#only a few get rich and the rest loses more than they can afford

[baelabong]

ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴜᴇᴅ (ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ, ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ,ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ)

ʜᴇɪʀᴇꜱꜱ!ɢ!ᴘ! ʜᴀᴇᴡᴏɴ x ʜᴇɪʀᴇꜱꜱ!ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Plot: a bunch of rich kids fighting because of generational rivalry

Warnings: g!p, breeding, lowkey manipulative haewon

Wc: 5k

Rq: yes

The air in the boardroom is thick with tension, the silence oppressive. You sit across from Haewon, her icy gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. The contract lies between you, an unspoken challenge.

"Sign it, and we can both walk away from this mess," Haewon says, her voice calm but laced with a cold edge. Her perfectly manicured fingers tap the table impatiently, the only indication that she’s not as composed as she appears.

You narrow your eyes, refusing to be intimidated. "You think this contract will end it all? Our families have been at war for decades, Haewon. A few signatures won't erase the history between us."

She smirks, leaning back in her chair, her posture relaxed yet commanding. "History is written by the victors. And I don’t plan on losing."

Your heart pounds, anger simmering just beneath the surface. For years, you've been groomed to despise her, to see her as the enemy. But sitting here, face-to-face with the woman you’ve heard so much about, there’s a spark of something else—something dangerous and forbidden.

"You’re so sure of yourself," you say, trying to keep your voice steady, though the intensity of her gaze makes it difficult. "But this isn’t just about business, and you know it."

Her expression hardens, the playful smirk disappearing as quickly as it came. "What’s it about then? Revenge? Justice? Or is it just about proving you can beat me?"

Your silence speaks volumes. It’s all of those things and more. But admitting it would give her too much power over you, and you can't afford to let that happen.

"Think about what you’re throwing away," she continues, her tone almost coaxing now. "All for some petty vendetta. We could both walk away from this with our empires intact. No one else has to get hurt."

The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you wonder if she really means it. But then you remember your father’s stern warning, the weight of responsibility that rests on your shoulders.

"This isn’t just about me," you finally reply, your voice firm. "It’s about my family. About everything they’ve sacrificed to get us here."

"And what about you?" Haewon asks, her voice softer now, almost gentle. "What have you sacrificed?"

The question lingers in the air, heavy with implications. You want to brush it off, to act like it doesn’t matter, but the truth is, you’ve given up more than you care to admit. Your childhood, your freedom, even your chance at happiness—all sacrificed at the altar of family loyalty.

"I don’t have a choice," you say, the words feeling like a confession.

"There’s always a choice," Haewon counters, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

Before you can respond, the door bursts open, and your father storms in, his face red with anger. "What the hell is going on here?" he demands, his voice booming through the room.

You stand up quickly, instinctively moving to his side. "We were just discussing the terms of the contract—"

"Terms?" He cuts you off, glaring at Haewon with barely contained rage. "The only terms are that her family finally pays for what they’ve done."

"Father, please," you start, but he waves you off.

"No more talking," he says, turning his attention back to Haewon. "This ends now."

Haewon stands, her demeanor calm despite the chaos unfolding around her. "Mr. Kim, if you’d just—"

"Save it," your father snaps, his eyes narrowing. "You think you can charm your way out of this? You’re just like your grandfather. A snake."

Haewon’s eyes flash with something dark and dangerous, but she doesn’t respond, choosing instead to meet his gaze with a steely determination.

You can feel the situation spiraling out of control, and for the first time, you’re not sure which side you’re on. The lines between right and wrong, loyalty and betrayal, start to blur.

"Enough!" you shout, your voice ringing out in the tense room. Both your father and Haewon turn to look at you, surprise etched on their faces.

"We’re not going to solve anything by yelling at each other," you continue, your heart pounding in your chest. "If we keep this up, we’ll destroy everything. Our businesses, our families, everything."

Your father’s face softens slightly, but his eyes remain hard. "And what do you suggest?"

You glance at Haewon, a silent understanding passing between you. "Let’s negotiate. But this time, we do it my way."

Haewon’s lips curve into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Agreed."

As you sit back down, the tension in the room doesn’t dissipate, but something shifts. For the first time, you’re not just an adversary. You’re a player in a game where the stakes are higher than ever.

And as you lock eyes with Haewon, you can’t shake the feeling that this is only the beginning.

—------------

The first time you meet Haewon in a professional setting, it’s during a high-stakes negotiation between your two companies.

You sit at the head of the table, trying to project confidence as you go over the proposal. But the air is thick with tension, and you can feel Haewon’s eyes on you, scrutinizing your every move.

"Is that the best your family can offer?" Haewon’s voice cuts through the room, calm but with an underlying sharpness that makes you bristle. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you can’t help but feel a surge of frustration.

You take a deep breath, keeping your composure. "We believe this deal is in the best interest of both parties. A partnership could benefit us both."

Her lips curl into a smirk, a look that’s both infuriating and oddly captivating. "A partnership? How quaint. But I don’t settle for anything less than absolute control."

You can feel the eyes of your team on you, waiting to see how you’ll respond. The pressure is suffocating, but you refuse to let her see you falter. "Control doesn’t always guarantee success, Haewon. Sometimes, collaboration is what’s needed to ensure victory."

She leans in, her voice dropping to a level that only you can hear. "Victory is what I always achieve, darling. Don’t forget that." The way she says “darling” sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of condescension and something else you can’t quite place.

Before you can respond, the meeting ends in a stalemate, and the teams begin to file out of the room. But Haewon lingers, watching you with those unreadable eyes.

As you gather your things, she approaches, her steps deliberate and slow. "This isn’t over," she says, her voice low and smooth. "We’ll see who comes out on top."

You meet her gaze, refusing to back down. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

She smiles, a small, knowing smile that makes your heart race in a way you’re not prepared to acknowledge. "Good. I like a challenge."

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your mind racing with a mix of anger, frustration, and something more complicated. The confrontation had left you rattled, not just because of her words but because of the way she looked at you—as if she saw something in you that no one else did.

---

The days that follow are filled with tension as both families prepare for the next round of negotiations. However, you can’t shake the feeling of unease that Haewon’s presence seems to have stirred within you. Despite your determination to see her as nothing more than an enemy, there’s something about her that keeps lingering in your mind.

One evening, as you’re going over documents in your office, your father calls you in for a meeting. His expression is stern, his tone serious as he informs you of a new development.

"We’ve been approached by the Oh family," he says, his voice laced with contempt. "They’ve made a proposal—a marriage alliance."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. "A marriage alliance?" you repeat, disbelief coloring your voice.

"Yes," he confirms, his eyes narrowing. "They want to solidify their power by marrying Haewon to a member of our family. And they’ve asked for you."

The room feels like it’s closing in on you. The idea of marrying Haewon, of becoming part of her world, is both terrifying and… strangely compelling.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. "We can’t agree to this. It’s a trap."

"Of course it is," your father agrees, his voice full of disdain. "But they’re desperate. Haewon needs a wife to continue their bloodline, and they see this as their best option."

The realization hits you—Haewon doesn’t just need a partner; she needs a wife to secure her position and fulfill her family’s expectations. The proposal is as much about survival as it is about power.

"And what do you want me to do?" you ask, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you.

"We refuse, obviously," he says, his tone final. "But I need you to be the one to tell them. Make it clear that we won’t be manipulated into some outdated, archaic arrangement."

You nod, though your mind is far from made up. The thought of facing Haewon again, of telling her that you’re rejecting her, fills you with a strange sense of dread. But there’s no other choice—you’ve been given your orders, and you must follow through.

As you leave your father’s office, you can’t help but wonder what Haewon’s reaction will be. And, more disturbingly, you wonder why you care so much.

—-----------------

The ballroom is an opulent display of wealth and status, filled with the crème de la crème of South Korean society. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the room, illuminating the polished marble floors and lavish decorations. The sound of clinking glasses and polite conversation fills the air, but underneath the superficial pleasantries, the tension between your families simmers, threatening to boil over at any moment.

You find yourself seated beside Haewon at one of the long, elegantly set tables. It’s no coincidence—the seating arrangement is strategic, a forced proximity that neither of you can avoid. Haewon is the picture of composure, her tailored suit hugging her figure perfectly, her every movement exuding confidence and control. She greets those around her with a polite smile, but you can sense the underlying tension in her posture.

Your father, seated on your other side, wastes no time in making his feelings known. “I heard your company is struggling to keep up with the new regulations,” he says, his tone casual but his words barbed.

Haewon doesn’t miss a beat, her smile never wavering. “Regulations are an opportunity for innovation,” she replies smoothly, her voice carrying the weight of someone who’s used to winning.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you listen to the exchange, the thinly veiled hostility cutting through the polite veneer of the dinner. You try to focus on the meal in front of you—a delicate arrangement of courses designed to impress—but it’s impossible to ignore the charged atmosphere.

As the conversation shifts to other topics, Haewon’s hand slips under the table, brushing against your knee. The contact is subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but it sends a shockwave through your body. Your breath catches in your throat as her fingers rest lightly on your leg, the possessiveness in her touch unmistakable.

You shoot her a glance, trying to gauge her intentions, but she’s already turned her attention back to the conversation, responding to another of your father’s pointed remarks with her usual grace. The duality of her actions—cool and composed on the surface, but possessive and demanding beneath—leaves you feeling unsteady.

By the time dessert is served, the tension is almost unbearable. The rich chocolate torte on your plate goes untouched as you struggle to maintain your composure. Haewon’s hand hasn’t moved, her fingers occasionally tightening around your leg, sending shivers up your spine.

Finally, she leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. “Let’s take a walk,” she murmurs, her voice low and insistent.

Your heart races at the suggestion, but you know better than to refuse. With a nod, you quietly excuse yourself from the table, following Haewon out of the ballroom and into the cool night air.

The gardens outside the venue are a stark contrast to the opulence of the ballroom. Here, the air is fresh and crisp, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the cool breeze. The moon casts a silver light over the neatly trimmed hedges and winding paths, creating an almost magical atmosphere.

You walk in silence for a few moments, the gravel crunching under your feet. The distance from the ballroom feels like a reprieve, but the tension between you and Haewon is still palpable. The facade you both maintained during dinner begins to crumble, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you.

“Why are you doing this?” you finally demand, turning to face her. Your voice is a mix of frustration and something else—something more dangerous, more vulnerable. “You have everything, Haewon. Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

Haewon stops, her gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “Because, *Y/N*, you’re the only one who ever challenges me,” she says, her voice low and steady. “The only one who doesn’t bow down or cower in fear.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words die on your lips as she takes a step closer, her presence overwhelming. She’s close enough now that you can feel the warmth of her body, smell the faint scent of her perfume—a mixture of jasmine and something uniquely her.

“I’ve spent my life surrounded by people who want something from me,” she continues, her hand reaching up to cup your jaw, her touch both gentle and commanding. “But you—” she trails off, her thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. “You make me want something I can’t have.”

Her admission hits you like a punch to the gut, the raw honesty in her voice leaving you breathless. For a moment, you’re both suspended in the gravity of her words, the world around you fading into the background.

Before you can respond, she kisses you. The kiss is hard and demanding, a clash of pent-up frustration and longing that neither of you can control. You’re powerless to resist, your anger melting into a desperate need as you kiss her back with equal fervor. Her hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the rapid beat of her heart against your chest, mirroring your own.

You pull away slightly, breathless and dazed, your lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. Haewon rests her forehead against yours, her breathing heavy as she tries to steady herself.

“Why does it have to be like this?” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

“Because we’re on opposite sides,” Haewon replies, her voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t change what I feel.”

You’re silent for a moment, the reality of your situation crashing back down on you. “What about our families?” you ask, your voice filled with uncertainty. “What about everything that stands between us?”

You step back, the distance between you suddenly feeling like a chasm. “We can’t,” you say, your voice cracking under the weight of the words. “We can’t do this, Haewon. Our families… they’ll never allow it. And I can’t—I won’t betray them.”

Haewon’s expression falters, the mask of confidence slipping just enough for you to see the pain beneath. “You’re choosing them over us?” she asks, her voice filled with a mix of disbelief and hurt.

“I’m choosing the only life I’ve ever known,” you respond, your heart breaking with every word. “I can’t just walk away from that.”

The silence that follows is suffocating, the weight of your decision hanging heavy between you. Haewon looks at you, her eyes filled with an emotion you can’t bear to face, before she finally nods, her jaw clenched in an effort to maintain her composure.

—--------------

On a rainy evening, you find yourself waiting in a dimly lit café on the outskirts of Seoul. The soft patter of raindrops against the window provides a soothing backdrop to the storm of emotions you’re feeling. You’ve chosen this place for its anonymity, hoping it will shield you both from the prying eyes of your respective families.

As you sip your coffee, the bell above the door jingles, and Haewon steps in, her hair damp from the rain but her expression composed. She scans the room briefly before spotting you and making her way over.

“Hey,” she says, sliding into the seat opposite you, her voice soft but laden with the weight of unspoken words.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. You reach across the table, your fingers brushing hers in a gesture that feels both intimate and illicit.

Haewon’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world outside the café seems to disappear. “I’ve missed you,” she says quietly, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly as you struggle to hold back your emotions. “But this—us—it's so complicated.”

“I know,” Haewon says, her gaze dropping to the table. “But I can’t help how I feel. Every moment we’re apart, I keep thinking about what we could have.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you look at her, the conflict within you mirrored in her eyes. “We can’t keep meeting like this, Haewon. What if someone finds out? What if they—”

“I don’t care,” she interrupts, her voice tinged with frustration. “I can’t keep living this double life. I need you to understand that.”

You reach out and take her hand, your thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing gesture. “I do understand,” you say softly. “But there’s so much at stake. Our families… everything we’ve worked for.”

“I know,” Haewon replies, her expression pained. “But sometimes, the risk is worth it. Sometimes, what we have is worth fighting for.”

Despite the turmoil, you and Haewon continue to find moments of intimacy, each one a fleeting escape from the reality you both face. One night, after a particularly tense business meeting, you find yourselves alone in a private suite of a high-end hotel. The room is dimly lit, the city lights casting a soft glow through the large windows.

As soon as the door closes behind you, Haewon pulls you into her arms, her lips finding yours in a passionate kiss that speaks of longing and desperation. The kiss deepens as she presses you against the wall, her hands roaming over your body as if trying to make up for all the lost time.

You respond eagerly, your hands threading through her hair, pulling her closer. The intensity of the moment is both exhilarating and overwhelming, the knowledge that this is all you can have adding a bittersweet edge to your desire.

Between kisses, Haewon whispers against your lips, “I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

You pull back slightly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you look into her eyes. “I know. But this can’t go on forever. We’re running out of time.”

Haewon’s eyes are filled with a mixture of longing and frustration. “I don’t care,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. “I just want to be with you, even if it’s only for a little while longer.”

You can’t deny the pull of her words, the depth of your own feelings. “Alright,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions within you. “We’ll make the most of the time we have.”

As your lips meet again, the world outside fades away. Haewon’s hands move with deliberate tenderness, slowly undressing you both until you’re skin to skin. The heat between you intensifies, and she guides you to the bed, her touch gentle but insistent.

Haewon’s breath hitches as she hovers over you, her eyes searching yours for any hesitation. Seeing none, she leans down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “Please, let me take you.”

Her voice, trembling with need, sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, your consent unspoken but clear in the way your body arches into hers.

Her voice, trembling with need, sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, your consent unspoken but clear in the way your body arches into hers.

With a tenderness that contrasts the urgency in her movements, Haewon enters you slowly but deliberately. The sensation draws a soft whimper from her, and she pauses, as if savoring the moment. “You feel so perfect,” she murmurs, her forehead resting against yours.

You close your eyes, losing yourself in the rhythm she sets, in the way she moves inside you with a mixture of reverence and desperation. The guilt and turmoil that await you both outside this room momentarily fade as you surrender to the intimacy you share, each touch, each kiss, a silent promise to make the most of the time you have left.

As you cling to her, your fingers digging into her back, leaving long red marks, making Haewon hiss.

Haewon’s restraint begins to crumble as her need overtakes her. She starts moving faster, her breath hot against your neck as she presses deeper into you. The intensity of her movements pulls a moan from your lips, one that only seems to drive her wilder.

“God, you feel so good,” Haewon groans, her voice rough and desperate. She leans in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. “I’m gonna fill you up,” she whispers, the words cutting through the haze of pleasure enveloping you both.

Her thrusts become more frantic, her hips snapping against yours with a force that leaves you breathless. The bed creaks under the weight of your shared desire, the sound mixing with the ragged breaths and moans that fill the room.

“Make sure that a new bloodline is secure for my family,” Haewon murmurs, the words spilling out between gasps. There’s an edge to her voice, a mix of urgency and something darker that sends a thrill down your spine. “I’ll make sure of it… make sure you’re full of me.”

The intensity of her words and the way she’s taking you, claiming you, sends you spiraling. You cling to her, your nails digging into her back as the pleasure mounts, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

“Haewon,” you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling as the sensation overwhelms you.

“Say my name,” she demands, her pace quickening even more. Her teeth graze your collarbone, her breath hot against your skin. “Let everyone know who you belong to.”

“Haewon,” you cry out again, louder this time, your back arching as she pushes you closer to the brink.

“I’m close,” she growls, her movements growing almost frantic. “I’m so close… I want to feel you come around me. Now.”

The command in her voice, the raw desire and possession, sends you over the edge. You cry out, your body tensing as pleasure crashes through you, and Haewon follows seconds later, her hips jerking against yours as she groans your name, filling you just as she promised.

For a moment, the world is nothing but the sensation of her inside you, the sound of her ragged breaths mixing with yours. Slowly, the frenzy of the moment ebbs, leaving you both trembling and breathless.

Haewon collapses beside you, her arms still wrapped around you tightly, as if afraid to let you go. Her face is buried in your neck, and you can feel her heartbeat slowing against your chest.

You’re both silent for a long time, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets as you cling to each other, the reality of your situation creeping back in. But for now, neither of you moves, unwilling to let the moment end.

“Thank you,” Haewon whispers finally, her voice soft, almost broken. “For this… for being mine, even if it’s only for now.”

You don’t respond, instead, you hold her tighter.

—--------------------------

One evening, after a particularly brutal encounter at another business meeting, you meet Haewon in a secluded location—a luxury hotel room you’ve both come to use as your hideaway. The moment you walk in, the tension is already suffocating, your emotions swirling in a chaotic storm you can no longer contain.

“You were ruthless today,” you accuse, pacing the room with a fury that’s been building for months. “You knew exactly what that deal meant to my family, and you tore it apart like it was nothing. You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you? It’s always about what Haewon wants, what Haewon needs!”

Haewon stands by the window, her gaze cold and impassive as she watches you. “I did what I had to. Just like you would have,” she responds, her voice devoid of emotion, as if your anger means nothing to her.

“That’s it?” you scoff, feeling your blood boil. “After everything we’ve done, everything I’ve given up for you, this is how you treat me? I showed you how committed I was to you last night, Haewon! I gave you everything, and this is what you do in return? You destroy what’s left of my family’s business without a second thought?”

Her indifference is like a slap in the face, and it ignites something feral inside you. “You’re heartless,” you spit, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and hurt. “You use people, discard them when they’re no longer useful to you, and now you’re doing it to me.”

Haewon doesn’t flinch at your words. Instead, a smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth, as if she’s amused by your outburst. “You knew what this was from the start,” she says, taking a step toward you. “You knew exactly who I am.”

Her calm, almost mocking tone drives you over the edge. “I hate you,” you snarl, but the words are hollow, your body betraying you as she approaches.

Before you can protest further, Haewon’s lips crash against yours, her kiss rough and possessive, leaving no room for resistance. Her hands grip your hips, and in one swift motion, she pushes you onto the bed. The intensity in her eyes as she hovers over you sends a thrill down your spine, your anger morphing into something darker, something primal.

“Don’t pretend you’re any different,” she hisses against your lips, her breath hot and sharp. “You’re just like me, willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want.”

You try to hold on to your anger, but it slips away with every touch, every rough caress. As Haewon tears at your clothes, her hands moving over your body with a mix of brutality and familiarity, you find yourself wanting more, craving the way she dominates you, the way she makes you forget everything else.

Haewon enters you without warning, the suddenness of it pulling a cry from your lips. She moves with a brutal kind of passion, each thrust harder than the last, her pace unrelenting. You cling to her, your nails digging into her back as you curse her, your words a mix of anger and desperation.

“I hate you,” you gasp, pulling her closer, wanting her deeper despite the venom in your words. Her big dick hitting all the good spots in you as you continue “You’re a selfish, manipulative—”

But your words are cut off by a moan as Haewon slams into you harder, her lips curling into a dark smile. “Keep talking,” she taunts, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “I love it when you curse me while I’m fucking you.”

The contradiction of your anger and the pleasure she’s forcing out of you leaves you dizzy, lost in the overwhelming sensations. You can’t hold back the moans that escape your lips, the way your body arches into hers, needing more, craving the way she’s taking you, claiming you.

Haewon’s laughter echoes in your ears, dark and full of control. “You can’t resist me,” she says, her tone triumphant. “No matter how much you fight it, you always come back to me. You love this, don’t you? You love how I fuck you, how I make you forget everything else.”

You squirt out while clenching as hard as you can on Haewon “shit shit shit shit, keep clenching on me. Ive only fu-fuck fucked you once yet your trying so hard to milk me dry”

“Do you want my babies that bad?”, Haewon snickers

And in that moment, it’s true. The anger, the accusations, they all fade away as you’re consumed by the way Haewon pounds into you, her movements rough and unforgiving, but exactly what you need. You cling to her, pulling her closer, as if she’s the only thing anchoring you in this twisted reality.

“I hate you,” you whisper one last time, but the words are empty, meaningless as you surrender completely to her, lost in the intensity of her touch, her dominance.

“You’re mine,” Haewon growls, her pace quickening, her thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate. “You’ll always be mine.”

And as she pushes you over the edge, taking you with a force that leaves you breathless, you realize that you don’t care. Haewon shudders, emptying herself in you, not pulling out.

“Can I please stay in you?”, she whispers against your shoulder as you nod.

Carrying you as you wrap your legs around her waist, her cock still in you, making you moan as she brought you two to the bed, kissing you. The toxicity of your relationship is forgotten in the haze of pleasure, in the way she makes you feel alive, wanted, and completely hers.

In the end, all you can think about is how much you love this, how much you love her, even as she destroys everything around you.

[madaqueue]

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 1

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, angst, light smut. alcohol mention, masturbation (f). 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.6k

a/n: IT'S HERE AHHHH hope y'all like this one :)

series masterlist | next chapter

God, I need to get a job.

The afternoon sun filters in through the blinds as you scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the reality of your future. You graduated college months ago and still have no idea what you want to do or how to do it. Application after application, shitty interview after shitty interview, and you’re still no further into the career that’s supposed to be the rest of your life.

