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dirtyvulture · 4 months ago

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The Maid - Part 2

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4705

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: Thank you so much for the response to part 1! And thank you to everyone who was so patient and understanding for this part taking a while to write. I hope you all like it.

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Wanda seems to be in a better mood lately, Natasha notices, probably because the two of you rekindled whatever complicated romance you had going on. And as sad and lonely as it had made Natasha feel, at least Wanda was being less rude to her, and that would always be a win in her book.

The grocery trips and errands she sends Natasha on are less demanding, although Natasha’s unsure if she’s becoming more comfortable or Wanda’s gotten less picky. Wanda still requests Natasha’s help for her weekly meetings, and Natasha cannot understand why someone who is unemployed goes so out of her way to find the most mundane, meaningless things to participate in. But it keeps Natasha paid and busy, and she still gets to see you a few times a week.

“What are you doing this weekend, Natasha?” Wanda asks while the two of them are in the kitchen. Wanda is on her laptop while Natasha stands at the counter, cutting vegetables for dinner.

“Um…” Natasha knows better than to tell Wanda the truth, which is that she’ll be sitting alone in her apartment for the next two days and eating ice cream on her couch. “Some friends invited me to go shopping with them at the mall,” she lies. She doesn’t have friends and she certainly doesn’t have the budget to shop at a mall after all the debt she still owes.

“I’ll be gone all weekend with some girlfriends,” Wanda says, not even acknowledging Natasha’s plans, which makes her wonder why she had even bothered to ask in the first place. “I’m not into wine tasting much, but the girls go nuts for it. I’m just going for the spa at the resort, between you and me.”

Natasha has no idea what to do with this information. But she’s spared from answering when the garage door rumbles open.

Wanda slams her laptop shut. “Oh, Y/N is home early.” She gets up to greet you. Natasha can hear your voices carry through the hall.

“You’re early tonight,” Wanda says. “I was just telling Natasha about my weekend plans to Vermont with the girls–”

“Your weekend plans?” you interrupt. “Since when did you have plans to go to Vermont?” Natasha has never heard you sound genuinely angry before. She stops cutting the carrots to focus on eavesdropping.

“Carol wanted to go for her birthday!” your wife says.

“Wanda,” you say, your voice lowering. “Our anniversary is this weekend. I booked us a stay at the Ritz and got us tickets to see Wicked–”

“Well, just ask for a refund!” Wanda hisses. Natasha is stunned that this is her first response to forgetting about her entire anniversary with you. “And we can celebrate when I get back–”

“‘Get back?’” you repeat. “That’s not the point, Wanda. Why don’t you ask for a refund for your trip–”

“I can’t do that to the girls,” Wanda says. “Carol’s been looking forward to this for months!”

You mumble something that Natasha can’t hear. She feels awful for you. Clearly, you had spent a lot of money and time planning a nice outing, and your wife didn’t seem to care one bit. In fact, she tried to put the blame on you for intruding on her plans. Natasha felt herself shaking with rage for you. You deserved so much better.

The two of you trudge into the kitchen and Natasha hastily goes back to cutting the carrots. Wanda is hanging onto your arm, tiptoeing to whisper into your ear but you shake her off and walk through the kitchen to the staircase. Natasha knows that Wanda is glaring at the back of her head, probably upset that she had overheard, but for once she doesn’t say anything and disappears after you.

The mood is particularly subdued when Natasha serves up roasted salmon with a colorful vegetable medley and mashed potatoes.

“Thank you, Natasha,” you say as she hands you a loaded plate.

Wanda doesn’t say anything when Natasha gives her a plate.

While the two of you eat in awkward silence, Natasha cleans up the kitchen, her final task of the day. She grabs her purse and heads towards the door, when she hears footsteps behind her.

It’s you.

“Can I walk you out to your car?” you ask. “I know it’s a safe neighborhood, but I don’t want you walking out in the dark by yourself.”

Natasha is so flattered by your offer she doesn’t stop to consider how Wanda might feel about this.

“Sure, I really appreciate that. Thank you.” She leads the way out of your house.

“Sorry you always have to park around the corner,” you add, maintaining a respectful distance from her on the sidewalk. “I’ve told Wanda the whole neighborhood knows you work for us. But she’s…” you trail off, clearly not wanting to speak ill of your wife.

“I’m sorry she forgot your anniversary,” Natasha blurts out.

You seem startled that Natasha had been eavesdropping, but quickly recover. “Well, it’s…it’s not the first time she’s done it,” you admit in a soft voice. “I don’t know why I bother trying to do anything special anymore. It’s just another day to her. And it seems like she’d rather spend it with anyone but me.”

“She’s missing out,” Natasha says, surprised by her own confidence. “You’re a wonderful person and you deserve someone who will appreciate the efforts you go to celebrate important milestones like that.” She stops before she can offer herself up.

“Oh. Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

The two of you stop at Natasha’s beat-up Nissan.

“Thanks for walking me to my car–” she starts.

“Are you busy this weekend?” you ask suddenly, in a rushed whisper as if Wanda is around the corner listening. “If you’re not, would you like to see Wicked with me at the Gershwin Theater? I told Wanda I could probably get a credit with the Ritz, but I don’t want to deal with the hassle of exchanging the tickets, too. You can come over Saturday night and I’ll drive us?”

Natasha is so shocked by your proposal she doesn’t even have the words to agree at first. Growing up, she had loved watching musical movies until the VHS tapes wore out, but she had never had the opportunity to see a live performance. Even now as an adult, she still didn’t have the time nor the budget to see a show. To hear you ask that you wanted her to join you, when you had bought the tickets for you and your wife to enjoy on your anniversary she had forgotten, sounded almost too good to be true.

But if Wanda found out you had taken Natasha instead of her…Natasha shuddered at the thought. Maybe this was stepping over the line of professionalism. Natasha wanted to keep her job (and her head), and as much as the opportunity was a dream come true for her, she didn’t want to take advantage of your kindness or weakness.

“Um, I’m supposed to go shopping at the mall with some friends on Saturday,” Natasha says, cringing at the patheticness of her life. “But really–thank you for inviting me. I’m sure you have friends you’d rather take over your maid.”

“I don’t have any friends,” you say, so deadpan that Natasha almost laughs but quickly turns it into a cough when she realizes you’re being serious. While you seemed more reserved than your wife, Natasha refused to believe you didn’t have a strong social network. You were in charge of your own company and clearly doing well if you lived in this neighborhood and could afford a personal housemaid like her.

“Good evening!” The two of you startle when a cheery voice comes out of nowhere.

“Hello, Mr. Vision,” Natasha says, spotting the eccentric man first as he walks by at a rapid pace.

“Late night walk, Vis?” you call out, and he nods with a wave, pumping his arms faster and milling away. The only thing Natasha knew about Vision was that he lived by himself at the end of the street. He had no wife or kids that she knew of, not even a job as he was constantly seen walking around the neighborhood at odd hours. But he never approached Natasha or made her feel uncomfortable, which was more than she could say for most of the people living here, so she was happy to ignore him.

