. “And it’s kind of tricky -”

“Baby, listen.” 

“- But it’ll be really rewarding -”

“Brooklyn kissed me.” He blurted out quickly.

She froze immediately, eyes wide with her lipstick raised halfway to her mouth. “She did what?” 

He bit his cheek hard before replying, his heart pounding. “I’m so sorry, Sophie, I didn’t - I should have known, her stupid dinner invite -” 

“Rafe, shut the fuck up, why are you apologizing? You didn’t kiss her back.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement of trust, but he almost flinched from the hard edge to her voice.

He shook his head frantically. “No! No, of course I didn’t. Fuck. She barely even touched my lips before I pulled away.” 

“Fucking hell.” She had to set her phone down as she was practically shaking with anger. “I knew it.” 

“Knew what?” 

“I knew she was going to pull something, that - that -” She seethed, unable to get all her words out. 

“That…?” He tried supplying. 

“That bitch! Oh my god, what the hell? If I were there, I swear I’d - holy fuck. I’ve never wanted to punch someone until now.” She started pacing the room, flexing her fingers into fists. 

Rafe couldn’t hide his tiny smile, raising his eyebrows. “You’re kind of hot when you’re mad.” 

“Focus, Cameron.” She snapped. “Oh my god, she’s so fucking petty. First the Instagram messages, then this -”

“Wait, wait, hold on, what Instagram messages?” He interrupted, frowning. “What are you talking about?” 

“Oh.” She scowled, crossing her arms. “She followed me a couple weeks ago and went through and liked the posts that you’re in, and keeps responding to my stories. Like that group photo I posted the other day at the bar, some of the guys were in it? She literally responded with ‘wow, glad you’re getting some in Spain.’ What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Sophie, you should have told me.” He rubbed his temples, upset but completely unsurprised - Brooklyn had done that same to a friend he had taken to a date party once when they were in one of their many short breakups. “I’ll talk to her, tell her to knock it off -”

“And have her try and kiss you again? No, I don’t think you need to give her any reason to be one on one with you.” She huffed, indignant. “How many days again?” 

He paused to think. “Thirty? Twenty-nine?” 

“Jesus Christ.” She sighed, running her hand over her face. “Any chance you want to come early?” 

He looked apologetic, shaking his head. “Can’t, baby, I’m committed to this internship right up until I see you.” 

“Damnit.” She flopped back onto her bed and rolled over onto her stomach to face the camera again. “Next time you’re at dinner, let me know and I’ll text you a picture of my tits or something.” 

Rafe snorted. “I don’t know if that’s the best approach, but I wouldn’t be opposed to getting more nudes from you.” 

“No, you’re right, she’d probably just tell you I’m slutty or something.” She rolled her eyes, only for him to frown. “You’re not slutty, baby -” 

“I know, I know, whatever. What happened, seriously? Why’s she so hung up on you? I mean, I know why, look at you -” she gestured at the phone, making him laugh, “- but for real. Will you tell me?” 

He nodded, taking a moment before he spoke. “She, um, cheated on me, but I didn’t find out ‘til after she broke it off. Not until the charity gala, actually. She’d say things like, ‘you’re so needy,’ then would get mad at me if I went to hang out with the boys.” Rafe paused, thinking. “She invited herself to the Bahamas, both times. My dad loved her, that should have told me enough.” 

“Oh.” She murmured, frowning. “That’s fucked, Rafe, I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, took me a while to snap out of it.” He half-joked, then his tone turned more sincere. “You should know, I was going to take you to the Bahamas house this spring, actually. But I didn’t want you to think I was showing off or something.” 

“Rafe Cameron, showing off?” She teased, lifting her hand with the Cartier ring and raising her eyebrows. “Never.” 

He immediately blushed, protesting. “That’s different!” 

She grinned. “Is it?” 

“It is. Totally different. I almost bought you the one with diamonds, that’d be showing off.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t.” 

“Yes, I almost did.” He grinned, noticing that she wore the ring on her ring finger instead of her middle finger like he’d originally put it on her. “Sarah talked me out of it, so go complain to her if you wanted that one. She said you’d probably have my head.” 

“Smart girl.” Sophie laughed. 

“Do you always wear it on that finger?” He asked with raised eyebrows. 

Her cheeks tinged pink and she shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but her tone took a defensive edge. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a finger. Why? Does it make you feel weird?” 

“No. Does it make you feel weird?” 

“No.” 

“Good.” 

“Good.” She shot back, pressing her hands to her hot cheeks for a moment. “I have to go, I’m late for meeting my friends now.” 

“Wait, Soph.” He smirked and she narrowed her eyes again, wary of what he was about to say. “What.” 

“Love you.” 

“That’s it?” 

He laughed, grinning. “I’m still not opposed to you sending me pictures of your tits when I’m at dinner.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Do you know how difficult it is to take a good nude? I have to be alone, I have to contort myself in a weird position or use the self timer, then I have to edit the lighting because I have to take them at night -” 

“Alright, alright, I get it. I’m just kidding.” 

“You absolutely were not. I love you. Go appreciate the pictures I’ve already given you.” 

“You gave me three for the entire summer.” He complained, and she rolled her eyes. “That’s a lie, I left you with three and I’ve sent you a couple since then. Goodbye, Cameron, love you, you ungrateful son of a bitch.” 