Sighing, you prop yourself up on your elbows in bed to take in the space around you - clothes were strewn across the floor of your studio apartment, dirty dishes piled in the sink, empty takeout containers from restaurants you certainly couldn’t afford to be eating at. It was all just too much.

Eh, I’ll get around to it, you think, laying back into the pillows and returning to your phone. You navigate to check your bank account, just to see the damage that months of unemployment have done.

“Balance: $68.06”

Shit. That’s not even enough to make rent this month, and even if you did have a job lined up you’ve already asked your landlord for one extension on your payments and he did not seem very open to the prospect of doing it again.

Trying to shut out the thought of possibly losing your apartment, you move over to Instagram to quiet the dread building inside of you. Scrolling through posts of your friends on yachts, traveling the country, eating expensive dinners with expensive-looking people, you only feel like more of a failure.

How are they able to do it? I mean, sure, they at least have jobs, but none of them pay well enough to do this, right?

You hover over one of your friend’s pictures, trying to recognize the incredibly well-dressed, albeit much older, man she’s seated across from. As you zoom in, it suddenly clicks - her new jewelry, the expensive bottle of champagne, fresh nails, styled hair - and you remember your conversation with her the last time you saw each other.

You were both out at a bar and she kept buying rounds of shots for you and all your friends.

“Dude, not to be a total dick, but how are you able to afford all this?” you shout over the music blasting through the speakers.

“Oh m’god, you aren’t gonna believe it” she slurs slightly, “there’s this app where rich guys pay you to just go on dates with ‘em, I jus’ gotta keep lookin’ pretty and they pay me so much.”

“Don’t you have to, like, fuck them though?” you ask, curiously raising an eyebrow.

“Only if y’wanna! You’re not really supposed to, but they pay you a lot more!” she grins.

At the time you pushed the conversation to the back of your mind and promptly forgot about it after a few more drinks, but now the realization crashes over you.

No, there’s no way. You try to shake the idea out of your mind - were you seriously considering getting a sugar daddy before getting a job?

She did make it sound pretty easy though…and I mean, it’s just dates, right?

You hesitantly pull out your laptop to search for the website she had mentioned. There’s no harm in just checking it out, you try to rationalize. Before you know it, you’ve set up a profile and have picked out a few pictures of yourself that make you look particularly hot - you out at a bar, you on the beach, you with your friends.

After you finalize your profile, the screen suddenly fills with pictures of, frankly, less-than-attractive older men. You roll your eyes and scoff at your own stupidity for even considering this idea, starting to shut your laptop before something catches your eye in the corner of the screen.

Bright white hair and piercing blue eyes look back at you through the computer. Holy shit, he’s hot, you think as you move your mouse to click on his profile.

Bio: “My name’s Gojo, but you can call me yours 🥰 23, casual only”

Okay, so he’s hot, rich, and practically the same age as you? You feel like you’ve struck gold. Besides, he only wants something casual, which is all you’re interested in anyways since you still need to focus on finding a job eventually, but this could at least help you financially bridge the gap between then and now.

Swiping up, you decide to just send him a message and hope for the best; after all, the worst he can say is no.

You: Gojo, I need you to be fr with me - does that pickup line in your bio ever actually work?

Sighing, you move to close your computer as you wait for him to respond, but a message pops up almost instantly.

Gojo: Why don’t you find out tonight over dinner - 7:30 work for you?

A smile starts to form on your lips - this was almost too easy. The two of you briefly confirm the details of your first date before you finally shut your laptop and start getting ready.

–

Standing outside of the restaurant, you’re suddenly hit with a wave of nervousness as the reality of what you’re about to do sets in.

There’s no way this is a good idea - maybe I should just go home. No, no, I’ve made it this far, and I really do need the money.

You inhale a shaky breath as you try to steady yourself before reaching for the door and walking inside. The restaurant is beautiful, the scent of fresh bread and herbs hitting your nose as soon as your feet step onto the dark wood of the floor. The deep red walls make the space feel cozy, intimately lit with candles and a chandelier hanging overhead. You glance down at the burgundy dress and black heels you decided on since they were the nicest clothes you owned, yet you still feel slightly underdressed.

Glancing around the restaurant, the white-haired man is nowhere to be found. “Hi, um, I’m here to meet someone,” you hesitantly explain to the person at the host stand.

“Ah yes, you must be with Mr. Gojo. Right this way,” he gestures for you to follow him. He leads you through the restaurant to the far back corner, unveiling a small room that was initially hidden behind a curtain.

As you adjust to the dim lighting, you glance around the new space in front of you: a single table with roses placed in the middle, and on one side sits perhaps the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He smiles at you as those bright blue eyes meet yours before they slowly move down and up your body, taking you all in.

“Well, aren’t you a treat,” he grins before getting up to pull out the empty chair for you.

When he stands up you allow your gaze to cover him as your eyes shift up to his white locks then down across his black suit, adorned with a dark red tie that somehow perfectly matches your dress.

“You aren’t half-bad yourself,” you respond as you move across the small space to sit down.

“Careful now, don’t flatter me too much or it’ll go to my head,” he smirks as he returns to his seat across from you. He places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his palm, staring at you.

Trying to break the silence, you murmur, “This place is nice.”

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes never leaving your face.

“So, um, what do you do?” you continue, desperately trying to loosen the pressure you feel from his gaze.

“Do you care?” he taunts, tilting his head to the side with that same smirk on his face.

“W-well, I-” you stammer.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m not offended. You’re here because I’m paying you, and I’m here because I wanted to sit across from a beautiful woman. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that,” he smiles.

The combination of the pet name and him calling you beautiful suddenly makes your cheeks flush and you look down at the table, trying to hide your reddening face.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your chin as Gojo gently tilts your head back up. “Eyes up here, princess,” he purrs. “After all, what’s the point of this little date if I can’t even look at you?”

Something about his touch, his voice, his words has your heart fluttering in your chest. You’ve never been nervous like this over a guy before, and you’ve barely just met him.

You swallow, trying to keep your eyes on his but it almost feels like he’s seeing into you, somehow able to view the depths of your soul. You feel naked in front of him, like he’s looking at your very essence.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally breaks the eye contact with a chuckle. “Sorry, I know I can come off a little intense sometimes. You’re just so gorgeous it feels like I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t try to take it all in.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you finally tear your gaze away from him, softly laughing at the compliment.

The rest of the date goes smoothly - he orders the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu and tells you to get whatever you want, since it’s obviously his treat. The conversation flows easily between the two of you, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying your time with him. When it comes time to leave, he thanks you for spending the night with him and gives you his phone number in case you ever want to go out again. As you part ways to walk towards your car, you get a notification from your bank.

Holy. Shit.

Your eyes widen at the screen. Gojo sent you $2,000.

You almost feel dizzy, not having had this much money at once in nearly months. Now you can pay rent and buy groceries and do all the other stuff you were too broke to do. Sitting in your car, you let out a squeal of excitement.

Unfortunately, your joy gets cut short as you go to turn your car on, the key turning repeatedly in the ignition as it stalls out.

Of course, you think, the one time I don’t put gas in this goddamn thing. To your credit, you really couldn’t afford it, and it had lasted longer on empty before. You had also neglected the oil change, and the tire rotation, and the other maintenance the mechanic kept emailing you was overdue, but how were you supposed to pay for all that anyways? Not knowing what to do, you pull out your phone to call someone to help you. As you unlock it, you’re met with Gojo’s contact information he just put in.

I mean, he would definitely help me. And I know he can afford gas. Sighing, you call him.

He answers almost immediately. “Miss me already?”

You want to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you really do need his help. “My piece of shit car won’t turn on, and I figured you’re probably still close to the restaurant, could you help?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a minute.” Even after just one date, it’s like you can practically hear his smile through the phone.

As promised, he arrives a few minutes later. He drives up in a sleek, black Porsche that has windows so tinted you wouldn’t be able to see inside if he hadn’t rolled his window down. Of course he drives a nice car, you think to yourself.

“Your savior has arrived,” he smirks, leaning his head out the window at you where you stand against your car. Opening the passenger side door reveals the interior of the vehicle, which is just as nice as the outside, with black leather seats and an all-black console. “You know, this is usually the part where you say thank you.” He turns to face you as the scent of his cologne hits you, something woody and crisp.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you settle into the comfortable seat. “You can just take me home.”

“On it,” he responds with a salute.

The drive is quiet as you spiral into your thoughts. How am I supposed to get a job now if I can’t even drive to an interview? How am I even supposed to get groceries? Can I just leave my car at the restaurant? Where else would I even take it? How am I supposed to afford this? Fuck.

Gojo clears his throat next to you, pulling you out of your mind. “You alright over there, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, sorry,” you stutter, “just stressed.”

He glances over at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Well, what if I could help you be a little less stressed?”

“Oh yeah, and how would you do that exactly?” Looking down, you suddenly notice his hand on your thigh, his thumb moving in slow circles along your skin. The gentle sensation makes you feel flustered as heat begins to pool between your legs.

Am I seriously about to fuck this guy I just met?

Before you can say anything else, Gojo continues. “How about you use my car while I get yours sorted out for you, hm?” A look of surprise flashes across your face at his kindness and lack of sexual proposition. “What, not the offer you were expecting?” he smirks.

“Gojo, I-” you start.

“Look, princess, I want to do this. Let me help you, please?” he pleads.

“Fine,” you relent, “but I owe you one, seriously.”

“Don’t worry about it. But, if you really insist, I’m sure we can figure out a way for you to repay me at some point.” You tilt your head to look at him as his eyes meet yours, a glint of mischief in his blue irises.

After a few more minutes of him flirting with you, his hand never leaving your thigh, Gojo finally pulls up to your apartment building. Stepping out of the car, he hands you the keys and reminds you not to worry, that he’ll take care of everything. You thank him again as you walk inside - he insists you don’t wait outside while he waits for his ride home - and he sends you off with a wave.

Walking into your apartment, your thoughts swirl in your mind as you replay the events that just transpired. How did you manage to find this rich, handsome, courteous man? More importantly, what’s the catch? If he’s truly as good as he seems, why was he on that website in the first place?

Sighing, you flop onto your bed and peel off your dress, tossing it into the accumulating pile of clothes on the floor. Your skin feels warm where he touched you, a part of you wishing he had inched higher. Before you realize you’re doing it, your hands traverse down your body between your legs, gently pulling your panties to the side.

As you rub over your clit, you picture how his soft fingertips would feel against you, how good those long fingers would feel inside you, beckoning you towards your release. Your other hand traces up your chest, gently cupping your breast as you toy with your firm nipple. His name escapes your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer, eyes shut as you picture him. “Gojo,” you can’t stop yourself from moaning into the empty room as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking, the thought of him the only thing on your mind.

Your breathing slows as you come down from your high, heart still pounding in your chest.

Well, that settles it, you think as you sit up. I guess I am going to fuck him.

series masterlist | next chapter

[thepenultimateword]

It's slightly unrelated, but I love your content. Keep it up! :)

For the prompt lists, do you have anything related to genetic modification or cybernetic stuff? Can be romantic or platonic. Thanks!

Thank you! Oooo, of course!

CW: mention of death, mention of lost limbs, prompt 6 is a little creepy with mention of cannibalism, body alterations, prompt 10 has drowning mention

1. One day while flighting, Hero loses their cybernetic arm. They have to retreat when they become outnumbered, but Villain finds the arm and spends the rest of the day trying to track them down and return it.

2. [A] and [B] were a couple. But that was before [A] left to fight in the intergalactic war and never returned. [B] assumed [A] died in battle like so many others, but when they transfer to another station, they spot a person with over half a cyborg body. And they have [A]’s face.

3. [A] is a bitter soldier who recently lost a limb. [B] is a giddy cybernetic prosthetist who is very excited about creating their newest client a new limb. Unlikely friendship (or romance) ensues.

4. Cyborgs are barely treated like humans. Despite only being partly mechanical, the parts make them seem to much like the far more hated robots. When a cyborg flees into bot territory to escape persecution they meet a nice, but suspicious robot who agrees to let them stay for a little while.

5. Most humans have been genetically altered these days, beautiful, intelligent, and healthy at birth. There are only a few for which the alterations go wrong. The people call them monsters. They government calls them assets. They call themselves lucky to have found each other.

6. Genetic alterations seemed almost perfect. Until the side affects. Those who have been altered have developed an inexplicable craving for human blood and flesh, and with their newly acquired speed and strength, regular humans are easy prey. Hunters begin to be trained to handle the new problem, but when Hunter traps Experiment they don’t see a monster. They see a very confused and scared victim of circumstance. They decide to help Experiment instead and hope the side effects can be learned to be managed.

7. People say the cyborgs only work heavy duty jobs, construction, sewers, places they can be useful but unseen. However one day [A] meets [B], the newest barista at their favorite coffee shop and a cyborg. They find themself intrigued by the strange newcomer and a little bit smitten.

8. Hero and Villain are stranded in the middle of nowhere, and Villain’s cybernetic legs break. Villain hates needing to rely on Hero, but they may just need that blasted do-gooder’s help.

9. Only the truly rich can afford to have their body altered with cybernetic parts. By this point, they’re so exclusive, they might as well be another species. Human is hired by Cyborg to water plants and clean the house, getting their first up close look at one of elite.

10. Protagonist is a cyborg, and their cybernetic limbs are not water proof. When they fall into a deep lake, their limbs go dead, the heavy metal dragging them down to the bottom. They think they’re about to die when antagonist saves them.

11. With advancements in technology people have begun altering their bodies in more and more creative ways, mythological creatures are the new hype, filling the world half-robotic mermaids, Satyrs, and anything else people can think up.

12. Cyborg often attends the protests and parades for cybernetic rights. Human can’t related very well but they’re just happy to go along and support Cyborg.

13. Magic has slowly been wiped out with the rise of technology. Mage has always been more powerful than each advancement, but when a new Cyborg Sentinel is introduced they realize that the creators have decided to fight magic with magic. The cyborg has been proofed against their powers and now they’re hunting them down.

[merakiui]

Hii! I’ve seen a lot of amazing concepts here (Android Scaramouche, Yandere Xiao who loses his darling etc.) AND THEYRE ALL JUST SO GOOD. Honestly I’d love to hear your thoughts on Yan Childe and incredibly rich, villainess type character. She has the body to rival gods, and yet it’s hidden behind dresses. Their first meeting could be something like that one Incredibles scene where they both dine in the volcano!

Something that came to my mind while reading your ask was hitman!Childe, whose next mission is to get rid of a wealthy, newly elected mayor. He’s seen you on television before when he bothers to watch it during the rare instances where he’s afforded a break. Childe has never been interested in what a target’s like or who bothered to pay for the hit. As long as he gets to carry out his dangerous missions (which never go to plan), he’s content remaining somewhat oblivious. That doesn’t mean he won’t put in the effort to know background information. Only what’s necessary so that he can determine to best and fastest way to kill them.

You’re an enigma of sorts. When he hears you’ll be dining one on one with a CEO from Liyue, he easily slips through undetected. All it takes are a few artfully crafted lies, a fine suit that’s worth more than the hostess makes, and he’s being led to the private room, which rests directly under a volcano and allows everything in the room to bathe in molten crimson. He sits across from you, a debonair grin tugging at his lips.

You don’t seem suspicious when you greet him with a smile of your own. In fact, you treat him like the CEO and Childe can’t help thinking just how easy this is. How can you expect to survive the world of politics if you can’t even recognize a threat?

Dinner is deliciously safe, as expected of someone who prefers private, trustworthy chefs. Childe settles back in his chair, raises his wine glass to his lips, and peers through the glass at you. You smile again and the red shadows paint you in bloody auras.

“That’s enough play-acting, Mr. Tartaglia.”

He lowers his glass, watching you with his calculating blues. What’s your angle now? Did you poison his food? Is something in the wine? Are you secretly an assassin like him and you’re both meant to kill each other?

Childe leans back in his seat, brows raised. “What makes you say that, dear? I thought you were enjoying it.”

You laugh, but the humor doesn’t reach your eyes. “If I wanted someone to lick the tip of my heels and lavish me with praise, I’d turn to those desperate to please me.”

“What a shame. I had an arsenal of compliments suited to your taste.”

“I’ll be upfront with you, Mr. Tartaglia.” He tilts his head at you, a portrait of innocent curiosity. “I was the one who hired you and I fully expect you to kill me. If you can, that is.”

“You think I can’t?” Childe challenges with a frown. “Don’t let the volcano fill your head with too much hot air, Miss Mayor.”

“I’m not the type who would die easily. Those before you weren’t very skilled at killing, yet they claimed to be renowned killers. It really tarnished my fun.” Pouting, you steeple your hands and peer at him through lidded eyes. “You’re different.”

“How flattering. And you think I’ll die just like those who came before? You’re quite the court jester.” He toys with the silverware, raising the fork until it catches the light. “To think the mayor got off to fear… I should have capitalized on this interest sooner.”

“Hah! What’s wrong with a little game of cat and mouse?” Mirroring his actions, you point a butter knife in his direction. “We sit on even playing ground. Both of us are experienced killers.”

“‘And only one of us is intended to walk out of this alive.’ That’s what you wish to say, isn’t it?”

“Precisely.” You rise from your seat and stride over to him. Placing your hand on the table, you lean in until your lips are mere centimeters from his ear. “Show me a good time, Mr. Tartaglia. I’d love to see what you’re capable of.”

“It would be rude not to.”

[bronanlynch]

aa1 lawyers ranked by whose file clerk I would rather be

background: I was a file clerk at a law firm for a while and I’ve looked at so many job listings. this doesn’t necessarily reflect how I feel abt the characters, just how I think they’d be as a boss and what the state of their filing is

mia: keeps her office very organized, and I appreciate a woman who knows the value of alphabetical order, even if it does stress me out that she files things by topic instead of by name. loses a point for only knowing how to use her computer for emails because you know that means she’d fuck up every time she had to use the copier. I would still happily send all her faxes because at least she’s nice abt it and probably would give me health insurance. 9/10, sure, I’d work for her

phoenix: probably doesn’t need one because he takes so few cases and he couldn’t afford to pay me anyway. 1/10, he’s not even hiring, this is a pity point

edgeworth: on one hand, very neat and keeps written records of Everything, so there would be a lot to file but it would never be too frustrating, which is ideal tbh. he definitely knows the exact location of every file in his office and doesn’t lose them to the void. on the other hand, he would be mean to me one (1) time and I would decide that he was my nemesis and that I had to prove that I’m better than him. it would be a very petty one-sided rivalry but I would have so much fun drafting passive-aggressive emails. also, I would have no respect for him on a moral level bc of the whole ‘prosecutor who doesn’t care if people are innocent’ thing but like. the place where I used to work defended corporations I’m used to having no respect for the lawyers I work for. 5/10, depends on how long I’ve been jobsearching

von karma: absolutely the fuck not. all of edgeworth’s worst habits (mean & rich & corrupt) combined with his insistence on disregarding rules when it suits him means he would be a fucking nightmare to work for. he would give me something to send to the court at the last second that would be just blatantly put together wrong because he thinks he knows better than the judge and I would have to waste time doing it correctly and then it would get submitted late and he’d yell at me. would also pitch a fit at some poor unsuspecting fedex customer service agent bc the package he sent on friday with next business day delivery didn’t get delivered until the next business day instead of over the weekend. 0/10, I bet his job listing stresses how hard you’ll have to work and doesn’t mention pay or benefits

grossberg: at least he has a receptionist I can gossip with. would hand me a $20 bill and ask if that would be enough to buy more creamer for his coffee (a true story and not just an arrested development bit unfortunately). reminds me of my old job except without the wildly terrible stuff. 7/10, tolerable

payne: exists I guess. probably has one or two super irritating habits but the rest of the time he’s fine so you put up with it. loses points for being a prosecutor though sorry for bringing my real world politics into this. 5/10, less stressful than working for edgeworth but more boring so it balances out

lana: definitely has a very strict system for her files and god help you if you fuck it up but at least she’s consistent and clear abt what she wants and I appreciate that in a boss. same moral disagreements as for edgeworth. 6/10, depends on the benefit package tbh

gregory edgeworth: not enough data but probably fine. based on how edgeworth talks abt him he probably cares abt making sure people have a fair trial and all that, which makes him a better option than almost everyone on this list. 8/10, yeah why not

hammond: again not enough data but I think he’d be similar to grossberg but probably does too many medical records requests and those can be such a pain to scan. still gets points for not working for the prosecutor’s office. 7/10, sure I guess

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Red Hood (Part 1)

Summary: While on a job, the reader runs into The Red Hood. She discovers his true identity to be Dean Winchester from one of the wealthiest families in the city. She knows he’s made a few enemies and tries to take advantage of that fact to get something she needs in return...

Masterlist

Pairing: Vigilante!Dean x criminal!reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, fighting

A/N: Enjoy!

________

“Oh, crap,” you said, feeling the binding around your torso. You thought you’d made it out clean. But if it was someone using a gadget like that, it wasn’t any security guard. You grunted as you saw a figure emerge from the shadows, a hood up and a mask covering his eyes. “Let me walk and you can have the money.”

“Not my style,” he said. He walked over carefully, tilting his head at you. His cautious approach stopped when he suddenly stepped over and ripped the mask covering your face off. You scowled at him but he simply stared. “I’m taking you in.”

He bent down and you used the opportunity to swing your legs up and wrap around his neck. He went wide eyed and glared at you but you smirked.

“Goodnight Mr. Vigilante,” you said. He tried pulling you off but he lost consciousness quickly. You let him drop to the ground and moved your leg back, managing to grab the knife in your boot. You sliced through the lower bindings and eventually got the ropes off. You almost left when you saw the unconscious Red Hood on the ground. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little blackmail after all. You pulled out your phone and pushed down his hood, ripping off the mask over his eyes. You took a few pictures of the man, something familiar about him.

You grinned when you recognized him as the ward of the biggest tech company in the city. 

If you played your cards right, a week from now you’d be loaded and sipping mai tais on the beach, never having to worry about pulling a job ever again.

“Shit!” you shouted the next evening, jumping straight back into your counter. The Red Hood was standing silently at the edge of your kitchen, narrowing his eyes at you. He threw down a manila envelope on the counter and stalked over to you.

“I don’t negotiate with criminals,” he said.

“I don’t think it’d look too good if Dean Winchester were to be found out as The Red Hood. With all the crimes you’ve committed yourself. I bet that’d ruin a few of your family’s contracts,” you said. You reached up to grab his hood when he caught your wrist. “I felt I was very generous with my offer.”

“Fifty million is generous?” he scoffed. He shoved your wrist away and put his back to you, tugging his hood back. He slipped his eye mask down around his neck and glanced over his shoulder. “I should throw you in prison.”

“For stealing from rich people? They can afford it just like you can afford this. Take it out of your trust fund. I bet no one would even notice,” you said.

“What do you need that much money for?”