When Vision moves out of sight, you say, “Well, if your plans happen to change…” You fumble in your pockets awkwardly, pulling out a bent business card and handing it to Natasha. “My cell number is on there. Text me before Saturday if you’re still interested.”

“Okay.” Natasha doesn’t want to get your hopes (or hers) up, but she still isn’t convinced this is a good idea. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Natasha.”

She loves the way her name sounds coming out of your mouth.

***********************************************************************

Natasha is still unsure she made the right decision to turn down your offer to see Wicked. She even called her only friend, Clint, to ask if she should’ve said yes.

“Well, you’re just seeing a show together. Think of it like a work bonus or something. Bosses give their employees nice stuff like that all the time,” Clint says as Natasha picks at a box of takeout in front of the television. Cooking at home was not her favorite chore after doing it all day for her clients.

“Yes, but it’s just the two of us,” Natasha stresses. “Y/N got the tickets to celebrate an anniversary and Wanda already hates me as it is–”

“Nah, she doesn’t hate you,” Clint says.

“You haven’t met her! You don’t see the way she treats me.”

“Exactly. Maybe this is Y/N’s way of apologizing for her behavior,” Clint says.

“I don’t know…” It was already Friday night. Natasha didn’t have much time now to change her mind if she was going to.

“Be nice to yourself, Nat. Let someone do something for you,” Clint goes on. “You work so hard for these people all the time. And I know how much you’ve always wanted to see a live performance.” Natasha feels tears well up in her eyes. She wishes Clint was here in person so she could give him a hug. “Nothing bad will happen. Just tell Y/N you want to go before someone else takes your spot.”

Natasha takes a steely breath. Clint is right. It wasn’t a date. It just was her nice boss treating her out to a Broadway show. Never mind the fact that you had intended to take your wife initially. Wanda would never have to know, right?

“Okay. Thanks, Clint.”

“Enjoy!”

As soon as she hangs up, Natasha goes into her texts. She already created a contact for you the night you gave her your business card. Her anxiety is through the roof as she types out a message to you, then deletes it and starts over. She gets more and more frustrated trying to find the right words, before she finally throws in the towel and clicks “Send.”

Less than a minute later, you respond.

Happiness explodes inside of Natasha. She can hardly believe her luck. Not only does she get to see her first Broadway show, but she gets to see it with you, and have dinner on top of it. She darts over to her closet, looking for the nicest dress she owns.

Wanda be damned. Natasha was going to have a great night with you.

***********************************************************************

“Table for two, please.”

“Did you have a reservation?” the blonde woman at the podium asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry, but we’re all booked out for the evening,” she apologizes.

Natasha stands behind you meekly. She can’t even pronounce the name of the restaurant and doesn’t know what kind of food they serve, but it’s probably far beyond anything she could ever afford. She’s wearing a dark green dress that almost reaches her ankles and is conservative in protecting her assets, and spent over an hour doing her makeup, and she wonders if strangers will look at the two of you and assume you’re a couple. She wouldn’t go out of her way to correct them.

“That’s okay. This was a last-minute plan for us,” you explain. “If Tony is working tonight, can you please tell him Y/N stopped by to say hello?”

“Wait, you know Mr. Stark?” the woman pales. “Don’t go anywhere. You said your name is Y/N?”

You smile and nod. The woman steps down from her podium and dashes into the back.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” Natasha boldly teases.

You turn and wink at her.

“Tony and I went to college together,” you explain, although this implies you shared a friendship of some kind. “And clearly, his business is doing better than mine–”

The woman quickly returns with a short bearded man wearing a gray suit with red-tinted glasses that match his tie.

“Y/N!” Tony shouts, embracing you in a dramatic hug. “You should’ve told me you were coming tonight! I could’ve put together a private booth in the back–”

“It was last-minute,” you say. “This is Natasha, by the way. She’s a friend.” Natasha is thrilled at the way you associate her with you.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Tony.” He takes her hand and gently kisses her knuckles. He doesn’t seem surprised you haven’t brought Wanda along instead. “I take it you haven’t been here before, Miss Natasha? You won’t need a menu, I’ll have the chef bring out the best dishes we have tonight.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you say.

“Follow me! You can have a table in our east wing. Where’s Wanda?” Tony says rapid-fire, turning around and leading them deeper into the restaurant. You step out of the way and motion to let Natasha go first, and she feels your hand graze her back as she walks past you.

“She’s out with her girlfriends for the weekend,” you answer from behind Natasha.

“Your anniversary is coming up, right?” Tony asks.

“Yes,” you respond, your voice suddenly tense.

The restaurant is packed, every visible table filled with customers, until they turn around a corner to a quiet, completely empty area.

“Pick any table. I’ll have a waiter come out with some drinks shortly,” Tony says.

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Natasha echoes, unsure if she likes this special treatment. You pick a table near the corner and pull her chair out for her. As soon as the two of you are seated, a waiter in a vested suit appears with a few bottles of wine, making suggestions and pouring samples into the glasses. Natasha doesn’t have enough knowledge to understand what he’s saying or differentiate the tastes, but she enjoys the experience. It feels strange to have someone serve her, when she’s normally the one waiting on people’s every demand.

The two of you share several appetizers together. Natasha feels like she’s floating in a dream. You have been nothing but generous and respectful to her, but every time your left hand reaches across the table for the caviar, the wedding ring on your finger taunts her.

The dinner itself is a four-course affair, including a rich chocolate cake that Natasha devours faster than she can fully enjoy. When the bill arrives (which Tony has already chopped in half), Natasha still asks if she can chip in (despite knowing full well she doesn’t have the money to cover even her portion), but you push her card away and give the waiter your black card.

The theater is three blocks from Tony’s restaurant, so you leave your car in valet parking and ask Natasha if she’s okay walking. She had not planned ahead very well, so she only has a thin cardigan to cover her shoulders. You notice her shivering and offer her your heavy black jacket that completely engulfs her frame. Your scent completely surrounds her now and Natasha swears she won’t wash this dress ever again.

The line into the theater moves quickly and Natasha follows you all the way down to the front, where your seats are perfectly center to the stage. She crawls over a few people, feeling a little smug about getting some of the best seats in the house. You had truly spoiled her tonight and she was never going to forget this.

She leans over to whisper to you before the show begins. “Thank you for everything tonight. I’ve already had so much fun and the dinner was amazing.”

“You’re very welcome. Thank you for joining me, and thank you for all the hard work you do for my family,” you say and Natasha beams. “Me and Wanda really appreciate it.” Natasha deflates a little at the mention of your wife, but she pushes her out of her mind to focus on her time with you.

As they wait, Natasha props her arm up on the armrest between you two so she can hold the playbill at a comfortable angle to read. Suddenly, your arm drops heavily on hers and she looks at you in confusion. You’re reading your own playbill and don’t seem to notice that your massive arm is practically crushing hers.