He grinned. “Wait, Sophie, wait.” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re not mad? At me?” 

Sophie paused, furrowing her brow. “Do I have a reason to be mad at you? You’re already forgiven for not telling me, is there something else?” 

“No, no.” He shook his head quickly, voice going quiet. “I just, um. She would have had my head for what happened. I know you’re not her, but I’m just used to that, I guess.” 

She softened, wishing she could hold him. “I trust you, Rafe. I mean it. I’m not mad at you. I’m pissed off at her, but you didn’t do anything.” 

“And you’d tell me if you were?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a little anxious. 

Sophie laughed softly, nodding. “You’d know if I was mad at you, baby, it’s hard to hide.” 

“Right. Okay.” He didn’t seem fully convinced, but nodded anyways. “I’ll let you go, then.” 

“Not mad at you. Good night, my favorite boy.” 

He gave her a small, shy smile. “You promise?” 

“I promise. You’re always my favorite.” She returned a bigger smile. “I’ll text you when I’m home if you need to talk more.” 

“No, no, I’ll be fine.” He waved her off, not wanting to seem too dependent. 

She nodded, blowing him a kiss with a grin. “Night, baby. Sweet dreams.” 

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

[beauvibaby]

fight - m.barzal

Requested: [x] yes [] no

request-hi!! can you write something with mat where you guys get into a really bad fight and are on the verge of breaking up and all the WAGS and shocked and they’re comforting you and all the boys are just trying to knock some sense into mat about the whole argument

a/n: thank you @softstarkey for helping with the argument!! 🥺

You sat, watching as Mat spoke to her. some of the other girlfriends and wives huddled around you at the table. “Earth to Y/N.” Sydney snapped her fingers in front of you. Her hand rested way too close to his on the bar, was he really that oblivious, or was he simply trying to brush it off. “Seriously, you’ve both been off all night, you practically ran from each other when you got here.” She sighed, looking at you for an explanation, “do I need to send my Matt over there?” She added with a glare towards the back of your boyfriends head. Normally you would laugh at this, but when you stayed silent she looked over to see your tear filled eyes. “Oh, honey.” She gasped, sliding closer to you. “What happened?” You gave her a look and began to tell her all about the fight.

“Mat, I don’t like that.” You spoke pointedly, arms crossed as you looked at your boyfriend who had just been messaging a girl on Instagram, better yet, a former fling. “She’s not doing any harm.” He replied, raising a brow as he looked you up and down, “you look pretty.” He added, in hopes of digging himself out of the hole he threw himself in, you scoffed, “nice try, Barzal.” You sighed, it was about time for you guys to be leaving for the bar, meeting up with your friends but apparently your time would be better spent arguing. “I’m not trying to be one of those girls, but I don’t like you talking to her.” You explained, seeing how quickly it got under his skin, “you don’t trust me?” He retaliated. You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I trust you, I don’t trust her.” You stepped closer to him, shocked when he stepped back, an almost disgusted look on his face. “If you trust me you shouldn’t worry, it’s that simple.” His words stung, like he had never been weary of certain guys you spoke too, “it’s not that simple! Mat you used to fuck her before you met me, and now all of a sudden she’s sliding into your dms, clearly she wants to hookup.” You snapped, his eyebrows shooting up at your choice of words. “So classy, Y/N.” He muttered, “it’s true! Does it make you feel better if I say you had sex with her? Is that better for you?” You defended, an edge to your voice that you hadn’t had to use in an argument in a long time. “You’re really going to do this? Now? We need to leave.” Mat responded, tugging at his hair, trying to keep himself from snapping. “Yes, we’re doing this now! Can’t you see why it bothers me? I’m not saying you can’t talk to any girls, I’m just trying to tell you she’s not being innocent.” You spoke, trying to keep your voice level, he wasn’t looking at you when he spoke, you caught part of what he said. Insecure.

“What?” You quipped, stepping in front of him. “Nothing.” He mumbled, but you wouldn’t give it up that easy. “Say it to my face, Mathew.” You snapped, he met your gaze, and you could see the look in his eyes, the one he gets during games when he’s pissed, the one where his sense of right and wrong disappears. “You’re just being insecure, and jealous.” The words stung worse than a slap to the face. You didn’t move, you stared blankly at him, had he really thrown that in your face, something he knew you struggled with when you started dating him. “Right, should I be insecure? Should I be jealous? ‘Cause she’s more of your type than me? Thanks for reminding me.” You seethed, his face fell, “that’s not, you are, are you serious?” He went through a range of emotions, settling back on anger. “You’re asking me if I’m serious? When you just threw the biggest insecurity I have in my face? Yes I’m serious.” You deadpanned, walking past him, he watched as you grabbed your clutch, slipping your wedges on, “what are you doing?” He questioned, walking closer to you. “We are going to the bar to meet our friends, because otherwise we’re going to be late, and I’m afraid we are both going to say even more things we regret.” You spoke, your voice cracking at the end. He didn’t say anything, only nodded with a straight lipped look, walking out the door, not waiting for you. A tear slipped from your eye, you quickly dabbed it away, pushing your anger and more importantly, your heart break aside. He was standing by the elevator, you knew he could tell you wanted to cry, he always knew, and he never, not even during your biggest of fights, he didn’t ever ignore it, until tonight.

