#any sugar daddies want to pay my fish bills?

[danielfuckingricciardo]

23 + Fernando Alonso (can't wait to see what you come up with!)

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the request ♥︎

Sorry this is a little late, but better late than never, right?

When I saw the song I instantly knew what I wanted to do for this one, it practically wrote itself and I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading it too!

+ Much like the Esteban fic, this is my first Fernando fic which is super fun! I really want to write more Fernando so if anyone has any more inspiration or any ideas do drop into my ask box and say hi!

Song 23 - These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ // Nancy Sinatra

Pairing - Fernando Alonso x Reader 

Word Count - 1.2k

Content Warnings - Swearing, sex references

These boots are made for walkin' And that's just what they'll do One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you

To you, rich men were boring. Each and every man who would aim to win your affections was just a carbon copy of the next, from the immaculately coiffured hair, to the gaudy watch they would flash to prove they were moneyed, and to the Maserati they had stashed away in their garage hoping it would make up for their tiny cock.  

The vast majority cared about little but themselves. Their egos sat atop mountains of cryptocurrency and NFTs. Mountains that were just as fragile as the identities they held up. A slight gust of wind could send them toppling to the ground, their masculinity destroyed and their wealth worthless. 

You were a hurricane, a destroyer of men. You knew exactly how to do it, and would leave a trail of destruction and male tears wherever you went. In the past, you had enjoyed watching as they fell from their pedestals, the silver spoon they were born with falling from their mouths with a clatter. But now, it was simply boring. You had lived out the same story over and over again, and you wanted something new, something exciting and different. 

And you had found that something new on the day that Fernando Alonso had approached you in a bar in Monaco. 

———

“If you’re looking for a sugar baby, you should know I make six figures a day, so you’d better be offering me seven. Then I might consider it.” You say, not lifting your eyes from your half-empty espresso martini on the bar. 

“I was going to offer to buy you a drink, but I see you don’t need me to pay for you.” He says, and you finally look up from the counter and raise your eyebrow. 

“Hm. How about you buy the first drink, and if you can prove to me that you’re worth my time, I’ll buy you one in return?” You say, and he offers you a sly smirk. 

“Deal.” He says, and he flags down the bartender who immediately makes his way over to the two of you. 

“I’ll have a martini. Dirty.” You say, and the bartender nods.

“Make that two.” Fernando says, and you smile to yourself. 

“What’s so funny?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“Are you always this easily influenced by the women you meet in bars?” You ask, and he smiles. 

“Only when they have good taste.” He replies. 

“Correct answer.” You say, before finishing the remains of your espresso martini, setting the glass down before you. 

You fish out the remaining candied coffee bean from the bottom of the glass and pop it on your tongue, before biting down with a satisfying crunch. Fernando’s eyes watch you intently as you do so, gazing at your lips with a look filled with hunger. 

The bartender returns with your drinks and you give the man a small smile as Fernando taps his bank card. You notice the familiar logo of a private bank reserved only for the most affluent of society emblazoned on the top of his card and smile to yourself. 

“I must say you’ve lasted longer than most men who agree to play my little game. I usually end up getting stuck with the bill when Daddy’s credit card declines.” You say, and Fernando smiles at you, raising his glass. 

“I have never played a game I cannot win.” Fernando says, and you raise your glass to his, gazing into his dark brown eyes as you clink them together. 

“Well I’ll drink to that.” You say, before taking a sip of your martini. 

“Are there any rules to this game I should know?” Fernando asks, and you press your index finger to your lips in thought. 

“There are no rules. I find life to be more fun without regulation and restriction.” You say, and Fernando nods. 

“Then I can ask your name, yes?” Fernando says, and you nod. 

“It’s (y/n), (y/n) (y/l/n), feel free to google me when you next go to relieve yourself. You’ll find a nice little article from Forbes designating me the seventeenth most successful businesswoman in the world.” You say, and Fernando tuts. 

“I don’t care about that.” He says. 

“Correct answer once again. Now, may I ask your name?” You say, and Fernando smiles. 

“Fernando Alonso.” 

“Wow, you’re three for three so far, and I think you’re the first man to do so in my extensive experience of being approached in bars.” 

“What would be the wrong answer?” He asks, and you chuckle slightly. 

“The most common one is, ‘don’t you know who I am?’ Had you said that, I would have pretended I had no clue who you were and walked away.” You say, and Fernando laughs. 

“So you do know who I am?” He says, and you nod, taking a sip of your drink. 

“I know of you, but I don’t know you. Yet.” 

“You would like to know me?” 

“You intrigue me, I’ll admit. You quite clearly have a strong ego, but you aren’t intimidated by me and my equally large ego in the slightest. So you’re as secure in your identity and your sense of self as I am, and I find that to be incredibly attractive.” You say, and Fernando nods, clearly impressed by your honest assessment of him. 

“Your honesty is welcome. I like it.” Fernando says, taking a final sip of his drink and placing the empty glass on the counter. 

You give him a small smile and empty your glass, placing it beside his before standing from your bar stool. 

“So, will you be buying me a drink now?” Fernando asks, and you chuckle at him as you store your phone away in your handbag and tuck the handle into the crook of your arm. 

“I already have. There’s a bottle of champagne on ice in my hotel room. Let’s go.” You say, and Fernando smiles, clearly holding back a laugh. 

“How are you so sure I would come back with you?” 

“You approached me in a bar, signalling that aesthetically, at least, you were interested in me. You then proceeded to stay while I nursed my martini, made some rather cutting remarks, and played the part of the aloof millionaire. If you weren’t still interested in sleeping with me, you would have excused yourself by now, presumably under the guise of catching up with the man in the booth over there who I believe to be Nico Rosberg, and promptly made a swift exit.” You say, and Fernando laughs in disbelief. 

“You are very good at this game. I think you win.” He says, and it’s your turn to chuckle.

“Oh, love, I invented this game, I always win.” You say as Fernando opens the door to the bar and allows you to step out first into the night before following you onto the street. 

[clovervalley]

Buy my fish a coffee?

Hi ya’ll, I decided to create a ko-fi! I just wanted there to at least be an option on my builds to support me, even if no one chooses to do so (which is totally fine, I put out my content for free for a reason!)

I’ve never talked about it on here but I’m actually a fish mom, I have two tropical freshwater tanks. One is a 46 gallon bowfront with an Angelfish named Victoria, a Swordtail, a Corydora, and a Platy, while the other tank is a 10 gallon betta tank for my betta Gill Nye! The support from ko-fi will go to feed my hungry mouths (fish, that is) and to support my tumblr! Technically you would be buying my fish coffee :’)

If you want to, you can support me here or click the link on any of my builds!

ps I will put pics of my babies down below

[starryhyuck]

pride. (m)

pairing: sugardaddy!xiaojun x reader

words: 4.7k+

summary: stacked with two jobs, tuition bills and rent payments, an opportunity falls into your lap that leaves you wanting more.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: creampie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, oral sex, degradation, overstimulation

It all started before you hit rock bottom.

When you enrolled in college and decided to study music, your parents refused to pay for your tuition as they had hoped you would pursue law instead. You’ve been passionate about music since you were younger, and financial burdens were not going to hold you back from pursuing your dreams.

You spend most school nights working a low wage job, and switch to a different low wage job on the weekends. You hardly had time to balance studies and work, but in order to make ends meet, you fill your body with caffeine and call it a day.

You’re in the middle of wiping down the counter of the campus’s local ice cream parlor, ignoring the email you received from your landlord minutes ago. It was yet another warning notice to pay last month’s rent, a task you’ve been putting off for weeks.

There’s barely anyone who comes into the shop this late at night on a weekday, only a few who have a midnight craving they have to fulfill. You’re surprised when Doyeon comes barging into the shop at half past midnight, dressed to the nines in her custom Versace gown.

She sighs and throws herself down on one of the parlor chairs. “I feel sick to my stomach. Is it possible for your intestines to hurt so much from champagne?”

You laugh at her. Doyeon was your first friend when you came to campus, and you were blissfully unaware of how wealthy she was until three months into your friendship. Her mother recently remarried and Doyeon despised her stepdad, but she never had any complaints about the money he carried with him. Doyeon’s offered to pay off some of your loans so that you wouldn’t have to work two jobs, but you always turned down her offer. You couldn’t take money from her — you had to have a little bit of pride.

“What happened now? More sleazy old men hitting on you?” You question, leaning over the counter to ask her.

“You know me so well,” she sighs, her curled hair styled perfectly down her shoulders. She removes her heels for a bit so she can breathe. “And Doyoung was complaining the entire time, pissing off my mom. You know how my brother is.”

You’ve met Doyoung once or twice, and he was very similar to Doyeon — confident, smart and not afraid to speak what’s on his mind. Doyoung had a very difficult time adjusting to their mother’s new beau.

“You know what would be nice?” Doyeon asks, eyelashes fluttering at you. “If you come with me next time.”

“You know I can’t,” you decline, moving to check on the tubs of ice cream. “I’m too busy with work and school. Can’t leave for a night of luxury.”

“But you can,” she whines loudly. “Just let me pay your rent for last month and we’ll call it even!”

You roll your eyes. “I hardly call that even, Doyeon.”

She huffs. “Please? I can’t stand to go to another one of these things and listen to those snotty people tell me how lucky I am that my mom found that douchebag. You would make it so much more fun, and save me from a night of torture.”

For the first time, you’re contemplating Doyeon’s offer. You’ve known for a long time now that you’re running low on funds, and you’re scared that if you don’t find a way to pay your landlord, he’ll end up evicting you. Your eyes glance up to meet Doyeon’s, who has her puppy dog gaze turned on.

You sigh. “Just one event. That’s it.”

She squeals, and almost jumps over the counter to hug you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, thank you!”

You awkwardly pat her back. “Yeah, yeah.”

—

Doyeon failed to tell you that the event she was dragging you to would actually take place within a week.

You scrambled to find a dress and how to style your hair, knowing that if you showed up in an off-brand name, you would immediately look like an outcast. Doyeon saved you from the humiliation, shoving you into a Valentino dress that had your eyes rolling out of your head at the price tag. She also hired a hairstylist on the day of to come over and fix you up, which you clearly disagreed on until Doyeon told you it wasn’t up for debate.

And now, here you were, standing in the middle of the most luxurious place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Doyeon leans over to whisper to you while you’re eyeing the waiters and waitresses walking around with trays of champagne.

“Just smile and act like you only care about money.”

She tugs you forward and you try your best to match her pace. A girl approaches you two first, nails wrapped around the stem of her glass. She’s wearing one of the most beautiful gowns you’ve ever seen, a Chanel piece her mother imported for the event.

“Hyojung, you’re way too young to be drinking anything,” Doyeon scolds.

“Calm down, mom. No one’s snitching except you. Who have you brought?”

Doyeon beams and loops her arm through yours. “This is my friend from college.” She gives Hyojung your name and you offer your best smile.

Hyojung returns your grin. “Nice to meet you. Where do your parents work?”

Doyeon opens her mouth to tell Hyojung the truth, but you stop her.

“They own a few chain businesses in our hometown. Nothing too grand,” you inform. Hyojung nods in agreement, eyes darting somewhere else.

“Well, Chanwoo is here. I’m going to get the gossip that he owes me from last time.”

When Hyojung leaves, Doyeon frowns at you. “Why did you lie?” She questions.

You shrug. “I would rather not be a fish out of water here more than I already am. It’s better if people think I’m at least middle class.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “You know I’m not ashamed of you, right?”

You giggle and pat her cheek. “Of course I know.”

“Finally!” You hear someone exclaim, and you turn to see Doyoung rushing over to the two of you. “Where the hell have you been? Mom’s going to murder you for showing up so late.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Relax. We took a long time getting ready.”

Doyoung smiles gently at you before tugging his sister away. You feel even more awkward, hands folding together as you sway in the middle of the room. The people around you are talking animatedly and you can faintly hear the sound of the violin in the back of the room. You wonder if you should pretend to go to the bathroom or find somewhere to sit-

“Never seen you here before.”

You turn to see a guy your age, dressed in a full Armani suit and Rolex watch shining under the sparkling chandelier. You awkwardly clear your throat.

“Uh, yeah. My friend brought me. Do I look that weird?”

He chuckles, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “You look beautiful. I’ve just been to plenty of these galas before and I’ve pretty much memorized the guest list.”

Your heart lingers on his compliment and you avert your gaze.

“My first one. Are they always like this?”

“Boring, you mean?”

You laugh and he joins in. You swear you feel butterflies frantically flying in your stomach.

“So, what’s your story? Also have rich parents?” You ask.

He nods. “My mother owns half of the city’s major businesses. I’m Xiaojun, by the way.” You give him your name and he smiles, motioning to the back of the room. “Want to talk where it’s a little less loud?”

You agree, smiling and taking his arm as he leads you to the less chatty part of the room. You both sit on a luxurious velvet couch, a piece of furniture that most likely costs more than your entire apartment. Xiaojun hands you a glass of champagne, his smile taking your breath away.

“Tell me a little bit about yourself,” he muses, eyeing you carefully.

You laugh. “Is this a job interview?”

He shrugs. “Could be.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his answer, but you figure rich people were always weird and vague like that. “I go to the same college as Doyeon, and I’m studying music. Not really much to say, I spend most of my time working.”

He nods, and you can’t place what the look in his eye is for.

“Music, that’s interesting. What made you decide to take on such a daunting major?”

“Daunting as in it’s not law or business?” You counter, giving him a look.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no judgment here. In my world, I haven’t met anyone who isn’t a law or business major. It’s nice to have a change of scenery.”

He challenges your gaze, and you feel a warmth in your stomach you haven’t felt in months. You jump when you hear the shriek of your name and Doyeon comes charging towards the two of you.

“There you are! Jesus, I had to hear Doyoung fight with my stepdad for almost ten minutes.” Her exasperation turns into surprise when she sees Xiaojun seated next to you. “Oh! Hey, Dejun. Didn’t see you there.”

He offers a smile. “Hi, Doyeon.”

“Do you mind if I pull her away for a bit?” Doyeon asks, but she’s already looped your arm through hers. You slightly protest when she tugs you away from Xiaojun, but you’re immediately distracted by her next question. “What the hell were you doing talking to him? You know what Xiaojun is famous for, right?”

You frown, looking over your shoulder again to see him, watching as his line of sight carefully follows you and Doyeon.

“No, I don’t. He seemed nice. What’s the issue?”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “He’s a sugar daddy. Always looking for new sugar babies to satisfy him. He’s been blowing through girls like the wind for the past year. He’s not good, and I don’t want you in his company without me.”

You try to process that the man you were just talking to was, in fact, scoping you out to get a potential new sugar baby. You can’t wrap your mind around it, even when Doyeon drags you to the corner of the room, where Doyoung and her stepdad are still fighting.

Your eyes linger on Xiaojun’s table, but he’s already long gone.

—

“Nice shop you got here.”

You practically jump out of your shoes at the sound of the familiar voice, almost spilling a cup of ice cream down your front. You nearly get whiplash with how fast you spin around, eyes widening at the sight of Xiaojun standing in the middle of the ice cream shop. Your manager, Seojeong, raises an eyebrow at your skittish nature.

“Is there a problem here?” She questions, but you immediately brush her off.

“No, no problem!” You squeak. You immediately rush over the counter and push Xiaojun out of the shop. “Seojeong, I’m taking my 15!”

“Um, okay?”

Once you’ve got Xiaojun on the street, you take notice of what he’s wearing - another dark Armani suit, same Rolex watch, and hair styled in a way that’s meant to make your panties drop. You push back your thoughts and whisper harshly to him.

“I know why you’re here.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you now?”

“Yes, I do,” you state confidently, tilting your chin up. “Doyeon told me about your little sugar daddy scheme.”

He laughs. “Ah, is that what they’re calling it now? Didn’t realize I was such a bad guy for wanting to help out girls in bad situations.”

You scoff. “Do you get off on this? Lowering yourself to the underprivileged lives of the poor? Pretending to be the hero that saves the damsel in distress?”

He snickers at your line of questioning, shoving his hands in his pockets and eyeing you. He leans down so that you’re face to face, and you falter as he becomes closer to you.

“And if I do? What if I like giving you money so you don’t have to work two jobs?”

“How do you know I have two jobs?” You inquire.

“You looked so lost at that gala. I told you I’ve memorized the guest list — you’ve never been on it. It became relatively easy to discover the rest of the details. It must be exhausting doing this everyday, haven’t you ever wanted a break?”

You fold your arms across your chest and take a step away from him. “What’s in it for you?”

He grins. “The pleasure of your company.”

“What kind of company?” You ask, doubting him. You won’t lie and say the offer isn’t intriguing to you. You still have pride, definitely, but the weight of two jobs has really taken a toll on you lately. Plus, Doyeon said Xiaojun breezes through girls anyways. You could get a break from paying your rent for a few months and before you know it, he’ll move onto the next charity case he wants to help out.

There’s no harm in that, right?

Your thoughts are blown through the window, however, when his smirk grows wider. You’re sure there’s a large damp spot in your underwear right now.

“Whatever company you like, little one.”

You’re fucked.