“Um, Y/N?” she prompts, clearing her throat.

“Hmm? Oh!” You quickly move your arm off hers. “I’m so sorry, I thought that was Wanda’s arm,” you explain with a nervous chuckle. Natasha laughs too, although she isn’t sure if she should be happy or worried that she reminds you of your wife. She’d be happy to take Wanda’s place any day, though.

The musical is amazing, impressive beyond anything Natasha had ever expected. She cries when Elphaba defies gravity, and after the whirlwind of the second act, she is among the first to give a standing ovation. She’s floating on cloud nine as she walks with you out of the theater back to the car.

The drive back to your home is quick at the late hour. Just as you're about to pull into the driveway, you slam hard on the brakes, jolting everyone forward. Vision power walks past the beams of your headlights, only breaking the pump of his arms to wave in thanks.

“What is he doing out so late?” you ask, and Natasha is relieved to know she’s not the only one who thinks his habits are a bit odd.

“No idea,” she mumbles, watching you pull onto the driveway and stop.

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” Natasha says, still giddy with excitement.“This was the best night of my life. I’ve always wanted to see a Broadway show, ever since I was a little girl. I never thought I’d get the chance, even after I moved here–”

“You’re very welcome,” you interrupt, seeming almost shy with the praise.

“I’m sorry Wanda wasn’t able to join you for your own anniversary,” she adds, although she’s not sure why.

You shrug. “Nothing we can do about it now. Besides, I’m glad you were able to join me and had such a fun night. I don’t think this would have been nearly as fun by myself.”

There is a pause and Natasha has to force herself to stop looking at your lips. If she had no self-restraint, it wouldn’t have taken much for her to lean over the center console and kiss you.

“Have a good night, Natasha. Drive home safely,” you say as the two of you get out of the car.

“Thank you again!” Natasha doesn’t even listen to music on her way home, riding out the high of what was easily one of the most memorable nights of her life in over a decade.

***********************************************************************

A few weeks later, Natasha is working a double shift: the first one at Steve’s house, and the second at yours. You’re away at work, as usual, but she knows you’ll be home before she leaves for the day, and she never takes any glimpse of you for granted. Wanda is also back to being demanding and cranky, and Natasha has no idea if you told her about the night the two of you had together. She had felt the silent instruction from you not to blab about her taking Wanda’s place and was happy to keep the memories to herself.

She’s in the front hall, mopping while quietly humming “Defying Gravity” to herself, when Wanda clacks by in high-heels.

“Natasha!” she hisses. “Didn’t I tell you to start in the kitchen? If I slip out here because the floor is wet–”

“So sorry!” Natasha apologizes, hoping that she doesn’t finish her sentence. “I’ll put a fan on.” She rests her mop against the wall and darts off for the $300 Dyson fan in the closet. After pointing it towards the gleaming floor, she pushes her cart into the kitchen and continues mopping. She makes sure to open the window to air out the smell, and notices Steve across the street mowing his lawn.

She stares at him, wondering if he can see her, and her question is quickly answered when Steve waves to her. She returns his wave with a smile, then goes back to her task before Wanda can complain she isn’t working hard enough. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him back away from his lawn mower and answer his phone; he disappears into his house hurriedly.

“Natasha! Always make sure you open a window when you mop!” Wanda’s screech comes out of nowhere. “The chemicals you use give me a headache!”

“Oh, but the window is open–” Natasha tries to explain, but Wanda silences her with a wave of her hand.

“I’m on the phone!” she says, pointing to the cell phone held up to her ear. Natasha bites her lip, but holds her tongue. “Sorry, honey, what was that? No, I was talking to the maid,” she says. Natasha perks up despite the way Wanda titles her. You’re clearly on the other line, and maybe you’ll be home sooner than expected.

But Wanda disappears into a guest room (your house had so many of those), and Natasha can no longer hear her conversation. She dutifully continues to mop the floor, careful to fan the mop in a semi-circle pattern so as not to trap herself in a corner. She moves the chairs to the hallway one at a time, cursing their awkward shape that makes them difficult to carry and taking special care not to scrape the feet along the floor.

Wanda’s shrill voice carries through the house again, this time covering a topic that makes Natasha’s cheeks heat up.

“Oh my God, yes, I’m still thinking about last night,” Wanda says. “When you had my legs behind my head–”

Natasha tries not to picture Wanda folded up like a pretzel while you plow into her. But she can imagine herself in a similar position (she’s not so confident in her own flexibility, but she’d make it work for you). Your hands could probably fit around her whole thighs as you push her legs apart wider, thrusting your hips in long strokes to fit your big dick into her. Natasha is embarrassed to admit that the last time she had masturbated, she had thought of you the whole time.

How much more you’d fill her compared to the flimsy toy she was using. How you would feel throbbing inside her, your body pressed hot and heavy against hers as you beg for her permission to finish. Imagining having you like that, with that kind of control, brought Natasha to the most amazing orgasm of her life. If only you had been there to share it with her.

“I didn’t know if you’d be able to go another round, but you proved me wrong,” Wanda continues, and Natasha picks up on how breathless she sounds. She wonders if she’s touching herself right now, with Natasha mopping in the kitchen. Somehow, that wouldn’t be shocking to her. “You were still so hard when I put you down my throat.”

A lightning bolt of arousal strikes Natasha’s core. She can’t focus on mopping anymore, staring blankly out the kitchen window, lost in the new filthy fantasy playing in her head, guided by Wanda’s narration.

Natasha lies between your legs, her lips barely brushing your hips as she takes your cock down her throat. She prays her gag reflex doesn’t protest at the obstruction in her airway, but despite the slight discomfort, she wants to do this all day. Your pants and moans are like music in her ears, urging her on to suck harder and take you deeper.

“Please Nat,” your voice wavers. The muscle fibers in your thighs are visibly tensed and your back arches off the bed when Natasha pushes your hips down, trying to maintain some kind of control over you. But your body seems to have a mind of its own, with only one goal in mind.

“It’s almost like I can still taste you.”

You poke at the back of her throat and Natasha can feel the hot throbbing of your cock in her mouth. She’s so eager to swallow anything you’ll give her, she’s almost embarrassed in her desperation, but when your hands cup the back of her head, pushing her down so she can fit the last inch down her throat, she knows the two of you are on equal planes of passion.

Your entire body flexes and the anticipation for Natasha is overwhelming. You finally inhale sharply as the first hot spurt lands on her tongue.

“Being on your knees for me is a good look for you.”

Natasha tips her head back against the wall, her fingers tangling in your hair. One of her legs rests on your shoulder while the other is spread far apart so you can kneel between them, your mouth pressed against her heat. Your tongue swirls around her clit and Natasha fears she won’t be able to stay standing much longer.

“Y/N,” she pants, clutching your head tighter and rocking her hips forward. “I need you.”

Your fingernails dig harder into her thigh to still her. You look up into her eyes and Natasha thinks she’s going to finish right there. “You have me, baby. I’m all yours.”