Sydney stared at you in shock, “he’s an idiot.” She snapped, taking a long sip of her drink as she glared at the girl who was still attempting to flirt with Mat, the girl. The one from Instagram, coincidence that she was here, you wouldn’t believe that for a second. “Sydney, Sydney, what are you doing?” You gasped, grabbing her hand when she stood up, “I’m not going to say anything to him, I’m just going to tell Matt to see what’s up.” She assured you, she wasn’t going to sit here and do nothing. You watched her walk over to the group of guys, she placed a quick kiss to her husbands lips before speaking in his ear, he looked over to you, a knowing look on his face. He nodded, placing his hand on her back for a moment as he said something in return, she smiled up at him brightly before bouncing back over to you. “He’ll talk some sense into him.” She assured you, “drink.” She demanded, sliding your glass over to you, you had barely touched it for the whole hour you’ve been here. “You need to take the edge off.” She whispered, seeing the way your eyes widened as a couple of the guys approached Mat. “Don’t let him catch you looking.” She chastised, nudging your shoulder. “I don’t know if I want to go home with him tonight.” You admitted, your heart shattering at the words, “I need to use the bathroom.” You whimpered, rushing to your feet, of course, you had to walk right past the guys to get to it. Mat had his back to you, so he didn’t catch the tears in your eyes, but Tito did, his eyes lingering a moment too long, Mat looked back and saw you rushing away, guilt hitting him like a truck.

“What’s the deal?” Tito snapped, catching his friends attention, “what?” Mat played dumb, “Y/N just ran off crying, you guys have stayed away from each other all night, normally you don’t let her out of your sight.” Tito raised his eyebrows. “Sydney said Y/N is upset, what did you do?” Martin sighed, Mat looked between the two guys, feeling the guilt eat away at him completely. “Fuck.” He muttered running a hand through his hair again. “She got mad because I was talking to a girl on Instagram.” Mat admitted, “hey!” He snapped when Martin slapped the back of his head. “Why the hell would you do that when you’ve got her right there?” He quipped, Tito nodding in agreement. “There’s more.” Mat whispered, “oh Jesus.” Tito shook his head, “I said she was being insecure and jealous, it was someone I used to have a fling with.” Mat spoke barely above a whisper but he was certain his friends heard him when he looked up and they were staring at him like he was joking. “You’re fucking joking right?” Martin quipped, setting his beer down, crossing his arms as he looked to the younger boy. “I know, I know, I’m an idiot.” Mat groaned, covering his face in his hands, “a huge idiot.” Tito piped up, he had grown close to you, seeing you quite often as he was Mat’s best friend around here. “She was crying when we left the apartment, but I was too pissed to say anything.” Mat added, figuring he might as well spill all the dirt, since they already knew everything else. “Sydney.” Martin cautioned when his wife stomped over, “she doesn’t know I’m telling you this, and she better never find out, but she told me she doesn’t want to go home with you tonight, so you better go fix this. Now.” She demanded and no one missed the way Mat’s face fell when he heard that his own girlfriend didn’t want to go home with him. “Y/N!” Mat called, he saw you trying to sneak back to your table, but you froze when you heard his voice. “Baby, I’m-“ “Don’t baby me, Mat, I don’t want to do this here.” You cut him off, turning to face him.

“Please, can we just go outside and talk?” He asked, reaching for your hand, you shook your head. “No, Mat, I can’t, not tonight, I think I’m just going to go to my place for a few days.” It was almost as if the both of you had forgotten you even had your own studio apartment, you were always at Mat’s or even if it was your place, he was there, and the thought of being without him made you uneasy, but you couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. You leaned up, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, lingering for a moment before stepping back, forcing yourself to keep it together until you got outside of the bar, already ordering an Uber as the tears started to flow.

***

Two days, two days has felt like an eternity, Mat had reached out both days, multiple times, you’d give him one word answers or no answers at all.

“Are you coming to the game?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Work.”

He knew it was lies, he knew you were angry and he was growing tired of this, he was trying to avoid going over there without your permission, not wanting to push any further. You jumped as the buzzer to your apartment went off, you walked over to the box, you knew deep down whose voice was going to come across the line. You pushed the button, “hello?” You spoke, “Y/N, please let me in, we need to talk.” Mat rushed, afraid you would hang up. You didn’t say anything, buzzing him in and waiting by the door, anxiously bouncing on your feet, you heard him stop outside the door, and you couldn’t help yourself, you unlocked it swinging it open before he could even knock. You took in the disheveled look of his hair, eyes trailing down to his, seeing how tried he looked, before seeing him in sweatpants and a hoodie, and as terrible as it sounds you were so glad he looked as bad as you felt. “Y/N, I’m an idiot, I don’t know why I said that, it’s the farthest thing from the truth. I was just trying to be nice to her and I told myself she wasn’t trying to come in between us, but you were right, god baby I’m sorry.” He rushed, stepping into your apartment as you just stood there in shock. “You’re the best person for me, I can’t believe I let you think otherwise, and you’re so much prettier than any of those god awful girls are.” He spoke again, stepping over to you, he reached for your hand to take it off the door so he could shut it. You allowed him to, trying to think of words, but nothing came to your mind. “Y/N, talk to me.” Mat whispered, grabbing your chin to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. “Baby.” He mumbled, watching as you squeezed your eyes shut. “You’re not the one who’s supposed to make me feel like that.” You whimpered, and he was so glad your eyes were shut as he was certain his were glazed over at the hurt tone in your voice.