“What do you need it for? None of your business.”

“The answer is no.”

“Then I guess your photo of you out cold at a crime scene in your little costume will be on the news very, very shortly.”

“It’s an excessive amount,” he said.

“Your family is billionaires. You got the cash.”

“I can’t move that much without red flags.”

“Figure it out.”

“I could just make you disappear,” he said, stepping in front of you. “You couldn’t stop me.”

“You only murder the bad guys and unfortunately for you, I just steal things and knock people out. It’s not justified. Your old partner, that bat guy, even he didn’t kill people,” you said.

“He let me down, more than once. I do things the way they need to be done,” he said. “Don’t think because you’re a woman you get special treatment.”

“Wouldn’t expect it,” you said. “Give me my money and you will never hear from me again.”

“Five million.”

“No way.”

“Five million a month for the next ten months,” he said. “It won’t raise too many eyes. I can justify a cost for that.”

“Fifty. One payment,” you said, crossing your arms.

“What the hell do you need with that much money?”

“Maybe I want to donate to charity. It’s not your concern. You have three days to get my money into that bank account. If you don’t, you and your entire family’s business are going down. Have I made myself clear?”

“I will find all copies and when I do, you’re gonna have a big problem. Count on it.”

He went out your back door and you rolled your eyes, already making plans to have extra copies out there just in case.

Three Days Later

“You’re good,” said Marcus. You stared at him and he smiled. “You’re clean kid. Debt repaid with interest. Your family is safe again. Any interest in working for me again? You’ll get to keep some of the profits now.”

“I’m not meant for this line of work,” you said. “Lose my number?”

“You’re not as bad as you think. Just got a pesky conscious. Enjoy retirement,” he said. You hummed and quickly left, taking a deep breath. 

Half an hour later you were heading to the airport with five million dollars in your bank account and ready to go start over.

Two Days Later

“Nice view,” said a voice behind you. You sat up from your chair by the pool, staring up at Dean as he smiled. “Nice house. A little smaller than I was expecting for fifty million dollars in the bank. If you had fifty million that was. More like five now, hm?”

“I still have copies,” you said as he sat in the chair beside you.

“Oh, I know,” he said, stealing your drink. “Whoa, fruity and a lot of rum.”

“What do you want?”

“My plan was to hunt you down and get my money back and get you to give up the copies and get you thrown in prison. But I’ve had a change of heart.”

“Really. Just like that.”

“If you told me innocent lives were in danger, I could have been a lot nicer. Marcus is an unforgiving criminal. But even he could let a mistake go for forty five million, right?”

“I owed him ten. The thirty five was interest. I screwed up a job when I wouldn’t kill a guard. He lost the pay. I started working for him most every night to pay it off. If I didn’t, he’d deal with my family over on the other coast. He’s connected enough to have them watched. For forty five million, they are safe.”

“Sounds like you owe me five million dollars,” he said, holding out his hand. “Fork it over.”

“I can’t live there anymore. I need to be out of that city,” you said.

“You’ll come back eventually. But you owe me five million dollars,” he said. You dropped your head and sighed, resting your head in your hands. “Or you can give me every single copy of the photos and agree to never steal another thing in your life and in exchange, I will pretend you didn’t take five million for yourself.”

“Are you serious?” you said, snapping your head up. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Why would you do that?”

“Why didn’t you tell Marcus who I was? That would have cleared whatever you owed and then some,” he said. You shrugged and he smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion you’re a good person. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the other criminals.”

You reached to your left and grabbed your phone, deleting the picture and then permanently deleting it again.

“You never had copies,” he said.

“Nope. You could have taken my phone and that would have been that.”

“Then I guess that settles that,” he said. “Nice place to retire to.”

“Yup,” you said.

“Mind if I crash here? Considering I bought this place and all.”

“Why are you staying here?”

“I did something yesterday. My old partner called me up, told me I ought to take a break for a bit. He had some valid points,” he said. “No one’s ever knocked me out before.”

“I have many skills,” you said. He chuckled and stretched out his body.

“I bet you do. So am I staying?”

“You can stay if you get me a refill,” you said, taking the glass from him and drinking the rest of the liquid. You held it out to him and he sat up.

“Alright. Don’t go running off on me again.”

“I think this time I’ll stay put.”

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart.”

“For now.”

“Oh really? Where you thinking of going?”

“Home to Gotham. Eventually,” you said. He stared at you and glanced down, nodding to himself.

“How about a nice vacation in the meantime?” he asked.

“After you. Sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[thegrandimago]

This time last April, on the 50th anniversary of Earth Day, the world was coming to grips with the isolation of quarantine and the economic and travel slowdowns that defined the first wave of the Covid-19 pandemic. Even now, with the rollout of vaccines, the virus continues to affect our daily lives. And the toll keeps growing: 3 million dead and more than 140 million cases worldwide.

If anything, the worst public health crisis in a century has brought our understanding of our planet, and our place in the fragile yet resilient web of life throughout it, into stark relief.

Amid so much grief and loss and uncertainty, the biodiversity crisis paced ahead over the past year, becoming a much bigger theme on the world stage. The climate crisis worsened, too. Wildfires blazed. Ecosystems became even more fouled up than they already were.

At the same time, the marked reduction in human activity spurred by the pandemic — what some experts have dubbed the “Anthropause” — has afforded scientists and researchers opportunities to observe the natural world like never before. Coinciding with these unique observational windows has been an increase in attention on Indigenous knowledge and land stewardship as a way forward in combating ecological catastrophe.

In true Vox tradition, here are the 10 most concerning, intriguing, and — dare we say — hopeful things we learned about our planet since the last Earth Day.

1) We saw just how quickly ocean noise pollution can drop, and how much that can help marine life

For a moment last spring, things got very quiet in the oceans.

The drop in human activity that came with the pandemic resulted in drastic and voluntary sound reductions that ran the underwater gamut: from a drop in shipping noise, the predominant source of man-made ocean noise pollution, to decreases in recreation and tourism. All of it suddenly ceased.

In Alaska’s Glacier Bay National Park, the foraging grounds of humpback whales, the loudest underwater sounds last May were less than half as loud as those in May 2018, according to a Cornell University analysis. A May 2020 paper in the Journal of the Acoustical Society of America found that underwater noise off the Vancouver coast was half as loud in April as the loudest sounds recorded in the months preceding the shipping traffic slowdown.

Chronic underwater ocean noise had been rising over the past few decades, to the detriment of marine life that have evolved to use sound to navigate their world. “There is clear evidence that noise compromises hearing ability and induces physiological and behavioral changes in marine animals,” reads an assessment of marine noise pollution research published in the journal Science in February.

The majority of ocean noise pollution is a byproduct of economic activity. But compared with massively complex issues like climate change, noise is relatively easy to turn down, at least a little. Silencing it at its source has an immediate positive impact: Famously, researchers studying right whales on the East Coast measured a drop in the animals’ stress hormones in the wake of the 9/11 attacks, after shipping traffic abruptly dropped. Even tiny fish larvae are better able to locate the coral reefs where they were born, which themselves emit sound, when the oceans get quiet.

Man-made ocean noise has since ramped back up and is now stabilized near pre-pandemic levels. But it fell silent for long enough last March, April, and May that a global team of scientists is actively scrubbing through audio recordings gathered by around 230 non-military hydrophones — underwater microphones — that monitor ocean noise around the world. They aim to study the “year of the quiet ocean” in the context of ocean sounds before, during, and after the pandemic.

2) A new study found that the Amazon is likely warming — not cooling — the planet

The world’s largest and most species-rich tropical forest, the Amazon, is home to billions of trees that not only provide refuge to a diverse assemblage of organisms but also store and absorb a huge amount of carbon dioxide.

That’s what makes the conclusion of a study published this spring so alarming: Due to human activity, the Amazon is likely contributing to — not offsetting, as one might expect— global warming. “The current net biogeochemical effect of the Amazon Basin is most likely to warm the atmosphere,” the researchers wrote in the paper.

While the Amazon is still absorbing loads of CO2, human activities in the basin, such as deforestation, are driving up emissions of CO2 and other more potent greenhouse gases like methane and nitrous oxide across the basin.

Deforestation, for one, deals a double punch: It both releases gases into the atmosphere and removes CO2-absorbing trees from the equation. That equation now sees the Amazon generating more greenhouse gases than it emits, the study suggests. (It’s worth noting, though, this is all really complicated. For more, check out Craig Welch’s story in National Geographic or read the full study here.)

3) We discovered a bunch of new species

While humans have made a mark on all corners of Earth, we’ve only discovered a small fraction of the species that occupy it. In fact, that fraction could be smaller than 1 percent. And remarkably, not all of those species are tiny microbes and insects. They’re also fish, lizards, bats, and even whales. That’s right: Even giant mammals can elude scientists.

In January, researchers at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration said they discovered a new species of baleen whale in the Gulf of Mexico. (You can find the paper describing the discovery here.) Other teams of scientists are also on the trail of what could be yet another new whale species.

Last year, researchers documented scores of new plants and animals, from geckos and sea slugs to flowering plants and sand dollars, as Vox’s Brian Resnick reported. Our favorite? Brookesia nana, a thumbnail-sized chameleon native to northern Madagascar. It may be the smallest reptile on Earth; it’s certainly the cutest.

4) We got a much clearer picture of just how much wildlife we’re losing

The numbers aren’t good.

In September, the World Wildlife Fund published a report showing that the global populations of several major animal groups, including mammals and birds, have declined by almost 70 percent in the last 50 years due to human activity.

A separate report, published in Nature this year, found that populations of ocean sharks and rays have plummeted by more than 70 percent in roughly the same period. And one-third of freshwater fish have been found to be at risk of extinction.

A number of species were also declared extinct over the last year. Those include the smooth handfish, a bottom-dweller that rests atop human-like appendages on the seafloor. It was the first marine fish species to be declared extinct in modern history. (Environmental journalist John Platt has a list of recent extinctions in 2020 at Scientific American.)

5) Protecting plants and animals hinges on a thriving ecotourism industry

In the early days of the pandemic, the popular “Nature is healing” meme overshadowed a darker reality in many parts of the world: As travel ground to a halt, so did revenue from wildlife tourism, putting some wildlife conservation efforts at risk.

The fallout was most severe in Africa. According to a new collection of research from the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), a government and civil society group, more than half of the continent’s protected areas had to pause or limit field patrols and other operations to stop poachers in the wake of the pandemic.

“Parks have emptied out to a large extent and there’s no money coming in,” Nigel Dudley, a co-author of one of the IUCN papers, told Reuters last month.

Some communities are deeply reliant on wildlife tourism. Late last year, Vox’s Brian Resnick spoke to veterinarian Gladys Kalema-Zikusoka, who is working to keep coronavirus-susceptible gorillas alive in Uganda’s Bwindi Impenetrable National Park.

When tourism dropped, “everybody was struggling,” she said. “The local economy suffered and poaching went up.” (You can read more of Resnick’s conversation with her here.)

6) Researchers uncovered more proof that a key system of ocean currents is weakening

Graphics that show changes in ocean temperature over time generally reveal one trend: The ocean is heating up. But there’s one critical exception. Just below Greenland lies a large patch of water that’s cooling off. And that patch has scientists concerned that we could be nearing a tipping point for the climate.

The cold patch, scientists say, signals that a network of currents that bring warm water to the North Atlantic — known as the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation, or AMOC — is slowing down, and the melting of ice on Greenland is likely a culprit. One paper, published in the journal Nature in March, suggests that the current AMOC slowdown is “unprecedented in over a thousand years.”

The AMOC shapes weather across multiple continents, so any major slowdown will carry major consequences that could include faster sea-level rise in some regions, stronger hurricanes, and other changes in weather, to say nothing of the impacts to marine ecosystems.

But to be clear, the science on this is new and complex. For a great run-down, check out this recent visual feature in the New York Times.

7) The asteroid that killed the dinosaurs gave rise to the Amazon rainforest

The massive asteroid that struck Earth 66 million years ago may be best known for driving non-avian dinosaurs to extinction, but it also transformed entire ecosystems.

It may have even given rise to the Amazon rainforest, according to a study published in Science earlier this month. The finding is based on an analysis of about 50,000 fossil pollen records and 6,000 fossil leaf records in Colombia from before and after the asteroid crashed into what is now Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula.

The data reveals two vastly different forests. Before the event, the forests were stocked with conifers and ferns, and the trees were spread out, with plenty of room for light to stream through the canopy. After the asteroid event, however, flowering plants started to dominate the landscape and the canopy became much more tightly packed, resembling the forest we know today.

“If you returned to the day before the meteorite fall, the forest would have an open canopy with a lot of ferns, many conifers, and dinosaurs,” study co-author Carlos Jaramillo of the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute in Panama told New Scientist. “The forest we have today is the product of one event 66 million years ago.”

The idea here is that the asteroid impact somehow triggered a series of events that led to the modern Amazon rainforest. What were those events? One theory the researchers offer is that, before the asteroid, herbivorous dinosaurs prevented the forest from becoming dense by eating and trampling plants.

8) A review of more than 300 studies showed that the rate of deforestation is lower on Indigenous lands

The global conservation movement is pushing forward a plan to conserve 30 percent of the Earth by 2030 — an initiative known as 30 by 30 — and increasingly calling for Indigenous communities to be central to that effort.

These groups have historically been uprooted from land in the name of wildlife conservation. There is also greater evidence that forests fare better when they are governed by Indigenous and tribal territories.

A recent UN review of more than 300 studies found that forests within tribal territories in Latin America and the Caribbean have significantly lower rates of deforestation where land rights are formally recognized.

“In just about every country in the region Indigenous and tribal territories have lower deforestation rates than other forest areas,” wrote the authors of the report, which was published by the UN’s Food and Agriculture Organization and the Fund for the Development of Indigenous Peoples of Latin America and the Caribbean. “Many Indigenous territories prevent deforestation as effectively as non-Indigenous protected areas, and some even more effectively.”

9) Wildfire smoke can turn the sky an apocalyptic orange

If there was one day in 2020 that defined the climate emergency, it could have been September 9, when the sky above San Francisco turned completely orange.

Strong winds had carried smoke from fires burning across California to the atmosphere above the city. Particles of soot absorbed or reflected blue light from the sun, letting only orange-ish light through. (Wired has the details.)

But what made the image go viral wasn’t so much the science but what it symbolized: a growing climate catastrophe.

Climate change is making wildfires more frequent and severe, and 2020 provided more devastating evidence. Last year was California’s worst wildfire season on record. By the end of the year, nearly 10,000 fires had burned over 4 million acres — an astonishing 4 percent of California’s total land, according to the state.

10) Scientists finally solved the mystery of why wombats poop cubes

Sure, it may not have kept you up at night, but the mystery of the bare-nosed wombat’s poop puzzled scientists for decades. Why do these adorable, chunky marsupials, native to Australia and Tasmania, leave behind feces with six sides?

Thanks to a new study — published in the journal Soft Matter — we now have the answer.

Building on research published a few years earlier, a team of scientists found that wombat intestines have regions of varying thickness and elasticity that contract at different speeds: The stiffer regions contract relatively quickly, while softer sections squeeze more slowly, together forming a cube-like shape.

But there’s still a bit of mystery left: Why is their poop shaped like this? The jury’s still out, but some researchers believe it’s because wombats climb up on rocks and logs, and the cube-like shape prevents the feces from rolling away. This is key for wombats because they use piles of feces to communicate with other wombats.

What a difference a year makes, truly.

[songbirdstyles]

bang a gong.

summary: you’re tired of being a virgin, and when you meet harry at a bar, he’s more than happy to help you out.

warnings: literally all porn, very little plot. fingering, m+f receiving oral, dom!harry

word count: 11.1k

listen to while reading: bang a gong (get it on) by t. rex

You should say - for the record, or perhaps to maintain your dignity - that this is never the type of place you’d generally be caught in.

If you hadn’t been dragged from your faux pretense of nonchalance after you got dumped, you never would have come. It wasn’t like it was a serious relationship - barely two months - but it was your first since graduating college and perhaps you thought, maybe, you were in with this guy for the long haul, but he didn’t agree. You suppose it was a silly thought (your friends had told you not to expect too much from a former frat boy, anyway.) And it did prove to be, anyway, dissipating the second you woke up to a text saying he didn’t reckon things were working out, and could he please have his hoodie back?

Whatever. You hadn’t been too sad but your friends insisted you needed to let go of him and that is exactly why you’re here, pressed into a booth at a high end nightclub you can’t afford, your friends and the randoms they’d pulled from the dance floor packed so tight that you can feel your thighs sticking to the leather seats and to each other. You hadn’t intended on drinking anything because the prices of the drinks would absolutely kill your bank account, but that, according to your friends, is exactly why you’re here - meet rich guys who frequent here, to have drinks bought for you with false promises of a night of fun, before leaving them high and dry while you are thoroughly drunk.

A good concept, in theory, and it was enough to tug you off of the couch and dig through your closet to find a suitable dress to wear. Perhaps you’d support it more, though, if you had any experience in seducing guys at all - the entire night, you’d merely been grabbing the extra shots your friends had gotten from the guys they’d located.

“Aren’t you having fun?” your friend asks, and you turn to look at her from where she sits next to you. The music is thumping some song you can’t recognize and it rings in your ears as you raise your eyebrows at her. Speak louder, your eyebrows say, and Natalie leans closer so her lips are nearly brushing your ear. “I said, are you having fun?”

Are you? Well, you’re not sure. Even if you’d done nothing to earn the two shots you’d downed, they did taste better than the cheap bars you and your friends frequented on weekends. And it was entertaining, watching guys nearly twice your age seriously believe they’d end up between the sheets with your friends later. So you shrug, bringing your hand to fan at your neck, trying desperately to alleviate the heat burning at your skin. “It’s alright.”

It’s good enough for Natalie and she turns back to Valerie, whose legs are swung over the lap of some 50 year old who had got you all your second round of shots. His hand is pressed to her waist, fingertips digging into her skin through her dress, and it makes your stomach churn to see, so you drop your eyes to the table, where you’ve been picking at your screen protector for the past 15 minutes.

It’s times like this you wish you were a lightweight but you barely feel tipsy, and you’d like nothing more than to rip away your inhibitions and go out and dance against some guy who you’ll never see again, but you find it too awkward to do while practically sober. You bring your eyes up to scan at the dance floor - God, there’s so many girls with the same ideas you had, presumably. The demographic of this club is rich old men and broke, early-20s girls and you don’t know how much you really like to be one of them.

Though you can’t deny that the drinks are good.

“Stop thinking so much!” you glance back at Natalie with your brows furrowed. You hate the way she can practically feel what you’re thinking because you’d have been more than happy to tug at your screen protector until it peeled off of your entirely-too-vulnerable phone but she’d never allow it. Never let you sit here, in this booth, while everyone else is having a good time. Sometimes you appreciate it and sometimes you don’t and you aren’t quite sure of how you’re feeling about it now. “You know what I think?”

You can’t fucking hear her and you lean your head in more, awating her response as your narrowed eyes look around the crowd on the dance floor again. No one catches your eye but nobody catches your eye here, either, and you reckon you’d have better luck roaming the streets of LA to find someone worth your time.

“I think you should go get laid,” Natalie tells you, and you exhale, a humorless smile turning your lips up. “I’m serious! There has to be some hot, rich guy here. What, did that guy fuck you so good you never want anyone else again?”

The thought of being pinned under any guy that your eyes are glazing over could make you gag, but you reckon she may be right. Unbeknownst to your friends, you’d never fucked anyone and you hadn’t necessarily felt the need - you’d done just about everything else under the sun, and not a single guy you’d given a blowie to, or who’d fingered you, had ever been able to find the spot that made you squirm more than anything. So you’d never quite understood why having someone’s dick inside of you was such a big deal but you can’t deny, now, that getting it out of the way does sound quite nice, solely to boost your self esteem after getting dumped by a graduated frat boy named Logan.

There wasn’t much of a bigger blow to your ego than that.

You tug your gloss-coated bottom lip in between your teeth, dropping your eyes back down to Natalie’s, and she widens her eyes at you in a way that further encourages you to get the whole virginity thing out of the way. It’s not like it matters, anyway. “Maybe,” you tell her, entirely too quiet compared to the music pulsing through the club, and she smiles, leaning back in the booth. You’re not sure if she heard you because you can’t hear whatever she says next, but it doesn’t matter - you’re already pushing your way out of the booth, calling excuse me to where Alexa is leaning close to the man she’d found (and he’s, by far, the most attractive of any of the three guys your friends had located, but Alexa has always been the best at finding the hottest guys, and you’re nearly positive she actually will end up fucking him tonight.) She leans forward so you can climb behind her, awkwardly in your heels, and you tug at one of her curls as you clamber out of the booth.

Working your way through a crowd of people to the bar is a skill you’ve all but mastered and at a club like this, it’s a lot easier than you’d expected. There’s less people dancing than you’d thought though you shouldn’t be shocked - it certainly isn’t like the usual clubs you go to. And so, you push your way through the people dancing to the bar, and there’s a few people spread out on the barstools. You scan the back of them - you can’t see any of their faces, naturally, so you merely judge from their hair, and you take a few steps forward and settle yourself onto a stool besides a man with messy brown curls, a pint of beer in front of him.

When you peek at his side profile he certainly looks younger than you’d expected - hardly older than you, if at all. And that’s a score for you, you figure. You’d much prefer to lose your virginity to someone who doesn’t seem like they could be your dad. But he is wearing sunglasses and that’s a bit weird - certainly not a dealbreaker but odd enough to make you wonder.

You aren’t sure what to say - should’ve listened closer when Natalie, Valerie or Alexa were seducing their men for drinks - and for a moment you sit in silence. 

It’s only when you turn your head to take another look at him, at the sunglasses sitting at the very top of his nose, that the silence between you two is broken, and his head tilts ever so slightly towards you. “What’re you looking at?”

God, his voice. You’d always had a thing for British accents and his is better than most, deep and raspy and slow, and you shift on your stool. And it sounds just a bit familiar but you can’t exactly pinpoint where - well, it doesn’t matter. If things go further between you two, tonight, you surmise he’d forever be the sexiest voice you’d slept with.

But you can’t get your hopes up. After all, the sunglasses in a dimly lit, fancy club is enough to make you just a bit suspicious of what type of person he is, and you refuse to hand over your V-card to a weirdo.

“Just wondering what your glasses are for.” Figure it’s best to figure that out before you let this get any further. You don’t want to waste your time. And you pointedly glance up at the ceiling, eyes darting around the walls of the club. “S’not like there’s much light here to protect your eyes from, is there?”

He chuckles, then, and you raise your eyebrows. “Guess I just don’t want people to see me,” he tells you, and when he turns to face you fully your eyes scan over his face and - God, he really does look familiar. And he sounds familiar. Have you met him before? No, you don’t think you could ever forget someone like him.

But - well, maybe. You weren’t necessarily known for having the keenest of memories.