“But there’s really only one place you belong.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you grunt, almost sending Natasha headfirst into the headboard with every one of your thrusts. “I could stay inside you forever.”

Natasha hums at the praise. She’s holding on the bedsheets for life, spasming and clenching around you, trying to pull you in deeper. You fill her so perfectly, she’s convinced her body was made for yours.

“Tell me I’m better than her,” Natasha gasps, fighting to delay her own release.

“Fuck Wanda,” you grunt, pulling back on Natasha’s hips at the same time you thrust forward, burying your entire length into her. “I love you, Natasha. You’re the only one I ever want to be with.”

A noisy car engine pulls Natasha out of her head. Her face feels flushed with arousal, and she knows what she’s doing the second she goes home. Your green car suddenly pulls into the driveway but stops. You get out and walk to the street, grabbing one of the trash bins and pulling it towards the house.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me again,” Wanda says in the background.

The realization crashes down on Natasha’s head like a cold shower. She watches you grab the second bin with both hands, carefully walking backwards with it.

You’re not on the phone and you’re standing 30 feet away from Natasha. If Wanda’s not on the phone with you, then who is she talking to?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Who do you think Wanda was talking to? 👀

Read the next part here!

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#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

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thepixelelf · 1 year ago

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and the universe said,

07 - "bro, chill"

genres/tags: soulmate au, idol au, comedy, romance, dumbassery relationship(s): ot13 x reader chapter warnings: coarse language. kithing. a liiitle svt on svt violence note: ik it's been a long time please be nice to me <3 (this isn't edited... I'll take a look at it when I have the time)

When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren’t – and that’s before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

series masterlist

prev ⭒ chapter seven (4.0k) ⭒ next

“Where are they?” Myungjun asks as soon as Jihoon and Junhui enter the room they agreed upon.

Junhui braces both of his arms on the back of a chair. “What do you mean?”

“Your soulmate—” Cutting himself off with a sigh, Myungjun pinches the bridge of his nose and answers his own question. “You didn’t bring them.”

Yejung, who was sitting at a table with her laptop, shuts it with a frown. “Why not?”

Junhui shrugs. “I’m just here because Jihoon dragged me out.” He shifts between looking at the three other people in the room. “You guys know I just met my soulmate, right? I don’t like not having them here with me, either.”

“Well then why didn’t you—”

“They don’t know.” Jihoon cuts off Myungjun’s words, then pulls out a chair and drops himself in it. He stares at a random spot on the table. When he doesn’t elaborate any further, Yejung sends a furtive glance Myungjun’s way.

“Don’t know…” She leans her forearms on the table and scoots her chair closer. “...what? That you’re their soulmate? That there’s more than one of you? That you’re famous?”

Junhui snorts. “All of the above?”

At Junhui's quip and Jihoon's continued silence, Myungjun raises a cynical brow.

"You didn't tell them?" Yejung asks, softly shocked. "Why?"

Junhui's eyes skirt to Jihoon; he's unwilling to share his own reasons, though he doesn't quite understand this about himself, either.

Jihoon sighs. "I don't know. It's complicated. Things happened too fast the first time we—"

"The first time?" Myungjun echoes. "So you've been with them multiple times."

“Don’t say it like that.” Jihoon almost pouts, but the facial expression just makes him look angry. “Look. I ran into them when the vocal team was on the way to that radio show. We’d stopped by a cafe and there wasn’t much time and I was so out of my mind that I—” He cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter. I got their number, and then they left. I asked to meet today and we did. Jun was already there for…” With his arms crossed, Jihoon looks over at Junhui, remembering that he still doesn’t really know what Junhui was doing at the same cafe you apparently frequent. Is this the same cat cafe Junhui is always talking about? “…some reason. Then someone started singing, and they told us their soulmate is stupid and annoying because their mark…”

“It’s not like ours,” Junhui finishes for Jihoon, though this only deepens the confusion written on Yejung and Myungjun’s faces.

“If it's not like yours, then how do you know they're your—”

“It's them, Hyung.” Jihoon can't help noticing the hopelessness in his own voice. It's you. He knows it's you.

But you don't know it's them— him.

And he's not sure you want to know.

“Their mark, like, grows,” Junhui explains. “Ours just stay on our hands, but when one of us sings, the notes go all over their arms and neck. Maybe other places — I don’t know — but they obviously don’t think it’s either of us since we weren’t singing when their mark did its thing.”

“So…” Myungjun crosses his arms and taps his finger on his bicep. “They don't like their mark.”

Junhui doesn't nod right away, but he does eventually.

Myungjun turns to Jihoon. “And you think that means they don't like you.”

Groaning and rubbing his hands over his face, Jihoon doesn't dignify that with a response. “Even if they did like their mark, it’s an insane situation. Thirteen soulmates? They’re gonna run for the hills when they find out.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Yejung says, to which Jihoon gives her a dry look and Junhui’s eyes light up. She clears her throat. “We just need to find a way to calmly inform them of the situation — preferably in a safe, comfortable environment.”

Myungjun recognizes a Yejung Game Plan brewing when he sees it. “Basically, what she’s saying is…”

“Let me talk to them.” Yejung opens her laptop again and begins typing away. “We just need to go about this in a calm, logical manner.” She gives a little nonchalant wave of her hand. “This’ll be easier than a design meeting.”

⭒

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, arms crossed, legs too, as you stare down at the shiny black credit card lying there between you and Heejun. His position mirrors yours, head tilted while he studies the card.

“It could be fake,” you say. Your knee bounces up and down, up and down.

Heejun lifts his head to give you a look. “Why would it be fake?”

“He said he doesn’t believe in banks.”

“It doesn’t look fake.” Heejun reaches out and takes the card, flipping it over in his fingers to read the back. “Looks like any other credit card. We should test it.”

You frown. “How?”

“Uh,” Heejun speaks like the answer is obvious. “Buy something?”

Okay, it is obvious, but the idea doesn’t sit too well with you. “Isn’t that stealing?”

“He gave you the card.”

“Yeah, but the police don’t know that,” you argue. “If I got charged for fraud, it would be his word against mine— no one would believe coffee guy just handed me his black card.”

Without moving his head, Heejun glances up from the card to look at you. "Why would he lie?"

"Um, because he already has? Who knows— maybe this card is connected to illicit activities and he planted it on me to implicate me."

“Which he would do because…?”

You throw your hands up in the air, then let them drop emphatically at your side. “I don’t know! Why did he do any of what he did?”

He raises a brow. “Because he’s a weirdo who likes you?”

“Okay but have you ever given your credit card to a person you’ve only met twice?”

Heejun’s shoulders rise in a shrug. “I’ve wanted to.”

“Seriously?” You can’t imagine your friend going that gaga over a crush, but then again, there was that girl in fourth grade whom he gave all his choco pies to. Heejun loves choco pies.

“Mine would decline though. It wouldn’t exactly impress.”