—

You keep the relationship with Xiaojun quiet and under wraps. You know Doyeon would have many thoughts about your choice, and she would probably convince you to let her pay your bills instead of Xiaojun. You couldn’t place that burden on her shoulders.

Surprisingly, Xiaojun doesn’t ask for much. He swings by the ice cream parlor once a week, drops off a $1000 check, stays to chat for a little, and leaves. Seojeong doesn’t raise any questions, albeit you’ve seen her glance at the envelope you leave in the back room. You would’ve thought that Xiaojun is the type of guy who invites you over to his penthouse apartment to get to know him, but he’s been quite reserved. He never crosses the line with you, and his questioning stays on the topic of your classes and work. You continuously wonder how to captivate his attention and if the other girls before you failed to do so.

About a month into the deal, your patience wears thin. You’re not even really sure why you’re frustrated in the first place. Anyone would love a no strings attached deal like this, getting $1000 every week with barely any commitment. You quit your other job because you don’t need both paychecks now and you’ve been able to keep up on rent. However, a part of you expected to be close with Xiaojun in some way at this point, especially considering the way he was flirting with you when he first propositioned this.

You’re fully prepared to confront him on Friday night, the same day he usually drops off the check and chats with you for a bit. You practically throw yourself over the counter when he takes a step inside the shop, yelling over your shoulder to Seojeong that you’re taking your break.

Xiaojun laughs at your eagerness, allowing you to tug on his suit as you pull him outside.

“Someone’s excited today. Need the check that badly?”

You frown at the accusation and exhale. “No, as a matter of fact, the money you’ve given me so far could probably cover me for a year.”

“Then what’s with the frowny face?”

“There’s a catch here, Xiaojun, I know there is. You’ve been too nice,” you say, waving a finger at him.

He smirks. “Have I been? I told you, little one, all I need is your company. You’ve given that to me every week, haven’t you?”

You scoff. “Barely. We talk for a few minutes while I’m making orders for other customers and then you leave. I would hardly call that company.”

He gets even cockier, if that was humanly possible. Xiaojun has to know what he’s doing to you — the mystery of his true personality starting to make you curious.

Similar to your first meeting, he leans down until he’s a few inches from your face, eyebrow raised. “Didn’t mean to neglect you, little one. Did you want more from me?”

You shift awkwardly, tension building in your stomach from his words. He was clearly teasing you and his patience was stronger than you previously believed. He waited a month just to have you desperate like this, wanting something more than a few minutes of his time. You’re so wet at this point that you’re definitive Xiaojun knows.

To prove your point, his smirk grows wider. “What are you doing after your shift?”

“U-Um, I have some homework to finish-“

“Great, I’ll pick you up after work and you can finish it at my apartment.” He doesn’t give you any time to protest, moving closer to you, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. “Next time, little one, just tell me you need more attention. Daddy will gladly give it to you.”

—

You’re a nervous wreck when Xiaojun’s expensive Rolls-Royce pulls up to the curb after your shift has ended. His car looks terribly out of place on the streets of your dirty campus, but he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. You quickly get in and ask him to go before anyone can recognize you.

The ride to his apartment in the upper part of town is filled with silence, making you even more jittery. Xiaojun, on the other hand, is calm and collected with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the console. You try to swallow your nerves and reason with yourself.

This is just Xiaojun — son of a multimillionaire, heir to many respective companies within the city. This is just Xiaojun — the man who’s been giving you $1000 every week with no strings attached, the man who’s clouded your dreams for the past month on more than one occasion.

Unfortunately, you don’t have any more time to dwell on your thoughts when Xiaojun pulls up to the parking garage of his complex. The both of you exit the car and he hands the keys to one of the valet drivers. His fingers fall to the small of your back as he guides you inside.

You try to avoid the blatant stares from other residents. You’re still dressed in your work clothes, a simple t-shirt and pair of jeans, but you couldn’t look more like a fish out of water. Xiaojun doesn’t seem to mind, walking into the elevator and pressing the top floor button. You ride the elevator in silence, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head when you reach the penthouse.

The apartment is straight out of the movies. The decor is extravagant, and you’re afraid if you touch anything, you’ll have to pay a fine. Xiaojun leads you to the dining room, pulling out a chair for you, despite your confusion.

“You can finish your homework here. I’ll be in the study upstairs.”

“Wait wait wait,” you stop him, placing a hand on his chest. “You’re leaving?”

He grins. “Did you want me to stay?”

He was really going to make you beg for it. Your eyes narrow and you feel a burst of confidence run through you. You tilt your head up until you’re a few centimeters from his mouth.

“You said Daddy would give me more attention if I asked for it.”

He growls, eyes darkening. Before you know it, he has you pinned to the grand table, staring at you as if you’re his last meal. It’s your turn to smirk as his control snaps, fingers digging into your hips roughly.

“Think it’s fun to test me? The other girls before you were more behaved,” he hisses, eyes wandering to the valley of your breasts.

“But you don’t like that, do you? You like it when they disobey,” you murmur, pulling him closer to you. “You like giving them their punishment.”

Xiaojun’s lips are pressed to yours before you can even fully register what’s going on, his body locking you against the wood. You whimper, hands gripping his forearm to keep steady. It’s messy and frantic, and you can see all of the built up tension starting to show.

“What would Doyeon think of you whoring yourself out for money?” He snickers, making you feel small under his gaze. “I bet she would be so ashamed. Little one gave up her pride for a few thousand dollars?”

You whine. “It’s not like that.”

“But isn’t it?” He questions you, fingers unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. You wish you had worn a sexier pair of panties today but Xiaojun seems satisfied nonetheless, snapping the elastic against your skin. “Can’t wait to get a taste of this cunt. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it, little one?”

You probably look pathetic like this — half of your body sprawled across Xiaojun’s dining table, pants around your ankles, and a large wet spot ruining the fabric of your underwear. You pitifully nod in response to his question, eyes locked on the bulge straining against his expensive trousers. He chuckles when he follows your line of sight.

“Hungry?”

You fall into the role so easily. “Yes, Daddy.”

He directs you on your knees, the cold marble floor sending a shiver up your spine. You eagerly watch him unbuckle his belt and exposing his leaking cock for you. The tip is red and angry, demanding to be touched.

“Go ahead, little one. Make Daddy feel good.”

You wrap your mouth around the tip, nearly moaning at the taste of him. You haven’t been intimate with someone in so long and his cock has your mouth watering.

“Good girl,” he soothes, pushing his cock further down your throat. Tears immediately spring into your eyes when he ignores your gag reflex, hands gripping the back of your head as he guided you. “Shh, doing so well for me, little one.”

You allow him to fuck your mouth, trying to brush aside the tears falling down your face and saliva pooling at the sides of your mouth. It’s filthy and you love it — you haven’t been used like this in months and you never realized how much you missed it.

“Your mouth is so perfect, fuck,” he groans. “I’ll pay for anything you want if you stay on your knees like this, all pretty for me.”

You gasp when he lets you breathe, pulling his cock away. He chuckles at you, fingers returning to stroke himself as he watches you regain yourself. He tugs you back on your feet, overlooking your wobbly legs and pushing you into the living room. You’re about to question him on what he’s doing until he’s shoving you up against his glass window. You gaze downwards, seeing a plethora of people passing by on the street and cars honking to one another. It’s a view you only see in the movies, and you know Xiaojun’s eager to fuck you into the fantasy.

His fingers slide into your underwear, breath hot against your neck. “Look at all of them down there, little one. Bet they want to be just like you, fucked so good for everyone to see. Even better when I cum inside you, hm?”

You freeze. “D-Daddy,” you whisper frantically. “I’m not on the pill.”

He’s silent behind your figure before you feel him playing with your folds, your wetness coating his hand.

“Isn’t that nice? What do you think of getting knocked up, little one? This entire place could be yours, you would never have to step foot in that ice cream shop again. All the wealth you never imagined, you could spend all day in bed with me while I stuff you full. You would look so pretty on Daddy’s arm. I wonder how many times we could sneak away from the crowd so I could fuck my cock into you. Wouldn’t that be a dream?”

You gasp, growing wetter by the second. He easily slides a finger into your heat and all common sense is thrown out of the window.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you beg. “Please please please. I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

He laughs at your desperation, pushing another digit inside. “Even though you’re not on the pill? How filthy of you, little one.”

It’s sick. You barely know this man but all you want is his cum inside you. You can imagine the headlines now — Millionaire’s Son Gets Poor Girl Pregnant. But you want it. You want it so badly.

You hear the tearing of your panties but you couldn’t give a fuck what happens to them, pushing yourself further into him. He laughs again at you, tip lining up to your entrance.

“Beg for it.”

You cry. “Please, Daddy! I want it, I’ve been so good for you! I’ll let you cum inside me and everyone can watch. I want them to see who I belong to.”

“Fuck,” he growls at your submission. You nearly scream when he pushes into you, his girth bigger and thicker than you’ve ever taken before. On top of that, you haven’t had sex in months and the stretch is almost unbearable. Your head rolls back but Xiaojun grips your chin and forces you to look outside the window. “Look at all those people, little one. They’re about to get a nice show.”

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting into you like he wants to break you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls roughly, causing you to yelp at the pain. You’re past the point of coherent thinking, Xiaojun’s cock fucking you so good you can barely talk.

“Good, little one?”

“Mmf,” you gurgle, gasping at the force of his movements. You can feel him in your throat, and it’s as if he’s waited all these weeks just to spill his seed into you.

You tumble over the edge when he pinches your clit, whispering the dirtiest confessions into your ear. “Needy whore,” he laughed sinisterly. “Probably can’t go a day without my cock after this. Going to be begging me for it, wanting me all the time now. I can’t wait to take you everywhere and anywhere I please. I’ll buy you so many cute outfits, little one. So many skirts that make it easy for me to slide right inside and fuck you until you’re crying for me.”

You clench around his cock and fall over the edge, your wetness spilling down your thighs.

“Daddy,” you breathlessly hiss, body going limp in his arms.

“You came so much for me, little one. Your slutty cunt is so good for me, isn’t it?”

“Please, Daddy,” you plead. “Please, Daddy. I want to feel your cum.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, the sound of his balls repeatedly slapping against your pussy echoes around the room. “You wanna get pregnant? All baby wants is a big fat cock to stuff her full of cum, hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, not even caring how pitiful you look at this point. “Want it so badly.”

Your desperation snaps the cord inside of him and he spills every last drop into you. You whimper at the warm feeling, some of his cum starting to drip out and coat the inside of your thighs. You both attempt to catch your breaths, your legs feeling like jelly.

You’re about to move away from him until Xiaojun keeps you pinned to the window, stopping you from leaving.

“W-What are y-you doing?” You ask, still out of breath from the fucking you just received.

“I don’t think that was the one,” he muses, eyes locked on where you two are intertwined. He offers an experimental thrust that has you scrambling.

“No, no,” you sniffle, trying to move away from him again. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“I think you can,” he chuckles, enjoying the way your cunt wraps so nicely around his cock. “And you will. Haven’t gotten you pregnant yet, little one.”

You spend hours fucking like bunnies with Xiaojun taking you on almost every surface of his apartment. You don’t even care that you’re impregnated, allowing him to use you in any way he pleases while the sun falls under the skyline.

Your pride didn’t matter that much anyways.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Sugar, sugar

(genuinely hate coming up with titles lol)

this is just rowaelin being pining idiots, one of my fave tropes for day 11--delayed love confession

just a note, the lifestyle in this fic is more of a background note and doesnt really take centre stage in this fic. it’s one ive been tempted to write for a while tbh but didnt really get around to it until now

cw: very, very light smut (like barely non existent, but just in case), a lil bit of swearing

enjoy! :)

3k words (officially my longest fic, yay!)

Every thought in Aelin's mind was blank. She trudged through her apartment that she shared with Nehemia, absentmindedly kicking off her heels that Rowan purchased for her months ago. Then the light jacket she wore joined the shoes, the fabric was perfectly soft and perfect for the autumn chill.

It was yet another piece of item that Rowan purchased for her. A lot of the things she had know were thanks to Rowan, either from his own wallet or from the biweekly allowance he sent her—a generous allowance that was a thousand times better than her weekly paycheck from the bookstore she'd been working at since she turned twenty-two; her business degree had turned out to be useless and so she turned to the bookstore that had been her stable job for three years.

Aelin barely touched her weekly wage now, it was practically buried underneath the money the Rowan gave her.

Because Rowan Whitethorn, thirty-five and a successful CEO who was well known, was her sugar daddy. Had been now for fourteen months. But he was more than that, more than just a man that paid her to spend time with him. He respected her, was loyal to her, listened to her and responded with actual sentences instead of a word or two like other men she had dated. He was charming, didn't treat her like she was nothing but arm candy, and she knew him so well, as he knew her, and each fortnight she sometimes forgot their whole arrangement, but she was sharply reminded when she received the notification from her bank that the two and a half thousand dollars that Rowan sent her was now in her savings account.

When she agreed to their arrangement after several get-to-know you dates, Rowan had wanted to give her three and a half grand every week, and gods Aelin had been tempted because she had never had so much money in her life, but told him that it was far too much and negotiated.

Two and a half thousand was the lowest that Rowan was willing to go, and even though Aelin only knew him for two weeks at that point, she could tell that he would not budge, so she agreed to the amount.

The first time that money had landed in her account, Aelin had thought that maybe she had imagined the whole thing, but the money was a sharp reminder of what she know was—a sugar baby. Those words still didn't feel like they applied to her.

And he still spent money on her when they spent time together. Just last week he gifted her with diamond earrings in the shapes of roses with a necklace to match. She wore them tonight, not because he bought them for her but because she genuinely loved the pieces.

Needing something sweet—despite the fact she had only finished her chocolate hazelnut gelato twenty minutes ago—she dug through her fridge and found the brownies that Nehemia had baked the other day. She told herself that she would leave some for her long-time friend, but Aelin really doubted that would happen.

Aelin relished in the cold air of the fridge as she found the new can of whipped cream on the top shelf. The fridge was one of the first things she purchased with the money she was now being gifted with (and after that came a new washer and dryer, a dish-washing machine and television. Almost everything in her apartment was brand new now, the food were actual brands instead of the generic, tasteless shit. She had bras that fit her properly and were so damned comfortable that she forgot she was wearing them half the time).

The old fridge was a cheap hunk of junk that she and Nehemia purchased off Facebook marketplace for a hundred dollars, it barely kept things cold, but with expensive rent and bills and general life things, Nehemia and her couldn't afford anything better.

Which was how she ended up in this situation. Picking up more shifts barely gave them anything extra, because the economy right now in Terrasen was shit. Nehemia had made a joke about needing sugar daddies, and Aelin, knowing that Nehemia could never really do such a thing, had decided that maybe it was a good idea.

Nehemia had told Aelin that she was insane for pursuing such a thing, and that she had only been joking, but Aelin was not and that she could handle herself if things went wrong.

Nehemia had told her not to do anything, but Aelin was determined and started her search. It had taken a while to find a website that was genuine and didn't make her feel like she had to scrub her eyes out with bleach.

She created her page in private, because she not only was Nehemia against the idea, but so was Elide and Lysandra—she didn't dare tell Aedion what she was doing. Her cousin could be an overprotective pain in her ass at times, and Aelin was very well aware that if Aedion caught wind of what she was doing, he would have locked her up in her room without any type of device so she couldn't go forward with her plan.

She appreciated their concern, she did, but she was a consenting, tax-paying adult, and if she wanted to use her time to get paid spending time with a rich man, then Aelin was allowed to do exactly that.

It wasn't prostitution, she had looked it up, because it was the sugar babies that had the power and so that was how it went with her and Rowan.

Aelin didn't even have sex with Rowan until it was the sixth month anniversary of her and Rowan's...relationship (and gods, it was the best sex Aelin ever had. Rowan was a generous and completely unselfish lover).

He was the first one she came across on the site and almost drooled down herself when she saw his picture. Silver hair, pine-green eyes, a beautiful tattoo down the length of his left arm and tanned skin, he was stupidly attractive and only ten years old than her.

Aelin messaged him first only after being on the site for ten minutes, deciding that surely he was the best one and that she needn't bother to look at any other candidates.

They hit it off straight away, and after deciding on a restaurant to meet at, Aelin had informed Nehemia of the matter, which she was promptly met with question after question: why can't a thirty-four year old man find someone his own age? Is he one of those men that can't date a woman five minutes older than him because of some stupid made up reason? How do you know for certain that it's him in the picture? What if he's cat-fishing you? What if he's a freak, or a killer? What if he's just pretending to be rich to kidnap you? What if, what if, what if?

And so after a heated discussion, Nehemia had come along on her date-that-wasn't-really-a-date and sat a few tables away from her and Rowan, watching them—especially him—the entire time like a hawk.

Aelin had completely forgotten that her friend was there, so enraptured by Rowan and what he did and how he saw life.

It had been fourteen months of seeing Rowan and genuinely enjoying spending time with him and weeks ago, she realised that she wanted it to be something more. That she had come to care for him, not because of the money, but purely because it was Rowan and he made her feel seen and he wasn't afraid of her, because she had once been told by an ex that she could be too much and that he couldn't handle all her baggage.

Aelin wanted a life with him.