“I know.” He had nothing else to say, he knew he messed up, he knew it was wrong. “How am I supposed to know you won’t do that again?” You finally opened your eyes, letting the few tears fall so your vision could adjust. “You have to trust me, do you still trust me?” He whispered, cupping your face, you bit your lip, nodding slowly. “I love you so much, you’re the best thing that happened to me, I was so dumb, so fucking dumb to even say those things.” He pulled you against his chest, you hesitated but wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face in the fabric of his hoodie. “My girl, my beautiful girl.” He sighed against your hair, “please don’t let me stay away from you again, I slept like shit.” You admitted, earning a deep laugh from him. “No, never.” He tilted your head up and kissed you, god how you missed this. “I love you too.” You finally answered from earlier, barely moving away from him. He smiled against your lips, chasing them when you pulled away. “No, nope, you’re not going anywhere.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist keeping you locked in place. He had a grin on his face that would never go away as long as he had you like this, wrapped up in his arms and head thrown back in laughter.

taglist: @softstarkey​ @mtkachuk​ @literarycharleton​ @wtfkie​

[1kook]

subdued

— good boy joon on his bday x fem reader

summary; He could so easily take you over in the bedroom, push you down and ram himself inside until you cried. But it’s the other way around, and he likes it that way. tags; birthday boy joon, solo rapper joon, college student reader (unspecified year/age lol), this entire fic is based off THIS joon everyone look and never forget him warnings; kissing, blowjobs, grinding, unprotected, birthday sex, sub!joon word count; 5k

notes; hoooo boy, if you think my other fics were self-indulgent, this one is straight from my 3 am thoughts... anyway. i actually have the same birthday as joon so this fantasy plays off very different in daydream universe no. 794 lol but i understand not everyone is as lucky as us sept 12 babies so i adjusted it 😌

The stoplight down the street from his building takes the longest. He had warned you of its faulty mechanics the very first time you visited. It lingered on red a beat too long, wasted precious seconds you could be spending with him. It’s been the sole challenger to your patience this past year. Every time you wanted to visit him, it was this same stoplight that held you up— made the sugar in his coffee cup settle, the food in its container go cold. It absolutely dampened your mood.

Today, it’s from the back of an Uber that you watch the red glow of the light, gaze fading in and out of focus. It’s raining, the rhythmic pattering of raindrops against the wind shield hypnotizing you. There’s a styrofoam box of takeout beside you falling into the same fate as all its predecessors, tucked inside a plastic bag. It’s his favorite today, the black bean noodles down the street from your university paired with a sickeningly sweet fizzy drink. (There’s a cheap bottle of wine too, but he was never one for getting shitfaced so it had a slim chance of consumption.)

The longer the light stalls, the more nervous you become. One glance at your phone tells you it’s nearing eleven forty-nine, your last message to him just a few minutes before. It was a slew of sad faces as you apologized for the fifth time that night. Another minute ticks by and you’re suddenly hit with the overwhelming fear that you won’t make it on time.

It was Namjoon’s birthday.

At least it would be for the next ten minutes.

You hadn’t seen him all day, your usual Saturday morning brunch postponed by your conflicting schedules. You had a huge group project coming up, and the other students in your group all had lives of their own, jobs, sports, dates, that made their schedules hard to work around. Namjoon, too, was busy gearing up for the release of his mixtape, a collection of songs he had worked hard on for the better half of the year.

He had been planning for this since you first met, around this time the previous year. It was all he ever spoke about these days, which was both endearing and worrisome. Regardless of how you felt about his avid dedication towards his mixtape, you would continue to support him through it all.

You were supposed to drop by after your last class, but one thing led to another and suddenly you were babysitting your neighbor’s kids as she ran off to the hospital. You had felt bad for her, something about a relative in an accident, and had said yes without thinking through what exactly that meant. Two overexcited children and a kitchen lined in cake batter, is what it meant. Your neighbor had returned a little before eleven, and by then you were really cutting it close.

The order you placed had been ready when you got to the little restaurant, and, deciding to forgo bus stop waiting times, the Uber came quickly enough. Because things can never go your way, there was a small accident on one of the major streets that set you back, leading to your driver taking an abrupt detour that you doubt was helpful, and now you were here.

You bite down on your lower lip for probably the umpteenth time, flipping your phone around to check the time. 11:52.

The light changes a second later, your chauffeur for the evening slowly easing his foot off the break and sending the two of you one step closer to your boyfriend. The movement doesn’t ease your nerves in the slightest, foot tapping wildly against the carpeted flooring of the backseat as you think of that creaky elevator. Will it be on your side today? Or will it force you to run four flights of stairs up to his floor?

You won’t know until you get there, absentmindedly tipping the poor soul who bore witness to the rolling waves of tension that had swamped your body tonight. You can only hope it’s an appropriate bill, taking off toward the front doors of his building. The water on the sidewalk splashes beneath your frantic footsteps, tickling your bare ankles. The black boots you wore that day did nothing to save you, a small gust of cold air trying to sweep up beneath the thin material of your dress, luckily to no avail.