You lightly shove his shoulder. “Oh come on, it wouldn’t decline.”

“It would if they went over the limit. People only give people their credit cards for expensive stuff. You know that, right?”

The black card gleams up at you, almost tauntingly.

“Expensive stuff like what?”

He shrugs again. “Like a car?”

“You’ve been watching too many CEO dramas.” You exhale and place both hands on the floor with a pointed slam. Standing, you pick the credit card up and brush imaginary dirt off your pants.

“You won’t be so sarcastic when Park Seojoon tells you to keep that thing.”

You roll your eyes as you toss the card into the same trinket dish you keep your keys and other miscellaneous things in. “Isn’t that guy like six foot?”

“So was Huijun,” he counters.

“So are you. Is that all it takes to be a CEO nowadays?” you joke, pulling out your phone. “Height?”

Heejun scoffs, then frames his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “That and my devilish good looks.”

“Please.” You tap on a notification from an unknown number. “If that were true, you’d be the one handing out black…cards…”

At the way you trail off, Heejun furrows his brow and walks over to you. “What’s up? Did you fall for another online scam?”

Not this again. “Okay, first of all, that was not a scam, and I did not fall for it—”

“You didn’t fall for a not scam?”

“Shut up. What do you think this means?” You turn your phone towards him, and he takes it from your unsteady hand.

He reads aloud. “‘Hello, this is Shin Yejung of Pledis Entertainment.’ Did you apply there?”

“No,” you say, then shake your head and wave your hand. “I mean. I don’t know. Maybe. I applied to like five hundred places. But this isn’t that. Keep reading.”

Heejun takes a breath and starts reading like he’s holding a new edict. “‘It has come to my attention that you are in possession of one of my coworker’s bank cards.’ Oooooh, you’re in trouble.” He drags out the last syllable. “‘Please meet me at…’ whatever building, numbers numbers numbers… ‘so I can retrieve it. Please reply to this number for more information, and thank you for your time.’ Hm.”

“What do you think… am I getting arrested?”

Lowering your phone, Heejun gives you a seriously? look over it. “The cops are texting criminals now?”

“So you agree I’m a criminal.”

“You get annoying when you’re nervous, you know that?” When you roll your eyes, Heejun mirrors the expression and pokes your forehead long enough that he pushes you backward. “Look bub, you wanted to give the stupid thing back without using it, and now the opportunity has been handed right to you.” He waves your phone in the air like evidence. “The only question is why coffee guy didn’t just text you himself.”

You cross your arms. “Maybe he doesn’t like me as much as you thought.”

“One more self-deprecating comment out of you and I’m posting those pictures from your twentieth birthday.”

A gasp wrenches from your throat. “You wouldn’t!”

⭒

Joshua Hong doesn’t think he has that many unread messages on his phone.

He looks down.

Oof. 682.

Well, it’s not his worst.

Notifications fly by at the top of his screen.

[vernon] where is this guy

[chan] hyung this is important!!

[wonwoo] when have we known that guy to answer anything

[soonyoung] someone text yejung!!

It’s probably not that important, whoever they’re talking about. His members are likely just freaking out over this whole soulmate thing again.

Joshua lifts his hand and stares at his weird, natural — supernatural — tattoo. He still can’t bring himself to believe it.

Soulmates? Really? In this economy? This isn’t Tumblr.

At least… Joshua looks around the dance practice room… He’s pretty sure this isn’t Tumblr.

His phone rings, which is weird since he always has it on silent. Sliding the answer button, he brings the phone up to his ear. “Yejung?”

“Where are you?”

“The practice room,” Joshua answers plainly. “Isn’t this where we’re supposed to be today?”

Yejung sighs on the other end of the line. “I said in the group chat that we were dealing with soulmate stuff. Upstairs.”

Ah, so that’s what has everyone in a tizzy. “Alright, okay. Where am I going?”

“Room eight-thirteen—” He hangs up and starts to pack his things before Yejung can say, “Wait, no, nine-thirteen. We'll start when you arrive. Joshua? Hello?”

⭒

You check your phone for what must be upwards of the fifth time.

Yup, Shin Yejung of Pledis Entertainment definitely told you to meet her in room 813, and yet here you are. In room 813. Alone.

You shift on the leather couch. It’s a lounge-like room you’re in. You don’t really understand the purpose of such a room in an entertainment company, but whatever. You’re only here to return something you never should’ve had in the first place.

Although…

You turn the card over in your hand, watching the way the fancy lighting bounces off of it.

Why would Jihoon give it to you if he was just going to get it back like this?

Also, now that you really think about it, Jihoon did say something weird when he left yesterday with Huijun. Something about not letting “the rest” scare you off. Whatever that means.

The rest of what?

Or… whom?

You know Jihoon must work for the company in some capacity. The fact that both he and Huijun were wearing masks makes you think they could be artists…

Oh. Duh. Why didn’t you think of this earlier?

Switching apps, you tap the search bar and start typing. Just as you’re done with the last character of Jihoon HYBE, the door you entered through opens. You hastily slip your phone into your back pocket as you stand to greet the person coming in.

“Hello, you must be…” Your eyes scan over his face. He’s… delicate looking, until you move your gaze downwards a little, and his broad shoulders and thick arms are decidedly not delicate looking. “…Shin Yejung?”

You tilt your head. With no mask on the lower half of his face, he seems familiar. Now this guy must be an idol — you probably saw him on the walls when you were making your way through this maze of a building.

He just raises a brow. “Who are you?”

“Oh, uh…” You stay standing in front of the couch as he approaches you, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m just here to return this.” Lifting the black card up, you hold it out between you and the man. “It’s Jihoon’s.”

“Jihoon’s?” he echoes, then moves to take the card from you, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

You both see it at the same time.

His mark, five black lines, clear as day.

Yours, peeking out from where your sleeve is pulled halfway up your hand.

You look up from your not-really-joined hands, then look down again.

No fucking way.

“Twinkle twinkle, little—” The notes, whatever they are, dance across his mark.

No fucking way.

You meet his eyes. “...Songbird?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. A few too many seconds.

Then, “So it’s you.”

“Holy—!”

At the same time as you try to jerk away, he attempts to turn your hand over and get a better look. Neither plan really works out. You stumble backwards, and with your hand in his, he gets pulled down with you onto the couch. His free hand shoots out to keep himself from slamming into you, but, persistent as the universe is, your faces end up very freaking close to each other anyway. Warmth from his knee on the couch cushion next to your thigh seeps through your clothing.

He doesn’t move. You don’t either.

For some reason, you feel stuck in place. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but… you just feel like you should be exactly where you are.

You’re almost too close to make real eye contact, so you just watch the way his eyes study yours.

“Songbird?” you whisper, though you have no idea what you’re trying to ask.

He stops analyzing you and finally looks at you. “Yeah?”

“…Are you leaning towards me on purpose?”

His lips (since when were you looking at those?) curl down at the corners. “Are you?”