So Aelin told Rowan she loved him when he dropped her off tonight after their dinner and a movie date, telling him how she felt, and he had said thank you. He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and went home, leaving behind the pine-and-snow scent of him.

Aelin really wanted to find a hole to crawl into and die.

She was scarfing down her third brownie when Nehemia's bedroom door opened, her friend clad in an old matching pj set, her slippers shuffling across the tile.

“What happened? Are you okay?” her friend asked upon seeing Aelin's guttered look. Her dark brows furrowed. “Did that bastard hurt you? If he did, I'll—”

“He didn't do anything,” Aelin interrupted her friend. Taking the food, Aelin planted herself on the teal blue velvet sofa Rowan gave her for Yulemas last year, ignoring the scent of not just him, but of them both from when he came over after work just the other day with pizza and a DVD that she insisted that she watched because it was too good not to, when they forgot all about the movie as Rowan buried himself inside her, leaving hickeys all over her neck that she had to cover up with thick concealer.

Nehemia joined her on the couch, her friend momentarily forgetting for now that she had walked in on her and Rowan just moments after they finished, muttering under her breath in Eyllwe as she glared at them defiling the couch, and gave her a look that Aelin knew that Nehemia would listen to every word that came out from her.

And when Aelin was done recounting the story, all Nehemia could come up with was, “Oh.”

“Yes, 'oh,'. I've probably fucked up the whole thing. So don't be surprised if I call you on your lunch break tomorrow telling you he's broken things off.”

“Aelin, I don't think he will. I know that I'm not the biggest fan of your...situation—”

“I'm aware,” Aelin said, cutting her friend off. “You still won't let me buy you a new mattress, even though yours is hard as a brick and lumpy as hell. I've told you that you can pay me—”

“Aelin,” Nehemia said, “we're not talking about mattresses right now. As I was saying, I doubt he'll break things off because I've seen the way he looks at you. I still think he's too old for you, but he cares for you. You probably just caught him by surprise.”

“How does he look at me?” Aelin was observant, but sometimes when she was with Rowan, all her observation skills went out the window.

“Like he loves you,” Nehemia said, no hint of doubt in her voice.

Aelin sighed, her feelings slowly starting to crush her. “I guess I'll just have to take your word for it.”

Sighing once more, Aelin put the food back in the fridge, showered and went to bed, forgoing her usual night texting ritual with Rowan.

She really wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't concentrate, which wasn't a good thing, since his job dealt with having to concentrate all the time. But no matter what mind-focusing techniques he did, he couldn't stop thinking about Aelin.

Couldn't stop thinking about how she said she was in love with him. How her beautiful eyes had been sparkling when she said those words to him. And how the light in them dimmed when he said thank you and kissed her on the cheek, telling her that he would talk to her later. But he hadn't texted her, nor did she.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you. He really couldn't believe that was what he said. Felt like an utter fool and a bastard as he realised he probably crushed her heart. Aelin didn't like being vulnerable, and she had been when she said those words and he had gone and fucked it all up.

Rowan loved Aelin, he did, but he truly wasn't prepared for those words. He loved how on the weekends they would be up at one am, baking chocolate goodies, dancing in the quiet kitchen, humming quietly to Aelin's classical music playlist, with her wearing not the nightgowns that he loved, but one of his old hoodies.

He didn't think that he would get along with her so well once they met, thinking that their online interactions were nothing but a fluke. He was moments away from deleting the profile because he didn't actually create it, but Fenrys had, his friend grumbling that he needed a girlfriend, with Rowan arguing that creating a profile on a sugar daddy site was not dating but probably the opposite, when Aelin messaged him.

His life-long friend didn't listen, much to Rowan's annoyance—but he didn't grab his phone out of his friends hand; Rowan blamed it on the several whiskys he had downed by that point.

Aelin bewitched him on that first meet up. She was intelligent as hell and funny, and creative and beautiful. He was aware of why she was on the date with him, but he didn't care, just as long as he got to see her again.

Fourteen months later and Rowan was still bewitched. He wanted to be with her on a permanent basis, but wasn't completely sure how to take that step.

Clearly, Aelin had taken that step for them, and Rowan was the worlds biggest moron.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you.

Groaning, Rowan turned away from his computer and looked at the skyline, ignoring the buildings to instead watch the puffy clouds drift by.

Aelin loved watching the clouds, loved stargazing, loved questioning about the universe and what the skies held.

He never really paid any of that stuff attention, not until he met her.

Rowan didn't want to lose her, didn't want her to think that he was about to break up with her over this. He had to see her, so he grabbed his keys and wallet, told his secretary to hold his calls for the rest of the day, and went to visit Aelin.

X X X X X X

It had been an usually busy day for a Wednesday and Aelin was glad for her lunch break as she trudged up to the roof of the shopping centre. She wasn't really allowed up here, but she wanted some fresh air and to feel the sun against her skin as she sat down and dug into her lunch—fast food, unfortunately for her, because she was so frazzled from last night that she completely forgot about making a pack lunch.

Rowan hadn't called her, or texted her. Not even an email had been sent her way.

Aelin hated that she felt so damned mopey. She was an independent woman, but gods, even a good morning text would have been fine.

She finished her lunch, popping several mints into her mouth to get rid of the onion taste, when the roof door crashed open and a familiar hulking figure came into view.

He must have spoken to Elide to find her here.

Aelin's brow furrowed. “Rowan, what are you doing here?” Oh gods, surely he wasn't going to break up with her, she still had hours to go; there'd be no way she could work if she had tears in her eyes.

Taking her hands in his, Aelin stood up. She steeled herself against whatever he was going to say.

“I love you, Aelin. I'm in love with you, too,” Rowan said, his eyes soft and full of genuine love. Aelin's heart shot up into her throat. “I want a life with you. I want us to buy a home, one that has warmth and character, and a big garden. I want a dog. And kids too, if you want, I know that you've never mentioned it, but if you don't want any then that is completely fine. I want to support you in whatever endeavors you want to take, and if you ever want to go back to university, then I'll support you, or if you want to find a way to use your business degree, I'll help you with that, too. Whatever you want Aelin, I'll give it to you, as long as you're by my side, I'll be happy.”

Aelin was silent for so long that Rowan thought that maybe he shocked her into silence. But eventually, she smiled, one that was dazzling in its beauty that it took his breath away.

“You love me?”

“I do, Aelin, I love you.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Rowan groaned at the amusement in her tone, in her eyes. “You're never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She smirked. “Definitely not. It'll be a nice story to tell our children...one day. For now, I think we should contend with being proper significant others.”

Rowan nodded, smiling. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because I need to get back to work, since I'm no longer accepting your allowances. I won't deny the use of your credit card, but other than that, you are no longer my sugar daddy.”

It was Rowan's turned to smirk, and it was the one that made her core clench. “How about I be 'daddy' instead?”

Aelin snorted, even as she clenched around nothing again. Smacking his arm lightly, Aelin kissed him. “Only if you behave,” she said against his lips, “and now I really need to go back to work.”

Rowan walked her back, their fingers laced together, and as she turned to say goodbye, Aelin said, “I'll see you later, daddy.”

Rowan groaned, and it took everything in him not to take her hand and into his car to have his wicked way with her.

By the time he thought of a response, Aelin was already back to work, helping a customer with an impressive stack of books in her arms.

But she knew he was still there, because the way she swayed her hips to the counter was all for him, and when she saw him watching her, Aelin winked, making Rowan's heart flutter in his chest.

He really did love her. And he would live with her teasing him for the rest of his life, just as long as she was with him.

[cloudshapedpatch]

take my money (take my heart, too)

the awkward julie & luke sugar daddy/baby au no one asked for

rated teen and up for swearing and semi-mature themes such as the concept of a sugar daddy/baby arrangement

no smut! insane tooth-rotting fluff tho

slow burn juke

and disaster lesbians flarrie side plot and (eventual) willex

also a coffee shop au because i said so

read on ao3 (chapter 1 and tag list below the cut)

* * * *

Julie is nervous. No, nervous is an understatement. Her knees bounce uncontrollably under the table, shaky fingers twirling the straw in her iced coffee. And the knot in her stomach seems to grow ever tighter.

She pulls out her phone to check the time for the third time this minute. How is it still 10:57 am? Just as she is about to put her phone back in her pocket, it buzzes with an incoming text from her best friend/roommate, Flynn.

Flynn: calm down

Julie smiles despite herself, turning around to look at her friend a few tables away. Thank goodness for her friend, willing to throw away a morning to make sure she is safe and comfortable on her blind date. She shoots Flynn a small smile. Flynn, to their credit, is taking their job very seriously, wearing an absurdly large sunhat and sunglasses, sipping on a mug of hot tea with a decoy book under her nose.

Julie turns to anxiously watch the baristas, moving around the small space with ease, mixing drinks hot and cold alike. Twirling around each other without even looking. And she lets her mind wander.

How had she gotten here? Waiting for a man whom she had never spoken to, let alone seen? And she isn’t counting their text messaging. Not really. Not even if they had been talking for weeks. Not even if they regularly stayed up well into the night just to keep talking to the other. Not even if he had her blushing furiously, toes curling from giddiness and hiding under her sheets, smiling at the flirtatious speech bubbles on her phone for longer than she’d like to admit.

Because that doesn’t count. She has never heard his voice. She has never seen what he looked like. Anyone could be a charmer, and she is undoubtedly nervous about who she might find walking through the door and towards her.

How had she gotten here? It is a simple question, and one she has the answer to. Doesn’t mean she likes it. She had made an offhand comment to Flynn at work one day. Julie is sick of working 12 hour days in the cafe (not this one. she would be dumb to meet a stranger in her workplace) and barely scraping by. She had joked she needed someone to fund her shopping sprees.

Flynn had suggested a sugar daddy.

Julie wants to bang her head on the table. Past Julie is an idiot. And now Present Julie is going to pay the price.

Why had she let Flynn convince her to download that dumb app?

(Because she has a virtually useless college degree, bills to pay, and school loans creeping up on her and she is cutting back every month. Living in L.A. isn’t cheap.

And, if she really lets herself think about it, Julie is lonely.)

She checks her phone again, pleased to find it is finally 11 am. He should be here any minute. Luke should be here any minute.

Is it a red flag that he had only been willing to share his first name? Should it have concerned her that he didn’t have a profile picture on his online dating account? Is she dumb for letting him change the subject every time she asked about his job? Solid ‘maybe’s to all of those, but! After they had started talking, they had instantly clicked. He loves music almost as much as she did, maybe even more. They bonded over that, and many other things.

This is fine.

She straightens her posture, glancing down at her dress to make sure all is in order. It’s baby blue with golden sunflowers all over, and she had slipped a cropped denim jacket on top, the one with patches of all her favorite bands. She fusses with the loose curls hanging by her face, her hair pulled into a half bun at the top of her head, leaving a clear view of her sunflower earrings. It’s the perfect outfit to be noticed in, she had told him she’d be wearing blue and sunflowers, certainly he wouldn’t miss her.

Whenever he decided to show up.

Wait. he would show up, wouldn’t he?

Of course he would.

...Right?

Before she can get too far down that rabbit hole, the chime above the door is jingling, and Julie has to fight hard not to turn and see who it is. The anticipation crawls up her spine and settles in her neck, jaw tingling.

A man comes in, approaching the counter with confidence in his step. One barista takes one look at him and gapes like a fish, turning to a coworker to nonchalantly point at him. Both girls look at each other and quietly squeal, letting one of the male cashiers help him.

Must be attractive, she thinks, and she isn’t disappointed by what she can see from the back. His sleeves are short, showing off his muscular arms and he’s tall. She’s always liked tall men.

Supposedly handsome stranger orders his drink and waits at the counter for it. One of the girls hands it to him with a gleeful smile. He accepts, then says something to her before the girl’s smile falters and points right at Julie.

Wait, she’s pointing at Julie?

Definitely handsome stranger follows her finger and lands on Julie, eyes scanning up and down her body (at least, what he can see from above the table), his face instantly lighting up in the most gorgeous smile she’s ever seen.

And then he’s turning back to say thank you and then making his way towards her and oh no what what what--

Because this isn’t her date. It can’t be, right? But Luke Patterson is stepping up to her booth, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Hey, you’re Julie, right?” His voice, sweet and thick as honey, and Julie would know that voice anywhere.

“Luke Patterson? You… you didn’t say--” She cuts herself off before she can say something foolish.

Because there is no way in hell she’d unknowingly put up her sugar baby services to Luke fucking Patterson. Not rockstar Luke Patterson. Not lead guitarist and singer and songwriter for her favorite band, Sunset Curve. Not literally in the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame Luke Patterson.

“Yeah, about that… I am really sorry about not telling you. It’s just not something I like mentioning to everyone I meet, you know?”

She’s having a hard time processing what he’s saying. He’s so close. Why is he leaning on the table like that? Why is he so close?

“Yeah! Yeah, totally. That’s understandable.” She laughs nervously, taking a sip of her coffee to avoid speaking any further.

“This… this is okay, right? You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” This clears her mind a bit. She takes in the way his hands fiddle with the rings on his fingers, his shoulders raised, and while his smile is easygoing, his eyes say otherwise. Why would she be mad?

She expresses this to him, and he just looks at his hands.

“Well, because I wasn’t completely truthful with you. And I totally understand if you want to walk away.”

“No!” She says before she can filter herself. His eyebrows raise in amusement. “I mean, it’s fine! I was just… surprised, that’s all.”

And surprised is correct. Luke Patterson is the same Luke she’s been talking to for the last three weeks, the very same one who’s been making her laugh and who’d almost made her miss work last week because they had texted about everything and nothing until the sun came up.

He seems to like her answer. His smile never leaves his face.

“You seemed to recognize me. You a fan of Sunset Curve’s?”

And maybe it’s the way his cocky smile burns her cheeks, or just the fact that he’s talking to her. Panic sets in and she lies.

“Never heard of Sunset Swerve.”

“You knew my name.”

“You know it’s a household name, right?”

“Your jacket says otherwise.”

And shit. She had forgotten about the Sunset Curve patch right over her heart. In fact, it was the first patch she had put on the jacket. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Fine. You caught me. I’m a Curver. Happy?”

And though she’s teasing, he couldn’t seem to be happier. Seriously, she’s worried his dopey grin is gonna break his face. Then an ugly, ugly thought rears its head in her mind.

“Wait. You let me gush about Sunset Curve so many times and you didn’t say anything?” Her sentence ends in a laugh.

“Oh, Julie, I wanted to so bad. You have no idea!”

Julie finds herself not really registering the second half of his sentence. She had missed it, the first time he said her name due to being starstruck, and her face warms a bit when she recalls just how good her name had sounded when he said it. Like a splash of cool water on a hot day. Like sap dripping fresh from a tree, glinting in the sunlight.

“Then why didn’t you?”

He sobers a bit at this, though his eyes still hold the same fire as before. “Well, I didn’t really want to go around announcing that. Can you imagine how many matches I’d get if I put that little tidbit in my bio?”

Julie laughs at this, the absurdity of it hitting her. Of course. He’d want someone who’d like him for him, not for his status, or name, or fame or money.

Oh. Shit. She was literally here for his money.

“For sure! Must’ve been hard.”

“Oh, not really. I matched with you on day one and deleted the app once we exchanged phone numbers.”

“Really?” Julie felt a little guilty for still having the app on her phone now, even after she was pretty sure Luke was a good match. There was still the possibility that mystery man was a total creep. If she’d have known who he was, on the other hand…

“Totally! I’ll be honest, my bandmates put me up to this, but once we started talking I just knew I had to meet you.”

Julie’s mind still feels a bit foggy, like she was dreaming. A fantastic dream, might she add.

“I’ve been really excited to meet you too. My best friend also convinced me to get the app. She’s actually over there.” Julie smiled, nudging her head over towards her friend, where they were certainly trying their best to eavesdrop.

“Brought a plus one, I see?” Luke chuckled, giving Flynn a wave. Flynn hid her already shielded eyes from view with her book.

“Hey, you gotta remember I was meeting someone whom I had never seen before, and the fact that I didn’t know your last name was not helping.”

Luke’s smile turned bashful again. “Ah. She’s backup.”

“Yep! But I think they’re good to go.” Julie whipped out her phone and sent Flynn a quick message, relieving her of her duties.

“You sure? I might kidnap you.”

“I’d let you kidnap me.”

Oh god. She so did not say that.

He seemed to think it was funny. At least she was amusing. At her own expense, maybe, but amusing nonetheless.

Amusing to Luke Patterson.

If she doesn’t stop saying his last name, she’ll go insane. This is just the dorky guy she’s been talking to. The one she’ll hopefully get to talk to tomorrow.

Despite the rocky start, Julie would say it was a successful date. Coffee turned into lunch at a nearby bistro, and he walked Julie to her car a few blocks away. She didn’t get to her apartment until after 4 o’clock, and Flynn was waiting with two glasses of wine in their shared living room. Julie is eager to spill all the details, and Flynn is the perfect listener, oohing and ahhing at all the right moments.

As Julie crawls into bed after her eventful day, her phone dings on her nightstand.

PayPal: Luke Patterson sent you $500.00  “I had a great time today :) hope to see you again soon!”