The front area is as empty as it usually is, though you doubt the late hour would change that. Knuckle jammed harshly against the flickering elevator button, you wait impatiently for it to descend. His small label takes up the entirety of the fourth floor, studios squeezed beside meeting rooms and offices. It was by no means a monster record label, but it had gained enough fame from the quality soloists it produced over the years; Namjoon was quickly becoming one of those. The carriage is on the fifth floor, right above his, the digital panel beside you says. It passes his floor, passes the fourth, and then… nothing.

You curse every deity in the universe as you watch it freeze on the second floor. You had been so close, you groan, kicking the tip of your shoe against the metal doors. It does nothing to fix the broken elevator, and with one heavy sigh, you turn to the flight of stairs. It was 11:54 now.

The stairway is silent, off-grey concrete walls mocking you as the time continues to tick down. Holding the plastic bag to your chest, you start up the stairs in a hurry. The rustling of the bag grows annoying quickly, your thighs aching half way up. The platforms between floors provide nearly no reprieve before you ascend the next level of stairs, heaving for air as you turn onto the final platform before his floor. Your hair sticks uncomfortably to the back of your neck.

You can’t fling the door open fast enough, heart hammering between your rib cage. The hallway is filled with blissful air conditioning, nothing like the stuffy air of the staircase. You relish in it for a second before taking down the winding halls, torpedoing straight into the room your boyfriend’s in.

“Happy birthday,” you gasp, only hoping you made it in on time. Your sudden appearance has him whirling around in surprise, dark eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets at his surprise intruder. The digital clock above one of his speakers blinks back at you. 11:59.

The surprise wears off soon enough. Namjoon melts back into his puffy chair, easy going smile taking over his features as he regards your ruffled appearance. “Jesus, what’ve you been up to?” he teases playfully, standing up to relieve you of the bag in your hand, still warm against your chest.

He brushes a kiss against your forehead, placing the plastic bag somewhere off behind him before enveloping you in your arms. “Thank you, baby,” he hums, strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. Almost immediately the tension in your body melts away, oozes out of your skin as you bury yourself against his chest. It feels good to be there, the faint cologne from that morning clinging to his white zip-up.

“Sorry I’m so late,” you murmur. Feeling comforted enough, you pull away from your hiding spot against his chest. The arms hanging loosely around your waist don’t let you get too far, low-lidded eyes staring down at you over the straight angle of his nose. “So much happened today— I’m sorry.”

Namjoon waves your apologies off as he guides you towards his computer chair. He plops down first, pulling you over to sit on his thigh. The clock ticks by, and suddenly his birthday is over. The scent of the noodles fills his dark studio, and you become acutely aware of the soft melody drifting from his speakers. Nothing too developed yet, just a simple piano with a bass drum kicking in.

“Another year, another grey hair,” he sighs, leaning back against his seat. You laugh at his dramatics, running a finger through the head full of silver hairs he’s rocking this time around.

“I fail to see the issue,” you muse, shifting about until you can loop your arms around his neck, pulling his face close enough to yours to kiss. He lets you, opening his mouth when your tongue prods against his plush, doll lips. He tastes of that energy drink you know is bad for him, the one that keeps him up way past his nonexistent bedtime. You should scold him for it, but there’s something about the way he molds his mouth against yours that makes it difficult to pull away and do so. You kiss him for a few minutes, lips casually molding against each other.

The enticing scent of the food you brought over has you pulling away with a soft smack of your lips, lazily grinning down at him. “You should eat,” you encourage, attempting to move out of his grip. If anything, the hands on the small of your back stiffen, keeping you comfortably pressed against him.

“Don’t want to,” he whines, half-lidded eyes gazing at you with that tender look. He leans back in, nudges his nose against yours until you’re moving to accommodate him again. His lips catch yours a second time, a soft sigh released on his end. His body feels like a furnace, swaddled up in that nice white tracksuit, some fancy brand he’s an ambassador for. There’s something about him that’s different today, cherry lips catching you in a daze. He seems totally aware of the pull he has over you, moving his mouth against yours like he knows he’s won you over and was now ready to dedicate the rest of the night to you.

You weren’t having any of that, at least not tonight.

Knitting your hands in his hair, you tug. You tug and tug until he’s releasing you with a whine, swollen red lips shiny from your lip gloss. It’s certainly a look on him, and as he pants beneath you, you’re left wondering why he’s chosen to be an elusive rapper when his doll-like face could easily blend into the idol world.

Another mystery you’ll never solve.

“Missed you today,” he admits bashfully, lips pulling into a shy smile he tries to hide from you. You reward his confession with a soft peck against his cheek, hands cupping his soft cheeks between your palms. Despite how easily you’d been forgiven before, there’s a tinge of a whine curling around his next words. “Who blows someone off on their birthday?” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut.

You chuckle, tracing your thumbs over his skin. They just barely brush against the corners of his mouth, the soft flesh begging to be touched. “Who spends their birthday cooped up in a tiny room?” you reply teasingly, leaning in to kiss the mole beneath his plump lips.

Namjoon inhales softly, head lolling backwards as you kiss down his chin, over his pulse point. “Was inspired,” he weakly defends, the grip around your waist growing tight. “There was a pretty girl in my dreams last night.”