Slowly, like your mind is trying to catch up to your body, you shake your head. “No…”

He drifts closer. Or you do. Or you both do.

Or something.

Your lips brush over his, and you feel just as much as you hear him whisper. “Then neither am I.”

In the span of a second, his free hand moves from the back of the couch to cradle your jaw, his thumb grazing gently just under your ear. He kisses you, lips moving over yours in a way you’ve felt before, but also in a way you’ve never felt before.

It’s strange.

Not bad strange, but strange in the way that it feels like you’ve just put the last of the groceries in the fridge. It’s like folding that final piece of laundry. Like coming home to the bed you made when you left in the morning.

It’s… satisfactory?

But that’s not the word people normally use when they think of putting their tongue in someone else’s mouth, right?

You’re running out of breath, but Songbird is insistent, and so are his lips, which you find yourself unable to get enough of. He pulls back for half a breath, registers your kiss me again or so help me facial expression, and dives right back in. He’s kissing you and you’re kissing him and you’re soulmates and…

Wait.

Soulmates?

“Wait,” you say, though it comes out more like, “Mmaem” Climbing both your hands up his — whoa — strong arms, you cup his cheeks in preparation to push him away, but he seems to like your touch. He covers the back of one of your hands with his warm palm, and he hums in a way that is not PG-13.

The sound has you melting, unfortunately.

Not for long though.

He’s ripped from you just as quickly as he fell onto you, pulled back by some guy with fluffy black hair, cozy attire head to toe, and… shit, a you’re in trouble glare the likes of which you’ve never seen before. He’s not even looking at you, yet you feel scolded.

“Yah!” he yells at your soulmate, who’s now on the floor. Then, after glancing at you for half a second and apparently finding zero more words to say, he shouts at him again. “Yah!”

Your soulmate opens his mouth, but then he turns to look at the now-open door, which leads you to do the same. A mob of prettyboys stands just outside, some with their jaws dropped and some looking like murder just got legalized and they’re on the prowl.

Someone’s despondent voice shouts, “Hyung!”

You feel like hiding under a blanket. Before your flight instinct kicks in, though, you recognize two familiar faces. “Jihoon?” His eyes meet yours when you say his name. “Huijun?”

One of the many boys among those you don't recognize echoes, “Huijun?” while sending him a weird look.

Someone pushes through the crowd — more like slinks through, occasionally nudging one of the other guys out of the way. His eyes stay firmly on you as he approaches, but you find no fear rising despite that. For some unknown reason, even as this completely unfamiliar man strides over to you with a frankly alarming amount of eye contact, you feel… safe.

Or at least, something close to it.

He kneels in front of where you're still seated on the leather couch, hand resting mere centimetres from leg. “Are you okay?” he asks, voice slightly nasal, but so, so gentle.

“Uhh…” Self conscious, you wipe at the corner of your mouth with your sleeve. You spot your soulmate catch you doing so, and a look of hurt crosses his face. His own reaction, though, seems to startle him, and his hand rises to gently prod his shiny bottom lip with one of his fingers. He looks confused.

Well, that makes two of you.

Taking in the man right in front of you — pretty, lithe, concerned for you despite his unfamiliarity — you fail to answer his question. “Are… you Shin Yejung?”

He lets out a laugh, relieved, maybe, that you're not not okay. “Jeonghan,” he says simply.

You nod. “Jeonghan.”

At your voice echoing his name, the man’s eyes light up. “Yes?”

“Oh, uh…” You weren’t trying to call on him for anything, but as you study his gaze, you find yourself lost in his confident ease. Something in his eyes says that he knew this would happen.

Maybe not this, exactly — your soulmate has found a spot on the floor and has not stopped staring at it, while the rest of the strangers are still watching you — but taking up the same space as you, facing you, smiling at you with a soft quirk at the corners of his lips.

“Ugh!” A woman’s exasperated voice makes you look up at the crowd by the door. “Get— out of the way, you… ugh—” She breaks through, pushing aside a tall guy who looks like he’s about to cry. “—you men!”

Stumbling to her feet, she rights herself and brushes her bangs out of her face with a huff. “Now, what is—” She spots your soulmate still on his ass and mutters something you’re pretty sure can’t be aired on any broadcasting network. “...my life.”

Your eyes meet hers as she takes another breath. “Please tell me you’re Shin Yejung.”

“Yes, we spoke over the phone.”

“Thank god.” Shaking off all the weird feelings you’d accumulated in the last — what? Two minutes? — you stand from the couch and sidestep Jeonghan. The black card fell at some point during that lapse of judgement (aka kiss), so you swipe it up off the floor and hold it out to her with no preamble. “I swear I’m not a stalker fan or anything. And I didn’t use it, so…”

You glance over at Jihoon, whose expression gives off an oncoming panic. Is he scared to see you? Why? Huijun looks just fine, happy even, with you here. You can practically hear the ‘hello’ he wants to say out loud.

You clear your throat. “Anyway, um. I didn’t mean to, uh…” As you nervously cross your arms, you nod towards your soulmate. “I’m his— I mean, we are… sorry. This is… I wasn’t exactly expecting to find the person who’s…”

Maybe you shouldn’t say you’ve been annoyed by your soulmate since you got your stupid mark. At least not while he’s in the room.

“That’s actually what I brought you here to talk about,” Shin Yejung tells you, a bit like a doctor who’s about to deliver the bad news first. She doesn’t even take the card from you. “Would you like to take a seat?”

You scrunch your eyes shut for a second with a little shake of your head, trying to manual reset your brain because clearly it’s still muddled. “Sorry, what? You want to talk about…?”

The mob of men in the room get hidden from your vision as Yejung strategically places herself between them and you. “Soulmates,” she says.

You look down at the black card, then back up at her again. “Soulmates.”

“Yes. Your soulmates. I was hoping to talk to you alone first.” She sends a pointed look at the men behind her. “But it’s not exactly easy to get these guys to lis—”

“Sorry.” You wave a hand in the air to get her to stop, unable to comprehend any of her words after— “Did you say my soulmates? As in… mates, multiple? Mates with an S at the end? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

Remaining calm while your mind spins, Yejung nods. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“Know what is a lot to take in?”

Yejung opens her mouth to answer, but a voice blurts out behind her, “We’re your soulmates!”

Maybe you haven’t known him long enough or talked to him that many times, but you recognize Jihoon’s voice, and something in your gut suddenly grows sharp. Not painful, but begging for you to feel it. Yejung shifts so your field of view is once again filled by men too pretty to be all in the same room. Jihoon’s standing there, fists clenched at his sides, out of breath for no discernable reason other than…

We’re your soulmates.

Seeing your hesitation, Jihoon huffs and tears a bandaid you never really noticed off the back of his right hand. Even before he completes the motion, you know what must be under the bandage. He holds his hand up, though, and the evidence is very near damning.

Next to him, Huijun smiles and lifts his arm, pointing to his own five lines with his opposite hand.