Well. If she had calmed down any, this just undid all of her efforts. A wave of guilt floods over her. The concept of a sugar daddy sort of seemed too outlandish to really fathom. But now she feels awful taking his money.

She’s really doing this, isn’t she?

Julie: you really didn’t have to

Luke: but i wanted to

Luke: it’s ok tho right?

Julie: i guess it’s fine, it’s just a lot of money

Luke: i realise how conceited this is going to sound but its no sweat off my back. just think of it as a gift

Gifts. She could live with that.

* * * *

taglist! @ladyblanche :)

[ohh-baekhyun]

Sugar | 01

summary: getting into a performing arts college isn’t cheap. In desperate need of money, you sign yourself up on a dating site called Sugar. There, you match with a wealthy and handsome man named Mr Byun. 

genre: softdom!baek, sugardaddy!au, collegeprofessor!au.

ONE - Mr Byun

“Hi dear, I’d love to have you as my sugar baby. Reply if interested.”

“What are the terms?”

“Can we meet up tonight? We can discuss the terms over dinner. Daddy will compensate you for your time too ;)”

You scrunched your nose in disgust. This man was still a stranger to you and he was already calling himself your daddy? Such a turn off.

Leaning back on the bed, you released a huff of breath. For the past few days you’d been talking to the men you encountered through a dating app called Sugar. It’s a place where you find wealthy men who offered financial support in exchange for companionship and sometimes, relationship, be it sexual or romantic. You badly needed the money to pay for your bills. Getting into a performing arts college wasn’t cheap, and you knew you were in no place to be selective, but none of this man attracted you like Mr Byun did.

You knew Mr Byun through the same dating site. He had yet to disclose his full name, but you saw from his profile that he was ten years your senior. On your first meeting, he had to cut the date short to attend to an urgent matter. That was the last time you saw him. Even though he said he’d keep in touch, you hadn’t received a text or call from him at all. To say you were disappointed was an understatement, because you were so wildly infatuated with him, he was all you could think about. Apart from that, it was rare to find a sugar daddy who’s both rich and good-looking like Mr Byun. Most of the men you talked to were too old for your liking, and you would never want to sleep with them. But Mr Byun, God...you may only be eighteen and have just a little experience with men, but with all the naughty things you fantasized him doing to you, you might as well be a slut.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone vibrated in your grasp. You lifted it up to your eye level.

Hi, I’m back in town. Are you free to meet up?

You bolted upright in bed, staring down at the text you couldn’t believe you received. A smile formed, and your heart rate sped up in excitement. Hastily, you unlocked your phone and tapped on the message bar that led you to the chat room. You stared at the text for a moment before started typing ‘Hi Mr Byun, yes I’m free! Where should we meet?’ so rapidly that you had to pause to remind yourself to not sound too desperate.Shaking your head, you deleted the text you had written and replaced them with, Hi Mr Byun, yes, I have the day off.

Your stomach did a little flip when you sent the message, and the flip intensified when you saw that Mr Byun was typing his reply. His text arrived half a minute later.

Mr Byun : Are you home?

You: Yes :)

Mr Byun : Forward me your address, I’ll meet you there.

After sending him your address, you got off the bed to change into something more presentable. You didn’t own a wardrobe, so your clothes were kept inside a suitcase under your bed. You knelt down to pull it out, then you started choosing. There weren’t many options to choose from anyway. At last, you settled with a strapless, white summer dress you got from Zaraon a 75% sale. It was casual enough to be worn at home.

Once you were dressed, you shove the suitcase back to where it belonged and took a glance around your studio apartment. Everything was in place but the room was cramped. You sighed, feeling somewhat embarrassed of your abode. You weren’t even sure if this was considered an apartment. There was only enough space for one bed, a study desk that you used to do your homework and eat, and a small bathroom. ‘He’ll understand’ you thought. Afterall, you wouldn’t be looking for a sugar daddy if you could afford a nice place to stay.

The wait for Mr Byun to arrive felt like forever. You sat on the edge of your bed, your fingertips fiddling with each other on your thighs. You were both impatient and nervous. Mr Byun wasn’t a scary person, but something about his presence made you want to bow down to him like you’re his servant. You wondered what he did for a living, a CEO maybe? From the way he carried himself, he seemed like a person of high authority and influence.

The ringing of the bells startled you. You stood before the mirror and did a quick check on your appearance before answering the door. Taking a deep breath, you unlocked and opened it. The man who stood at the door glanced up from his phone, eyes locking with yours. In that instant you heart rate quickened. He wore a black semi fitted t-shirt that accentuated the broadness of his chest, and a pair of dark jeans that hugged his legs perfectly. You noticed he had gotten a haircut too. The last time you saw him, his fringe was down and he looked much younger than his age. Today, there was a slight parting on the front portion of his hair that made him look more mature, more handsome than he already was.

“Hi, Mr Byun.” you say with a small smile.

“You look pretty.” He praised, his lips tipping up slightly when he detected the blush spreading across your cheek. “Can I come in?” He asked, shoving his phone to the pocket of his jeans.

You nodded, stepping aside to leave some space for him to enter. As he walked through the threshold, you got a whiff of his earthy smelling cologne. You didn’t understand how someone’s scent could turn you, it just did.

The door closed and you stood behind Mr Byun as he assessed your room. He turned around and you were grateful he didn’t make any comment. Instead, he handed you a brown carrier that you didn’t know he was holding because you were too busy ogling.

“What’s this?” You asked, taking the gift from him.

“Chocolate.”

You examined the carrier. There’s a Pierre Marcolini Brussels written in cursive. You had never heard of the brand before, but it sure sounded expensive. “Thank you.” you look at him with a smile. “Did you visit Belgium?”

“No, I just got back from Paris,” Mr Byun said. He casually shoved his hands into his jeans pocket as he glanced around your room and say, “They have a few branches there. It’s my personal favorite.” His eyes drifted to you again. “Try it.”

“Okay.” you took a seat on the side of your bed and Mr Byun lowered himself beside you. He was sitting in such a close proximity that you could feel the heat his body radiated. “I haven’t had chocolate in a while,” you attempted a small talk while fishing the box out the bag. You’ve never seen chocolates packed in such a luxurious box like this. Inside laid an array of bite-sized chocolates in different shapes. You glanced at Mr Byun. “Which one should I try first?”

Mr Byun stared down at the box and considered. He finally picked a heart-shaped one. “I think you’ll like this one.” you were a little clueless when he held the sweets up to your lips. “Open up,” he orders gently. You stared at the chocolate he held in between his fingers and gulped. Tentatively, you parted your lips and took the sweets into your mouth.

“Like it?” Mr Byun asked. You gave him a slightly enthusiastic nod as you chewed. He continued to watch your lips moved. “How old are you, sweetie?”

You were taken aback by his question and your mind started to whirl in panic. If he found out how old you were, would he still agree to be your sugar daddy? It wasn’t easy to find someone like Mr Byun on Sugar. Most of them were too old and the first thing they asked for was sex. Mr Byun was different. He was a rare find and you wanted him as much as you needed his financial support.

“I-I’m twenty.” your heavy heart was beating so fast because of the lie you’d just told. Not wanting Mr Byun to notice, you dropped your gaze to the chocolate box on your lap. You occupied yourself by closing the lid and turning away to set the box on the empty space next to you. You took a deep breath before looking at Mr Byun again.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to catch your bluff. “Have you had a sugar daddy before?”

You shook your head. Despite the unease gurgling inside of you, you managed to keep your voice steady. “What about you, Mr Byun? Have you had a sugar baby before?”

“Not a sugar baby, but I had a few subs before.”

“I see.” you hum, tilting your head slightly. “Do you want me to be your sub?”

“Preferably,” he says. “But only if you’re comfortable with the things involved in the relationship.”

For a short moment, you considered. You’d chanced upon an article about the Dominant/submissive relationship before. You were intrigued, but you’d never experienced it first hand. “I don’t think I understand entirely what it means to be a sub. Will you enlighten me, Mr Byun?”

“There’s no one way to explain it. It can mean different things to different people. But what it means to me is that I want you to belong to me. Every inch of your body–“ his speech slowed down to a halt as he slid his gaze over your body. Your breathing slowed when he looked into your eyes again. “Mine to discipline, mine to pleasure, mine to care for. You will submit to me and trust me to dominate you the way I need to. But, everything I do will be consensual. And you have the power to control when it stops.”

At his last sentence, you gave him a questioning stare. “Aren’t you the one who has power over me? since you’re my dom?”

“That’s not entirely true.” he disagreed. “As a dom, yes, I have a need to be in control and to test your limits. But only if you give me your absolute trust to do so. Meaning, I only have as much control as you let me have. You are the one who set the limits and decide when it stops. That’s why having a safe word is important. Because the moment you say it, I’ll stop. I won’t force you beyond what you can handle.”

You parted your lips in an ah and gave a small nod in understanding.

“Are you up for it?” Mr Byun asked.

“I...uh–“ you hesitated. He stared at you with raised brow. “Will I be your only sub?” You asked, biting your lip shyly. “Or do I have to share with other girls?”

His gaze descended to your lips. A smile formed and he whispered a small cute before looking into your eyes again. “We’re exclusive, sweetie.” He said in a gentle tone. You smiled, liking the way he spoke to you. “Anymore question?” He asked.

You nodded. “How do you like me to address you?" you asked. "Sir? master? daddy? or just Mr Byun?”

The side of his lips tugged upward. “I’m not strict on that. Anything would be fine by me. Which one do you feel comfortable using?”

“I–I think I prefer addressing you Mr Byun,” You muttered in a small voice. “Is that okay?”

“That’s alright,” He approves. “What about you?” His hand was now making its way to your face, and it is making you breathless when he trailed the back of his hand along the curve of your jawline. “What would you like me to call you?”

The sudden skin contact made you nervous, but the gentleness of his touch was calming at the same time.

“I’ll let you choose,” You said.

There was a short silence where he stared at you, possibly considering the right choice. “Sweetheart, or princess,” He eventually voiced the word in a low whisper, his lips forming a smile. “They both suit you well–“ his eyes roamed your face, half-studying, half-admiring. “–you’re very beautiful.”

Heat bloomed across your cheek and you had to cast your eyes down because of your sudden shyness. Laughable, honestly. You’d heard the same compliment so often to the extent that it meant nothing, but why did it feel heart-fluttering when Mr Byun said it?

“Thank you,” you mumbled, brushing back a strand of hair that fell over your cheek. “You’re very handsome too.”

“Look at me when you speak, princess.” He said, and though his tone was nowhere near annoyed, it was enough to make you snapped your head up in alert. Mr Byun pinned you under his steady gaze. He slid his forefinger underneath your chin, tipping your head up just a little. “Another thing,” he taps your chin with his thumb. “Do not mumble.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, puckering your lips apologetically.

“It’s okay.” He stroked your chin gently. “But the next time it happens, I might have to punish you.”

You raised a curious brow at him. “With spanking?”

“Yes, that’s one way.” He retracted his hand from your face and casually crossed his arms over his chest. “But if you’re too naughty, the punishment will be more severe. And it can be either physical or non-physical.”

“What kind of non-physical punishment?”

“Silent treatment, no cuddling, and sometimes, I won’t allow you to talk for a set amount of time.”

“Oh that’s bad.” Your expression wrinkled. “What’s the worst kind of punishment?”

He paused to ponder. “Multiple orgasms.”

“Orgasms huh?” the corner of your lip lifted. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Mr Byun gave a huff through a smirk. “Wait til’ you experience it, princess.”

Your smile grew cheeky. “I can’t wait.”

He let go another huff through his nose, shaking his head mildly. Tearing his gaze off you, he took a glance around your room. “Do you like staying here?”

“It is small, but I’m used to it,” you tell him. “Beside, I can’t afford a bigger room at the moment.”

He turned to you. “I own a spare apartment near my workplace. It would be easier for us to meet if you stay there.”

You didn’t say yes to the offer but hesitated. “How long is this arrangement going to last, Mr Byun?”

Mr Byun gave an insouciant shrug. “As long as we want it to be.”

“So…no strings attached? You’re just paying me to sleep with you?”

His brows dipped in a frown. “Princess,” he said in a slow, chasitising tone. “I’m not going to fuck you everytime we meet. This isn’t just about sex. Sometimes we can just talk and enjoy each others company.”

“And cuddle?” You asked, gazing up at him with hope in your eyes. “I love cuddles.” you added softly.

His lips curved up. “Yes, princess...cuddle, movies, whatever we feel like doing.”

Even though you were pleased with his answer, you were also confused. The things he described sounded like what a couple normally did. “Mr Byun?” You have to think twice before asking the next question because you didn’t want to creep him out. “What if one of us catches feelings?”

Mr Byun gave you a long stare and you started to worry if you’d asked the wrong question. You were going to tell him to ignore your question but he had opened his mouth. “Then the deal is off,” He said firmly, leaving no room for questions. “It’ll only complicate our arrangement and I’m not looking for a serious relationship.”

Part of you was disappointed, but the other part of you were glad you asked because now you knew you had to keep your feelings on guard. Afterall, teenagers like you had a way of falling fast and carelessly in love.

“You can keep this apartment,” Mr Byun’s suggestion stopped your ongoing thoughts. You refocused your eyes on him. He was standing up now. “I’ll pay the bills. But you don’t have to stay here for the time being.” He pushed his sleeve back and gave his Rolex a glance. “I have to go now.”

You lift yourself up to your feet, looking at Mr Byun with a sadness in your eyes you couldn’t mask. Do you have to wait long to see him again? Will he come back? What if he changed his mind and ghosted you at the end?

Mr Byun studied your face with a knit between his brows. He seemed to have noticed your disappointment. Stepping forward, he slid an arm around your waist and pulled you to him, chest to chest. His eyes bored into yours and his lips hovered just inches away from yours. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” He whispered, eyeing your lips intently now. “Give me a kiss, princess.”

Your heart palpitated at his sudden request. Your gaze flickered between his eyes and his soft lips. Swallowing your nervousness, you tipped your chin up to press your lips to his lips in a short kiss. You broke the contact and move your face inches away from his. You’re blushing deeply.

Mr Byun smirked at your shyness, his dark eyes latching onto yours. “So fucking beautiful.” He rasped and in your next breath, he was already pounding his lips onto yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, he was aggressive, relentless. Your felt your legs quivered and you made a fist on his shirt to hold on. When he let go, his warm breath puffed over your lips, sending shivers all over your body. He gazed down at you, lifting a hand to sweep his thumb the seam of your lips. “Good night, princess.”

You inhaled shakily and managed a smile. “Good night.” you said breathily.

Soon Mr Byun’s hands were no longer holding onto you, and you inwardly whined at the loss of warmth. He made it to the door and you stayed behind him, watching his back. “Mr Byun?” you called out as he was about to hold the door handle. His hand halted mid air and he brought his head around, raising his eyebrows at you. “May I know your full name?”

“I'm Byun Baekhyun.”

[writing-gifts]

holding on

(platonic bruno x gn!reader)

A/N: This was supposed to be a sugar daddy fic but went the complete opposite direction and now its just the struggle of making friends with a mafioso without realizing he’s a mafioso

the best way i can summarize this is: bruno: i can have a civilian friend….as a treat reader: i am lonely and oblivious

-------

Bruno had come into your life by chance.

You had been rushing to class. And as you hastened your steps, you struggled to shove your almost forgotten notes into your bag.

You were so nervous and shaken from waking up late that your fingers trembled and your papers went scattering across the sidewalk. You immediately knelt down to grab your papers, snatching them up before they got blown away by the wind.

You were so focused on your task that you didn’t notice that you were being helped until a neatly collected stack of papers appeared in front of your face in Bruno's hand--however at the time he was just a stranger to you.

You stood up and quickly thanked the man in a flustered state, babbling about who knows what. In a hurry, you grabbed the papers and placed them in a folder then into your bag.

He probably asked you something but you were barely paying attention, distracted by the time on your watch. The last thing you said to him was a hurried ‘yea bye!’ before quickly continuing on your way.

The next time you met him was at a random park. You had decided to take a different route back home from university for a change of scenery and ended up in a park.

While sitting down and watching the various people passing by, you immediately recognized him. The man who helped you that day.

Without thinking you called out to him, referring to him as sir since you didn't know his name. Thankfully, he didn't seem annoyed by this.

You used this chance to thank him properly since you barely did before. And for some reason he wanted to stay and moved to sit down next to you on the bench.

You properly introduced yourselves and made small talk about random things. He also asked you a decent amount of questions about yourself, which kind of surprised you, but then you remembered this was how people socialized.

You wind up telling him about how you recently moved away from home to go to college here, what you were studying, and how you worked part time at a cafe.

You tried to ask him some things too but he was pretty vague, not giving enough information for you to piece together much.

From then on you ran into Bruno more and more often. It made you wonder if you had passed by him unknowingly before you actually met him.

Soon the two of you become friends. You found yourself spending a good chunk of the time you spent outside your home with him.

Bruno fed you a lot. When he took you out for the first time and tried to pay the whole bill, you practically had to beg him to let you pay half, but every other time after was a lost cause.

Bruno didn't seem to have any issues paying every bill and seemed well off from whatever work he did.