“Oh?” You hum, slithering off his lap. The floor mat he has beneath his rolling chair to protect his hardwood floors is cold. There’s ridges on it that press uncomfortably into your knees. But all that is forgotten when you roll your hands over his shoulders, kiss his neck tenderly, and he groans. “How pretty?”

Your back is straining from being awkwardly stretched over him in a desperate attempt to kiss the entire column of his neck. He doesn’t make it easier, hips wiggling before you as you nip against the side of his neck. “Joon?” you coo, sliding your hands down his chest. The muscles jump beneath his zip-up, one shuddering exhale escaping him.

“R-Real fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mumbles, hands circling your shoulders. He wants to pull you close like he always does, but you can tell he’s equally as conflicted by the need to push you down onto his cock.

The front zip of his sweater gives with one tug, the clicks of the teeth coming apart following your hand down. He’s wearing a plain white shirt underneath, the beginnings of sweat clinging to the flimsy material. You place your hands around his waist, let the fabric catch over your knuckles as you glide them upwards. The sinewy muscle quivers under your touch, Namjoon’s breath catching in your throat.

When you reach his pecs, he barely contains the whimper in his throat, hands releasing you in favor of clutching at the armrest. “Please,” he huffs, the white zip-up halting you from pushing any further. “Off.”

“Of course,” you purr, pushing it over his deltoids. He doesn’t shake the sweater off completely, the sleeves catching over each other in his haste to feel you closer against his body. The t-shirt remains tugged up to his chest, held up by your wandering hands. “Relax for me, okay?” you croon, leaning forward to nip at his lower lip. The plush skin bounces back, redder than ever. He nods shakily, chest rising and falling.

You place a kiss directly on his sternum, his heart fluttering wildly just a few inches away. You feel it beneath your palm, the way it beats wildly out of rhythm for you. The music loops back around, the same melodious tune mixing with his airy sounds. You trail your mouth lower, letting it mold against the faint ridges over his abdomen.

He’s been putting on muscle these last few months. It’s a sight you only get to appreciate in moments like these. Namjoon wasn’t a flashy performer; he was too shy to wear revealing outfits, not that they particularly fit his onstage aesthetic anyway. He liked it simple and dark, wanting his words to capture people more than his looks.

It was a humble approach, really, because you don’t doubt for a second someone with looks of his caliber couldn’t pull fans with that alone. But as you said before, Namjoon didn’t like that sort of thing, and you suppose that’s why he’s declined invitations to join rookie boy groups time and again. He had worked hard to make himself known on his own, frequenting various hip hop scenes until he picked up steam. By the time you’d met him, he had his own contract, with this same company you’re currently in.

Now he was freshly twenty-six, on the cusp of releasing his first full mixtape, completely of his own creativity. His first mini-album had done extraordinarily well, but there had been a lot of outside partners and producers that pushed it along. This mixtape was one hundred percent him, a fact you couldn’t be more proud of.

What better way to treat him than to shower him in attention like this?

You press a soft kiss to his belly button, glancing up just in time to see those plush lips pull into a smile, pearly white teeth appearing in between, eyes fluttered shut. The waistband of his matching bottoms stretches easily enough, giving you a brief view of the dark underwear he’s got underneath. You let it snap back into place, relishing in the tiny gasp he gives. “You’re acting extra sweet for me today, aren’t you?” you smirk, running a palm over the bulge beneath his pants. His knuckles tighten dangerously against his armrests.

“I’m the same,” he chokes out, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you give his outline a teasing squeeze. “Just… lower please.”

His statement is followed with one hand on the back of your head, tentatively urging you closer to his stiff member just an inch. He’s so polite and shy tonight, cheeks tinted a nice rosy color as he looks away from your lewd expression practically salivating over the prize hidden beneath his clothes. His bottoms come down around his thighs, throbbing cock bouncing up to tap his stomach.

“Oooh,” you say appreciatively, taking him in your hand. Namjoon flinches, a groan catching in his throat as you trail your fingers over his cock. They end at the tip, swollen and red; you can’t help yourself as you duck down, kissing the tip softly. Namjoon full on shivers, hips bucking against your touch.

“Please, just... touch,” he begs, wiggling around underneath you.

You nod, pulling away to plant your hands against his hips. “Have to sit still for me, big boy,” you remind him, pushing down until his bottom glues itself firmly to the leather padding of his chair again. He does so with a huff. Clouded eyes meet yours, so beautifully framed by the blood that rushes to his face.

Despite calming him just moments before, the first kiss against his tip makes him squirm and buck like a wild stallion, your name falling from his lips like a mantra. Eventually he calms down, labored breath fanning across his chest as he watches you lower your mouth down around his cock. It twitches in your hand, one perfect pearl of cum oozing from the tip. It’s barely rolled down past his head when you strike, the tip of your tongue scooping it up quickly.

A little on the salty side, but it still makes you shudder. Above you, Namjoon isn't faring that well either. He groans, hands clenched over the armrest as he tries his best to be good for you. “More,” he says hoarsely, silver hair dangling over his eyes. It creates a curtain between you two, his beautiful expression hidden from your view.

You ease his cock down your mouth. It feels just as good as you remembered. Your knees ache from being on the ground, but you wouldn’t trade places with anyone in the world right now. An inaudible moan resonates from above you, his back going stiff the further down you swallow him. You could practically feel yourself drooling, excess saliva making his entrance into your mouth so much easier. You get about two thirds down before it becomes difficult, lips pulled taut around his swollen member. The tip is reaching dangerous territory now, nudging against the soft spot in the back of your throat.