You smile at him, brows creasing together. He certainly does seem to be a mystery and you’d love to uncover it in more ways than one. So you lean forward, resting your arm on the bartop. “Seems like the wrong kind of place, if you don’t want people to see you.”

“I reckon it’s working - you’re the first person to talk to me all night.” A hand - a large hand, you note - goes up to his hair, fingers brushing through his curls, and your eyes follow its path in a way that certainly isn’t anywhere close to subtle. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

Is he flirting with you? You’re not quite sure but God, you hope so, because so far he keeps getting better and better to you. So you turn to completely face him and you can see the small smirk on his lips, as if he knows what he’s doing to you without even having to try. “Are you going to tell me your name?”

You can see his eyebrows raise as he picks up his beer and takes a sip. Your eyes can’t help but follow every movement he makes and you don’t care if you look desperate - truthfully, you are. You hadn’t even seen his face in its entirety but you suspect your friends would be impressed if they could see the sort of guy you’d located. Even if you leave this club and never see him again, you’re not sure you could ever forget the way he’s making your stomach flip just with a small quirk of his lips.

When he’s set his drink down again and brought his wrist up to wipe at the beer still lingering on his lips - is that a Gucci watch? - he tilts his head at you, curls flopping, and then says, “Tell me yours first,” so you do. And he nods slowly before telling you, “My name is Harry.”

Harry. 

Your mind is whirring because suddenly the pieces are coming together - and you hadn’t been in your One Direction phase for a few years but you certainly know who Harry is. And the fact that you’re just sitting here, right now, talking to him in a club filled with too many other girls to count, seems like an accomplishment in itself. But you don’t want him to know you know, though surely he must assume you do, so you nod in the same fashion he did, as if you’re content with what he’d told you.

“Harry,” you repeat, as if testing the name out on your tongue. He spins his stool slightly so he’s facing you and your knees knock into his slightly. And then you raise your eyebrows at him, reaching down to tug your dress down slightly where it’s been riding up on your thighs, and you don’t miss the way his eyes follow your movements. “Are you going to let me see your eyes, Harry?”

Harry laughs slightly and then stands, and you look up at him, confusion blazing in your eyes. Is he leaving? God, you hope not. You don’t want your experience with him to be over before it's begun, no matter what it ends up being. But then he motions, with one finger, for you to follow him and you’re standing so fast your head is spinning, and you trail after him as he leads you through the crowd of people, and you crane your neck to try and see where your friends are but you can’t see them anywhere.

It’s fine by you, you decide, as Harry stops in front of a small, darkened booth towards the back of the club. You’re surprised but positively overjoyed that it’s empty - seems like the perfect type of table for anyone looking to get lucky. And, Christ, you are.

You slide into the booth and Harry slides in right next to you, leaving hardly a few inches between you two as he rests his arm against the back of the booth oso he can face you, and, beneath the table, your ankle links with his. You give him a moment to see if he’ll pull his foot loose from yours, but he never does, and it makes your heart race.

“Gonna take off your glasses for me, Harry?” you tilt your head forward - where you’d moved to is closer to the source of the music and it’s harder to hear, all of a sudden, but you can’t bring yourself to pretend that’s why your face gets so close to his. His breath smells like beer and mints, and you can see the smirk spreading further across his face. “I’ve been dying to see your eyes. Bet they’re pretty.” And you’re not quite sure where this confidence is coming from, because you’ve hardly tried to seduce anyone like this, but you’ll lay it on thick for him.

He’s different.

He chuckles and you can feel his breath, hot against your face. It sends a shiver down your spine and you hope the instinct was imperceptible. “Take them off for me, then,” and you do, reaching up to pull the glasses off his nose, and you can tell - just by the feeling of them in your hands - that they’re more expensive than anything you’d ever held in your life. 

As if everything before this wasn’t proof enough that you truly were talking to Harry Styles, sliding the glasses down his nose and meeting his eyes really validates it. You can’t help the way your lips part as you reach down to rest his sunglasses on the sticky table and you hope you don’t look as amazed as you’re feeling.

God, you have to be dreaming. The guy you cherry pick from the randoms sitting at a bar is - him. And you’re sitting with him, his fingers dancing across your shoulder blade where his arm is thrown lazily over the back of the booth, your ankles intertwined.

16-year-old you never could’ve believed it, but 22-year old you is having the time of her life.

“You look a bit shocked,” Harry murmurs, barely heard over the pounding music, but you hear it as clearly as if he’d yelled it in your ear.

You shift your mouth closer to his ear, so close that you know your lips graze his skin when you tell him, “Prettier than I’d expected, s’all.” It’s then - with a start - that you feel his other hand drop to your knee, pressing circles into your soft skin. You could nearly moan at the feeling and you know, suddenly, that this’ll definitely go where you want it to, assuming you don’t fuck it up.

And you won’t. Won’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Ah.” When he tilts his head ever so slightly your lips are hardly a centimeter apart and with one shift forward you could close the gap, press your mouth to his, slip your tongue into his mouth. Force this into exactly the direction you need it to go, feel his hands drop to your hips, pulling you into his lap, cock hard against your core where your dress is riding up your hips.

As soon as you start to lean in, to make every fantasy you’ve had a reality, you feel two fingers, harsh against your shoulder, and they don’t belong to Harry.

You glance up, eyes narrowing at whoever had disrupted you, and standing in front of your booth is Alexa, wearing a small smile reeking of both excitement and guilt. And you can’t bring yourself to be mad at her for interrupting you, even though you want to, as she drops your phone onto the table.

“Sorry for interrupting,” she calls above the music, and you roll your eyes, leaning over Harry’s shoulder to move your head closer to his. In your ear you can hear him groan softly as your chest presses against his, and you can feel his arm that had been over the top of the booth drop to wrap around your waist - exactly where you’d wanted to feel it. “We’re gonna head out. Are you going to come?” The question is innocent but you can tell she already knows the answer as her eyes drop down to Harry’s arm, secure around your waist, fingers rubbing patterns into your hip through your tight, black dress.

“No,” you tell her, and Harry squeezes your hips in approval. “No, I’m gonna stay.”

“Are you sure?”

It’s then that Harry turns his head to look at her, effectively pressing your bodies closer than you’d thought they could go, and you can see the exact moment Alexa recognizes him - the way her eyes widen and her lips part into a smile. You’re not sure if she’s simply shocked that she’s seeing Harry in person or if she’s surprised you’re wrapped around him, but either way, she looks absolutely shell-shocked. “Promise I’ll take good care of her,” Harry tells your friend, and the double entendre makes you shift slightly, thighs rubbing against each other. 

He better take good care of you.

You bring your hand up to wave to Alexa and you can’t hear the response she squeaks out before she’s gone, and you don’t look to see her go back to your friends. You merely lean back, just a bit, pressing your hands to Harry’s shoulder to look at him.

“Gonna take good care of me, then?” you raise your eyebrows and you can see Harry’s pupils dilating as he stares at you, and you shift closer to him, practically in his lip. The music changes, then, and you hadn’t been paying attention to it before but now, Bang a Gong seems quite fitting for the moment. “Hope you follow through on that.”

It’s then that he leans forward, eliminating the distance between your faces as his lips press to yours. And you hardly have a moment to even comprehend it as his hand rises to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, and you moan into his mouth just about immediately. Harry’s tongue slips into your mouth and one of your hands drags up to the back of his neck, nails tracing along his sweaty skin. You’re not sure you’ve ever truly appreciated being kissed until right now, feeling his lips slotted against yours, the way his hand is pushing further up your thigh until his fingertips are creeping up the cheap material of your black dress.

You only pull away when you need to catch your breath, and Harry’s arm keeps you so close to him that the thought of regaining your composure seems too far away to consider. You’re not sure you’ll ever recover from that and you know there’s so fucking much more to come and you truly have scored, even if you only end up with kiss swollen lips to show for it.

But you reckon he has a thing for hickeys. It’s just a vibe you get from some guys, and as soon as the thought settles into your brain Harry proves it - mouth moving down to just below your jaw, and you drop your head back with a whine as you feel him beginning to suck a dark mark into your skin. His hand on your hip clutches your dress between his fingers, pulling the material tighter to your body than you’d even thought it could go, and it’s all the leverage he needs to pull you as close to him as you can go without being on top of him.

Which - you aren’t opposed to, but you’d always pictured your first time being below an incredibly handsome man.

(Though, you hadn’t ever pictured your first time being with your teenage crush, so you shouldn’t start relying on your fantasies now, you guess.)

When you shift your leg so it’s hooked across his, he pauses, pulling back to glance at the mark he’d left on your skin. In the dim light in the back of the club you’re not sure how well he’d be able to see it, but he grins as he examines it. Your fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck and you can feel him shiver beneath you and it makes your clit throb. “I think,” he tells you, leaning in so his mouth is right at the bottom of your ear, and you fight back a whimper at how deep his voice had gotten - dropped nearly an octave since the last time he spoke. “I think we should take this somewhere else.”

Harry squeezes your bare thigh, then, fingers just a few inches from the hem of your panties. You’d let him pin you to the booth, fuck you hard where anyone could walk by and see but - of course - that isn’t feasible. And as much as you truly do not care about losing your virginity, you don’t think you want it to be here, so you nod your approval. In an instant he’s out of the booth, fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugging you out after him. You grab his sunglasses and your phone, resting on the sticky table. You stumble as soon as you stand up and you’re not sure why - you think you’re just a bit overwhelmed with everything that had happened in the past 20 minutes, and the fact that Harry fucking Styles is almost certainly taking you to bed.

“Hang on,” you tell him, and when he turns to look back at you with an eyebrow raised, you reach forward to perch his glasses on top of his nose, preserving the anonymity you knew he wanted. He smiles slightly as he reaches up to push them further up his nose, and then he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him as you begin to walk towards the door.

Your friends are gone, you note, as you pass the booth you’d occupied earlier. Your phone, firm in your hand, has been buzzing incessantly since Alexa dropped it off but you haven’t bothered to check what the notifications are - your friends, surely wondering what you were doing, where you were going, when you would be home. And you didn’t know, truly, but you hoped it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Harry pulls you through the doors of the club into the moist, nighttime air, and immediately you’re shivering - it’s chilly, just a bit. Not too bad, but you can tell it’s just rained by the way your foot sinks into a puddle of water, soaking through your cheap black heels.

You pay it no mind - just keep walking in pace with him, wondering, briefly, if there’ll be a time when you wake up from this. Perhaps right as he slides inside of you, filling you up so good, you’ll squeeze your eyes shut and moan and when you open them you’ll be in your bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing you didn’t have such a rampant imagination.

There’s no way this can truly be real but at the same time it is - the way his fingers tap against your hip feels so real. The way he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple as he turns you both down the street, it feels like it can’t possibly be a dream.

“What are you thinking about?” his voice sends vibrations rolling through your body and now that you’re free of music blaring through your head, muffling every word the pair of you spoke, you can appreciate it more - the rasp in his tone, how deep and slow he speaks. You could nearly moan at that but you hold back, biting on your tongue to prevent any loose noises from slipping out.

You lean up so your mouth is close to his ear like you had in the club, even though there’s no music surrounding you to make it necessary - you like the way he tightens his grip on your hip when you breathe against his ear. “Just wondering where you’re taking me.”

That wasn’t, in fact, what you were thinking about, but you didn’t think you could muster up the courage right now to tell him how bad you want him inside of you.

Harry points down the street and you squint to what he’s motioning to - “Have a driver waiting for me. Gonna take us to my hotel room, not too far from here.”

“And then what?”

He raises his eyebrow as he glances down at you, and you can see the amusement twinkling in his eyes even on such a dimly lit street. “And then -” he turns into a parking lot, just behind the club you’d been in, and you can hear the distant thumping music from inside - “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Christ. You nearly whimper just at the implication and your mind speeds off, leaving your body behind, imagining every single thing he could do to you - or you could do to him - or anything. You can picture a thousand different scenarios and every single one ends with you in his hotel bed, your V-card firmly in his pocket.

It’s then that Harry stops in front of a sleek, black car - raps two knuckles on the tinted window of the driver’s seat and it rolls down almost immediately, as though it had been waiting for his signal. You can’t hear what he murmurs to the driver as he ducks his head inside the window and you don’t strain your mind to try and listen - within a few seconds he’s stepping back, opening the door to the backseat and ushering you inside.

You’d never been in a nicer car before but you shouldn’t be shocked - the outfit he’s wearing tonight could pay your rent for the next four months. There’s a partition between the backseat and the front and you’re beyond thankful as Harry slides in beside you, slamming the door shut, and he doesn’t give you a moment to process anything before his lips are on yours.

You wouldn’t dream of complaining as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you, and he’s groaning into your mouth as his hand drifts downwards to cup your ass through your dress but it’s not enough for him and you can tell. Fingers push up the bottom of the cheap material so he can slip his hand beneath it, hand cold against the back of your thigh and he slides his hand further up until he’s groping your arse once more.

“Fuck,” you breathe, and you can feel Harry smirking against your lips - a smug bastard, he is, but you find you don’t truly care. You pull your mouth from his, feeling his teeth tugging at your bottom lip, but you’re hardly disconnected a moment before you throw your leg over his thighs, straddling him, and he moans like music to your ears. 

He uses his grip on your ass to force your hips to rock against the bulge, prominent even through his pants. His other hand tugs your dress up to your hips, letting the material bunch around your waist, and immediately his hand comes down hard on your ass - you squeal, dropping your forehead against his, as he rubs over the spot he’d just smacked.

“Y’like that?” You nod, pressing your lips to the side of Harry’s neck as he lands another slap down on your bum. Your hips press harder into his, feeling the pressure on your clit as you roll against him. “Yeah, know you do. Dirty girl.”

And - you’re not sure why - but you drop your lips to his ear, nibbling on his earlobe and feeling the way his cock twitches beneath you. “Can I tell you something?”

He nods, and you bring your hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his sweaty curls. Harry tilts his head to the side and your lips briefly brush, feather light, as you slow the pace your hips are rocking, savoring every brush of your panty clad clit against the material of his pants. “Anything,” he mutters, head dropping against the headrest, and you reach down to press your palm to his cock. God, he’s so hard and he feels so big too, too big to even fit in you, but you know damn well you’ll try your very best to make it work.

Even if you’ve never done it before, and before you can wonder if it’s the best time or thing to tell him, you lean in. “I’ve never had sex before.”

Harry certainly seems shocked and the way his lips part goes straight to your ego - do you seem so good at all of this that he’d suspected you’d done it time and time again? Maybe he’s confused as to why you told him and truthfully, you are, too. Just felt like the kind of thing he’d like to know. Your ex boyfriend had certainly wanted to know, and two days after you’d told him he’d ended things.

Maybe some guys don’t want to take girls’ virginities, but judging by the way Harry’s fingers dig further into your ass, you suspect he does.

“Never?” There’s the surprise thick in his voice and you nod, grasp on his cock tightening ever so slightly, and he groans beneath you. “God. Never would’ve thought. Bloody good at this.”

Yep, there’s your ego inflating, and you shrug. “Done just about everything else. Just haven’t gotten to the good part.” Another smack lands against your ass and you moan, pushing back against his palm as he smooths his hand over your skin.

He leans back, then, shifting his hips, and you can see his pupils dilating more and more as he glances down at the way your cunt presses to his cock - “Why don’t you show me what you can do, then?”

You’re much more than willing, and you lean in to give Harry one final kiss before pushing yourself off of him and sitting, on your knees, on the seat beside him. He’s watching you so intently you could almost feel judged but you love it - love the way he watches you push your hair behind you, how he reaches down to slowly undo the zipper of his fancy dress pants, but you wanna do it yourself. You push his hand away, wrapping your hand around his wrist, and surely he’s strong enough to resist the dominant act you’re playing if he wanted to but you can tell he doesn’t. You finish unzipping his pants and he lifts his hips slightly so you can shimmy them down his thighs, just enough so you’re face to face with his cock, thick and bulging through his briefs.

You don’t give yourself a moment to examine just how big he is - bigger than you’d anticipated when you were on top of him and when you’d felt him up. You’d sucked off plenty of guys and none of them came close to his size but you’ve mastered the faux confident facade as you shift backwards, leaning down with your ass high in the air to press a soft kiss against Harry’s cock through his boxers.

He groans, those glasses slipping down his nose, and his wandering fingers end up dancing down your back - you’re not sure where he’s going but you shift forward to give him easier access to your ass, if that’s what he wants, and your fingers hook in the waistband of his boxers to pull them over his cock.

Jesus, yeah, he is big. You wrap your hand around him, pumping experimentally a few times, listening to the way Harry moans brokenly. You wonder, briefly, when he’s last done this - he looks as though it’s been a bit too long but, well, you suppose you can’t judge how sensitive he is when just the feeling of his hand splayed across your lower back is wetting your panties faster than anything has before.

Lips press a wet kiss against the tip of his cock, just briefly, before you wrap your lips around his length and push our head down - a gurgled cry escapes his throat and you nearly smirk around him, taking him as far down your throat as you can until your nose is just about brushing his pelvis. Your hands press to his thighs and you can feel him growing stiffer in the confines of your mouth by the second. Fingers tangle in your hair, forcing your head down, and with any other guy you’d roll your eyes but there’s something different about him, something that makes you like the dominance. Any semblance of it that you’d had seconds before is gone and there’s a smack against your ass, causing you to cry out against his cock.

Normally you pull off of guys after 15 seconds (or so) but Harry doesn’t let you, holds you down, and you hollow your cheeks around him. Swallow, and his hips jerk up into your mouth, forcing a gag from you, and then he loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to pull your mouth from him.

Harry’s breathing is heavy and his hand is groping your ass so tight it nearly hurts but the pleasure overpowers it and you push back against his hand. His fingers tug at your thong, slipping beneath it as you lap at the tip of his cock, and no sooner have his fingers circled your puckered hole - is he gonna do it? - that he slides them further down, running his digits through your soaked folds. 

“So - so fucking wet -” his voice cracks as you take him down your throat again but his hand doesn’t force your head down like last time - instead he brings his other hand to your bum and smacks you hard, harder than every other time, and you moan and he moans, and then two of his fingers slip into your cunt and you moan again.

God, it really is happening, because if it wasn’t, you’re sure you’d have woken yourself up in excitement by now. He really is two fingers deep in your pussy while his cock is all the way down your throat, and he really is crying out as you whine against his cock. His digits curl, brushing against that sweet spot in your velvety walls that has you clenching around him, and you think he’s the first guy you’ve ever done anything with whose found your G-spot without 10 minutes of needed assistance.

Your tongue swirls around his cock as you take your mouth from him, throwing your head back with a cry, and your first still pumps him up and down - his fingers are thrusting in and out of you so fast that the sound of your arousal is nearly the same volume as your moans lingered with his. You’re going to cum so fucking hard, first time you’ve cum from anything other than your fingers or your toys, and you roll your hips against his fingers, grasp on his cock tightening.

“Gonna cum -” your eyes roll back into your head as your thumb flicks over the head of Harry’s length, feeling the way his body jerks at the sensation. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop -”

“Gonna cum for me?” his voice is a hiss through gritted teeth as his fingers speed up even more, pumping inside of you so fast that your head is fucking spinning. “Do it, then. My dirty - fucking - girl, cum for me.”

It’s all you needed and you can’t even bring yourself to feel embarrassed at how fast you’re cumming because as soon as the pit in your stomach starts to unravel you can feel his cock twitching in your fist. You can’t think of a single thing to say, vocabulary wiped clean, merely throwing your head back with a noise akin to a scream as you cum on his fingers, and as his hips jerk up, you can feel his release coating your hand.

Harry’s fingers still pump slowly inside of you, prolonging your orgasm until it fades away and in turn you try to do the same to him, hand moving up and down his cock until your breathing steadies from labored pants into something more normal. So you pull your hand off of him, pushing yourself to sit on your knees, cum covering your fingers. And, in an instant, Harry’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, and you let him guide your hand up to your mouth.

You can tell he’s merely testing you to see if you’ll do it - but, truthfully, you’d wanted him to cum in your mouth, anyway, if only to prove something to him, or to yourself. So you stick your tongue out, lap a thick stripe through his cum on your hand, dripping down your wrist, and Harry’s lust ridden eyes watch you, lips parted and breathing picking up again.

Your eyes never leave his as you lick up the last of his release on your hands, swallowing every last bit of it, and when you open your mouth to stick your tongue out - proving to him that you took every single goddamn drop - his hand flies to the back of your neck, pulling your head in, and your lips connect with a clash of teeth.

“Like a fucking angel,” Harry groans, pressing his fist to the car seat next to you, and the feeling of him hovering ever so slightly above you makes the buzzing in your head that much more intense. His other hand works at tucking himself back into his pants, zipping them up, and you figure it’s good to pull your dress down to cover your ass, too. “My fuckin’ perfect girl. Jesus Christ.”

You can feel the car slowing to a stop and you’re entirely too ready to go up to Harry’s bedroom and have your goddamn brains fucked out. You already feel like you’re on cloud 9 with one orgasm down, one so intense and brutal, one that you reckon nothing but him could muster up, and that’s just his fingers - you need to know what his cock’ll do to you. 

His hand falls back down to your waist where it seems to love to reside and he squeezes your hip, leaning in to nibble at your bottom lip again. You grin lazily, then reach up and push his sunglasses back up his nose where they’d slid down the bridge ever so slightly. “Want you t’fuck me,” you breathe, voice raspy in all of its post-orgasm glory. “Never gotten fucked by anyone before but I need you - swear, I’ve never cum so hard in my life.”

Harry chuckles and turns to glance out the window - then he grabs the door handle and pushes it open. When you’ve both clambered out of the car his arm is around you in a heartbeat, and you need the support, legs feeling shaky, and you take just a moment to glance up at the hotel you’re walking into - nicer than anything you’d ever been in in your life but you feel a bit more used to it by now.

“Tell me,” Harry mutters, leaning his lips close to your ear, as the automatic doors slide open for the pair of you to walk into the hotel lobby. “How many guys have made you cum before, hmm?”

“None,” is your response, turning your head to the side so you can witness the shock that overtakes Harry’s face - you can’t see his eyes but you’re sure they’re wide. “Told myself I didn’t want to fuck a guy who didn’t know where the clit is, and - well, none of them did.”

He chuckles as you two make your way through the lobby towards the elevators - it feels wrong for you to even be here, walking by people who see more money every day than you have in your life, in your dress you’d gotten at the thrift store and your heel still slightly wet. But being with Harry, having his arm around you, makes you feel decidedly less awkward, because you’re sure millions of girls would positively die to do what you’re about to do.

But you get to do it, and if that isn’t the best feeling in the world.

He stops in front of the elevator and presses the button to go up, and the doors open almost immediately - such a gentleman, he is, letting you step in first, and when you’re both in you watch the button for the very top floor light up as he pushes it. 