However, when he had tried to randomly help you with some of your school expenses you had to put your foot down. You only knew him for a couple months by then so you just couldn't accept it. Anyways you were doing okay...kind of.

You assured him that you were fine.

When he wasn't fretting over you, you really enjoyed spending time with him. And as you got closer you realized that Bruno was kind of weird, but it was endearing though.

He had a terrible sense of personal space, a strange sense of humor, and a ridiculous amount of knowledge on fish.

He would also say strange things with the straightest face. You really couldn't help playfully teasing him sometimes because of it.

Something else not as fun that you realized about Bruno was that even though he didn't really show it on his face, he could be quite paranoid at times. He wouldn't let you walk home alone when it was too late, which was fair. Naples wasn't exactly the safest place.

But one time he made you stay overnight even though it wasn't dark outside yet. You went along with it because a sleepover sounded fun but then he tried to have you stay again. You had declined but offered to have him stay over at your home one day, but he reacted strangely and said no.

And sometimes you'd catch him looking at nothing in particular with a stern conflicted expression, at least that's what you thought it was.

Other than those moments, Bruno gave off the calm and collected aura of someone who had his shit together. He seemed responsible and reliable. So of course it was no surprise that he'd usually returned a missed call or text right away, but some days he wouldn't reply for days at a time and it made you nervous. You'd overthink and wonder if he was upset with you.

One time he didn't respond to any of your messages for two weeks straight. Text after text unread and every call sent straight to voicemail. And when you finally mustered up the courage to visit his home no one answered.

As you were mulling over getting the police involved, he suddenly appeared at your doorstep, with your favorite dessert, as if nothing happened.

And even though you cried and lost sleep over the temporary disappearance of your first and only friend in Naples, you decided not to pry then. You were just really happy to see him again.

But abnormal things like this constantly happening made you suspicious of what he was up to.

Eventually you couldn't stop yourself and tried to find out anything, but whenever you asked he would simply tell you that you didn't need to worry about it.

It made you sad when he did that.

If he was in trouble you wanted to help. He was always there for you so you wanted him to let you support him too.

When you finally admitted this to Bruno, he looked the most vulnerable you'd ever seen him but it was so faint and momentary you would have messed it if you blinked.

Hiding behind that stoic expression you were starting to get frustrated with, he told you that he appreciated your concerns but they were apparently unnecessary. So you decided it was best to go home to calm down and try to move past it.

After that, sometimes when you both were alone together, he would look at you much more intensely than he usually did. But whenever you asked what was wrong, he'd just shake his head like he changed his mind. And as infuriating as it became you didn’t push.

But fortunately for you, the truth came out anyways.

It was only a matter of time anyways so why'd he keep something like this from you for so long? Logically, it didn’t make sense and you were realizing that your friend might be more reckless than you thought.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" you ask.

It had been a week since you last talked and you decided it was time to confront him.

"I didn't want you involved at all in that part of my life," he pauses, "and I didn't want you to hate me."

You frowned, you should have come here sooner. "I don't hate you, I was just trying to process. I mean...seeing your friend beat the crap out of someone in an alleyway, and then finding out he's involved in the mafia right after is shocking! But not knowing was probably more dangerous..."

Bruno avoids your eyes. "I know."

You sigh and grab his hand. "I'm not going anywhere though."

You begin to squeeze his hand between the two of yours, trying to find something to keep your own hands busy.

"I was mad, I’m still mad, but I understand why you wouldn't want me to know…." you trail off and silence settles between the two of you.

You begin to play with Bruno's fingers unsure of what to say next.

"I wanted to tell you eventually, I just couldn't figure out how," Bruno finally says.

That did make you feel a little better. "This is really dangerous...but I still want to be friends with you.” You laugh a little, “If I told my past self that they’d willingly stay friends with a mafia member...they’d be so pissed.”

Bruno fingers slightly twitch in your grip. You quickly change the subject, internally sighing from your poor joke.

“No more crazy secrets okay?"

Bruno finally looks at you, and you see a bit of conflict in his blue eyes but he nods. "Okay..."

You hold your arms open, and Bruno leans forward and presses his body against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck and push your cheek against his.

The two of you stay like that for a while.

Bruno breaks the silence again. "You smell nice, cara."

You snort. "Thanks Bruno."

[eyebrowluv]

Tall Blonde with One Sugar 3/?

“Yes, I guess so,” Levi deadpanned, entering the apartment. “Damn, it’s fucking cold in here.”

“He has the thermostat turned way down,” Hange answered. “Probably couldn’t afford the heating bill.”

“Erwin?” Levi called again.

“Oh lookie, I’ve got guests!” Erwin giggled as he stumbled through the dimly lit apartment, clearly drunk. “I would offer you a beef, no beber-, no, shit, a drink! I would offer you a drink, but I just ran out.”

“I believe you have bigger problems. I think you’ve been robbed,” Levi claimed looking around the nearly-empty apartment.

“What? Really? Oh shit!” Erwin drunkenly stumbled down the hall to his bedroom, Hange and Levi following closely behind. “What did they take? I don’t notice anything mis-mis-, I mean gone. There’s nothing gone. Except my drink. It’s all gone. I drank it all.”

“You drank it all?” Levi asked cautiously as he picked up the empty fifth of Wild Turkey.

“What I didn’t spill. See, I spilled some of it over there. I was going to get a towel when you came to visit.”

“Thank fuck,” Levi murmured as he looked at the puddle in the floor.

“I’ll get it,” Hange announced as they rushed from the room to get the towel.

“You need to sit down before you fall down. I’m not picking up your giant, drunk ass if you pass out.” Levi grabbed Erwin by the shoulders and eased him down to his futon pad as Hange returned with a towel.

“Oh, hi Hange. You don’t have to do that, I’ll get it.”

“Erwin, you’re drunk,” Hange reminded.

“Yup,” Erwin said, popping the P loudly before dissolving into a fit of giggles. “I haven’t been drunk since undergrad. Damn, I’m boring.”

“You’re not boring, just focused,” Hange said gently with a smile.

“Fuckus, fickedis, dammit, focused? Why? What the hell do I need to be focused for? It’s never gonna matter anyway.”

“What the hell are you rambling about,” Levi snapped.

“This. That’s just the beginning.” Erwin held out a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Levi took it from him and cautiously smoothed it out. It was an eviction notice.

“Erwin, why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t make rent?” Hange asked.

“I’m not your responsibility, Hange. I missed my interview at the fish market, and funerals are expensive. My job at the library is only part time and minimum wage. My savings is wiped out. I’m going back to Karanes.” Erwin laid down and curled up into the fetal position.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Levi remarked.

“His father died last week.”

“Ah.”

“You want to hear something really fucked up,” Erwin sniffled. “Nursing homes put liens on houses. My dad’s insurance didn’t cover but the first two months. Two months! He was there for almost two fucking years!”

“Erwin, what are you saying?”

“I’m homeless, Hange,” Erwin said, sounding a little more sober. “I have to be out of this apartment in two weeks. The nursing home is going to auction off my dad’s house to recoup their costs. So, I’m going back to Karanes. I already talked to Mr. Reeves. He said I can work at the hardware store, but it’s only part time until Christmas. He worked out a deal with the owner of the Econo Motel, and I don’t have to pay them until I get my first paycheck.”

“Erwin, no. You can’t. That place is disgusting.”

“It’s better than living on the street.”

“You can move in with Moblit and I. Finish school.”

“I can’t afford it, Hange. Even with your help.” There was an audible catch in his breath. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. You’ll see, Hange.”

“But, Erwin-“

“Listen, I have to go to work, and he doesn’t need to be alone right now,” Levi whispered.

“I’ll stay with him.”

“Good.” Levi stood time leave. “He’s not going to listen to reason right now. Let him rest. He will think more rationally in the morning.”

“Okay. Thanks, Levi.”

Levi nodded at Hange before taking the time to study the beautiful younger man laying in a heap of drunken misery. If there was only something he could do…

——

It haunted him all through his shift. He needed to help Erwin, but how? He was coming out of an emergency surgery with an idea so outrageous, so impossible that he wondered if sleep deprivation had finally caused him to lose his mind. So he did the only thing he could think of, he made a phone call.

“Hello?”

“Mike?”

“Levi? What the hell? Do you have any idea what time it is?” Levi looked at his watch.

“Sorry, I just got out of emergency surgery. But since you’re awake…”

“That’s debatable, and entirely your fault.”

“I have a question.” Levi held the phone tighter to his ear.

“Okay, fine,” Mike huffed.

“How does one become a sugar daddy?”

“Levi, what the fuck? Have you lost your mind? I don’t think I’m awake enough for this conversation. In what reality are you even Sugar Daddy material?”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are, but have you thought this through? I mean, I know it’s been a minute since you got laid, but resulting to paying for sex…”

“It’s not about sex, Mike. I just want to help him out. You know, Erwin. He really needs someone. I’m in a position to help, so I want to.” Levi scratched at his head. “He’s a good kid.”

“And he’s not bad to look at,” Mike chuckled.

“Well, that is definitely a bonus,” Levi admitted. “But seriously, I don’t care if he ever feels the need to...repay me.”

“Like hell you don’t, you perv. You’d tap that ass if given half a chance.” Mike sighed into the phone. “But how do you know he will go along with it? You need a game plan.”

“That is why, against all my better judgement, I called you at the ass crack of dawn. Unfortunately, I need your help in appearing accommodating, but not creepy.”

“Too late for that, Doctor. You’re creepy as hell, but I’ll try my best to run damage control.”

“You ass-“

“When’s your shift over?”

“Assuming no other emergencies happen, 10 minutes.”

“Meet you at your place. I’ll tell Nanaba and get dressed.”

“Wait, Mike-“ It was too late. His friend had already hung up. Levi supposed that he better swing by the convenience store on the way home and buy more coffee. He was probably going to need it.

——

When Levi returned to Erwin’s apartment later that afternoon, the door was still unlocked and Erwin and Hange were still asleep. How both of them were able to fit on that pitiful excuse for a futon pad, he would never know, but it had to be because Hange was mostly laying on top of Erwin. Levi could only roll his eyes and shake his head.

“Get up! We have things to do today,” Levi practically shouted while clapping his hands.

Hange jerked awake with a snort, and hit Erwin in the nose with their head. Erwin cussed and groaned in pain before grabbing his nose and rolling over, dislodging Hange.

“Levi? What the hell?” Hange practically growled as they rolled onto the floor.

“We have a busy day, today, children. Hange, you may tag along if you wish, but Erwin doesn’t get a say.”

“Wait, what? How did you get in?” Erwin rasped as he attempted to open his eyes and look at Levi. He immediately shut them again with a pained noise on his lips.. “I’m so hungover. God, this is why I don’t drink. Not worth it.”

“I don’t feel the least bit sorry for you. You should have hydrated. Now get your giant ass out of bed and take a shower. I brought food and painkillers.” Levi nudged Erwin with his foot for good measure.

“Why are you here?”

“I’ll tell you when you get out of the shower. Now go. You smell.”

“Fine,” Erwin spat, slowly rising from the floor. “One would think that I was inconveniencing you.”

“Not at all. We’re on a tight schedule, and don’t have time for you to wallow in bed all day.” Levi turned to leave. “Come on, Four-Eyes. Give the man some privacy so he can shit, shower, and shave.”

——

By the time Erwin showered and dressed, he felt a little more human, and not quite as nauseous. He was surprised to see that Levi and Hange were still there, sitting on the living room floor with a spread of food on his crappy little coffee table.

“Sit down, eat. It will help with the hangover.” Levi pointed at a plate.

“Not to be rude, or seem ungrateful, but why are you here? I mean, if it’s to help me move, all I have is some clothes. I was going to give you back the laptop and backpack. The sorry excuse for furniture is staying. That leaves two duffles of clothes and a shoebox of memorabilia. Not really a three-person job.”

“Of course you’re leaving this shitty excuse for furniture. I forbid it in my apartment,” Levi snarled in disgust. “It’s the shopping and unloading all the new stuff that is going to be a three-person job.”

“Your apartment? New stuff? I’m afraid I’m not following.” Erwin rubbed his temples, clearly still suffering. “Do you need help shopping? You getting new furniture or something?”

“Yes, and yes. You have to pick it out first. I refuse to let you sleep on that sorry excuse of a mattress one more night.”

“What does my mattress have to do with your furniture?” Erwin asked as he gently chewed some dry toast.

“Nothing, if I have any say about it. Hurry up and eat. You have an interview in the morning, and you need a new suit.” Levi stood and stretched. “We’ll go by the tailor’s first. They may have some ready made items that fit you for the most part. Then, we need to find a decent bed. On a frame. With a real mattress. And maybe a decent desk-“

“Wait a minute. I’m still not following. I have a job interview? Where? How?”

“My friend Nanaba knows Judge Pixis’ law clerk, Rico. He is in need of a student assistant to handle everyday grunt work that most interns handle. Copies and shit. You have an interview with him tomorrow morning. It pays better than most jobs, and he’s willing to work around your schedule. We’ll have to update your resume…”

“What?” Erwin squeaked.

“What?” Levi echoes.

“Even if I do get this job, where am I going to live? How am I going to get to work? A job interview doesn’t magically fix everything. Not that I’m not grateful, I am-“

“Are you not listening? You’re moving in with me. Hence the furniture shopping,” Levi explained, almost bored.

“Live with you? But what if I still can’t make rent?”

“Did I say anything about paying rent. I make my rent payments just fine, thanks. What I need is someone who can do mundane things like laundry and grocery shopping. With the hours I work,it’s almost impossible to keep up with that shit. So, if you’re willing to wash my clothes and run to the grocery store, then consider us even. I’ll even let you use one of my cars.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Is that all you can say? You’re supposed to be a grad student.”

“Why? Levi, why are you doing all this for me?” Erwin looked at Levi, big blue eyes bloodshot and weary.

“I told you. I need a housekeeper.”

“That’s it? You just need a housekeeper? So, you’re just going to buy me furniture and clothes, and find me a job because, what? You need help with the dishes?”

“Well, there is one more thing…”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“How do you feel about fundraisers?”

“Have I mentioned how much I hate shopping?” Erwin whined as he followed Levi past a rack of waistcoats.

“You need a decent suit. The one you have is on its last legs. Not to mention the cut isn’t quite right on you.” Levi held up a jacket in a deep navy three season wool. “We actually need to get you two suits. The second one for more formal occasions.”

“I can’t afford one suit from this place, let alone two. I’m sure I can find something passable at the department store.” Erwin grunted as Levi flung another jacket his way.

“Did I say anything about you paying? No, I don’t think that ever came up in conversation.”

“I have every intention of paying you back, but it will take a couple of decades at this rate.”

“Let’s settle this right now, Blondie. You are not paying me back. Let someone do something nice for you for once.”

“But Levi-“

“Would you like a dressing room?” The shop attendant greeted. “Mr. Arlert is with another customer right now, but maybe you can get a head start on cut and style.”

“Yes, he needs a dressing room. And could you point me toward your more formal styles?”

Erwin sighed. He knew he had just lost this battle, especially since his opponent seemed perfectly content to ignore him.

——

“Really, I’m fine with another futon.”

“Really, I’m not.” Levi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was this kid being so damn difficult?

“I’ve been sleeping on a futon just fine.”

“No, you’ve been sleeping on a glorified dog bed. You’re over six feet tall. You need a bigger bed. Besides, I refuse to allow that sad excuse of a shipping pallet inside my apartment. Real futons do not look like this.”

“But Levi, if I pick a frame then there is going to be mattresses and sheets and-“

“Yes, you will have adult furniture. Welcome to the dark side,” the older man deadpanned.

“Levi, I can’t afford this! Probably ever.” Erwin looked around the furniture store, trying to find something, anything, cheaper than what Levi was looking at.

“I keep telling you that you don’t have to afford it. I’m buying it.”

“And I’m not going to take advantage of your kindness.” Erwin ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Look, can’t we just go to IKEA or something? If I’m doing this, I’m doing this on a budget.”

“You’re missing the point here. I’m the one who determines the budget. It’s my money.”

“Well, I don’t like anything here.”

“You’re lying,” Levi accused.

“You don’t know that.”

“Erwin, there has to be something here you like.”

[living-on-the-virge]

Delphiniums & Desire [CH 1]

Summary: Remy Savidge is just a broke 22 year old guy. His life is going terribly wrong and at this point he has nothing to lose, so with encouragement from his best friend Roman... He finds a sugar daddy. Except falling in love wasn't quite part of the plan. Pairing: Remile (Remy x Emile) Warnings: Sugar Daddy stuff. Note: Nope. [AO3 LINK]

Remy’s grip on the letter tightened, crumpling the sheets between his fingers. He groaned and threw the letter down onto his small kitchen table before turning to kick his wall. His neighbour’s dog barked, and he glared at the peeling wallpaper as if that would shut the dog up. It didn’t. Obviously. His stomach growled and he opened his fridge, finding nothing but a half empty bottle of some weird smoothie (Something Remus had left behind. Remy hated the stuff.).

Remy grabbed his jacket – Black leather, a gift he’d gotten from Roman – and headed out the door, pushing up his sunglasses as he moved. It wasn’t warm out, the crisp October air bit at his skin and orange leaves crunched under his boots, but the glasses were more of a comfort item than protection from the sun anyway. He made his way to the closest Starbucks and pulled out his wallet groaning when he only managed to pull out a few coins. He replaced his wallet and took out his phone instead.