Most of the guys behind them show you the same thing. Five lines on the smooth backs of their hands, near the base of the thumb. Dear lord, you don’t even know how many of them there are.

The angry one who pulled the man off of you earlier, at least, just looks lost, like he once had control and now has none. Relatable.

You stumble back a bit. Instinctively, you say, “Songbird?”

Though quite a few of the men seem to perk up at the nickname, only the one you already gave the moniker to truly reacts. Your soulmate — god, one of your soulmates? — looks up at you from the floor and answers, “Yeah?” before realizing he’s even doing it.

“Never mind,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand. “Ms Shin?”

“Yes?” She steps closer, a worried look on her face.

Jeonghan, too, moves toward you with a similar look on his face.

You try to take a steady breath and fail. “I think I’ll take that seat now.”

Swaying backward, your body falls onto the leather couch.

You hear approximately ten panicked shouts as you go down.

prev ⭒ chapter seven (4.0k) ⭒ next

new chapters for atus are not on a schedule nor guaranteed. there is no taglist. thank you for reading!

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taesanluv3r · 3 months ago

Text

i confess.

han taesan x reader

inspired by an idea from my pookie bear @myugjh03 <3 yn falls in love w the admin of her school's anonymous confessions account, cute v-day dance, eunchae of lsrfim as yn's bestie! no warnings really, maybe a cuss word or two - also the texting parts yn's texts r bold and italicized n other characters r just italicized!! enjoyy

wc: 5,349

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

staracademy_fess has requested to follow you!

yn ln yawns as the notifications on her phone blurred into her vision. her eyes glanced up towards the time, sighing when she decides it might finally be time to get ready for school.

the girl hums along to the tune blasting off of her tiny pill-shaped speaker, wrapping herself in a robe and beginning to exit the bathroom. she sits at her vanity after putting on her clothes, resuming her usual morning routine. the song playing gets cut off by a familiar sound, "who dare to text me when i'm so busy?!" she quotes the famous meme, cracking herself up as she reaches to pick up her phone. "huh?" she says out loud, questioning the message request that had just popped up on her screen.

staracademy_fess replied to your story: 'realest opinion ever.'

her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 'that's so random...' she thought. yn knew of the account; an instagram page made by a student at her school where people could send in anonymous tips. it was a recent thing, the account just randomly popped up about three weeks ago, when the school had just reopened after the holidays. it was an interesting blog, and she wasn't going to lie she quite enjoyed scrolling through it's posts every now and then. 'this is so gossip girl' she'd say as she giggles at an anonymous tip dissing her ex-situationship.

but what was so random?

well, for one, she had no clue who ran the account. and for them to be replying to her story like that? seems a bit friendly for a stranger don't you think? still confused, yn decides to take a screenshot of the floating notification. she enters her password and runs straight to the messaging app to text her best-friend.

does this confess account reply to everyone's story or am i special?

the girl hits send before reverting back to the mirror in front of her, checking her reflection as she continues doing her make up.

well ik he follows everyone...but i never heard of him replying off of people's story????? maybe he likes you pookie lol

her friend's response puts her into a deep thinking session. 'he?...you mean this is a guy?' she wonders what she should do next. should she respond to him right away? is he really a him? who is he? was her friend right? does this person like her?

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"i don't know though...i mean he's really sweet and funny and he matches my energy..i just lowkey wished i knew who he was"

yn ln and the anonymous admin of their school's confess account have been talking for about a week now. it all started when she had finally decided to reply to his random text...

realest opinion ever.

she recalls the message, a response to her instagram story. it was a picture of her laptop - on it, a screencap of kurt cobain in his iconic green cardigan playing the guitar. the caption was, 'if the doctor told me i had an hour and thirty three minutes left to live, trust i will be watching this video on my death bed!'

what do you know about nirvana mtv unplugged 1993 🙄

her cocky and satirical reply was the first thing that ignited their witty relationship. what he said to her following that was something along the lines of, "more than you, i bet".

as they began to have long, daily conversations with each other, yn ln was beginning to find out more and more about him. by the one week mark she had figured out his age, his major, his hobbies, favourite foods, colours, songs, even his childhood dreams. she knew almost everything about him! well, if you take away the fact that she didn't really know anything about him at all...not his name, not his face, nor who he really is.

that didn't stop her though. she liked him. that much she knew. she liked how he typed, she liked his opinions, she liked that he matched energies with her, most of all she liked that he seemed to like her too. and a girl like yn would never let anything come in between her and someone she liked - no, not even an anonymous identity. i mean, it was only about time until he revealed himself, right? she can wait.

"so you're practically e-dating this guy...and you don't even know who he is? aren't you curious at all? what if he's a creep? or worse! what if he's...ugly"

eunchae, the girl's best-friend, squeaks, already thinking of every worst case scenario available. yn rolls her eyes, "first of all, we aren't e-dating! second of all, maybe i can see through his looks? i'm not that shallow!" she accidentally yells out the last part of her sentence, earning weird looks from the other students in the hallway. eunchae giggles, patting her friend on the back as they begin to walk to their classroom.

on the way there, yn continues to ramble on and on about her anonymous lover, starting to make guesses of his identity, "what if he's hot, that would be so incredibly perfect...like imagine if he was one of the boys from myung jaehyun's friend group...they're all hot". her focus was so out of it that she fails to see the boy crouching down near the lockers. her eyes grow wide as she stumbles over him, tripping and falling right on her ass.

"ow...fuck that hurt" she whines, still seated on the floor. laughs escape the mouth of her best-friend, who was busy recording yn's epic fail instead of helping her up. she rolls her eyes before they scan to find the poor boy she tripped on. this poor boy, however, was definitely not who she thought he was.

yn gasps when she comes face to face with none other than han taesan, one of the popular seniors from that friend group she was just yapping about. yeah, myung jaehyun's one, that's right...the one with all the insanely and unnecessarily hot people.

"are you gonna get up or...?" his voice shakes her out of her thoughts, "huh? oh! right...ahem...sorry" she clears her throat, avoiding eye contact as she begins to pick her things up and off of the ground. she doesn't know for sure but the girl swears she could feel him smile at her from behind, her assumptions proven true when she catches him giggle. "what?" yn asks, voice going all snarky all of a sudden. it catches taesan by surprise, "nothing...i just think you're cute, that's all" her eyes get big again, "m...me? cute?" she was sure her face was bright red by now. he laughs again, a lot more cocky this time, a smug look on his face like he knew something she didn't.

"see you around, yn" the boy says, beginning to walk away. 'he knows my name?' she thought, watching as he stops in his tracks and turns to face her again.