“You’re in for the night of your life,” Harry tells you as the elevator doors slide shut, and you’re entirely expecting him to pin you to the wall but he doesn’t - incredible composure, really, staring straight ahead like he can’t feel the desperation practically dripping from your body. You stare at him, for a moment, at his side profile, jaw set. Like he isn’t as needy as you are, but, as your eyes trail down his body to the bulge already hardening again in his pants, you know that he is.

It seems like an eternity later that the elevator doors slide open again, and you want to race down the hall to his room but you let him lead the way, even if his pace is pathetically slow as he strolls down the hallway. There are only two rooms up this high, on either ends of the hall, and his is to the left of the elevators and it seems so much further than the one to the right.

But you make it there, and Harry’s reaching in his pockets to find his key card - and then he’s swiping it - and then he’s pushing open the door - and as soon as it shuts again, you’re pressed firm against the wall. Your hands fly to the back of his head as his drop to your back, trailing downwards to cup at your ass again (he seems to have a thing for it, but you would never think of complaining.) Your lips press to his as your head falls back against the door, and his hips jerk forward to roll against yours.

You still feel entirely too sensitive and you moan out, pushing your hips forward to meet his as you pull his face closer to yours, using your arms around his neck as leverage to pull him in, but you didn’t need it - you can tell he’s just as desperate as you are, and soon he pulls you off of the door, backing you up to God knows where. You let him lead you until your legs hit something and you fall backwards onto a plush couch, pushing yourself onto your elbows to watch Harry as he drops to his knees before you.

Oh, shit.

Your cheeks heat up as he rests his hands on your knees, spreading your thighs apart. Harry’s hand rises up to his sunglasses, perched, still, on his nose, and he pulls them off, resting them on the coffee table behind him. His eyes meet yours and perhaps he can see the apprehension in your eyes because he leans up, pressing a kiss to your lips. You savor the moment, the sweetness of his tongue entering your mouth, before he lowers himself back down onto his knees. Hands go to the bottom of your dress, rolling it over your hips until it can settle around your waist, exposing your entire bottom half to him, and it feels so much more intimate now that you’re not confined to the backseat of a car.

Harry leans in without giving you a breath to collect yourself, pressing a kiss to your clit through your arousal-soaked lace panties - your hand drops to the couch, squeezing the edge of the cushion between your fingers, and you can already feel your slight embarrassment slipping away as Harry pushes your thigh, forcing it further open.

“Tell me,” he says, deep and hot with how close he is to your cunt, and your hips roll of their own accord at the feeling. “How many guys have done this to you?”

You pause to think, chest rising and falling as he leans in again, licking up your panties, and the sensation makes it a bit difficult to gather yourself enough to respond - eventually, though, you swallow and say, “Not too many. One or two.”

He leans back, pressing a kiss to your thigh. “And they never made you cum.”

“N - no.”

“Well, I will,” is his response, and, as cocky as it may seem, you know he’s right - could probably make you cum through your panties, but his fingers hook in the top of them as soon as the thought pops in your mind. You lift your hips up so he can drag them down your legs, and when they’ve puddled by your feet he helps you take them off. You watch as he crumbles the lacey material in his hands and then stuffs it into the pockets of his fancy pants - for later, he murmurs against your thigh. And then he goes in - hands on your thighs forcing them apart so hard it nearly burns but you find you like the stretch, and his lips wrap around your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks on the small nub.

Your head drops back against the couch and you bury your hand in his hair, a loud moan escaping your throat. He wasn’t teasing you and you were beyond grateful - tongue laps up every drop of wetness that gushes in your cunt, kitten licks against your clit, and you can tell he has more experience than you could have imagined. Harry has it mastered, exactly where to place his hands (one on your thigh, the other creeping its way beneath the material of your dress towards your tits) and how to flick his tongue just right to have your hips bucking up against his mouth. And if you thought you’d cum hard in the car you know you’re in for a fucking treat because there’s already pressure building in your stomach and it won’t be long until it fucking erupts.

When you squeeze your eyes shut he stops - pulls away, his mouth and his hands, like he’d never been there in the first place. You open your eyes, chest heaving as you stare down at him. His pupils are lust blown and wide as he stares at you, eyebrows raised, as if you’re meant to know something he never told you - “Eyes open,” he tuts, tone condescending and smug, and you hate how much you love it. “Keep them open. Gonna watch me make you fall apart, alright?” You nod slowly. “Tell me.”

Your voice is caught in your throat as Harry’s lips form a small o, breathing a puff of air onto your beyond sensitive clit, and your fingers in his curls tighten to what has to hurt - but he moans, ever so slightly, as you finally breathe, “Yes. Okay.”

“S’what I thought,” is his response, and then he leans back in, licking up your soaked folds as though no time had passed. Both of his palms press against your thighs, pinching your soft skin, fingers dangerously close to the area he’s working so well. God, his fingers, you swear you’ve never felt anything better than them - you want them again, so bad, hitting your sweet spot so good.

You can’t begin to get the words out to tell him that, though, so you merely reach down, shaky fingers wrapping around his wrist and pushing it closer to your cunt - he pauses, tongue mid-swirl around your clit, and looks up at you with a glint of pure cockiness in his eyes. 

“What do you want?” he doesn’t remove his mouth from around your clit as he speaks and the vibrations roll through your body, sending a cry through your throat, and you push his hand further towards your cunt. You know it won’t be enough - haven’t known Harry for quite long at all, but you reckon you know that much about him. “Use your words,” and Harry sounds so fucking commanding that it could make you cum right then and there.

“F - fingers,” you just about sob out, rolling your hips up into his mouth so your clit brushes against his tongue. “Please, Harry - need your fingers, please -”

“Fingers, hmm?” His digits dance across your thighs, straying further away from where you need him, and your eyes just about roll back into your head as he pulls his mouth from your clit and blows on it again. “Where do you want my fingers?”

But you’re too far gone to speak - as he leans in to brush his tongue against your sensitive clit once more, you can feel the pit in your tummy starting to come undone. You drop your head back as Harry licks a thick stripe up to your sensitive nub, and he stops again, pressing his cheek against your inner thigh. “Does my dirty girl want my fingers in her pussy, hmm? S’that where you want my fingers?”

You moan out in affirmation.

Harry pulls his head from your thigh and you push yourself so you’re sitting up more, getting a clear view of everything he’s doing as he spits on your pussy, the saliva dripping down onto your clit, and you fucking cry out. His fingers come up to collect the spittle, rubbing it along your clit before dragging it down your folds so he can push them into your pussy - curling up immediately, knowing exactly the spot that makes you squirm. His other hand comes up and lands a firm smack against your clit, one that has your eyes rolling back into your head.

It only takes a few quick pumps of his curled fingers, in and out of your fluttering cunt, that has you cumming so hard you swear you see stars. Every single sob that breaks free from your throat is so loud that you swear the neighbors in the room at the other end of the hall must be able to hear you - should send them a flower arrangement tomorrow morning, because it’s just his mouth and fingers that has you screaming bloody murder.

“Oh my god -” your hips jerk against his mouth, your hands in his hair dropping back down to the cushions. “Fuck.”

Coming down from your second high of the evening is entirely different from your first - you can’t imagine how you’ll possibly be able to pull anymore from you but, as Harry stands up, your slick covering his mouth and chin, you know you have to.

The whole point is to fuck him. To finally know what everyone’s talking about - to see what the fuss is all about. 

Harry leans down, tongue forcing its way down your throat the second your lips part for him, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. Your arousal mixed with the beer he’d had earlier, all traces of the mint washed away, and it tastes so divine. Even more divine as his hands drop to the zipper of his pants, sliding it down, and you slide your fingers in the waistband, helping him tug them down his thighs. He kicks them off as soon as they’re near his feet and then he pulls away, palm pressing against the bulge in his briefs. 

“How do you want it?” he asks, words dripping with lust and desperation and you know the exact way he’s feeling and more. You watch him intently as he grips the bottom of his sweater and tugs it over his head - it drops to the rug atop the ground and you let your eyes soak in the sight of him, almost fully nude, briefly ignoring the question.

You hadn’t necessarily expected him to ask. He seems more dominant than that, needing to take control, so you swallow, chest heaving as you try to think. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

He seems to have been expecting that answer, because his hands fall to your waist, pushing you down so you’re lying on the couch. It’s spacious, just enough room for you to adjust yourself comfortably, and Harry lowers himself down on top of you the second you’ve shifted enough.

“How’s this?”

And his caring demeanor is shocking but fitting, because as much as you merely want to get your virginity out of the way, it does feel like a sort of important moment. You want it to be comfortable, and lying on the plushiest couch you’ve ever been on with Harry hovering above you, his arm inches above your head, is about as comfortable as you’re going to get.

You loop your arms around his neck and you can feel his clothed cock, pressed to your cunt. He’s so fucking hard and you’re amazed at the amount of composure he has. “Perfect,” you mumble, leaning up to attach your lips once more (you swear, you can’t get enough of him.)

Harry tugs down his boxers, just enough to free his cock from the flannel confines, and you can feel his tip, running along your folds - he slaps it on your clit and you groan. You drop your head back against the arm of the couch as he sinks his tip into your cunt. Slowly, steadily, he pushes himself the rest of the way in, stuffing you so deliciously full of him that it nearly overtakes the pain.

Nearly.

You’ve used dildos before and you’re thankful for it, now, because you reckon without any sort of experience you’d feel absolutely split in half. Even now, there’s a dull burn sparking between your thighs, and you drop your head back, eyes squeezing shut as you try to adjust to the feeling. No, it didn’t necessarily hurt but it was different and that in itself was enough for you to need a moment to adjust. The way his cock twitched inside of you every so often encouraged you and subsequently turned you on beyond belief, and you don’t need too much time to adjust, after all.

Harry’s breathing is heavy and you can feel it against your face, barely an inch above yours. Poor guy, must be torture, holding out, because you can practically sense how needy he is. You lift your head up to press your lips to his, soft like the brush of a butterfly’s wing, before pulling back. “Move - fuck, please, move, Harry.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, pulling his hips back before thrusting them back in. That is certainly different, verging on the border of pain, but with a few more slow pumps, in and out of your dripping cunt, the pleasure is beginning to take it over.

It takes a moment to find a rhythm that’s enough for both of you. There’s still a slight discomfort but not enough to make you want to wait any longer. You’re finally having sex and you want it to keep going, to do it forever and ever with the absolute God hovering above you.

“So goddamn tight,” Harry grunts as he rocks his hips into yours. “Squeezing me so good. Never fucked anyone so tight in my life, I swear.”

His compliments, whether they were in the heat of the moment or genuine, makes you moan out - makes this entire thing feel so much better.

And fuck, it truly does feel good, especially when he angles his hips just so, every thrust sweeping against that sweet spot deep inside of you that he’s so adept at finding. For the first minute or so you’re fine with the leisurely pace he’s doing but you can tell it’s killing him and it’s starting to kill you, too. You’ve never been too patient, even if you’d waited 22 years for this exact moment.

You’re not a virgin. It feels good, the invisible badge of honor and the cock, going entirely too slow for your liking, deep in your pussy.

“Faster - need you to go faster,” you gasp as Harry’s thumb drops to your clit, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive nub, and they’re immediately a sharp contrast to the way he pulls his hips out and slams them back in. This is what he wanted, what he needed, and it’s what you need, too. No slow pumps. You need him fucking fast and hard and God it feels good, the way he presses down on your clit, sending pleasure coursing through your veins. “Feel so good inside me. God, keep doing that.”

Harry braces a hand on top of the couch, lifting his body slightly off of yours to piston his cock in and out of your cunt, taking him greedily and fully. He’d been with plenty of girls before - more than he could count - but there was something different, being the first guy to fill you up, to fuck you so hard you saw stars. And it was bloody good, watching you beneath him, your mouth falling open with a broken moan, pushing your pelvis up towards his, trying to help him along.

“Such a dirty girl,” Harry rasps, reaching down to grab the top of your dress - should’ve taken it off of you, really - and he pulls it down so aggressively you’re sure the fabric will rip. Your tits spill out of the top, covered only by your bra, and his fingers hook in the cups, pulling them away from your breasts, and in an instant his head is lowered to flick his tongue against your nipple. “Feels so good, hmm? Getting fucked for the very first time? Poor baby - never had a dick before. Tell me how - tell me how it feels.”

Your head is fucking spinning, is how it feels, and you’re not sure you’re going to be able to talk for days to come. You sob out your response, barely audible, but Harry hears it as if you’d spoken loud and clear - “So good, fuck, gonna cum.”

Two of his fingers pluck at your clit like the strings of a guitar, as if you’re merely something to be played with, but it’s enough to send you over the edge again. Your body convulses beneath him, eyes squeezing shut. Your cunt fluttering around him could make him cum but you can tell he wants to hold out - wants to see if you have one more in you, and you’re not sure if you do.

It’s as though Harry can sense the second you’ve milked your orgasm for all you can, because he pulls out of you the second you’re done. Before you can cry out, his hands grab your hips and flip you over with such ease it’s nearly embarrassing. You hardly have the muscle strength to hold yourself up, merely dropping your face into the cushion as his hands position himself at your cunt, pushing in without giving you a second to adjust, and it’s back to the hard, steady pace you’d reached before.

This position is a fucking change and one you love, a new angle letting him reach spots inside of you that you hadn’t even known existed. Your moans are muffled where your mouth is pressed to the cushion but Harry’s are loud and clear, piercing the air near violently as he cries out. You can’t see him but you try with all your might to picture exactly what he’s doing - picturing how his mouth is open and his eyes are shut and he’s lifting his hand to land it back down on your -

As though he can read your thoughts his hand goes up and smacks down on your ass, the noise cracking through the air, and you sob out at the feeling. You love that, you really do, and you’d never have expected yourself to but as he sends another slap to your skin you decide it’s one of your favorite things you’ve done this whole fucking evening.

“Gonna cum,” Harry grunts, hand gripping your thigh to rock your body in time with his. You wiggle your ass, pushing it against him, and for that, you earn another smack. “Where d’you want me to cum? Want it on your back, hmm? Or maybe flip you over again and cum on your pretty tits.”

You can’t verbalize anything, nothing except for broken cries and his name falling off your lips like a mantra, and he knows it.

“Or -” and his voice drops nearly a whole fucking octave, deeper than you’d even thought it could go, and you’re so close to your fourth that your ears are starting to ring - “does my dirty girl want me to cum in her pussy? Fill you up with my cum, fuck you so good until you’re stuffed with it.”

It’s that - his words, fucking filthy and rising above every other noise the two of you make - that ends you. Sends you hurtling into your fourth, now, the couch practically absorbing your moan (or more like a scream) and any ability you’d had to hold yourself up on shaky legs dissipates as you collapse against the couch but Harry’s there, holding you up, forcing your hips back into his you were made for it.

You don’t need to say anything - he knows what you want, can read you like a book by now, and you’ve only known him for tonight. So as his cock gives its final twitch inside your cunt, worn out from cumming four times in such a short amount of time, he makes no move to pull out. Just grips your hips and holds them close to his, and the feeling of hot ribbons of cum shooting into your cunt, filling you up exactly the way you’d wanted, is a sensation you don’t think you’ll ever forget.

When he’s done, pulling out slowly, you collapse fully onto the couch with nothing to hold you up - you’re fucking exhausted but you’ve never felt better in your life. A haze seems to be settling over your mind and body, preventing you from paying any attention to anything that’s not Harry as he stands up above you. And then you feel him, wrapping his arms around you, picking you up like a goddamn baby and you like it a lot.

You’re entirely too close to falling asleep in his arms before he lies you down on a surface softer than the couch - has to be the bed, the rich hotel beds, and as your head lands on the pillow you know you’re correct. God, feels like a pillow, and you’d like to spend the rest of your life right here.

Harry’s like a God in human form, truly, getting a warm washcloth from the restroom to wipe at the cum dripping down your thighs. You two speak in soft, hushed voices, as though making up for the absolutely inhuman noises you’d made before, as he pulls your dress over your head and deposits it on the ground. It is ripped, you can see, but you find you don’t really care. Not like you didn’t get it for less than $10 - and it’s just a reminder of every amazing thing that happened tonight, not that you’d ever need one. You know you’ll remember this night forever.

Finally he lies down beside you, shifting so he’s spooning you, arms firm around your waist and your head to his shoulder. This feels perfect, exactly what you needed to end off your first time perfectly.

“M’not a virgin anymore,” you murmur, adjusting yourself to press your body closer to his. “Feels good. Feel like I’m finally living.”

Harry chuckles at that, pressing a kiss to the side of your face. “Hope your first time was as good as it could be.”

You exhale softly. “It was perfect,” you tell him, voice soft and dripping with emotions you can’t possibly decipher. And it’s the absolute truth - even if your first time wasn’t with a boyfriend you were in love with, like your friends, you don’t think you’d ever have it any other way. “Maybe we could do it again, some time.”

Probably a mistake to ask, but there’s nothing to lose, really. Maybe a piece of your dignity if he says no, but it doesn’t hurt to ask. You’d do this a thousand times over again with him without hesitating.

He takes a beat to respond and you know you fucked up, already squeezing your eyes shut in regret, but then he rasps, “Definitely gotta do it again. Tomorrow night … and the night after that … and the night after that …” and you know you’re in for it.

[treybriggsthewriter]

This makes me nervous, but I’m going to post it. I’m going to try my best to achieve my goals. I’ve put in a ton of work already, so I’m looking for additional help. 

From the campaign:

My name is Trey Briggs, and I'm a black woman who writes paranormal horror, speculative fiction, and other types of fiction. You can find my stories at MaybeTrey , Astrid the Devil , and on Instagram , Medium , and Wattpad .

My stories are aimed at black people who want to read dark stories that focus on original black characters that are complex and interesting. I genuinely believe Black audiences deserve a variety of genres to delve into, and I want to introduce them to paranormal horror, dark romance, and fantasy that they haven't gotten enough of in the past. I also believe that this can be done across multiple mediums, and I spend my money with black creative professionals to make these experiences extend beyond my words. For the last two years, I've run my stories on sites and Instagram to great reception. I like to craft complex experiences that offer looks at character backgrounds, side and backstories, full websites for each title, and more. I also provide encyclopedias, maps, audio journals, and other ways to get into each world. During these last few years, I've run into a lot of walls, jumped a lot of hurdles, and tried my best. I've worked with amazing black artists, voice actors, and actresses, musicians, designers, and more. I trust my ability to run a project, especially when it comes to planning and finding talent. My overall goal is to run a team of black creatives that crafts novels, graphic novels, audio experiences, and animated series for a dedicated audience.

Why I Need Help Long story short: I have the skill, I have the marketing/website building/business experience, and I have the drive. There's a lot I can do on my own, but there's also a lot that gets left behind because I don't have the money I need to proceed at a steady pace. I need help with funding so I can focus, hire the right people, and craft these stories the way they deserve to be crafted. I have thus far spent over $60,000 of my own money on my projects over the past two years - the writing and site-building are easy for me; the rest has to be hired out. I have art, site costs for hosting, domains, templates, specific plugins, and maintenance, audio (and vocal artists to pay), musical, and editing costs. I'm by no means rich or even particularly financially stable. I have taken on tons of extra clients for my digital marketing business, transcribed hundreds of hours of audio for dirt cheap, and taken out personal loans. I even worked a second full-time job along with my full-time business last year to afford to produce the content I love. It's starting to take a toll on my mental health. I plan on continuing to fund these projects out of pocket (and finding ways to do so), but having financial help, however big or small, would allow me to move a lot faster and with less stress. It would let me flesh out ideas and concepts that I have had to scrap because I can only physically handle so much extra work. I run a full-time marketing business from home, homeschool my autistic 10-year-old, and generally have a busy life. Some of the strain is taking a toll on me, and I don't want to give up. Having some financial backing could allow me to drop a client or two after a few months and focus on the work I love to do.

How You Can Help I mainly need a start—a sort of base. I want to emphasize that I plan to continue to provide the main bulk of funding for my projects. I know my goals are ambitious, and I know each step will take time and money. I welcome any help to make the process smoother and to get around the initial hurdles. I'd like to have ebooks and novels offered on my site by the end of the year (along with the free serials and stories). Funding means that I can broaden the projects, include more free aspects to my sites, and secure direct financing through sales of ebooks and audiobooks sooner. It also means that I can offer MORE stories, whether they are online only or fully fleshed out novels and sites. I am swamped with trying to work enough to cover all my bills and creative projects, so I lose a lot of time I could spend plotting and writing. If I have better funding, I can get my stories out quicker (and with fewer mistakes).

The Initial Stories Let's talk about my stories! If you're familiar with my work already, you can skip to the next section. My main story site is Maybe Trey . Currently, I have two big titles and a bunch of smaller ones that I am seeking help with funding: Astrid the Devil

Astrid the Devil is the complicated story of a girl who inherits not only her family's features and DNA, but their fears, struggles, and fights. It's the story of a condition called Devil Syndrome, the women who suffer it, and the monsters that devour them. It's the story of the fight to save the people you love at the expense of innocent lives. At its core, Astrid the Devil is the story of a woman who inherits the chaos of three generations before her. It's a look at what is truly passed down to our children, and how they're left to fight our battles in the aftermath of our failures. It's the tale of an indescribable monster and the women who struggle to defeat it. It's a journey into how their every decision could save or destroy an entire world. Astrid the Devil is the story of Astrid Snow, but her story can't be told without the story of the women before her.

Vicious: On MaybeTrey  and The Vicious site (in progress)

Somewhere, a war is brewing.  That's the only thing that's for sure to Junnie Gorton, a young horned girl suffering from a debilitating disease called Horn Rot. She typically dealt with her low survival rate and abnormally large horns by escaping the world with her best friend, Lewish. Now she's forced to figure out which side is which, save her entire species, and find out the truth behind the sudden uprising in her home. Horn Rot, a highly contagious and violent disease spreading through horned people, is causing mass amounts of madness and death. Normal horns grow in ways that will pierce, suffocate, and maim their owners, and the only one who can stop it is Junnie's mother, Lyria. As Lyria falls deeper and deeper into an anti-social revolt, the country reels. While Junnie broods, her entire species must prepare for mass extinction. Her brother plots with a group of people with less than good intentions and Lewish is quieter than usual. In a civilization brought up on extreme violence and competition, Junnie and Lewish try their best not to get swallowed by their culture, their lives, or their horns.