You could gag, but that would only startle him away, make him worry about you. You don’t want that, not when he’s melting into his seat with every inch you swallow. So you push the discomfort away, focus on feeling the entirety of his cock in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whines, shaking his silvery locks away from his eyes when he leans forward to look at you. You take extra care to bat your lashes up at him; he obviously likes the sight, his lower lip catching between his teeth for the umpteenth time that night.

When you finally surpass that initial discomfort, his cock wonderfully resting in your mouth and throat, everything becomes so much better. The drag against your lips feels almost heavenly, never mind the fact it would certainly leave the skin around there soft and tender tomorrow. It’s something you’re willing to overlook, running the flat length of your tongue against the underside of his cock to distract him.

You make one hand busy, reaching down to cup his balls. The skin is soft, but tight, like it’s taking everything in him not to bust right now. The other situates itself loosely against his hip, thumb drawing slow circles against the skin. He’s grown hotter since you’ve gotten here, like your own personal furnace.

He’s a good boy, through and through.

It had admittedly taken a while to tame his wildness; there had been a time where he would push your head down his cock the second your lips touched his mouth. Now, he fared pretty well against his own carnal instincts, blunt nails digging into the armrests in order to stop himself. Thanks to this, you’re able to pick up a comfortable pace against his cock, bobbing up and down between his thighs.

“M-More,” he pants, muscles trembling from the exertion it takes for him to hold himself back. “Please,” he throws in.

You appease him, letting go of his balls to grip the base of his cock. He hisses at the touch, hips unconsciously jumping. You hold him tight, squeezing his cock between your palm until his thighs are quivering too. The descent down his cock is easier too, no longer trying to swallow him up whole every time.

It only calms him for so long before that same plea is falling from his lips again. This time, you pull off completely, lazily jerking him off as you rest an elbow on his thigh, chin falling into your open palm as you analyze his figure. “Always need more,” you sigh, the slippery sound of your hand mingling with his little moans.

Namjoon’s jaw tightens, head falling forward until his chin touches his chest. “Would like to fuck now,” he seethes, his t-shirt growing damp at the collar from all the sweating he’s been doing.

“Is that so?” You smile. As you say this, you loosen your grip, letting your hand fall away much to his dismay. “Your clothes, Joon,” you explain, using his thighs as leverage to push yourself to your feet again. There’s creases on the skin over your knees, skin and joints tender from the position. That gets pushed to the back burner as you watch Namjoon finally fight his way out of his clothing, hands stuck in the sleeves of his zip-up.

“Off, off,” he huffs, eventually tugging it off all inside out. The shirt is next, neck hole stretched huge as he peels it away from his body.

You muffle a giggle behind your palm, placing a hand on his bare shoulder when he’s done. He’s looking at you with those same, desperate eyes, stealing your heart without even realizing. “Adorable,” you tease only to watch the blood crawl over his ears and down his neck. You throw a leg over him, his thigh pressing against yours. Before you can mount him you’re tugging off the thin jacket you’d worn that day, pawing it off until only the thin barrier of your dress is between the two of you.

With both knees pressed to either side of him, you finally show him what he wants to see. The sundress you’d worn that day makes everything so accessible. The flimsy material stretches over your ass, sits pretty around your waist to reveal your sheer panties. The sight makes Namjoon groan, eyes downcast as he fights to see your pussy. You return his gaze with a hand against his jaw. “Look at me, sweetheart,” you murmur, looping your hands around his head, finding their place on the nape of his neck first. Your fingers instinctively run through his locks, drawing an airy gasp from him.

“Yes,” he breathes, lower lip brushing against yours from such close proximity. You smile down at him, easing your core down on him. His cock pressed against your clothed panties, leaving a wet trail against the exterior side of them.

He fits snugly between your folds, hesitant hands resting at your hips like he wants to grind you down but knows better than to attempt such a bold move. You reward his behavior with a faint kiss against his cheek. “Good boy, Joonie,” you praise, barely containing your own gasp as you wiggle over his cock. “Being so nice for me today,” you sigh, grinding down against him.

Namjoon shivers, cock throbbing against your soiled panties. “Always good for you,” he groans, a trail of sweat running down from his hairline.

Another kiss is pressed against his face, this time against his cheekbone as you begin grinding back and forth. “That’s right,” you confirm, hugging him tight to your chest, until his face is practically buried between your breasts. “Even on your birthday,” you sigh, stretching a hand behind you to tug your panties to the side. The first glide of his cock against your folds has him bucking against you, a choked gasp escaping both your lips.

“I-Yes,” he cries, hands wrapped tight around you.

You bite down a whimper, his length running over every inch of your folds. It makes your toes curl when he stimulates your clit. Your attention had been solely on making him feel good tonight, that the barest amounts of pleasure to your own body was enough to make you shake. “Tell me,” you pant, moving back to grab him by the shoulders as you run against his length. “What you would do if you weren’t my good boy.”

Namjoon cries at your sudden pace, head lolling back as he fights every instinct in his body telling him to just fuck right into your inviting heat. “Can’t,” he sobs, eyes squeezed shut.