It didn’t take long for Roman to pick up the call.

“Roman, honey, so you know I’m like, the bestest friend ever-“

Roman laughed. “Want a coffee?”

Remy looked around, squinting through his glasses. “Yeah, of course. How’d you-“

“I’m inside of Starbucks and I can see you, idiot. Come inside.”

Remy chuckled quietly as he hung up the phone, walking inside and seeing a flash of red in the corner. Roman. Perfect. He walked over and fell, rather dramatically, into the seat opposite Roman.

“Alright, spill,” Roman demanded, sitting forward in his seat. He cupped his face with his own hands, watching Remy.

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Spill what?”

“Something’s bothering you. My best friend senses are tingling. What’s up?”

Remy’s face dropped and his entire body seemed to mirror that. He crossed his arms on the table and rested his head on them. “My landlord is threatening to kick me out. Work is barely getting me any decent money. I have no food at my house and I’m broke.”

Roman’s expression softened and he reached over the table, taking hold of the hand closest to him. “Hey, Rems?” He said quietly.

“Mm.”

“You know you can stay with me and Remus, yeah? I know Remus is a lot to deal with-“

“He ate my fish.”

“Yeah, ok, ok. I know, trust me. He’s wild and it can be tiring, but he cares about you just as much as I do. The couch isn’t super comfortable but you’re free to crash with us for as long as you need.”

The corners of Remy’s lips twitched up into a smile. He sat back up and Roman squeezed his hand before pulling back.

“Or you could get a sugar daddy,” Roman shrugged as he took a sip of his drink.

Remy laughed, but the idea stayed in his mind for the rest of the meeting.

The two sat in the Starbucks for another hour, talking about whatever came to mind. Remy’s worries, while still definitely tugging at him, were pushed back in his head for a while as Roman talked about some new chaotic mixture Remus had created at home. When they finally parted Remy felt better. Not great, but anything was an improvement from his earlier mood.

‘Or you could get a sugar daddy.’

Remy took out his phone and scrolled through the app store, trying to find an app that didn’t seem so shady. He found one with good reviews and ratings and sighed. It’s not like he had anything to lose. Maybe if his ‘sugar daddy’ tried to rob him they’d feel bad at how shitty his living situation was and they’d leave him alone. He chuckled at the thought as he downloaded the app and set up a profile.

He spent the next hour looking through profiles, sending his favourites to Roman for his opinions. Some of the bios made him laugh. His eyes caught a flash of pink and blue and he clicked.

‘Emile Picani, 32’

Fun, Remy thought. That was only a ten-year difference. Much smaller than the difference between some of his other options. The profile looked a lot more casual than the others – A softer tone, multiple cartoon references. Remy smiled as he screenshotted the profile and sent it to Roman. He got an immediate reply.

‘Princey: look if you don’t fuck him, I will :P’

He took that as a good sign and clicked the ‘Start Talking’ button. His fingers froze over the keyboard as it opened. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to act? How did sugar babies do this?

“Just be like, casual. Be calm. What do you have to lose?” He muttered to himself as he started typing.

‘Remy Savidge: uhhhHHHH’

‘Remy Savidge: damn, you’re so pretty I forgot what I wanted to say’

Remy groaned to himself and threw himself down onto his bed. There was no way this would work, this was stupid. He couldn’t even send a normal, human sounding message to the guy. How was he going to convince a stranger to pay his bills? How-

His phone buzzed in his hand.

‘Emile Picani: Cute first move, sugar. You made me blush! Nobody on this app has managed that yet.’

Remy instantly messaged Roman. How the fuck was he supposed to reply? How the fuck did he actually get a response. What the fuck was happening. He was going to kill Roman for ever suggesting this-

Bzzz.

‘Emile Picani: Your profile says you’re new to this. I’d be glad to help you out. If you wanna keep talking, here’s my number!’

Remy saved the number without thinking and instantly texted it.

‘Remy: is it usually this easy to get a number? damn, ive been doing it wrong all these years’

‘Emile: Aww, sugar. You caught my eye more than everyone else. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people that start conversations with ‘Give me money’. It’s crazy.’

Remy smiled and instantly found himself sucked into the conversation. The two talked back and forth for the remainder of the night, and Remy found himself laughing multiple times. It was nearing 1am when Emile finally said goodnight.

‘Emile: Sorry to end things here. I need to get to sleep, I have work tomorrow morning. Maybe we could arrange a meeting on Wednesday? There’s a nice little café not too far from my office and I’m friends with the owner.’

Remy stared down at his screen. Already meeting? Did Emile want to talk about Remy actually being a sugar baby?

‘Emile: Unless I’m being too fast, or I misunderstood your mood. We could wait a little longer?’

‘Remy: no, no, just didn’t expect things to work like this. wednesday works. Some time in the afternoon? i like to sleep in’

‘Emile: Of course, sugar. I’ll see you then.’

Remy smiled as he turned off his phone and lay down. Now he just had to hope that this Emile guy was as friendly as he seemed. He closed his eyes and sighed. Now he just had to wait for Wednesday to roll around.

The café that Emile had chosen was nice. Not quite as busy as the Starbucks that Remy had gotten used to, but he appreciated the change. A friendly guy had greeted him as he walked in, all warm smiles and round-framed glasses and soft words. After learning he was waiting for Emile, the guy lead Remy to a table near a window and sat him down.

“Now, what can I getcha? Anythin’ catching your eye?” He asked, motioning towards the menu on the table.

Remy shook his head. “I don’t have any like, money right now. I’m good.”

The grinning man just laughed. “Oh, honey no. You’re waiting for Emmie, aren’t ya? You can order anything you’d like, that man is a softie and he’d’ve brought you something anyway.”

Remy felt his face grow slightly warmer as he looked down at the menu. “Uh- Black coffee and a blueberry muffin, please?”

He received a nod in return. “Of course. I’ll be right back!”

Remy felt the need to shrink back in his seat. Or run. What if this Emile guy didn’t actually arrive, or what if he did but he wasn’t nice, or what if Remy had to pay for himself, or what if this was all just some trap to harvest his organs for pie-

He hid his face in his hands. He’d been around Remus too much.

He heard footsteps and looked up, expecting to see a bright smile and a coffee, instead being greeted by one Emile Picani. Remy’s eyes widened behind his glasses. Emile was tall – Roughly somewhere around 6 feet tall if Remy had to guess, but either way he towered over the table. His hair was light brown and slightly curled at the ends, light freckles dotted over his cheeks and nose, and his eyes behind his glasses looked to be roughly the same light brown as his hair. He smiled and sat down opposite Remy.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for too long,” He said. “Traffic was terrible today.”

Remy shook his head and shifted in his seat, kinda glad that his shades mostly hid his staring. “I haven’t like, been here for too long.”

It was then that the friendly man from before walked back out, carrying a tray with coffee and a muffin. His eyes lit up when he saw Emile, but he held back his excitement until after he’d given Remy his items.

“Emmie!”

Emile grinned. “Hey Patton! Hope you didn’t scare Remy too much while I was gone.”

Patton pulled a face of mock-offence hand over his chest. “I would never. Dee would for sure, but he’s not in today. Family emergency.”

“Shame,” Emile said, frowning slightly. “I was hoping to set up another session with him. Oh, well- I’ll take the usual please?”

Patton nodded and walked off again. Emile turned his attention back to Remy. “Sorry about all of that, I haven’t been in here for a couple of weeks.”

Remy shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “It’s fine. I get it. I like, do that with my friends too.”

Emile sat back in his seat and rested his arms on the table. “So, lets talk about this. Since you showed up, I’m assuming you haven’t changed your mind about being a sugar baby?”

“No.”

“Good,” Emile smiled, and Remy felt Emile’s eyes burn through his shades. “So, lets set up a few ground rules before we discuss allowances. Is that ok?”

Remy nodded.

“Alright! So, since this isn’t a fully committed romantic relationship, I’m not going to be bothered if you… Hook up with other people when we aren’t together, or even find a partner. That isn’t any of my business and I won’t stop you from doing that.” Emile nodded his head in thanks as Patton put down a plate with a sandwich and a cup of tea. “I don’t work on Wednesdays or most Sundays, so I’m available to meet with you at least once and sometimes twice a week, and if you decide you want to meet more, you’re allowed to ask.”

Remy nodded along quietly as Emile spoke. Sure, he was listening, but he couldn’t help but pay attention to the small details in the older man. The way his hands twitched slightly as he picked up his cup, or the light freckles that ran down his neck.

“Anyway, for your allowance – Is there an amount you’d like to offer up before I say what I was thinking?”

Remy was pulled back out of his thoughts. He blinked a few times as he tried to come up with a number. “Uhhh. $300?”

“A week?”

“Y…Yeah? Is that too much?” Remy asked.

Emile paused for a second before laughing. “Oh, sugar… You really are new to this, huh? You’re precious. Alright, alright, my offer is $800 a week, as well as some gifts when I find something, I think you’ll like.”

Remy’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Of course. Is that ok? We can discuss raising it once we’re both more comfortable with everything and if both of our wants in the relationship change.”

Remy nodded and grinned as he finished his muffin. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds great.”

Emile’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he checked it. “Oh dear.”

He stood up, dropping a few notes onto the table. “Sorry, sugar. I’m needed back at the office for something. I’ll text you later? We’ll finish up all the final details of the arrangement and hopefully I’ll see you soon.”

Remy made a noise of agreement and Emile rushed out of the door. He let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. This was definitely a story to tell Roman.

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 1 | Morgan Rielly

Bee didn’t understand how the universe conspired in such a way to have her sit across from this large man named Morgan, but the longer she sat with him, the longer she realized she couldn’t complain.  Things like this could go so horribly – the person could not talk at all; the person could talk too much; the person could be creepy, invasive, or a serial killer – but Bee wasn’t scared as she sat across from him.  He seemed mellow enough, taking the situation of them being thrust together in stride.  It didn’t interrupt him from eating his food, or drinking his lemon water, and instead, they settle into a semi-comfortable back and forth conversations of questions to get to know each other.  What else could they do?

“So…why are you reading Friedman?” he asked, popping a fry into his mouth.

“Um, a friend recommended it to me.  I’m kind of reading it just for fun.”

Morgan seemed shocked as the words came out of her mouth.  “You’re reading it for fun?” he asked.  “What about Friedman is fun?”

“It’s not.  Sorry, that’s the wrong word,” she shook her head, embarrassed.  “But it’s a bit of a break.”

“From what?” the look of shock on his face hadn’t left.

“Um, my life?” she tried to make a joke.  His face lightened up a little bit but she knew she had to explain more.  “I’m studying for my MFE at U of T.  I’m also a TA so reading first year undergrad essays is also my personal form of hell.  Between reading those and reading for my courses I’m a bit…well…I needed a bit of a break.”

“Wait,” Morgan held his hands up.  “What’s an MFE?”

“A Master’s in Financial Economics.”

“At University of Toronto?”

“Yeah.”

“And you teach?”

“At university, yes.  I’m a teaching assistant.  So like, the professor has us, his minions, who lead smaller group tutorials where we discuss the course readings,” she explained.  “My tutorial group has around 30 students in it.”

“And Friedman is a break to you because of this?”

She couldn’t help but giggle.  “Yes.  I know it seems crazy, but yes.”

Morgan cracked a smile and she tried to grab her wrap to keep her from blushing after her giggle.  “That’s nuts,” he commented.  “I’m feeling very inadequate right now.”

Bee’s face completely dropped.  “Oh my God, no – no – I didn’t mean --”

“Relax, relax.  I’m joking,” he said, popping another fry into his mouth.  “How far along are you in your Master’s?”

“I’m in my last term.”

“And what’s the plan after?”

Bee took this as a bit of a weird question.  Was not the ‘plan’ for everybody to find a well-paying job to be self-sustainable and contribute to society?  What did he think she wanted to do?  “Oh, you know, find a sugar daddy and just live off the gifts he gives me,” she shrugged her shoulders casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  Morgan snorted at her reply, and she was glad he picked up on the ridiculousness of her response.  “Well the plan is to obviously find a job.  Maybe at a bank or some corporation or something.  I don’t know.  I recently completed an internship at Scotiabank so I’m hoping that gets me an in there.”

Morgan smirked.  “So become a corporate drone,” Morgan teased her.

She smirked back at him.  She enjoyed his sarcastic sense of humour, but two could play at that game.  “Maybe.  Or maybe my plan is to control the Canadian economy by flirting my way to the top and becoming the next Minister of Finance.”

Morgan let out a hearty laugh.  “I don’t know.  You’re obviously pretty smart.  It doesn’t seem like you’d have to flirt your way to get anywhere.”

She appreciated the compliment, giving him a polite smile.  “And what about you?  What do you do?”

Bee watched as a quick sense of tenseness passed on Morgan’s face.  “I work in the sports industry,” he said.

She had never met anyone in Toronto who worked in the offices for one of the major teams.  Granted, she didn’t exactly mix with those types of people often, but it was still interesting to be sitting across from someone who did.  She decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.  “So let me guess.  You want to schmooze your way to the top of like…I don’t know, being the head of the Toronto Blue Jays or something?”

Whatever tension that was on his face disappeared when he heard the joke.  “Something like that,” he said.  “Maybe I’ll be the next Alex Anthopoulos.”

“And to think, you got the idea from a random girl you sent a drink to one night,” she winked.

“I didn’t send a drink to your table,” he repeated his earlier sentiment definitively.  “I’m telling you.  You got pranked by someone else in here.”

“Whatever you say, Morgan.”

Bee was surprised at how natural the conversation was flowing.  It was one thing to be this way with a friend – it was another to be this way with a complete stranger.  But, judging by how the conversation was going, Morgan wasn’t a stranger anymore, was he?  After moving on from dullness of their everyday jobs, they started to talk about other interests.  TV shows.  Movies.  What other books they had read, or planned to read.  What their favourite genre was.  Where they liked to eat in Toronto.  What they liked to do.  Where they liked to go.  Morgan ordered dessert.  Bee kept ordering ginger ale.

By the time the waitress brought the bill, Morgan took care of it.  Bee insisted, but he insisted more.  When she insisted that she had to contribute something he said, “Contribute your number and we’re even.”  He said it in the smoothest, most nonchalant tone of voice that Bee was actually taken aback for a brief moment.  When she nervously smiled and giggled and let out a small ‘sure’, Morgan smiled and nervously giggled and took out his phone to exchange numbers.

When preparing to leave, they both leaned in to hug each other.  Bee got a true sense of his size only when she was up against him, his broad arms engulfing her tightly, but only for a brief second before letting her go.  

“This is the weirdest experience to ever happen to me, but it was really nice to meet you,” Morgan said as he pulled away.  

“Me too,” Bee said, suddenly a bit nervous.  She hated to admit it, but she didn’t exactly want the conversation to end.  “I’ll uh…I’ll let you know when I’m done Friedman and tell you what to look out for.”

“Please do, because I have a feeling I’m in for it,” he said as they both lingered in front of the glass window of the restaurant.  “You sure you’ll get home okay?  I can call an Uber for you.”

“I literally live a five minute walk from here.  It’s fine,” she waved him off.  “Um…I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah…” he nodded, a strong smile creeping onto his face.  “Yeah, for sure.”

As they went their opposite ways, Bee couldn’t help the blush that came over her, and she wondered if any of the passers-by noticed it.   When she was far enough from him (okay, she kept looking back to make sure he couldn’t see her), she took out her phone again and opened the conversation she was having with her best friend, Angie.  

I just met someone

One of those weird ‘high school reunion’ encounters we were talking about this week?

No no.  I met a guy.

OMG omg what? who? where?

I was at green cactus and a waiter brought a drink to my table

And he said it was from this guy but when I approached him about it he denied it

And then all of the sudden I notice we’re reading the same book

Friedman

And I guess the waitress thought we would join each other cause like a split second after she just brought all my food to his table

And I ended up eating with him

And it’s been like two hours

And we just left, but we exchanged numbers

omg OMG you guys were reading the same book???

Yeah

Bee this is fate It’s F A T E Bee you have to text him PLEASE

It was so weird That’s never happened to me before It was like this super random thing but we ended up talking for so long

Bee, you need to text him You NEED to text him I can’t believe you were reading the same book?!

Yeah, super random right?

It’s random but it’s FATE When you get home, text him Pls Do it for me I don’t want to see you become an old spinster You’re not Anne Elliot You’re BEE MCTAVISH

Bee giggled at her best friend’s antics as she fished her keys out of her small purse.  She entered her apartment – a old, tiny, cramped, abode on the first floor of a converted multi-unit Annex house – and immediately hung her purse on a hook.  

I’m going to take a shower. See u l8r ☺

BEE DON’T YOU DARE DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE I WILL COME OVER TO YOUR HOUSE AND I WILL MURDER YOU BEE ANSWER ME ANSWER ME!!!!!!!! IF YOU DON’T TEXT HIM I WILL STEAL YOUR PHONE AND TEXT HIM FOR YOU

Only about half an hour later, Bee sat on her bed, wet hair wrapped in a towel, and stared at her phone screen.  Stared at Morgan’s number.  Stared at the message screen and keyboard.