Bunni and Bosque :

Bunni lives. Bosque dies. We all know how this story starts. Bunni is obsessed with destruction and death. She comes from the healthiest Horned family in her country. She's from the oldest, purest bloodline in the world. And she's bored with it. Bunni spends most of her time trying to escape her duties as a pureblood. She wants things dirty, messy, foul, inconsistent. Having parents that are willing to kill to keep their bloodline pure is annoying. Knowing that she'll live a long, full life, produce more perfect children, and die unscathed is agonizing. Bunni wants something to mourn. We all know how this story ends. Bosque is destined to die an agonizing death, alone on his family's land. He's watched everyone he loved and grew up with perish. Sometimes it was because of their disease. Sometimes it was because of the malice and hatred of others. While he's absolutely withdrawn and satisfied with his life, Bosque has never had a chance to live it. He spends his days basking in the sun, bathing in wood baths, and contemplating the end. Bosque isn't interested in joining the rest of the world. He'd rather die out, alone, where his family belonged. Bosque wants to go peacefully. But neither expected to meet each other one day in a supermarket. Neither expected to fall in love, lust, and every vicious and dirty thing between. Neither expected to be so right for each other, all while being wrong for everyone else. You know the end of this story. Bunni lives, Bosque dies. But maybe something will change.

My smaller titles, Bunni and Bosque /Aite and Jude, can be found at Maybe Trey .

The Business Plan

The initial phase of my business plan is to get the sites populated with ebooks and audiobooks for sale. I also have prints that can be sold. Right now, I am in the audience-building phase while I save up for editing the full novels. 

In terms of an actual business with which to publish the stories, I already have a registered publication company in Illinois: Wolfless Studios LLC. I took this step earlier this year with plans to self-publish Astrid and Vicious. So that is paid for and done.

I have also gotten initial editing done on the first six chapters of Astrid, though it will need to be edited from the beginning again once everything is said and done. I've spent over $1000 on that so far, and it would go a lot faster if I didn't need to save up to edit each chapter.

Astrid the Devil is fully plotted, outlined, and only needs the last three chapters. Bunni and Bosque and Vicious are newer, but plotted and already deep into character development (all being shared across social and Wattpad for audience growth). Aite and Jude and other shorts are plotted, and three other unshared stories are plotted and at the editing phase.

Other costs and ways I would use the funding (I would still put in my own money and do as much on my own as possible):

Initial $30K

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy edits for Astrid (currently at 250000+ words/expecting over 300000 at $0.02 rate)

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy Edits for Vicious

$3000 - $4000 Line and Copy Edits for Bunni and Bosque

ISBN Purchases (Separate ISBN for each format for each book) - https://www.myidentifiers.com/identify-protect-your-book/barcode

Covers for Astrid/Vicious/B&B Print Versions

Site Hosting Costs and Maintenance for 2 Years

Site completion for all stories

Initial store and app development

40K - Marketing and Graphic Novels

Social, Print, and Web ads

Email Marketing Campaigns 

Booths at Decatur Book Festival (depending on COVID)

Social ads and promos

50 to 60 pages

First two chapters offered as free promo with email sign-ups

Audio journals for each character

Situational audio journals

Encyclopedia for Astrid (finishing up)/Vicious

65K - Hires and Next Phases

Ability to hire a Full-Time Editor 

Audio Series for each (professionally done)

Vicious Graphic Novel

Additional Title Added

Short animations for both Vicious and Astrid (with plans to fund more with book sales)

Fleshed out Story Sections (Novellas for each character of each series)

Short comic series with Astrid and Vicious side characters

Possible to plan out monthly subscription service with new stories and 'story package' deliveries

75K -

Astrid the Devil Graphic Novel

Vicious Graphic Novel

Astrid the Devil Animated Short

Ability to hire part-time Web Developer

Additional bigger title

Anything Over - I ascend into pure light. And also, I can add titles, cover more mediums, and eventually expand my publishing to other black creatives.

From there, I should be able to handle the funding via sales of books, comics, audio, and more. Again, I will always offer mostly free content across the sites.

I believe in proof of concept, and I have diehard fans on my social platforms. With no outside funding, I've been able to a lot on my own. I'd love to expand my business into one that does the same for other black authors, artists, voice actors, and animators somewhere down the line. 

Thank you so much for your consideration. I appreciate all my readers, present and future, and I appreciate any help!

See incentives and more on the actual campaign: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-trey-publish-black-paranormal-horror-stories

Thank you so much!

[janeaustentextposts]

Hello! Love your blog :) I was watching P&P 1995 and... to which point would Darcy get involved into Lydia's affair to protect his own reputation? It is always understood he does it because he cares about Lizzy but if he plans to marry her and the scandal comes out, that would force him to change his plans, right? Would he be able to marry her and maintain his society status if Lydia's elopement with Wickham was made public?

Also, could the Bennets oppose the wedding in a situation like Lydia's if they think it would harm her or would the reputation be lost forever? They are always convinced she HAS TO marry but he is really a piece of work, he would be in their family forever, draining them. Would there be an alternative where they don't lose their reputation?

It's hard to say if he plans to marry her, as he isn't moved to try asking Elizabeth again until after Lady Catherine's interference. She's already emphatically turned him down once, and regardless of whether she's begun to soften after they meet again in Derbyshire, Lydia's situation puts an end to any chance he might propose again with such a scandal in effect. While Lydia and Wickham have run away and remain unmarried, there is NO way he could connect himself to the Bennets. Word of the scandal will only spread further the longer it lingers, and Darcy could never attach himself to that, much less force his younger sister to be attached to it, by him, especially as it's Wickham. Lydia could have run off with the milkman and Darcy wouldn't have allowed that scandal to seep into his sister's life, but the fact that it's the same man who very nearly ruined Georgiana and broke her heart for money, Darcy has mega-motives to Avoid That.

Plainly put, there wasn't really a better option available to the Bennets than to have Lydia marry Wickham ASAP to keep the scandal as brief and contained, as possible. Fortunately they're kind of nobodies in the broader society sense, so the Bennets unremarkability is kind of a blessing in disguise because there aren't too many eyes on them outside of Meryton.

We can see an alternative for a 'fallen woman' in Maria Rushworth in Mansfield Park, though her situation is very different as a divorced woman from a monied family. Henry refuses to marry her as a means of salvaging any remnants of respectability, and Sir Thomas has no way to force a rich young man to marry Maria, whose scandal was much more publicly known, and blew up her whole marriage, not just her chastity. Maria is confined to a quiet house in the country with her aunt Norris, to never participate in good society again. Mr. Bennet cannot afford a separate house in a far-off place to maintain Lydia for the rest of her life, and Wickham is fortunately in a position to be swayed by enough money to convince him to actually marry Lydia. The Bennets can have no logical reason to refuse to let Lydia marry Wickham, whatever his bad behaviour, because the damage is all to THEIR reputation, and not his. Even Lydia being kept in the country would not be adequate containment of the toxicity of the scandal attached to her (and let's be real, Mrs. Bennet would NOT allow her favourite to be shut up in a lonely house elsewhere, and Lydia would not submit to such a fate with quiet grace.)

They're all aware of just how dire the fate of the whole family will be if Lydia is NOT married to Wickham--the other daughters would have no chance of a respectable marriage, much less a materially advantageous match, when it is widely known that their sister did something so morally loose by the standards of the time and did not end up married to the man. They don't have to like the marriage, but the marriage has to happen if they're to have any remote chance of containing the oil spill of bad repute and keeping the other Bennet daughters safe enough to be eligible options for any bachelor.

If the scandal of the elopement did get to the wider world, it would have an impact on the reputations of everyone involved. Once the marriage has taken place, however, there's not much most people could do to dig up the dirt. The people who know the gritty details all have an interest in not spreading that gossip. Colonel Forster and his wife would have a black mark against them as they failed so badly as chaperones meant to protect Lydia. Lydia's family obviously needs as few people as possible to know. And Darcy, and any friends to the Bennets, and anyone who would wish to marry a Bennet, would not want to see them ruined, either, as the ripple effect of the scandal would hurt them, too. Maybe less, but not not-at-all.

Marriage to Wickham is a keep-your-enemies-closer strategy to minimize the damaging fallout from the elopement as much as possible, and to refuse the marriage would only serve to make that damage worse for everyone remotely involved. Reputation wasn't as self-contained as it can be, today--it was a big deal in your communities, and it could make or break the turning-points in people's lives. With no Google and social media, all anyone could rely on to prove their good name was the testimony of those who knew them and their family, who could speak to how they conduct themselves.

[puff-poff]

The Culture of the Demon World

One part of The Promised Neverland that I always wanted to learn more about was the demons and their culture. Demons are a whole new race with their own language, religions, traditions, food, and history, and I want to learn more about their society. So, I decided to do a bit of research on a few specific aspects of the demon world. After writing everything down and connecting the pieces while trying to remain true to canon, I finally have something clear enough to share with you all.

Without further ado, I present to you my analysis of demon culture.

Part One: Clothing Just like in real life, the clothing demons wear depends on their social status and wealth. The middle and lower-class demons wear loose, flowing clothes with wide collars and sleeves. They most likely do this just in case they aren’t able to eat human meat and maintain their form; baggy clothes won’t tear if the demons start to degenerate. This is why the wealthy demons wear tighter clothing. Tight-fitting outfits show that you can afford plenty of human meat and that you aren’t worried about degenerating.

Many demons, both poor and rich, wear long, layered clothing, but it’s hard to tell if this is a societal standard or a byproduct of cold weather. Almost all of the demons we see are wearing long-sleeved tops and ankle-length bottoms, as well as a jacket, shawl, cape, or scarf. However, the feet and hands are almost always uncovered.

A major part of demon clothing is, of course, their masks. This extra page explains the styles and functionality of the Goldy Pond demon’s masks:

Like the rest of their clothing, wealth plays a part in demon’s masks as well. Detailed masks with large horns, like Luce’s, are worn by rich demons who want to flaunt their wealth, while lower-class demons wear simple, paneled masks with short horns. Demons who want a more functional mask might choose one without horns so they don’t get in their way. The aristocrat demons also have a unifying feature between their territory’s masks to differentiate themselves from the leaders of other territories. Whether or not your mask shows your mouth appears to be a personal preference since Legravalima, Mujika, Sonju, Awla, and Mawla all have uncovered mouths despite the character’s drastic differences.

Another detail I would like to point out is the material of the masks. Most demon masks are likely made of a material similar to clay, but there are a few demons with special masks that appear to be made out of something else. Nous and Nouma, for example, have athletic masks coated with shiny material that’s probably similar to polyester. However, it was Legravalima and Sonju’s masks that interested me the most. Legravalima’s mask is smooth, glossy, and seemingly made out of metal. A metallic mask is likely a sign of royal status and immense wealth. This explains why Sonju had a metallic mask as a child, and why he doesn’t have one now. When he was a prince, Sonju wore a shiny mask with a design similar to Legravalima’s. After running away with Mujika, he grew out of his mask and now wears a clay one of the same design.

This might just be the art style of the series changing over time, but I also find it interesting that Sonju’s mask suddenly becomes glossy in chapter 156 during the battle at the royal capital. It’s his first time stepping foot in the palace since he ran away, and it’s as if his mask is suggesting that returning to the palace has given Sonju his royal status back.

Part Two: Architecture In many ways, the architecture in the demon world reminds me of places like the Sant Francesc Church in Spain and Royal Ontario Museum in Canada. As time goes on, old buildings are expanded and improved with modern additions to accommodate the changing world. This can be seen in the paradise hideout, where a newer building was constructed next to the original settlement.

The old, traditional demon buildings are made of clay and other types of stones. They don’t appear to have many windows, and the few windows they do have are holes without window panes. Many of the older buildings were carved out of mountains or trees, or at least rest atop a mountain with steps carved into the side. This traditional style of demon architecture is similar to old Pueblo architecture and adobe homes.

The newer demon architecture likely came into style sometime before Goldy Pond was built, seeing as Goldy Pond has buildings similar to those in modern demon villages. It resembles the European Tudor style with its grid window panes, timber frames, and sloped roofs. The walls were probably made using the wattle and daub technique and painted white or cream. Some of the buildings have stone foundations, but unlike the old style of architecture, the stones are laid like bricks. Buildings made using the new style of architecture also have shutters, awnings, and Juliet balconies.

This picture of the royal capital’s streets perfectly shows the mixing of the old and new architectural styles:

Here, you can see the original clay buildings with the balconies, awnings, and wooden frames of the new style added on. The buildings in the foreground have open windows while the ones further back have grid panes. One of the structures on the right is built in the style of the older demon homes, but it uses modern stone bricks and balconies. This blend of architecture helps show the development of the demon society through the years.

Part Three: Food Human meat is the most important food in demon culture since it’s what keeps the majority of demons from degenerating. I won’t be talking a lot about the farms and human meat in this post since it’s already been explored by the manga and people smarter than me. If you want to read more about demons and human meat, I recommend this post by the-silliest-idiot and this translation of the fanbook, particularly the Q&A sections.

As explained in the manga, the appearance of demons changes depending on the type of meat they eat. The aristocrat demons eat human meat, Parvus eats monkey meat, and the demon horse Sonju rides eats horse meat. As explained in the fanbook, humanoid demons will lose their human appearance if they don’t eat human meat, but monkey demons like Parvus can retain their appearance for a while. To keep themselves from degenerating or changing forms, humanoid demons don’t eat a lot of meat other than the human meat from the farms. When the demons do eat other meats, they eat bugs, fish, and birds, probably because those animals are difficult to change into.

While it’s unclear if demons eat the plants in the forest, we know that there are plenty of edible berries, nuts, fungi, and other plants that the human escapees eat during their travels. Demons also have a variety of fruits, vegetables, and nuts that they grow and harvest. In just these two panels, we can see that the demons have their own versions of pears, hazelnuts, pineapples, kiwi, and mangos (the mangos seem to be popular in the royal capital).

All demons, regardless of wealth or social status, appear to have equal access to all food except human meat. Lower-class demons get low-quality meat, but the same berries and nuts being sold at street markets are present in the Tifari offering.

Part Four: Language Unfortunately, I’m not smart enough to decode the old demon language. In the words of the fanbook, “Sugita created demon god's name, but every other text from the demon language that appeared afterward was Posuka's creation.” The language was made up by Posuka, and I’m not sure if there’s enough dialogue to translate a full alphabet. The old demon language looks like a combination of Japanese and Enochian, but that’s all I can gather from it. It’s also unclear if the language has a written form. 

However, the old demon language isn’t used anymore. The language died out for two major reasons; a general lack of knowledge and to separate language from the old faith. The aristocratic demons know the language well enough, but we don’t see many commoner demons speaking it. The modern demon society writes in English, as shown by the signs at Goldy Pond, and it’s likely that they also speak English despite the story being written in Japanese. There's also a chance that the demons speak Old English since the promise was forged during medieval times. If this is true, then the aristocrats and heads of the farms could have a more modern accent because they often talk to people from the human world.

Part Five: The Arts Sadly, we don't know much about art in the demon world. The promise was made around the 11th century, so art in the demon world is likely reflective of that time. I can only assume they have their own literature, art movements, and music, but it's mostly speculation. One thing I noticed is that the demon world has a lot of embroideries, whether it be on the edges of a cape or banners inside the palace. This fits with my theory of medieval Europe-inspired art and languages. During medieval times, top layer garments such as coats and cloaks were commonly embroidered along the hemline and cuffs. This kind of embroidered clothing is worn by many demons throughout the series.

Banners, tapestries, and flags were also commonly created by artists during medieval times. Lines of flags are seen throughout the demon world, and a few buildings in the capital have banners hanging outside. The palace has a few banners of its own, though they're fancier than the ones in the capital streets.

Damask fabric is another example of demon artistry being influenced by medieval Europe. Damask is a reversible fabric created by weaving. The royal demons seem to have jumped on the damask train before the promise was sealed because it can be found in many places throughout the palace. Most notably, Legravalima's dress is partially made of damask, though the silhouette is very different from that of a medieval damask evening gown. Damask was commonly used to make curtains as well, like the ones draped around the Tifari offering.

We don’t know much about literature in the demon world. The books we see were written in the human world and sent to the farms, but surely the demons have their own books and stories. Seeing as the rest of the arts in the demon world were inspired by medieval Europe, I can only assume that their books, fables, and plays are as well. Much of medieval literature was based on religion and chivalry. There were also many fables and myths derived from old stories and religious texts. Demon children probably read many stories about the Evil Blooded, the runaway prince, and heroic knights who protect the demons from harm. There likely are many stories written in the old demon language as well. Similar to Latin and Old English in the Middle Ages, the old demon language was probably the main written language until the 11th century, when the demons began using English as a primary language.

I imagine that Anglo Saxon, Byzantine, and Norman (ha get it) art heavily inspired art in the demon world. The palace is likely covered in tapestries and murals depicting historic events. Metal and tilework were probably once a major part of demon artistry, but the practices died out over time. Instead, many demon artists practice painting and embroidery. Pieces of art in the demon world would be very vibrant and colorful, especially the works displayed in the palace.

When it comes to music in the demon world, there isn’t much to go off of. We know that the farms have access to instruments and sheet music because of Leslie and Nat. Barbara also sings a Japanese children’s song in chapter 113. Unfortunately, we don’t get much information about music in the demon world outside of the farms. I assume that demons primarily play string instruments and piano because of their long fingers. They also have more fingers than humans, meaning they can make a variety of chords that humans can’t. More fingers also allow demons to add more strings to their instruments. Even though it’s possible that demons have their own special instruments, we know that they also have human instruments like cellos, trumpets, and pianos.

Conclusion: There’s a lot more I wish I could talk about (mainly the elements of culture), but I’m stopping for now so this doesn’t get any longer. Feel free to correct me or add on anything I missed. If you made it this far, thank you for reading this incredibly long analysis of demon culture and I hope you have a great day.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOUR EMPLOYEES AND INVESTORS WILL CONSTANTLY BE ASKING ARE WE THERE YET

I think I've figured out what's going on. After the first 10 or so we learned to treat deals as background processes that we should ignore till they terminated.1 Don't Get Your Hopes Up. Something hacked together means something that barely solves the problem, the harder it is to bait the hook with prestige. And that is almost certainly mistaken. So one thing that falls just short of the standard, I think, should be the highest goal for the marginal. Big companies think the function of office space is to express rank. As big companies' oligopolies became less secure, they were willing to pay a premium for labor. You can see it in old photos. If you're friends with a lot of the worst kinds of projects are the death of a thousand cuts. And what's especially dangerous is that many happen at your computer.

And the microcomputer business ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. In 1450 it was filled with the kind of turbulent and ambitious people you find now in America. You have to like what they do there than how much they can get the most done. That's not what makes startups worth the trouble. Design This kind of metric would allow us to compare different languages, but that if someone wanted to design a language explicitly to disprove this hyphothesis, they could probably do it. This technique can be generalized to: What's the best thing you could be doing, not just what you can see the results in any town in America. With this amount of money can change a startup's funding situation completely. There I found a copy of The Atlantic. Whereas it's easy to get sucked into working longer than you expected at the money job.2 That's ok. I think you have to do all three. But more importantly, you'll get into the habit of doing things well.

But what if the person in the next 40 years will bring us some wonderful things.3 They all know about the VCs who rejected Google. The writing of essays used to be.4 You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.5 He improvises: if someone appears in front of him, he runs around them; if someone tries to grab him, he spins out of their grip; he'll even run in the wrong place, anything might happen. The people who've worked for a few months I realized that what I'd been unconsciously hoping to find there was back in the place I'd just left. It was supposed to be something else, they ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. By 2012 that number was 18 years. The first thing you need is to be willing to look like a fool.6 Google they have a fair amount of data to go on. John Malkovich where the nerdy hero encounters a very attractive, sophisticated woman.

Many of the big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders.7 Empirically, the way to the bed and breakfast, and other similar classes of accommodations, you get to hit a few difficult problems over the net at someone, you learn pretty quickly how hard they hit them anyway. Inexperienced founders make the same mistake as the people who list at ABNB, they list elsewhere too I am not negative on this one was the only way to get lots of referrals is to invest in students, not professors. It will actually become a reasonable strategy or a more reasonable strategy to suspect everything new.8 Never say we're passionate or our product is great. Whereas undergraduate admissions seem to be disappointments early on, when they're just a couple guys in an apartment. Programmers at Yahoo wouldn't have asked that.9 Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding what to study in college. VCs think they're playing a zero sum game.

I spend most of my time writing essays lately. Almost everyone's initial plan is broken. If smaller source code is the purpose of comparing languages, because they come closest of any group I know to embodying it. Distracting is, similarly, desirable at the wrong time. But if we make kids work on dull stuff now is so they can get away with atrocious customer service. In fact, here there was a kid playing basketball? Of course, figuring out what you like.

Go out of your way to bring it up e. The industry term here is conversion. Try to keep the sense of wonder you had about programming at age 14. At least if you start a startup, people treat you as if you're unemployed.10 But hacking is like writing. Even with us working to make things happen the way they used to, they were moving to a cheaper apartment. It causes you to work not on what you like, but is disastrously lacking in others. I do in the rest of the world. Their defining quality is probably that they really love to program.

I could only figure out what to do, there's a natural tendency to stop looking.11 Economies of scale ruled the day.12 One is that this is simply the founders' living expenses.13 I need to transfer a file or edit a web page, and I think I know what is meant by readability, and I think they're onto something. Multiply this times several hundred, and I get an uneasy feeling when I look at my bookshelves. You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.14 Everyday life gives you no practice in this. Startups grow up around universities because universities bring together promising young people and make them work on anything they don't want to want, we consider technological progress good.

Notes

Samuel Johnson said no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money. Which is precisely my point. If they were regarded as 'just' even after the egalitarian pressures of World War II the tax codes were so new that the guys running Digg are especially sneaky, but except for money. They don't know enough about the new top story.

The image shows us, they tended to make money. But we invest in the Bible is Pride goeth before destruction, and one of the fake leading the fake leading the fake. In No Logo, Naomi Klein says that 15-20% of the aircraft is.

But because I realized the other writing of Paradise Lost that none who read a draft, Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson. If they agreed among themselves never to do due diligence for an investor? The best technique I've found for dealing with the other.

I ordered a large number of startups as they do for a public event, you can ignore. If you want to help the company, and a few of the Facebook that might produce the next Apple, maybe the corp dev is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors decide whether to go to die.

If you walk into a big company CEOs in 2002 was 3.

Or rather, where w is will and d discipline. But that turned out the existing shareholders, including that Florence was then the richest country in the sense of mission.

In Shakespeare's own time, because they can't afford to. The company may not be able to raise their kids in a company in Germany. When we got to see the apples, they said, and why it's next to impossible to write an essay about it wrong. That will in many cases be an open booth.

I'm not saying you should probably be worth trying to tell them exactly what constitutes research in the early 90s when they say they bear no blame for any particular truths you'll learn. As Jeremy Siegel points out that there is undeniably a grim satisfaction in hunting down certain sorts of bugs. Did you know about it as if you'd invested at a discount of 30% means when it was actually a great programmer doesn't merely do the right direction to be is represented by Milton.

But a lot of the next round. It's hard to say exactly what your body is telling you. In Russia they just kill you, they tend to be very unhealthy. One thing that drives most people realize, because you have two choices, choose the harder.