“Joon,” you growl, snapping your hips forward roughly. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head with another whimper, thigh muscles jolting beneath you. It makes you shift forward, clit running hard along his cock. “No, you’ll—“ he wheezes, fingers digging deep into your sides now. “You’ll… think I’m bad. Dirty.”

You lean forward, shove your tongue into his mouth with no warning. He moans, letting you push his tongue around until yours is halfway down his throat, licking and slurping every inch of him you can reach. You yank his head back by the hair, catching those watery eyes. “Tell me all your dirty thoughts,” you croon, lips trailing down his jaw. “Tell me them and maybe we’ll make them come true.”

Namjoon moans. “You,” he hesitates. While he does that, you reach down to align his cock with your hole, throbbing to be filled. His tip brushes along the tightened lips surrounding your entrance, reducing him to a stuttering mess. “You tell me I’m dirty,” he cries, “dirty and messy, and-and you make me beg for forgiveness just to cum, s-sometimes you don’t like it and make me d-do it again,” he babbles. “I-if you’re feeling mean y-you just edge me. Until I cry.”

You sink down on his cock, your shared arousal making the glide slippery and so wet. It’s almost too easy how he fits inside of you, your back arching as the head of his cock runs deliciously against your walls. The sensation of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock has him gasping for air.

“Until you cry?” You repeat through clenched teeth. “Like you are now?”

Namjoon trembles, hips and thighs twitching every few minutes. He nods his head, but he’s become overwhelmed by his thoughts and your touches, so the movement ends up looking more dazed. There’s a couple tears that escaped and painted pretty trails down his cheeks, one catching on the corner of that pout of his. The rest pool in the corner of his eyes, glassy just like his sweat-soaked skin.

“Happy birthday,” you mumble, brushing his hair away from his face to press a kiss against his forehead. Namjoon groans. “Fuck me, baby,” you purr, wrapping your hands around his neck again. “You deserve it.”

Namjoon lets out a loud cry at your permission, hands tightening around your hips. He wastes no time, bucking into you like a wild animal that’s desperate to cum. You don’t blame him; he’d been close to cumming down your throat, and recounting his demeaning fantasies while stuffed deep inside you certainly didn’t help.

You let him jostle you to and fro, dick slipping in and out of your pussy with an unreal amount of force. He was grunting all kinds of sounds against your shoulder, biting down on the skin like it would calm him. It doesn’t, and you already know there will be a big bruise to attend to tomorrow.

With every thrust, the head of his cock rubs against that sensitive spot in your pussy, back arching at the angle he pushes in at. It makes every hair on your body stand, the animalistic sounds he’s releasing reaching deep into your core.

It’s a brief reminder of what this man was truly capable of, buff arms and thick thighs lifting you around like you’re nothing. He could so easily take you over in the bedroom, push you down and ram himself inside until you cried. But it’s the other way around, and he likes it that way.

Well, you liked it that way too, especially if it meant having this big strong man so pliant under your touch.

“Fuck,” you moan, holding the back of his head closer to where he’s seemingly set on bruising your entire shoulder. “Just like that.”

Your walls clench around his length, squeezing him so tight that it becomes difficult for him to move. A wail catches in his throat, his body beginning to burn out from the initial burst of energy he’d received when you gave him the go ahead. “I-I,” he pants, weakly and unevenly bucking into you. You know he’s close from the cute wavering of his speech, his usual eloquent speaking style reduced to a stuttering mess. You take pity on him, gearing your muscles up again to see him to completion.

It doesn’t take long. A few slow rolls of your hips later and he’s spasming beneath you, your name rolling off his tongue in a series of soft whimpers. He continues groaning even afterwards, hands falling limply to his sides as you finish yourself off.

The thing about this big strong body was that it burned out extremely fast, his head rolling back to give you a clear view of his fucked out features. He was tired, absolutely drained from your little moment, and such was exhibited on his lax frame. Your orgasm rolls around right after, stomach clenching. Despite the shock of pleasure that swallows you up, you can’t help the endeared smile that takes over your features at the sight beneath you as you cum.

“So proud of you,” you murmur afterwards, cupping his face in your hands to deliver a brigade of kisses against his skin. He groans in faux annoyance, letting you turn him this way and that as you shower him in affection. “My baby did so well today.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffs, though the ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. “What’s there to eat?”

You snort, pushing yourself off of him. You wiggle your panties and dress back into place, tossing him his discarded shirt as you make toward the noodles. They’ve probably gone cold by now, neglected in favor of fucking like two bunnies in heat. Still, you give them a poke. Just as you’d predicted, they’re way too cold to be edible, a fact which greatly saddens Namjoon.

You weren’t having any of that, especially not on his birthday (it was 12:49 now, but technically, it’s still his birthday until he goes to sleep), which is why you make him pack everything up right away. “I’ll heat them up at my place,” you assure him, patting his bum as he whines at the sudden relocation. He’s tugging his zip-up on, the collar tugged all the way up for him to hide the lower half of his face behind.

It doesn’t stop you from pressing a kiss over where you know his mouth is.

“Come on,” you grin, waiting for him to lock up his studio. He falls into step beside you, grudgingly throwing a hand around your shoulders. You beam up at him, leaning onto your toes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll make you cry at my place,” you promise, relishing in the dark flush that floods the apples of his cheeks.

Copyright © July 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.