Did you want to meet up again soon?  Maybe this weekend?

She absolutely cringed as she hit send.  God, she was a grown woman and she was cringing at herself.  She couldn’t believe she was doing this.  With Morgan.  With any guy, to be honest.  But she trusted Angie.  And more than anything, she trusted herself to judge a good character.  Morgan was a good character.  At least what she saw of him that night.

Can’t do this weekend.  I’m out of town.  Maybe when I get back?

Oh.  Oh.  So he was going to be one of those.  Her friends warned her about these types.  The type that would say they wanted to see you again but then kept blowing you off.  The type that would ghost you completely.  Suddenly she wasn’t so happy anymore.  Suddenly she felt angry at the possibility that he had just wasted almost two hours of her time on some guy that was going to completely ghost her.  Two hours of her time on a guy that wouldn’t give her a second thought.  Two hours of her time, only to have her question her own judgement because she thought he was a good guy.

If you don’t want to see me again just let me know now

She texted back quickly, almost regretting it.  But if Morgan was going to be an asshole, she would willingly be an asshole back.  She was too busy and too proud to be waiting for someone who didn’t want to give her the time of day.

No No no I really am out of town I come back late Monday night I can see you Tuesday I swear

The texts came in quick succession, one after another, followed by a screenshot of his phone screen showing an e-ticket for a flight to Montreal.  Bee cringed even more than she did when she sent her initial message.  

Sorry.  I guess that’s for work.

I really do want to see you.  Can we make it Tuesday?

Sure.  My tutorial ends at noon.  Where can I meet you?

I’ll meet you on campus.  Where is your tutorial?

She couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he wanted to meet her on campus.  She began wondering what it would be like for him to navigate U of T and its buildings.  He never specified which university he went to.

Sidney Smith Hall on St. George Street You can meet me at the front

Okay great Can’t wait

Bee tossed her phone on the duvet cover, unable to look at the text for a moment longer.  Can’t wait.

[blondrichclosetwitch]

I am a little ornery tonight. Alright here we go.

I have been tracking something new.

This is actually my third day of trying to track it… It’s a lot of work. Following the numerology of one person, and seeing what the songs say. We will start with me, 22.

 22 Friday

11:22 in metal,

Low—Picture of you where it began (ultrasound )

Half moon 12:22 janis—

You fill me like the sea, Lord

Not coming past but still at last

Your love brings life to me

1:22 maniac cinerama—“I made that stupid oath About how I was going to Pay for someone to kill you both…It was just my way of showing you That I wasn't playing.” (Ftr, that’s not me)

122 Laika arcade fire—Our older brother bit by a vampire

For a year we caught his tears in a cup

And now we're gonna make him drink it

Come on Alex, don't die or dry up (psychic Jakk told me he once he wanted to be called Laika when we were role playing; it became a thing where I just would call him Laika all the time….clearly went along with his wounded always claiming to be scared of Blond victimhood stance….. poor psychic Jakk, woe is he)

2:22 come on over baby christina Aguilera— I didn’t listen to this one but I got the gist

2:22/2:24-you go on ahead liz Phair -I believe we have things to do

3:22 ballad of Tindersticks – – “can she really believe all this? Can she really lie in bed at night and marvel at her own genius? When do you lose the ability to step back and get a sense of your own ridiculousness?”

“Now it can really make us laugh. The first time, it makes you sick… Then, little by little, it becomes delicious.”

“ and the last of the martinis dribble down our chins. We’re sitting, chasing the conversation around the table. ‘Jesus, how long have I been in this state?’ ‘ do you want another drink?’ ‘ well, I could try.’ We’re pushing through the waiting crowd, all Fish eyes. “

I’ve been so drunk, I sit and look at you.

We try and talk for the first time in a long time.

Drunken confession.

You shiver, it makes you feel sick.

We use the rent money to pay the bill.

(I love that. )

4:22 ti amo Phoenix—It's not over yet

5:22 o Stella pj Harvey——Stella Marie, you’re my star!

6:22 why can’t I be you the cure— you turn the whole world upside down

I’m smitten I’m bitten I’m hooked I’m cracked I’m stuck like glue you make me hungry for you

7:22 I was meant for the stage the Decemberists—From the floorboards to the flies

Here I was fated to reside

And as I take my final bow

Was there ever any doubt?

And as the spotlights fade away

And you're escorted through the foyer

You will resume your callow ways

But I was meant for the stage

8:22 entertainment Phoenix—

“Entertainment. Show them what you do with me.”

9:22 sugar daddy fleetwoood Mac—Well, I need a sugar daddy

He could be my friend

And if I needed a little money

I know he would lend me, lend me a hand

But when it comes to love

He'd better leave me alone

9:22 little Honda yo la Tengo—First gear, it's all right

Second gear, hang on tight

Third gear, ain't I right

Faster, it's all right

ADDENDUM

10:22 3 the hard way beastie boys—I'm hip to the shit that you're trying to scamI'm an exceptional professional that just don't stop

So pack up your bag and your mic and don't wait

E.T., phone home, now get the fuck out my face



[bxebxee]

Going Once, Going Twice, Sold (Birth of a Sugar Baby)

Note: This is a two-for-one deal. I wrote this to participate in the Bangtan Bookclub Monthly Challenge: Sugar Daddy Edition, and also as a (late) birthday gift to my very good friend, MVP, whom I love and adore and respect and would probably donate my kidney for if she were in need of one. I had so much fun planning this out with @94hixtape and @sugaredmarbles - Smut Goddesses tbh. I got Really inspired by Cheese In The Trap! Yet again, this came out Different than how I originally imagined it, but I’m hoping it’s not a total disaster.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: college au, sugar daddy au Warnings: escort/prostitution, online perverts, unsanitary mention, masturbation mention Word Count: 5144 Rating: A, for Ambiguous (because it’s not really smut, but it’s not exactly the Safest thing for work. Feel?)

*

But the real reason anything at all started with Hoseok was something much simpler, and probably wholly unexpected - not that you ever planned on any of the other members of the MBA Society to find out.

You leave your unlocked phone in his car before stumbling your way into your tiny, studio apartment. And he sees a twitter notification asking you for further discount on your panties.

That is all it takes.

*

You have exactly $2.30 on you at this very second, broken down by a wrinkly-looking dollar bill with the rest scrounged up from various coins. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, sneaking a glance at Seungcheol making his rounds collecting money to pay for the meal your group just ate. Luckily he’s still a few tables over, which gives you time to make puppy eyes at your friends. 

Jisoo wordlessly hands you a couple of folded singles. “It’s all I have left minus emergency money, and you’re not getting that. Sorry baby.” 

“I fucking love you,” you sigh, grateful for anything. When Chaeyoung goes to hand you money, you shoot her a stern glare. “Don’t you dare. Underclassmen do not pay for my shit.” You had absolutely abhorred being taken advantage of when you were a freshman, and you’d be damned if you subjected Pure, Perfect Chaeyoung to something like that. 

The MBA Society liked to have spontaneous dinner meetings (read: excuses to get drunk), and while they were called “optional,” the tacit truth was that if you didn’t show up to one, your invites for the rest of the semester were revoked. So even though you knew you were beyond broke, you still had to drag your feet over to a moderately-priced meat house and pretend to enjoy the food. 

“Just take the money, good lord. You can pay her back later,” Jisoo sighs as you continue to resist the younger girl’s offer. “He’s coming over here right now,” she hisses. 

“I’m really okay with it,” Chaeyoung says enthusiastically in her Freshman voice. Her eyes are so innocent, and you feel like the Worst. You’ve effectively become the very person you wanted to avoid turning into, but there was no way around it...

Seungcheol comes around to your section a few seconds after you hastily accept a shiny, crisp ten-dollar bill from Chaeyoung. You give him a halfhearted smile as he accepts money from you. 

“I think I’m gonna pass on second round,” you tell him, doing your best to look tired rather than depressed. 

He frowns at the news. “Awww, why? It’s no fun if you’re not around. You gotta show the newbies how a real professional handles karaoke.” 

You let out the fakest laugh, and you see Jisoo’s nostrils flare in embarrassment from the corner of you eyes. “I really, really want to, but I gotta take care of assignments. I’m behind.” 

He sighs, pouting cutely at your reluctance. “Alright. I won’t push tonight. But don’t make this a habit.” 

“I won’t,” you reply to his retreating form. When you’re sure he’s left earshot, you heave a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll pay you guys back ASAP.” 

Jisoo snorts, “Don’t bother with me. I want your notes from last lecture though. We’ll call it even then.” 

You blink. “Seriously?” you ask because it seems like you’re getting the better deal. 

“Uh, yeah,” she replies, eyes incredulous at your surprise. “I skipped that day, and you have the best set of notes out of anyone who’s willing to share. Apart from Hoseok of course.” 

You blink at the mention of Hoseok who did not show up today. Seungcheol had mentioned it was something related to his family. You try not to be too bitter because Hoseok is truly the sweetest even though his special treatment drove you nuts. It’s not a secret that Hoseok skipped out on these meetings all the time, and he still had an open invite. Maybe that’s what happened when you were the son of a millionaire business tycoon. Sometimes you wonder if everyone just lets Hoseok get away with doing whatever he wanted because they all wanted to get a job at his mother’s company. 

It’s an ugly, recurring thought, and you have to kill it with fire regularly. 

“Do we have a deal?” Jisoo prompts when you don’t answer for a while, and you shake her head with a sigh when she thrusts it in your face. 

“Oh my god, yes, deal,” you giggle, swatting away her hand after a few moments. She always did have a penchant for the theatrical. 

“I wish Hoseok showed up today though,” Jisoo mentions, taking out her phone to check on her Instagram. “He would have probably covered the meal like he always does.” 

A lump of discomfort forms at her words. “He’s not a wallet, Jisoo.” 

“I know, but it’s not like he’d miss the money when he’s fucking loaded.” 

That’s not the point at all, but you don’t argue with her because there’s no way to win when she gets into an argumentative mood. 

*

The first thing you do when you leave the restaurant is open Twitter and check your direct messages. You only see five new messages, and among them three are spam - advertising things like free hookup services and the like. One message is a glorified sext (you block that one), and the other is an offer, albeit much lower than what you’re looking for. 

It’s with a bitter heart that you confirm the sale, letting twitter user @75649qx know that you’ll mail him your used panties for the low price of fifteen dollars. Factoring in shipping and underwear costs, you’ve made a grand total of seven dollars and change. This wasn’t even enough to pay back Chaeyoung for covering you at the restaurant. 

It’s with a heavy heart that you make the choice to walk home. You needed to save your bus fare if your sales were going to shit. 

“This is okay,” you tell yourself while trying to ignore the fact that you’re in heels, “It’ll be exercise.” 

You look behind you to see if the rest of the group was still loitering by the restaurant, but they’ve all left for a second round of drinks and fun. You are truly alone. 

A car honks loudly, and a voice calls out, “Hey, you’re still here?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin when you see Hoseok’s head peeking out at you through the window. 

“Hoseok!” You walk over to him, confused and a bit relieved to see a familiar face. “What are you doing here? I thought you had other plans?” 

He smiles, eyes crinkling in an affable manner. “Took care of everything as soon as I could. You know I’d never miss a meeting on purpose. Where is everyone else?” 

You shrug. “They left for drinks, but I needed to cut out early. Assignments...” You know you’re talking too much, revealing way too much for your statement to read as anything other than defensive. 

Hoseok nods slowly. “Ah... which assignments?” Of course he’d ask, of course. 

You swallow because you share nearly all of your required classes with him. “Just... online quizzes and projects-” 

“The ones that are due in two weeks or the projects that are due at the end of the semester?” he questions with a knowing look. 

“I like being ahead,” you lie, a true procrastinator through and through. You were probably just going to go home and marathon chick flicks. 

Hoseok smirks at how bad you are at lying, and you hear the soft click of a lock disengaging the passenger-side door of his Benz. “Get in loser, we’re going drinking.” 

“Hoseok-”

He gestures using his head, “Get in. I know for a fact Seungcheol is close to blacklisting you for the semester.” 

You groan, trudging over to open the handle of the door. “Hoseok, I’m broke,” you sigh as you shut the door and put your seat-belt on. “I can’t afford to go drinking every other day. I mean, I had to ask Little Chaeyoung to cover me for dinner. Fucking embarrassing!” 

Hoseok signals as he pulls away from curb. “Hey can you ask them where they are?” he says, completely ignoring your blabbering. “I don’t wanna get there too late...”

A quick text to Jisoo is enough to get the location, and you tell him. 

You open your wallet to fish out two dimes you had missed while trying to find money for dinner. “What can I possibly get for twenty cents?” 

Hoseok laughs, and you join him because this is entirely ridiculous. 

“Will you relax?” he finally says when he pulls up to the bar. “You know I’m gonna cover the bill. You may drink to your hearts content.” 

You frown, reminded of Jisoo’s careless statements. “It’s not right,” you tell Hoseok for the first time. The two of you weren’t spectacularly close, but you did interact with him from time to time. “People shouldn’t treat you this way.” 

“What way?” he asks, face looking as if he’s confused. You wonder if he’s playing dumb because there’s no way he never noticed how people always slid the bill towards him, or looked to him to cover the check. 

“They’re taking advantage. No,” you shake your head, “Not them - we. We are taking advantage of you, myself included. And it’s not right.” 

Hoseok’s smile freezes on his face for half a second, but it’s enough for you to know that you’re not wrong. He is quick to recover, and he looks at you with a soft gaze in his eyes that you don’t completely trust. 

“You’re sweet for thinking of me. But I’m doing this for purely selfish reasons,” he informs you. 

*

You get spectacularly drunk that night. 

In the following months to come, the members of the MBA Society would look back on this night and associate it to the night you and Hoseok began to “talk.” After all, you did arrive to the bar with him, get drunk on the booze he paid for, and left in his car because you were too drunk to walk in a straight line. No one else even brought a car, either planning on relying on public transportation or a taxi. The members would assume all sorts of things among themselves, the majority opinion being that you threw yourself on him while drunk out of your mind. Most of them discounted the idea that Hoseok would be the initiator of fucking your drunk self because he was too kind and good for anything like that. Some thought you may have just confessed your deep-seated, imaginary feelings for him. 

But the real reason anything at all started with Hoseok was something much simpler, and probably wholly unexpected - not that you ever planned on any of the other members of the MBA Society to find out. 

You leave your unlocked phone in his car before stumbling your way into your tiny, studio apartment. And he sees a twitter notification asking you for further discount on your panties. 

That is all it takes. 

*

Hangovers on Wednesdays are never a good sign, but here you are, on-time to your 8AM hell class with a head that pounds so bad you swear people could see the throbbing. 

“I lost my phone,” you groan, sliding next to Jisoo and slipping her your notes, as promised. 

“Actually, you didn’t,” comes Hoseok’s voice from behind you. You turn your head around and squint at him since he sits right in front of the brightest fucking window you’ve ever seen in your life. He truly looks like the sun made flesh at this angle. 

Hoseok hands you the phone you left in his car. 

“Fucking- Oh my god, thank you,” you gush, head spinning from relief. “You have no idea-”

“Interesting Twitter, by the way,” Hoseok says, effectively turning your insides into ice. 

“What,” you croak. 

Jisoo crinkles her nose in an adorable, confused expression. “You have a Twitter? Add me, bitch. How could you not contribute to my follower count?” 

“No!” you protest too loudly and too quickly to be considered polite. “I-I can’t. I’m too embarrassed...” 

You feel like you’re going to throw up at any second from the combined double whammy of the hangover deluxe special and Hoseok’s knowledge of your Twitter account. 

“What do you have on there that’s so embarrassing I can’t see?” she snorts. 

Your mind draws a giant blank, but thankfully Hoseok cuts in. “She runs an idol group fan Twitter. It’s wild.” 

Your friend rolls her eyes. “Never mind,” she tells you, “Don’t follow me. How old are you even?” 

Hoseok smiles at you, but you don’t have the heart nor the stomach to respond back in kind. What the hell was he even playing at? 

Three hours of class feel like torture, but at least it gives you time to come up with a valid excuse for what he saw. Judging from his reaction he didn’t seem like the type to out you, but you could never be sure with men. And despite his kindness, Hoseok was still a man, and therefore, inherently untrustworthy. 

You have a script, a speech, a monologue, a soliloquy - you have it all prepared by the time the lecturer grunts the final word. It’s all a joke, you’d say. It’s a prank, you’d tell him. 

“I need a drink after this class,” Jisoo whines. 

“You had enough drink yesterday,” Hoseok chuckles, and she raises a mischievous eyebrow at his words. 

“I held back yesterday,” she harrumphs, “I could’ve gone harder, but this one girl kept bugging me about how I was treating you like a wallet, so I held back.” Jisoo, that blunt bitch. 

Hoseok smirks. “Gee, I wonder who that is.” 

You grit your teeth. It’s now or never. “Hoseok, can I talk to you for a second? In private?” 

“Sure.” 

Hoseok’s easy acceptance feels weird, and you can feel the stares of Jisoo and a few other people looking at you weirdly. You barely talk to Hoseok, and he was on their radars all the time as a Prime Dating Candidate. No, you couldn’t do this here with too many eyes and ears.