Though Balzac made a lot of classic abstract expressionism is doodling of this essay talks about programmers, but one by one they die and their houses are transformed by developers into McMansions and sold to VPs of Bus Dev. Or rather, where it sometimes causes investors to act. Eric Raymond says the best hackers want to trick admissions officers. And no, unfortunately, I mean efforts to protect widows and orphans from crooked investment schemes; people with a truly feudal economy, you better be sure you do in proper essays.

The top VCs thus have a better education. Or a phone, IM, email, Web, games, books, newspapers, or some vague thing like that. You need to fix. But the question is not much to maintain their percentage.

Kant. Loosely speaking. The real decline seems to them to lose elections. Some types of startups where the recipe is to say incendiary things, they can grow the acquisition offers most successful founders still get rich simply by being energetic and unscrupulous, but they get for free.

World War II to the frightening lies told by older siblings. That's one of the most general truths. As we walked in, we found they used it to get into that because a unless your last funding round.

But this seems an odd idea.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Shiro Kawai, Garry Tan, Chris Small, and Nikhil Nirmel for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[lubdubsworld]

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) ( Complete )

Summary : Friends with benefits? Or maybe Enemies who just happen to fuck? Areum and Jungkook love driving each other crazy, but also can’t keep their hands off each other.

Chapter 1 

 Chapter 2 

 Chapter 3

 Chapter 4

 Chapter 5  

Chapter 6  

Chapter 7

Chapter 8 ( Final ) 

Something about sitting on the counter in Jungkook’s kitchen, wearing nothing but his shirt and chopping carrots , while the clock read 2.20 AM felt so right, that I couldn’t stop grinning. 

Jungkook was singing softly and apparently singing was yet another thing he was ridiculously good at.

“You’re singing at our wedding. You sound like an angel.” I declared, pointing one red veggie at him.

Jungkook laughed.

“Sure, what song?”

“Something sweet and nice and-”

“ Take off those heels- Lay on my bed- Whisper dirty secrets as I’m pulling on your hair.....” 

I glared at him. 

“absolutely not.”

“Aww Come on... “ Jungkook gave me the full brunt of his puppy eyes, “We should be true to ourselves and lets be real, yes I enjoy being corny and romantic with you but...it’s in the bed that we truly shine as a couple.” He grinned, bunny teeth poking out in an entirely too adorable way considering that he wanted to sing a fucking sex song at our ‘not-even-sure-if-its-happening wedding’ . 

“No one else needs to know that...” I shuddered. My sister would expire on the spot. 

“ They will when we sneak out at the reception to have sex in the closet.” 

“In my wedding dress? Yeah right.” I rolled my eyes.

Jungkook’s eyes glittered. 

“We’re going to be married in the Maldives. You’re going to be in a bikini.” He said casually. 

I blinked.

“A bikini?”

“Yes. A bikini. The kind I can undo with just a couple of tugs on a string. “ 

“You’ve...given this a lot of thought.” I smirked.

He nodded.

“I am...but only because it’s damn near impossible to think of anything else when you’re in front of me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”.

He shrugged,

“Even picked out a ring.”

“Liar.” I hissed and he laughed.

“You’re right. I haven’t picked a ring. We’ll pick one together ....when we want to get married.” 

“But...thats ...not anytime soon right?” I said nervously. Jungkook gave me a smile, moving back to stirring the saucepan with the meat and adding some sauce. 

“It doesn’t have to be ever. I’m happy this way. If one day you wake up and feel like you’re missing a ring on your finger, we’ll go do the whole wedding shebang. If not, that's fine too. We can spend the rest of our lives being the horny couple everyone avoids at family gatherings. ” he shrugged. 

I laughed but felt my heart expand a few sizes inside me. 

“Thank you.” I whispered and he leaned over the counter to gently grip my chin, planting a soft kiss on my lips. 

“No one else gets to say what we are. No one else gets to say what we can or can’t do. Okay?” He rubbed his nose against mine and I nodded.

I bit my lips, thinking about something that had always bothered me. 

“Your parents-” He cut me off before I could finish.

“I won’t lie. They’ll probably want me to...reconsider.” He sighed. “ But I don’t think they’ll give  you  a hard time about it.. They’re polite and good people. Just have a different idea of what I need in a wife.”

I played with the hem of his shirt. 

“Sana , she’s-” i couldn’t even say it, just looking up at him. He was already staring at me. 

He nodded, smiling a little.

“Someone my parents have been trying to set me up with, yeah.” He admitted. 

“You didn’t turn her down ...” I said softly, feeling hurt . 

He stared at me, turning the heat down on the pan before coming around to stand in front of me. 

“Hey, come on, don’t look like that, baby...”

“And she’s going to be there at your fight today and-”

“I just didn’t want to pick a fight with my parents before today’s match. Because believe it or not, I was going to ask you out today , after I won.”

I blinked at him, surprised.

“Really?”

“Really. I... you’ve been staying over and stuff, and you actually looked jealous of Sana so I thought...you know maybe you’ve changed your mind about us.... So I wanted to ask you out. And I wanted my parents to  be in a good mood when I told them I’m with you. So I indulged them a little , that’s all.” 

I nodded. Talking about his parents made me think of my own mother and God, I could feel a headache coming on. But I had to tell him the truth. 

“My mom...she’s...she’s a little...”

He squeezed my knees, leaning closer and bumping my head with his.

“I’m not the kind of guy women usually want to bring home to their parents, but i will wear a nice button down,  brush my teeth  and get a whole bunch of flowers for her when you ask me to.” He whispered. 

“She’ll only want you for your money.” I blurted out.

He straightened, looking confused.

Embarrassment flooded me but I had to be honest with him.

“My mother, she... she got used to a really luxurious lifestyle with my dad and when he died, she just...she couldn’t accept that she’s going to have to give up a lot of stuff... So she’ll try to get you to buy her things. I’ll try to keep her away as much as I can but-”

“I really wouldn’t mind buying her stuff-”

I shook my head fiercely.

“No..No..that’s... I can’t ask you to that.”

Areum look at me-” He demanded and I stared at him. 

“You do know that I’m like, filthy rich, right?” He said firmly.

I rolled my eyes.

“Yes but-”

“Buying your mom a few trinkets every month wouldn’t even put a dent in the amount of money I make in a fucking  hour.” He raised both his eyebrows.

I frowned.

“Okay, stop bragging.” 

He laughed. 

“ I’m serious. You don’t have to worry about it okay? Besides you can always repay me for it. “ 

I gaped at him.

“I cannot repay-”

“In kisses.” He finished. 

I stared at him, not fooled at all.

“And office sex. I really really want to spend a whole entire day at work with you wrapped around my cock...not even fucking,,,just you in my lap, me inside you.... Its like my biggest fantasy.” His eyes looked a little glazed. 

I felt heat rush all the way up to my ears, my face flaming. 

“You’re insatiable” I muttered, whacking his shoulder. 

His eyes shifted, gaze darkening and heavy with something that was more than just lust. More than just attraction,. It was heavy and over powering, strong and impossible to ignore. It was so heavy and dark and sensuous and yet somehow so achingly soft and affectionate. 

“It’s never enough, “ He leaned in close, curving fingers on my waist and kissing my neck. “ After two years, I tell myself I should have had enough of you but...” He brushed his lips against mine, “   It’s not. I want to touch you more. I always come away from our time together wishing I could touch you some more. Want to touch you more, take in that scent of yours, watch your eyes flash when I make you cum. ” 

He grabbed my knees, spreading my legs and I became acutely aware of being completely naked underneath his shirt. 

“We’re not having sex on the kitchen counter.” I protested, laughing  and he hummed, kissing my jaw gently.

“Come on, its a rite of passage. Its not true love if you don’t have sex on the kitchen counter while your dinner burns on the stove...” 

Oh, well. 

Maybe he was right. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Should i just forfeit the match tonight?” Jungkook whispered, voice muffled against my shoulder blades as he pressed soft little kisses to my skin , deliciously slow and gentle. 

I frowned, face down on the soft duvet on his bed, fingers curled into the fabric, trying to chase sleep. 

The slightly golden light spilling into the room told me it was morning, but still pretty early. We could definitely afford to sleep in a few more hours at least. It had been almost four in the morning when we had finally fallen asleep. Jungkook had wanted to leave the kitchen as it was but I couldn’t fathom leaving some poor maid the task of cleaning cum off the mahogany surface. 

“Why would you say that?” i said, surprised. 

Jungkook sighed.

“I don’t know. “ He pulled away from me and rolled to the side. I stared at him as he gazed back at me. 

“What’s wrong?” I whispered, genuinely concerned.

He gave me a soft smile.

“It’s just a thought. I have it every morning of a major match.” He ran a palm over his face, mussing up his hair bore reaching out to press a kiss on my forehead. 

“Is it nervousness?” I asked, feeling anxious. There was something oddly frightening about seeing this side of Jungkook. I’d only ever seen the cool, confident asshole. The one that had no qualms about taking what he wanted, when he wanted. 

And I felt .... like it was a privilege he was granting me, letting me see the vulnerable side to his well earned cockiness. 

He shook his head. 

“It’s not. I’m not worried about losing, wouldn’t even mind losing once in a while.”

“But you don’t... you’re literally incapable of losing, golden maknae...” I teased and he rolled his eyes. 

“It’s actually about you.” He reached out and cupped my cheek gently. 

I blinked, pressing my own fingers over his. .

“What?”

“I’m not sure you’ll....like  that  side of me.” He said hesitantly. 

“Jungkook...”

“A large part of why I never let you see me fight is because, I’m not a nice person in the ring. I don’t show a lot of mercy ... I sometimes use more force than necessary and well, there’s nothing beautiful about beating the shit out of someone is there?”

I swallowed.

“You think I’ll see you differently, if I watch you fight.”

He nodded. 

“Won’t you? It’s not a very dignified sport.” 

I hesitated, not sure what to say to that. 

“I’ve not... I don’t think I’ve ever thought it was weird, in a bad way, that you boxed. I just thought it was something you were good at. It’s not... I don’t think I feel that deeply about it.” 

He nodded.

“I believe you . But it still worries me. I’m just scared I guess...”

“Scared..?”

“Scared that seeing me in the ring will make you change your mind about us.” 

I jolted, stunned. 

Moving quickly to his side , I threw my arms around his neck, kissing him hard. 

I pulled back to glare at him.

“I’m not going to leave you over a sport you play.” I said drily .

He chuckled and kissed the tip of my nose.

“If you say so.”

“I’m serious. I’m not a delicate flower, Jungkook. I’m not going to enjoy watching you get hurt, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to just...give up on everything that you are.... because of this.” 

“You’re right.... I’m sorry if i worried you.” He said softly , and it was so disarming, how much adoration was writ large on his features.

 I was used to the lust and the passion and the roughness but this Jungkook, the tender, gentle lover....he was sending me into a downward spiral. 

“This is weird.” I laughed a little.

He grinned.

“What?” He scooted closer, reaching out to gently hold my hand.

“You...being so...” I stopped when he stroked the delicate skin on the back of my hand with feather light touches. 

“So...what?” His eyebrows quirked up, teasing and I felt myself blushing so furiously . 

“Stop it...” I whispered, mortified with how hot my face was getting. That tender, adoring look on his face was making it impossible for me to breathe.

Jungkook gave me a wicked smile and carefully slotted his fingers between mine, holding my hand gently before raising it up to kiss my knuckles.

“What’s making you turn so red, angel?” He pressed soft affectionate kisses, on each knuckle and then the inside of my wrist and I smiled so wide my cheeks began to hurt a bit. 

“Jungkook...” I could barely get the words out and it was so incredibly embarrassing that something as innocently affectionate as him holding my hand was filling me with an incontrollable urge to just burst into tears. 

“ I love you...” He whispered , blowing gently on my fingers. 

“Oh, God...” I could feel my soul threatening to leave my body. 

“Love every little bit of you...” He rolled over me, straddling my waist , arms caging me in as he pressed one soft kiss to my temple. 

“I’m going to cry.” I said firmly.

“Love that you’re so brave, so unafraid. “ He kissed the edge of my brows., “ love that you stand up for yourself, love that you don’t take shit from anyone, even me and I love that you’re here. In my arms. Like this, although I don’t deserve you at all, my beautiful goddess....” he whispered. 

The nickname made me astral project for one hot minute. 

Determined to get some control back, I grabbed the drawstrings of his sweatpants, untying the loose knot before slipping my fingers into the waistband. 

“Hmm... you’re right. You don’t deserve. But because I’m a generous generous goddess, how about I let you worship me, the way  I  deserve ....” I whispered, tugging his pants down, pushing the fabric past  his muscled thighs. He laughed.

“And how would that be?”

“Let me use that hot, thick dick of yours... Wanna ride it till my thighs shake, make you cum so hard you’ll see heaven...” I whispered and he rolled his eyes. 

“This is supposed to be a soft moment .... and all you’re interested in is my cock , you dirty little-” He choked when I shimmied down, quickly. Scooting down the bed till i was face to face with his dick, his thighs straddling my chest and his cock right up against my mouth. 

I licked the tip, gently. 

“I love you too..” I whispered, wrapping my lips around the soft head , letting my lips suck on the sensitive skin, tongue licking the soft underside as he grabbed on to the headboard to steady himself. 

“Areum-” 

“Love how much you care for me,” I ran the tip of my tongue all over the head , getting it nice and sloppy, “  how upset you get when I’m hurting....” I opened my mouth wide, lifting up just a bit to suck more of him into my mouth. 

“Oh God-”

“Love how kind, and talented and nice you are. Love how good you are at making me feel good. No one makes me feel as good as you do, Jungkook...” 

He was staring down at me, eyes blown with a mixture of arousal and affection, fingers carding through my hair gently.

I gave his hip a small pat.  

“Fuck my mouth... i can’t suck you off like this.” I squeezed his ass , enjoying how hard it felt beneath my hand. I gripped his thighs, stroking them up and down, leanly muscled and corded with strength. 

And then, completely losing my senses, 

“Namjoon’s thighs are a little bigger than yours right? ”  I said thoughtfully, completely serious and not even realizing what i was saying and  who  I was saying it to until his grip on my hair tightened hard enough  . 

Jungkook’s eyes widened comically and he was off me in a second. 

The look of sheer and absolute horror on his face made me laugh so hard i nearly choked. 

Growling, he grabbed me by the shoulders, flipping me over so fast, i bounced off the mattress. I laughed into the fabric of the pillow . 

“Jungkook, i was just jok--” I got cut off by a smack to the back of my thigh, hard and stinging. 

“Hyung’s thighs? Really, Areum, you wanna got there?” He smacked me again, and I whined. 

“Is this any way to treat a goddess?” I choked out, struggling to crawl away but he held me down easily. 

“Shouldn’t ever go soft on you..., called you a goddess one time and suddenly you wanna be a little brat about it......” He grunted, fingers closing around my upper arms and pulling my hands back so hard that my shoulder actually popped. 

He pulled me up till I was on my knees, his chest pressed to my back as he gripped my wrists hard. 

“Ow!! I’m sorry!” I yelped, but he wasn’t listening,  and I grinned when i felt the familiar cold of metal on my wrists. 

“You’re so easily riled...” I added a slight lilt to my words, knowing how much it annoyed him. 

He didn’t disappoint, grabbing my chin hard and yanking my head back so I could stare at him. 

“Only when you forget your place, angel.” He whispered . 

“My place?” I blinked innocently. “ And where is that?”

He gave me a quick bruising kiss.

“In my heart most of the time. But right now, on your knees up against the head board so I can fuck your brains out.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I love you.” Jungkook said cheerfully, leaning against the wall and grinning like the Chesire cat. I straightened from where I was kneeling, tying my sneakers. 

I stared at him, completely amused.

“Jungkook you don’t have to say that so often...” I shook my head.

He frowned. 

“I like being able to say those words to you. I spent entirely too many months thinking them and not being allowed to say them.”

I felt my heart melt a little. 

“I love you too. “ I whispered.

“I wouldn’t mind you being there, you know. I know I said all that stuff, but if you really want to see me fight from up front....” 

I shook my head. 

“Its alright. I won’t be anywhere near the front and I’ll make sure to look away when you’re punching your opponent. “ I teased. 

He sighed.

“Just remember that’s not who I am, okay? I... I love you.” He said again.

“Now the word’s just beginning to lose all meaning.” I laughed. 

He looked hurt at that.

I rushed to sooth him.

“I’m just joking, I’m joking... Of course it has meaning and i love that you’ve suddenly turned into a love bot, but let’s just... tone it down. Just a little bit.” I pinched my fingers together,.

He tugged his lower lips between his teeth.

“You’ll be okay to get to the venue by yourself right? I’m going to take a shower and a nap before I head there.”

“I’ll be fine.” I waved him off. “ We’ll meet up after you win and celebrate properly.” I winked, giving him one last kiss before waving bye. 

As the door closed behind him, I couldn’t help but grin ear to ear.

Ain’t love grand? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was wrong. 

I couldn’t do this.

“He is so hot. Oh my God, you’re so lucky, Sana...look at his fucking abs.” 

I willed myself not to take a swing at the girl next to me. I wanted to clench my fist, raise my arm and just let loose till she was knocked out on the floor. The women from the office had seen me hovering awkwardly at the back and swooped on me like a pair of vultures. 

I’d been swept to the very front with them, my protests falling on deaf ears and now, suddenly I had front row seats to watching the love of my life get hurt. 

There was nothing even remotely enjoyable about watching Jungkook get hit. And although it was clear that he was winning , clear that he was so much better than his opponent, there was no denying that the other guy was good too.

And the two times he had managed to catch Jungkook off guard, landing a couple of punches, my entire heart had cracked into two. 

“He’s going to be my husband...can you believe?” San whispered next to me and I startled.,

Oh God. 

The girls looked at me eagerly.

“Oh...that’s yeah. Sounds amazing.” I smiled. 

“He could probably like fuck you against the wall, “ Jieun whispered, giggling .

Sana blushed so red I wanted to scream.

“So hot... Do you think he’s... you know...big?” She nudged me lightly, laughing. 

Oh wow. I clenched my fists, feeling rage fill my veins so fast that I saw red. 

But I was saved by the sound of a commotion up front and my head whipped around, panic setting in. 

I stared at the ring. Jungkook stood back while his opponent was flat on the floor, unmoving. 

Great, these horny bitches had made me miss him taking the winning shot. 

i watched the referee kneel beside the prone man, counting slowly and I saw Jungkook turn to stare right at me.

“He’s looking at you, Sana... He’s looking at you, look!!” Jieun grinned. 

I bit my lips, smiling at him. 

“I think you should go to him.” The girls told Sana and I jumped.

What the fuck??

Unable to bear it, I pushed past them, ignoring their surprised squawks as I pushed past the crowd to the aisle. 

“And , ladies and gentleman, we have ourselves a winner. Give it up for our very own, Jeon Jung Kook!!” 

The crowd went wild, the referee raising his hand up in victory.

I ran all the way up to the ring, narrowly missing the guard near the front and crawling up into the ring. 

Jungkook stared at me, wide eyes as I jumped on him with a running leap. 

He caught me around the waist easily, laughing. He gripped my butt, hoisting me up and I wrapped my thighs tight around his waist. 

“Oh, wow”. He whispered, but I was too busy searching the crowd for the three girls who had triggered me into this madness. 

Sana and her two friends stood slack jawed, eyes wide as saucers as they stared at me. 

I snatched the mic out of Jungkook’s hand. Glared right at them. 

“To answer your question...yes.. he’s big. The biggest I’ve ever had and what’s more he knows how to use it too. Also, stay the fuck away from my boyfriend and stop talking about him like he’s a piece of meat, you whores. You do know I work in the HR department right? I will file sexual harassment suits on the three of you so fast you’ll-” 

Jungkook grabbed the mic out of my hands before I could finish, looking absolutely horrified. 

“You crazy little bint!” He laughed aloud and I pouted.

“They’re taking about your dick. I don’t like that.” I protested. 

“Baby, you know my dick is yours.” 

“Damn right it is.” I said firmly. 

He grinned a bit. 

“And so is my heart.” 

I let him kiss me, the background noise and the sound of of cheering fading away as I let my eyes flutter shut, reveling in just him. 

Of course, we had things to do. Meet our parents. Make our relationship public.... a whole lot of messy grown up stuff that would annoy the fuck out of both of us. 

But for now, kissing him in front of everyone, ignoring Namjoon’s screams of, ‘ Jungkook there are reporters here!!! ’ and my sister’s shouts of, ‘ stop you heathens’.....

Well, this felt just right. 

The End .

Authors Note : Well, this was a whole entire journey wasn’t it!!!!! I will deeply miss Jungkook and Areum, I loved them with my whole entire heart. I hope you guys loved them too... Let me know if you did... As always, feedback is much, much appreciated !!!! Thank you for sticking by.  Love and kisses. 

taglist : 

@veronawrites

@ladyartemesia

@jincentvangogh

@unicornbabylover

@ggukkieland

@yoongisdragon

@aamxxrii

@brooky95

@apollukee

@bonyg 

@craztextae

[loveofafangirl]

Love & Grief

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x (unnamed) Wife Mentions of Carl (his son), Oeznik, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier

Synopsis: Zemo has agreed to help Sam and Bucky track down the new super soldiers, but there are things about this world that trigger ghosts of the past. *Bittersweet/Fluffy-Angst* Setting: The Falcon and the  Winter Soldier S01 E03

Word Count: ~1,300

Author’s Notes: Thank you to the wonderfully kind and talented @the-soot-sprite​​ for prereading and reassuring me. She has been such an amazing supporter and I can’t thank her enough.

Some German words that I hopefully used (and translated) correctly: Schatzi: Little Treasure; Liebling: darling

"Papa, papa!"

His heart stopped short in his chest as if struck by an unseen force. His head craned quickly to the side in search of the source of the sound. The empty tarmac greeted him. His eyes snapped shut as he tried to focus on the memory forming. 

"Zooooom." A little voice circled him. "Zoom!" His small hands clutched a model plane that he extended out away from him, letting it soar through the air. His hair was tousled, and his shirt already unkempt, even though the family had only just arrived at the airport. 

"Mein Schatzi." Zemo smiled in adoration. "Come." 

When Carl moved closer, his father lifted him up and spun with him in his arms. "Now, it soars higher. And soon, it will touch the sky. Just like you one day. You have a bright future, my son."

The boy wrapped his arms around his father's neck, a curious expression growing on his features as a new thought pulled his focus. "Will there be sweets on the plane?"

Zemo glanced at his wife, then quickly back to his son. "Shh—there may be a few Turkish Delights tucked in a secret spot for us to share." Returning his son to the ground, he pressed his finger to his lips and winked, whispering, "Just don't tell your mother. It must be our secret."

Carl nodded, a grin of delight plastered on his face as he ran off toward the plane, his model airplane still flying beside him. "Hallo, Oeznik!"