“I’d…like to buy you coffee?” It comes out as a question. 

Your face burns as Hoseok has the nerve to act like he’s thinking about it. “Yeah, I have time for a quick cup of coffee.” 

You fake a smile. “Great.” 

“Super.”

“Peachy.”

*

How did one open up a conversation about being caught selling used panties to perverts online for pocket money to a young, twenty-something college male who’s net worth was somewhere in the millions thanks to his rich, mogul parents? 

Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee as you sit silently across from him. You’ve skipped a drink altogether even though the scent of hazelnut and vanilla wafting from his cup is enough to get you salivating for caffeine. 

“Do you, uh, want a sip?” Hoseok asks, following you line of sight. 

“No,” you answer in a clipped tone. 

“So what did you want to talk about?” 

“My Twitter,” you finally say through gritted teeth, “You saw my twitter.” 

Hoseok nods, fiddling with the flimsy, recycled paper that lined the body of his coffee cup. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Are you going to report me?” 

He raises his eyebrows, “Are you serious?” 

You shrug. “I don’t know, Hoseok. Can you just... tell me what you’re going to do with the information because I’m tired and hungover, and I feel like puking anytime I get a weird feeling you’re going to expose me.” 

Hoseok’s expression looks comically surprised. “I can’t believe you-” He cuts himself off, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again to fix you with a stern look. “I would never expose your private life.” 

“Then why did you have to go through my Twitter?” you ask bitterly, feeling more and more humiliated by the second. 

“Because...I’m a piece of shit, and I was curious,” he answers after a long pause. “I’m sorry.” 

The anger melts away faster than you expected, and you don’t know if its because you genuinely find the situation not worth getting mad over or if it was because of the sight of Hoseok’s contrite expression. 

“So you promise you’re not going to spread this around?” you ask once more, and Hoseok nods vigorously to your relief. “Then it’s cool.” 

“Just like that?” he asks. 

“It was my fault for leaving it in your car in the first place,” you concede. “Being curious is normal.” 

“What if,” Hoseok starts after a big gulp of coffee, “What if I followed you?” 

Now here was something unexpected. You honestly don’t know. Being followed on Twitter by strangers and selling to them under the guise of anonymity was one thing. Having Hoseok, a classmate and fellow society member, follow you was another thing. You bite your lips as you weigh your options. 

“Just don’t interfere in my sales…please.” 

Hoseok bites down his smile of excitement. “Cool.” 

“Are you some pervert?” you mutter, trying your best to stem the surprise that Hoseok was even curious at all about this instead of branding you a werido. 

“A little,” he coughs, “I guess...” 

You can’t take this anymore. “I’m- I’m- I’ve got to go,” you stammer, face feeling warmer by the second. 

“Wait,” Hoseok says before you can stand up to leave. “Can I just say one more thing?” 

He’s already come this far; you don’t know what else he could hit you with to surprise you. 

“Go for it,” you sigh. 

“I couldn’t help but to notice your sales numbers,” he mentions, and you wince. He called them your sales numbers. 

“Yeah, so?” 

Hoseok wets his lips. “They’re a little on the low side,” he explains. 

“If you’re just here to make fun of me, you can unfollow right now,” you pout. 

“No, no, no, no.” Hoseok is quick to dissuade you from that thought. “That’s not it at all. I just had, I don’t know, feedback? Maybe? On how to get more sales.” 

He keeps surprising you. 

“Okay...” 

Hoseok takes that as permission to continue, which it is. “Okay, see here you’ve pinned a tweet advertising underwear rates by how long you’ve worn them. That’s pretty standard for this field, but you’re not going to get anywhere with that kind of marketing. The field is full of girls selling their day-old panties for cheaper, which is why your sales are suffering. You need to change it up.” 

You don’t know what you should be more shocked about, the fact that he approaches this with the same type of academic lean as he would a class project or the fact that he even knew this niche market well at all.

“So how would I increase sales then?” you ask, deciding to just go with it and suffer later in your room, by yourself, with a bottle of hangover medicine. 

“Instead of selling by how long you’ve worn them, describe what you did in them. You’ll get more sales that way. Trust me. Like, did you exercise in them? Did you sweat? Did you touch yourself through them?” You make a choked noise of surprise at the turn of the conversation, something Hoseok decides to ignore in favor of making his point. “Imagine the pervert who bought your panties knowing you came in them.” 

“I... Oh,” you swallow. This sounded like something worth a try. 

“If you start selling panties you’ve touched yourself with, your sales will go through the roof. I would have thought that was obvious…” he continues. 

“It’s really not obvious at all.” 

“Really… hm…” Hoseok looks pensive and laughs after a beat. “Maybe it’s because I’m a pervert that I know this.”

*

Hoseok's words from earlier at the café leave you distracted for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. You're supposed to be sixty pages into your assigned reading with a full day's head start on the upcoming capstone project for the semester, but you've made zero progress. As much as you'd like to blame Hoseok, you know it's not his fault for speaking his mind since you allowed for him to put in his two cents in the first place. Your pathetic predisposition to fixate on anything and everything is the reason why you keep rewinding and replaying his words. 

It is all so... sordid. You never had any illusions as to why people bought your used underwear, but this would cross the final line in your eyes. 

Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you open up Twitter and post: 

New! Selling 1 Pair of Panties (3 Days Old). Exercised in them for 2 hours. Heavy Sweat. DM for details.

You sell that pair for fifty dollars, and you’re hooked. 

Three nights later, you touch yourself in your bed, thoughts drifting in and out between various people but inevitably centering on Hoseok. You remember the café conversation and how his voice got into a lower rasp when he talked quietly about your used panties. And you don’t know why this gets you off, but it just does. You don’t want to think about it too much because it’s Hoseok and he was still your classmate. (You touch yourself three times to thoughts of him until your panties are gross and sticky.) 

Still flushed on your orgasms, you tweet, marveling at  how your mentions go through the roof from people wanting to buy. 

Hoseok is a fucking genius because after only a week, you’re officially two thousand followers richer with ten sales in the bag. You pay back Chaeyoung and Jisoo, and take them out for ice cream as interest. 

*

People suspect that you and Hoseok are dating when they see you at coffee shops and bars all over town. 

“They just don’t understand that it’s not a date,” you hiccup, yelling over the loud music of the club. “This is a business meeting.” 

Hoseok thinks you look adorable in that peplum top, and he tells you that. 

“You are so off-topic,” you giggle drunkenly, shaking your finger at him in a no-no-no sign. “Back to panty sales!” 

“Your quarterly projection looks great. Now can we get back to talking about how hot you look?” he flirts, and you feel amazed that you can tell he’s flirting big time. “Dance with me?” 

“What?” He holds out his hand, and you take it. “Business,” you purr into his ear as he maneuvers your body to face away from him on the dance floor. “This is Business.”

“Oh, I know,” he agrees, grinding into you deliciously. 

You close your eyes and let yourself go, enjoying the moment with Hoseok as he takes control and leads your body towards that satisfying, messy end. And before you lose it altogether, you grab onto his neck to make out with him in full view of everyone around - a true act of impulse. 

Hoseok drags you away from the masses and pushes you up against the dirty wall of the club when it becomes too much for him, breathless and laughing because you literally came in your pants in a crowded room full of drunk dancers - and it was all because of him. Your eyes are closed as you lean against the wall. You don’t care that it’s probably filthy because you feel more alive than ever. You can feel Hoseok’s breath puff lightly across your face. 

Hoseok leans over to talk straight into your ear. “Go on Twitter right now. Make a post about a lightning sale.” 

“But you said I should do one in a few weeks?” you ask, referring to yet another sales plan Hoseok had advised you.

He shakes his head. “Nope. Do it now. And type what I tell you to.” 

You open your app, fingers shaking as you type out the words as Hoseok dictates:

Lightning Sale. Bidding Ends 2:00AM. Condition: Wet, Fresh Orgasm After Clubbing. Will Send Immediately.

“Good girl,” he tells you after you post. Your phone vibrates with notifications, and you ignore them in favor of kissing him some more.

The next day, you decide to tweet and thank everyone who participated in the lightning sale. You see a notification from Hoseok’s Twitter handle. He likes your tweet.

*

It is a proven fact that when things go well and when you’re able to take a few steps forward, Ms. Bitter Bitch Life has a way of fucking things up tremendously so that it’s two steps forward and ninety steps back. Or in your case, $10,845.68 worth of steps back. 

You receive an automated text message from the university telling you that your recent tuition payment has been delinquent for thirty days and that they Absolutely Need to receive payment within a week. A quick call to mom reveals that medical expenses had to be covered, and you don’t fault her for not telling you when she had a small business to run and dad to take care of. 

“I actually got a part-time job,” you tell her, “And I’ve been saving up, so I think I’ll be able to pay this off.” You are speaking out of your ass because no, you have not been saving, but you’d do some calculations to see how many pairs of underwear you’d need to masturbate in to reach your tuition payment. 

Is it a surprise to you any longer that the first person you message about this is Hoseok and not Jisoo? You know for a fact Jisoo would judge the hell out of you for doing this in the first place, and at least Hoseok has helped you with getting sales done while providing some fantastic orgasms. 

You meet Hoseok at your coffee shop, and yes, you’ve started referring to various places you’ve been to with him as your place. (And the song to which he made you orgasm is now your song for whenever you needed to get in the mood.) 

“Don’t look down,” Hoseok tells you after you’ve spilled the beans. His mouth set into a firm line when he sees how embarrassed you look. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, so don’t look down.” You do as he says and fight the urge to look away. “Listen to everything I have to say, and don’t interrupt until I’m done. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

“You’re never going to sell that much in a week. And if you hike prices now, no one’s going to buy them, and you’ll be out of income moving forward. What you need is time, which you don’t have.” You face falls when you hear his words, but Hoseok isn’t done. “I can get you time. I’ll give you tuition money, and you can pay me back as you make sales.” 

There is a part of you that’s ashamed of being so relieved to hear Hoseok say that. And maybe that same ugly part of you wished for him to offer that to you when you told him in the first place. “I’ll take it. Thank you.” But you’re too practical to let your ideals get in the way of living.

And that’s what you do. You wonder if you should feel bad that you’re using Hoseok like this.

*

Accepting tuition money has now effectively changed things, and the two of you have crossed the point beyond no return. Neither of you say anything about it, choosing to accept this new reality and carry on. 

“Have fun with your boyfriend yesterday?” Jisoo snarks in good-natured teasing.

You frown, “I’m single. If you’re referring to Hoseok-”

“Of course I’m referring to Hoseok,” she giggles, “The boy never leaves your side!” 

“We’re not dating...” It’s business. 

It’s slow paying Hoseok back, but it’s getting there. As a gesture of thanks, you invite him to your tiny room for dinner. It’s only ramyeon and some side dishes, but you’re almost positive he’ll appreciate the gesture, and you’re right. Hoseok digs in with gusto to instant noodles loaded with all sorts of canned meats. 

“This is godly,” he exclaims, swallowingly thickly. 

“You’re godly,” you giggle, freezing because the statement slipped out, and you want to sink into the ground. But Hoseok, testament to his character only smiles and lets you move on with little embarrassment. 

Hoseok catches sight of your underwear packages that you have yet to ship out sometime in between dessert one and dessert two. It makes him feel… odd, and jealous. He pinpoints his emotions immediately and knows that he’s jealous as hell when it comes to you, and while it was fun teaching you “sales tips” and flirting along the way, he doesn’t want to share anymore. 

You message a few people, confirming shipments on twitter while he waits, and soon after you’re done he grabs your wrist to catch your attention. 

“I want to consider the tuition paid in full.” 

You furrow your brows. “I’m not even halfway done paying…” 

“I’ll let the dinner tonight be payment for the balance.” 

“Are you out of your mind? This was nothing-” 

“No it wasn’t,” Hoseok cuts you off, tugging at your wrist so that you walk closer to him. “This is not nothing, and I want for you stop selling your underwear to strangers.” 

You look him directly in the eye, having a good idea of what’s coming up, but you want to be sure. “This is how I live though.” 

“Before me.” Hoseok feels nervous as he thinks about what he’s about to offer. “I’ll let the ramyeon for tonight be payment for the rest of last month’s tuition. And I want to continue having ramyeon with you for tuition. It’s not a bad deal…” 

You’re not an idiot; you know what it means. And you had a good feeling you’d probably fuck him tonight even before he sprung this on you. You pull at your hand to have him let go. After a few moments of typing and swiping, you show him a deactivated twitter. 

“I’m shipping out the ones that are left, but I’ve deactivated.” 

“That’s fine. Because I’ll take care of you.”

*

[1 Semester Later]

Hoseok surprises you with another set of expensive lingerie. You’ve long since graduated from the plain white pairs you used to soil on purpose to sell. 

“Don’t get so excited,” Hoseok says, “They’re not for you.” 

You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok’s statement and decide to take a jab. “What, you’re going to wear them then?” 

He smirks. “Would you like that? You wanna see me in lace? I’ll do it if it gets you off. You like seeing men in lingerie?” He effectively shuts you up by going the extreme. You still blush after all this time, and he loves it.

“Ugh, stop. What are they for then?” 

He suppresses the urge to smile widely. “I want you to wear them. And I want you touch yourself.” 

“Hoseok…” 

“And when you’re done cumming…oh, let’s say five times? Yeah, five is a good number. I want you to take them off, and give them to me. For old times sake.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Did you buy from me once?” You had always suspected, but now you’re even more suspicious.

“I’m not telling.”

[christinemaries]

sunday

i think im officially in the habit of writing daily and making it a priority. theres no real purpose or point to it, it’s just essentially the happenings of my life and a memory capsule of the day because all there is is now. i went to work early and wasnt feeling like going to the gym. i stopped into shoppers to look for almond cream instead and put on some floraly perfume. daddy woke up and was focused on chev and taking the dogs out so we didnt kiss goodbye before i went to work. he didnt like this and let me know while i stopped at a park across the street from fanshawe that hosts big soccer tournaments. to my pleasant surprise there were lots of squirrels hopping around and one starred at me as he munched. they are skittish though and i hope we become friends one day. i found swings which was a bonus and enjoyed a relaxing moment on them. i came into work and mitchell and doug were talking about marketing and how there should be someone delegated to taking photos or working with the photographer to make them active on the internet. this is an appealing job for me as i love taking pictures and putting them online anyways. i’d love to land a gig where i got paid to do that or someone liked my photos and wanted me to work on a certain project or promotion for them. that would be the dream. i didnt end up having coffee because it’s truck stop crappy coffee and needs a lot of almond hazelnut cream aka creamy sugar. mitchell had me make maple walnut cookies and i happily dipped pecans in the maple syrup which was scrumptious. doug called me beautiful today by the way, not directly but it was nice and i smiled and told him he was too. i worked on dancing and enjoying work as much as possible while hovering over dishes. he gave me some sourdough and tomato jelly to try. we did some stretching. i watched a tiny bit of a wedding reception and almost teared up watching the dad and his cane walk his daughter down the aisle. i was sent home at 2 and daddy was ready to go to storybrook so i changed and off we went on a sunday adventure. i paid for him and got myself in for free. i would go back alone myself because it’s free but probably wouldnt pay again. i focused on being happy and excited to explore the gardens which was a mini wonderland/disneyland style place. they had neat paintings, signs that were books, mini buildings, birdhouse windchimes, some extremely slow rides, tons of kids and jungle gym. we also got really close to the geese and saw some fish that were purple and grey and reminded me slightly of rainbow fish. i pretended i was exploring a land as a wide eyed kid and went down a slide, hopped a frog and sat with humpty dumpty. the animals at the gardens got taken away so we didnt see any to daddy’s disappointment and mine. we went on a search for pizza which was unsuccessful. daddy suggested we drop by at his sister helga’s who i look a lot like sometimes apparently. she wasn’t home so we went and checked out boler mountain. i went on a spinny thing that made me feel queasy and eyed out the hill. we decided to go for a sweet treat after on the way home. i got a scoop of maple walnut icecream and a mixed berry frozen yogurt and daddy got 2 maple walnut scoops in a waffle cone. he treated and decided he wouldnt eat ice cream again this year. when i got home i walked chev a little bit and headed to the barn with some organic apple core. tex was out grazing with his buddies and i had to walk to get him. he’s really good and easy to catch which is awesome. he comes in without hesitation. he went down to the grass ring with no hesitation either. we had so much just riding and i love that. i love just holding the reins loose, pushing my bum in the saddle and enjoying. i also like to go out of the ring to cool him down or walk in between cantering or lots of trot. he definitely perks up out there. sylvanna yapped my ear off today and really opened up. i like that she does and she is an interesting lady. she works really hard. she told me not to look at the moon because it might give me worms. she greeted me as bella senorita. she told me she pays the bills for the house. must be kind of nice taking over a family business. but at the same time look at all the growth and work i get to do. i had a bath and listened to abraham about vibration into self love and fear. she said fear is good because it tells you you are thinking about something that does not align with who you are and to recognize it. she says its such a choice on whether we focus on whats good and makes us happy or what makes us sad. like the koreans and their new bomb invention that could hit the us.