"Good morning, Master Carl." The butler gestured him up the stairs. He offered the boy a helping hand as his parents trailed behind. 

"Papa says there are sweets," the boy stated with wide, hopeful eyes. "Do you know where they are?"

"Try the bottom compartment by the window nearest your father's seat."

Carl hurried into the plane, followed by his parents.

"You spoil him, Helm." His wife gave his hand a gentle squeeze as he helped her into the plane.

"Only a little." His head dipped to the side and his shoulders pulled forward, pleading his case. "Can you blame me?"

"I'd not have it any other way."

His hands clutched tightly at his sides as the memory faded away, leaving only a feeling of hopeless longing. Even after all of this time, he could still feel her beside him, her hand safely in his. 

"So, all this time, you've been rich?" Sam stated more than questioned, interrupting his thoughts. 

He breathed deeply, recomposing himself as he tried to let go of the past. "I'm a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country." He did his best to shrug it off, taking a step forward from them. Weakness was not something he could afford to show.

The trio boarded the plane, heading for the lawless nation of Madripoor. His fingers drifted lightly over the back of the soft leather seat that was once where his wife sat before Sam occupied the space. Bucky mindlessly brushed past him, bumping him slightly.

"Careful, Carl." 

His thoughts drifted back as he took his seat and looked out of the window as the plane began its ascent. 

"We do not run in the plane."

"Why not, Papa?" The inquisitive child questioned.

Zemo took a seat and pulled his son into the safety of his lap. "Do you still have your little plane?" 

The boy nodded, handing it to his father. 

"Do you see those dark skies off in the distance there? Storm clouds like that can cause the plane to bump and shake. Like this." He modeled with the toy plane how the aircraft may shift due to turbulence. "You could lose your balance, fall and bump your head or get hurt." His fingers ran softly through the child's lush, blonde hair. "I never want to see you injured. It is my job to protect you and help you make safe choices." 

"I'll be careful," Carl agreed. "Promise."

Zemo cradled the back of his son's head and brushed a kiss on the crown of his head. "I love you, my boy."

"I love you too, Papa."

Oeznik's shuffling in the cabin pulled him back again. 

"Apologies if that's a little warm..."

The older gentleman reminded him of his past and the family that he lost. Despite knowing all he had done, Oeznik's kindness led him to remember the man he once was. Although, he knew dwelling too long in the past would not help with the mission at hand. 

He accepted the warm champagne, silently toasting his two unlikely traveling companions. His attention shifted to the Winter Soldier. If he couldn't stay in his past, he would distract himself with another's. 

As the flight continued and the conversation waned, they decided to rest in the quiet hours they had left. Zemo retrieved a pillow from the closet and brought it to his nose. The subtle hint of her washed over him. He wasn't sure if her scent had truly lingered or if the barrage of memories had triggered something more. His body tensed at the recollection; pain burned like fire through his core. There was nothing he could do to bring them back. They were gone, and he was alone.

"Relax, my love." Her voice was a ghosted whisper on the back of his neck. "It'll all work out. When we get there, you will see. It will be alright."

"How can you be so sure, Liebling?"

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder before burying her head there a moment.

He turned into her, searching for answers.

Her encouraging smile warmed his nerves. "They will see what I see: your brilliant mind, your kind heart, and your love for your country. The council will approve your request to help the people."

His finger curled tenderly under her chin, lifting her delicate features. "Where would I be without you?"

"Luckily, you'll never need to find out." She leaned forward, closing the gap, covering his lips with her own. 

His arms circled her waist, drawing her nearer. Their movements were slow and steady, warmth building between them as a calmness washed over him. 

His gloved fist slammed forward, hovering just above the wall. His pulse quickened, and blood boiled. He pounded the air with great restraint, stopping before making a sound as he did not wish to draw attention to himself.

The vision of their bodies huddled together in the rubble was an image that had haunted him every single day. That he could handle; it fueled his vengeance, his anger, his frustrations. That memory allowed him to close himself off and harden his heart. It allowed him to focus his mind on problems he could solve, like the Avengers and ending the super-soldier program once and for all. 

These memories—his innocence, her beauty, and grace— cut deeper than any wound ever could. The only treasure that had ever truly mattered to him had heedlessly been taken. His head hung a little lower as he wondered what they would think of him now. Would it still "work out" and be "alright" when so little of himself was left to give? 

He returned to his seat, resting his head on the pillow, the many memories made on that plane spirling in his mind. His fingers slipped in his jacket pocket, pulling out an old photo of the three of them. He had been too late to save them, but there were other children like his son out there. He wouldn't delude himself into being a hero, but even if he could save one child in his son's name that would be a start. He tucked it back away, keeping it close to his heart. 

Love and grief. He thought to himself as his eyes drifted closed. The two things in life that change you beyond repair; and, he had suffered both.

Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite​​

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail​, @killsandthrills​, @noavengers​

[thelittleboyfromloveactually]

Worth it

Jj maybank x reader

Promt: 1. “Don’t touch me!” And 7. “I can’t see you get hurt!”

Promt list (angst)

Warnings: physical abuse, blood and injuries, yelling, angst, cussing (these topics can be triggering to some!!!!!!)

Word count: 1837

@dylansslutt I hope this is what you wanted!!! Thank you so much for requesting! I really enjoyed wrighting this and I hope it’s a fun read! Requests are still open! Love ya!

6 years ago I moved from New York City to outer banks, North Carolina. I was the weird new girl from the big city. My family wasn’t rich, not even close. Infact money was the reason we moved here. My dad lost his job because of an alcohol problem and my mom was a police officer. We couldn’t afford to live off just her mortgage, so when my mom got a job offer here in obx we couldn’t turn it down. Here it was cheaper, there was a school for me to go and my mom grew up here so she had some friends. But me, I had no friends, not one. That was until my second week at school, this little blond boy, jj maybank came up to me. We were ten at the time, him and his friends were going to go to the beach later and he said I could come. Because I didn’t have any other friends I wasn’t in any place to turn down this offer. Ever sense then jj and I have been best friends. I didn’t know jj the best out of everyone but I guess that intrigued me. Last year my parents went through a divorce, my dad was losing it, his addiction was getting worse and worse. My mom moved us out leaving my dad with 10,000 dollars to get help. It was hard, even though he was an alcoholic he was still my dad. Jj was there for me the whole time, became closer than ever. Jj knows everything about me, my past, my home life, my favorite ice cream flavor, my favorite place everything. I know as much as I can about jj, I know that his dad beats him, he spends a lot of nights on my couch, I know that he plans to drop out of school and travel and surf. He’s my best friend but the problem is, ever sense that day that he came up to me, I’ve had a crush on him. He didn’t like me that way though and even if he did, “no pogue on pogue macking”.

Today is my 17 birthday, and here that means only one thing, a keger, a big ass keger. I love parties but there’s always trouble at *these* parties. I would prefer to just get drunk and hang out at John b.s place. So I’ve spent the entire morning trying to talk them out of it.

“I swear to god kie!” I yelled

“Don’t even try Y/N!” She said

“Come on you love parties!” John b added

“No, I love small parties, remember the last time we had a keger?! Ya know you almost *drowned*!!!” I said

“It is her birthday guys” Sarah said, Sarah my by best girl friend, I haven’t known her for long but we immediately bonded.

“Oh come on!” Said John b

“Fine, Sarah is right it’s Y/Ns choice” kie said

John b sighed “fine, I’ll call and tell jj”

A few mins later John b hung up the phone

“Alright jj said he’ll be here around 4:00, he says happy birthday, he’s sorry he is not here” John b said

4:30

“Here should have been here 30 minutes ago” John b said

Everyone was laying around John Bs living room, sweating their asses off. We had been waiting for jj, he wasn’t answering his phone. Normally we would just leave it alone but jj never missed my birthday.

“Should we try calling again?” Sarah asked

“We’ve called 15 times, and I texted him” I said shaking my head

It was silent

“I’m going” I said as I stood up

“No the fuck your not!” John b said standing up and blocking my way to the door

“Yes I am! He could be hurt!” I said trying to move John be out of the way

“Y/N you know what he said!” John b said

Yes I did know, the pogues had a list of rules, but jj also had his own

Never go to JJs house

Never under any circumstance break rule number one

“I don’t give a fuck about what he said!” I yelled, when your mom is a cop you pick up on some self defense. John b was in my way, and i would never hurt him…..but jj may be hurt, I had seen first hand what his dad could do. I ducked down and swiped John Bs legs making him fall.

“Wtf Y/N?!” Kie said

“Sorry guys” I said as I ran toward the door. I pushed it opened and ran to my car. Kie and Sarah came running after me yelling my name. I ignored it and started toward JJs house.

About 5 minutes later I pulled into the driveway. Well the kinda driveway, it was more like a clearing with rubble and weeds. There was a car there, jjs dad's car. My stomach dropped at the sight. I took a deep breath

“It’s gonna be fine” I said as a opened my car door and stepped out

I walked up to his front door, my hand was shaking as I went to knock. Why was my hand shaking? It was gonna be fine, right? I knocked, but JJ didn't open the door, his dad did. He looked drunk, he had a cigarette in his mouth, he was dirty and he had an old cut on his face. This was a bad idea, jj may not even be here.

“Uh um hi s-sir” I Stuttered on my words

“Who are ya?” He said look around me

“Um I I’m Y/N, jjs friend, is he here?” I said looking into the house

“Ah you're his little slut girlfriend, ya here to break up with him? Not surprised” he said stepping closer to me

I stepped back, I could defend myself against him if I needed to, I reminded myself, “actually no sir, I’m just his friend, is jj here?”

“Ya he’s here, what do you want with him?”

“Where is he?” I ignored his question

“How about you come with me little lady and I’ll buy you a drink?” He said and grabbed my hand

I ripped my hand out of his and punched him in the face

“You little bitch” he yelled holding his now bleeding cheek, he swung his arm again to punch me. He hit me right in the eye.

Then suddenly he came at me and I dodged him and pushed him past me. He was definitely drunk. I ran inside and closed the door, my hands were shaking even more, I tried to lock it and luckily I was able to. Then I heard a car start in the driveway, the car sounded older. Not mine, but jjs dads. I let out a breath of relief and turned around to look at the house. The coffee table was filled with beer bottles, there was glass on the floor and a broken picture frame. I needed to find jj.

“JJ!!! JJ!!!” I yelled his name, I could hear the crack in my voice when I yelled.

I made my way through the small, dirty house and to his room. The door was locked

“Jj?! Please open the door!” I said as I rocked on the door

I was about to say something again but the door swung open

“What do you want?!” Jj yelled as he slammed the door frame

I jumped, almost tripping over myself. Jjs face was bruised and bloody. He was shirtless, his chest was covered in bruises. I looked up at him, I was confused. I saw his face soften when he saw me, he looked surprised, then he got angry again.

“Y/N?! What the hell are you doing here?!” He said stepping closer to me

I was at a loss of words, I was already shaky but when Jj yelled it set me off.

“I um I-I” I started but was cut off by jj

“Fuck Y/N, did he do this to you?!” Jj yelled

“Jj please stop ye-“

“That son of a bitch! I swear to fucking god” he began walking out of the hallway toward the door

I stood up “JJ STOP!” I yelled grabbing his arm

“Don’t touch me! Why can you fucking listen Y/N?! I told you to stay away! And what did you do?! You didn’t! You didn’t fucking stay away! And now” he paused calming down and catching his breath “now you are hurt, and it’s my fucking fault! I swear I’m going to kill him” he said moving his hand over his lips and looking down

“What did you expect me to do Jj?” I was trying to stay calm “you didn’t show up and that scared me, I came to make sure you were ok, and obviously you aren’t, I can’t sit my and watch you come to school with black eyes and bloody lips”

“Fuck you Y/N! You had one job!”

Fuck being calm “you know what Jj I came because I care and because I am your fucking friend ok?! It’s ok to let people care about you! It’s ok *to* care! You don’t need to push everyone away!” I yelled back at him

“I do care Y/N! That’s why I don’t want you here! I can’t see you get hurt!!!” He yelled grabbing my hand

“Well, I’m completely fine so” I said taking my hand out of his and crossing my arms across my chest

“Your not fine”

“I am!”

“Nope”

“Yes! Yes I am, and why tf is it so important to you that I’m hurt, you get hurt, so does John b, and Kie, and rafe, but he definitely deserves that-“ I was cut off from my blabbing

“Y/N I care because I love you alright?! Calm down” he said

“W-what?”

“I’-I’m” he started moving his head as if he was trying to think of what to say, I looked at him, studying his features, then I decided I was going to kiss him, ya ya I was going to kiss him. And I did, my lips met his in one quick movement. He seemed surprised at first but then his lips moved into mine. It was a passionate, needed kiss, but amazing never the less. His tongue moved, asking permission that was granted.

We broke the kiss both trying to catch our breath

“Wait Y/N-“ je started

“I love you too jj, I have forever” I said smiling

“But what about the rules and stuff, I mean I don’t follow rules like ever but” he was cute when he was confused, I began giggling at his attemp

“What? what is so funny?” He asked

“You are adorable,” I said kissing him again

It’s funny, I never thought that I would be here, kissing jj fucking maybank. We we’re definitely gonna get some crap from the rest of the pogues but it was definitely worth it.

[17caratssi]

Wonwoo! Will you stay

Jeon Wonwoo! A short series pt one | two | three | four

Lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub! It was so close AHHH! That was a bold move! I can't believe he didn't throw me off!!

You're over the moon for the rest of the day. You have been under the weather for some days, and your parents are worried about it. Seeing you like this, they feel at ease.

You begin to anticipate tomorrow. Will your relationship with Wonwoo turn for the better? This is what makes school exciting!

However, Wonwoo feigns ignorance whenever you try to have a conversation with him. It goes on for another two days, and he still has nothing to say to you.

Not to mention, Somi and Umji also avoid talking about him during the break. They never answer your questions regarding Wonwoo, and it put you into a dispiriting mood again.

In the aftermath, you lose concentration during the computer class. In fact, your head is full of him. Your two best friends give you hints about Wonwoo's matter, but they're just superficial.

My mind is a mess.

After the class, you block Wonwoo's seatmate's path and begin questioning- more like interrogating.

"Tell me, is there any problem Wonwoo is having these days?"

Kihyun averts from your scrutiny. He refuses to talk.

"Come on, tell me," you persuade him into confessing. As a seatmate, he must know a tiny bit about Wonwoo. "I won't tell him that it's you who said to me. Sounds good?"

"He's not stupid,"

That's very true. Hmm...

"I will bear the responsibility. Just spill it," you convince him. This time, you're sure you'll get to the matter.

Kihyun sighs.

"A few third-year students have been picking up fights with him. I think Wonwoo was triggered by something they said. By the way, I remind you of a thing,"

"You shouldn't be near to him. You know that he's a scholarship boy, right? There's an unspoken rule here in Sejong High..."

That's your wake-up call. No wonder Wonwoo calls you 'stuck-up rich kid', and now you realize that you might've looked down on him, unintentionally.

He was right. I'm a stuck-up rich kid with no shame.

Although Kihyun tells you all that, you're still on the surface. What has possibly put him off at that time? You want to know more.

As you walk to the cafeteria, Somi and Umji are busy talking about the former's boyfriend.

"My boyfriend's birthday is coming but I don't know what to give him," Somi sounds helpless as she snakes her arms around yours and Umji's.

You don't put your focus on her, so you don't reply.

Umji thinks for a while before sharing her idea. "Your boyfriend is rich enough to buy everything so what if you bake him something? That'd be rather special- at least for me,"

They never stop afterwards. It amuses you that the two has yet to have their topics exhausted. They keep going on!

After getting the snack, the three of you is about to return to class but is stopped by the crowd. They run toward the field.

"The new kid is fighting with a senior!"

"Damn, he's got gut!"

Somi and Umji simultaneously peek at your expression. "Wonwoo? Hey Y/N! Oh my god, don't tell me-"

"Wait for us, Y/N!"

Half of the first-year students watch the fray. Some are cheering for the guy senior, and you panic.

Your imagination runs wild. As much as you hate seeing a fight erupts, you hope Wonwoo isn't the one receiving the senior's blow!

Your small frame slips easily through the throng, and the situation shocks you.

Umji manages to catch you while Somi's being pulled away by her boyfriend. "We better go now!" she gives you a quick pull but you're not moving an inch. She frantically observes the situation and heaves a sigh at the sight of the security.

"WHAT ALL OF YOU DOING HERE?" The security runs faster to the crowd and breaks off the fight. Wonwoo huffs and puffs; showing his dissatisfaction toward the guy he had punched.

The senior has a gang; they help him up. Wonwoo is the one left unattended since he's alone. You watch him from the side and is on the horns of a dilemma.

You know it's no good if you go help Wonwoo now with all the attention directed to him.

Out of the blue, one of the seniors speaks up. "Apologize to Juwon and we'll act nothing happened just now," It's obvious he's intended to embarrass Wonwoo in front of many students.

He smirks when his words hit the target. Mutterings are loud in the air as the audiences express their opinions.

"Wonwoo, don't apologize!" you yell. Your voice was loud enough for the circle to pay heed to you. You cower as a response and Umji slaps your arm.

The senior snickers and voices out again."Boy, you better give in to him. His father is a person you couldn't afford to offend,"

Juwon slouches against his friend and finally says something at his friends. "If he doesn't want to admit defeat, we can take this matter to the teachers. Let's see if this parasite can win against me," he sneers.

The involved parties are eventually called to the office. You insist to accompany Wonwoo and he has nothing to say about it.

"I'm on your side, Wonwoo! Don't be scared of them. If anything happens, I'll protect you!" your fingers clench and you look up to Wonwoo who's quiet since the row had ended. Little did you know, he takes a quick glance right after you turn your head.

'Just what this meek creature can do...'

-

The time in the office feels tedious. Wonwoo hates the rich kids that are only good at blabbering and settle everything with their parent's standings.

"I won't call my parents just for this trivial matter but I have one condition,"

The teachers think the senior makes a great deal with Wonwoo, and since they don't want to be visited by the superior parents they push him to seize the offer.

You and Wonwoo leave the place as soon as they agreed with the deal. Wonwoo remains silent.

"They're so childish! That's more like punishment," you huff with your arms crossed. You can't believe the senior wants Wonwoo to be the ball boy for the basketball club.

"Why do you like to intervene?"

"Huh?" you stutter. This is the first time you get to hear his voice today.

"To be honest, I don't know,' you shrug. Your body and mind seem to be unallied when it comes to him. Even the latter warns you to not get entangled with other's business, the former just ignores and go with it.

"By the way, don't you think the senior is more stuck-up than me?" You ask excitedly as you lean to him and wait for his response. You want to change the impression he has about you.

Wonwoo takes in the view in front of him as he faces your question. Surprisingly, he feels less irritated by it.

He slows down his walking pace as he takes notice of yours. Wonwoo holds his hands at his back and fakes a thought.

After enjoying the hopefulness in your eyes, he gives the answer. "It seems like it," he says.

Due to the revelation from Wonwoo himself, you cover your mouth in excitement. Wonwoo watches as you turn tomato from his word and walks ahead.

In a hurry, you ask. "So you'll naturally sign up with the basketball club?" He raises his shoulder slightly and then nods.

Your heart soars louder and unintentionally, it echoes across the hallway. "Got it! I'm coming too!"

Since then, your life has revolved around Wonwoo. Occasionally, he would ask for personal spaces, and even though his changes are almost negligible, you don't mind.

Being around him the whole day is fun. You get to know his habits, his favourite food and drink, or basically all about him. Not, you do seem like an ordinary girl chasing after a guy.

Wonwoo, on the other hand, feels like he has a friend. He ghosts you daily, but your presence fills a spot next to him.

The two of you get accepted into the basketball club. Every Tuesday, Wonwoo will stay at school for two hours to be the ball boy. Not that everyone tries to be silent about it, but there's this girl who keeps waiting for the guy.

She's pretty, and her hair compliments her exquisite, doll-like features.

She never pays attention to other guys as if her eyes are glued to the ball boy. The green-eyed seniors want to embarrass Wonwoo even more because of that.

"Hey ball boy, the bottles are empty. Refill them!" the senior who took Wonwo's punches shouts. You quickly get up and help Wonwoo. "Let me help!"

Wonwoo lets you take 2 bottles as he carries the other 6. "Go home after we go back,"

"Why? I want to stay with you,"

Wonwoo has no idea whether you intended to flirt with him or casually announced that, but surely, he is flustered.

He regains composure and gives a response.

"What a dimwit," the seniors are gawking at you, and you overlook that?

He wishes he could deliver that very sentence, but he may sound jealous. Well, I'm not.

"I'm here to protect you, didn't I say that before? So, stop pushing me away cuz I won't leave you."

You don't realize that your attendance by Wonwoo's side just creates another problem for him. His workload increases by tenfold due to the green-eyed seniors.

Once the game is over, Wonwoo fulfils his duty and cleans the court. In the meantime, you listen to songs on the bench.

Wonwoo has done a lot of work and this is one nothing to him. He finishes just when everyone exits the place. He thinks that you might have returned home. You aren't there when he checks out the place you've been sitting at.

Only when he walks out the hall that he accidentally eavesdrops on the conversation between you and the seniors.

He could guess the topic and he looks at the corner. If he steps just a bit forward, they will see him. And he does that.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he then presents himself.

"Just say no if you don't want to be his girlfriend. Don't waste your time,"

Enlightened, you turn the senior down and run to Wonwoo. You complain at how bad his proposal was and Wonwoo chuckles.

"What do you do at the weekend?" as you wait for your chauffeur, you build a conversation with him.

Wonwoo isn't a person to be so friendly with someone. He thinks for a while as he contemplates to answer the question.

"Study in the library,"

Wonwoo is a smart student, and his answer doesn't come off as a surprise to you. "I've never been to a library before. I meant in this area but which one do you frequent?"

There are only two libraries in the area, and Wonwoo has only been to the small one since it's closer.

"Ooh, OK then." swiftly, you take a note of it. Just right after that, you see your family car drifts into the parking lot. "Oh! My car's here. I have to go now." you wave at him in a distance and shout. "Don't stay too long under the sunlight! Bye-bye!" then you disappear into the car.

When you arrive at the library on Saturday, you quickly scan the area for him. Lucky you the place is just up to your energy to find him.

You stride from one isle to another. It's probably the physics section when you find a familiar back.

"Hey," you whisper from the back. Wonwoo is so immersed in his reading and you bet he wouldn't have noticed you if you hadn't appeared before him after that call.

With a cheeky smile, you say. "Let's go out,"

He examines the surroundings and realizes that you come alone. "What are you doing here?" his volume is practically below scolding to avoid making a fuss in the quiet place.

"You ask too much! Come on," You jog to his side and help him pack his stuff.

"I only ask once, and I did not agree to you,"

Not bringing too many necessities, you wind up less than a minute. "Shh... Just come with me, will you?"

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