"oh! and maybe watch where you're going next time"

he was gone after that, chasing the school bell into his classroom. "what was that about? see you around, yn" eunchae wonders, mocking the guy's tone of voice as she repeated his words. "beats me...weirdo" yn says, resuming her own trek towards her math class. "you can't call him a weirdo if you're the one who tripped on him" her friend's words make her scoff, "well he didn't have to be so cocky about it!"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

and then what happened?

yn ln flops onto her bed, biting her lip softly as her fingers move to type. she was texting him, you see, she was texting her mystery man. it became a routine for her to do so, coming home after school and telling him all about her day. well, if there was anything significant about her day that is. otherwise, they'd be sending each other silly reels and song recommendations - which, as much as she loved it, did get a bit boring and substance-less after a while.

luckily - or, unluckily? - for her today, she had a fun story to share with him.

and then i totally freaked, and he was being so insanely annoying and cocky about it...like dude you're hot, we know that! doesn't mean you get to be all asshole-y

she sighs in frustration as she remembers the events of a few hours ago, waiting patiently for a text back. it usually didn't take long for one, the anonymous guy was a pretty fast texter. however, for whatever reason this time, it seemed to be taking him years to type. yn is confused, 'what could he be typing?' until alas, the bubble on his end stops moving, a message replacing it.

maybe you should've watched where you were going. i mean you DID trip on him cause you weren't focused

the girl's heart stops for a moment. there was something wrong with his text, yet she couldn't for the life of her tell what it was. it just felt...odd - like the person she had just been chatting with disappeared into thin air. there was a hint of passive-aggressiveness in his tone; maybe she was overthinking it...i mean it wouldn't be the first time he was cold and sarcastic with her. that's just how he is.

you know what's funny? that's exactly what he said lmao...no way...don't tell me the man behind this account is THE han taesan LMAOO

yn didn't think much of it when she typed up that response, she knew there was no way in hell such a popular and handsome guy like taesan would run such a dumb and silly confession account...right?

shit...have to help my dad set up a new TV, ttyl

their conversation ended there. again, she paid no mind to it's sudden end. she knew he'd reach out to her again a little later, possibly to moan and groan about how much of a hard time he had setting up the television.

yn only began to worry when that didn't happen. it had actually been hours since their last conversation and he hadn't squeaked a single word to her - not even a single stupid reel, not even a song recommendation.

where'd he go?

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"why do you look like that?" eunchae asks, sitting beside her best-friend at the school cafeteria. "like what?" the girl replies with another question. "i don't know...maybe like you just witnessed someone kill off your entire bloodline?" yn rolls her eyes, not uttering another word. "you've been looking gloomy all week...ever since..." eunchae gasps, "is this because of when you tripped over han taesan? cause if it is...girl, i can delete the video if you want me to" this time the girl looks at her friend in disbelief. "oh god, it is because of that, isn't it? girl, you should've just said so and i would-" she doesn't let her friend finish. "you took a video?! and no it isn't because of that...but you took a video?!"

eunchae chuckles as she nods, "i promise i'll delete it...but if it's not cause of that...then what?" yn sighs, "if i tell you, promise not to laugh?" she asks, some kind of a hopeful gaze in her eyes. her friend nods enthusiastically, "when have i ever laughed at your misfortune" - "eunchae. i'm serious" her face is stern, not even a hint of playfulness, and her friend obliged.

"it's the confessions guy..." yn starts, her voice quieting down as she trails off. "you mean your mystery lover boy?" the girl nods, "we haven't texted in four days now..." eunchae's eyes widen in shock, "what? why?!" she seemed just as furious as the girl was. "that's the thing, i don't know! last time we talked i was telling him all about tripping over taesan...he was being unusually cold and dry...then he left to help his dad set up a new TV and then he never texted me since..." her voice was glum, like she was genuinely lost and upset about this whole thing. her friend's gaze softened, "have you tried reaching out to him first?" yn shook her head, "i don't know why...i just can't bring myself to"

eunchae pats the girl on her back, "hey...what if you just give him a few more hours, and if he doesn't text you then just text first, how about that?" yn sighs, "do i have any other choice?" the other girl smiles as she shakes her head, "nope!"

later that day yn ln goes home from school, still feeling like shit. she frowns as she turns her speaker on, a loud ding sound letting her know the bluetooth was connected to her phone. a tune begins to fill the gaps in her room, reality by richard sanderson, one of his favourites.

the girl groans as she throws herself onto the bed, not caring enough to change out of her uniform. she rolls over to lay on her back, staring up at the posters on her ceiling - namely, the giant one in the middle, a poster of the guy who had brought her and the anonymous boy together in the first place. before she even realized, yn had begun to talk to it.

"oh, kurt...whatever should i do?! this is all your fault. if i hadn't put your stupid performance on my story that day then he wouldn't have replied, we wouldn't have talked, i wouldn't have fallen in love with him...i don't even know his fucking name! kurt...how cooked am i? i spend every waking hour thinking about him, guessing his identity, wondering what i did wrong to have him ignore me like this! it's unfair...why does every relationship i get into end this way?"

the last bit of her unscripted monologue brings tears to her eyes. it was true. yn ln had quite the history of horrible relationships. hell, some wouldn't even consider them relationships. the first guy she dated only did it because he was dared to, the next guy decided he was actually into his own sex half-way through their one week long relationship, the last guy she was with - well, she was never really dating him, he was a dick and she was naive enough to like him for his looks and status. all in all, she's never been successful in the love department - she found that no one really got her...until he did.

"why is it that the one guy who actually understood me has to be some fucking anonymous admin...i mean, seriously? and even then...it seems i blew it already, didn't i?" yn whines, starting to get annoyed at the fact that her posters stayed quiet - duh, they're posters! she rolls over again, just far enough to reach her phone. the girl wasn't planning on doing anything on it, but like clockwork her fingers naturally lead her to his chatroom. she stared at it, as if staring would do anything to fix the situation she was in. that is, until it did.

the animation on his side of the chat, indicating that he had begun to type, sent her heart flying. her eyes went wide, mouth dropping opened as if she were going to scream - she didn't though, her parents were home. yn bites her lips, her face so close to the screen she swore she could feel how her eye-sight worsened by the second. and then the animation stopped, a second later it was replaced with a body of text.

are you going to the v-day masquerade dance tomorrow?

that's it? yn didn't know what to think; so she didn't, she let her thumbs do all the thinking for her.

YOU DONT SPEAK TO ME FOR FOUR WHOLE DAYS AND YOU DONT EVEN START WITH A HI? A SORRY????

look, i'm sorry about that i just...i was doing a lot of thinking and stuff

she rolls her eyes, 'what a lame excuse' she thought. still, she couldn't stop herself from smiling softly, she really missed him.

about what??? what could you have possibly been thinking SO much about that you don't talk to me!??!?!

well that's the thing...i was thinking a lot about us.

'huh?' if yn ln wasn't confused all week, she was definitely confused now.

wdym us?

it takes him exactly four minutes and twenty seconds to reply. she knows this because the moment she sent her text, how was your day? by beabadoobee started playing, and it ended the minute his message came in.

will you meet me at the masquerade dance, or no?

for some reason, his words annoy her a bit.

i don't know anything about ur appearance and u expect me to meet u in a dark gym hall where every guy is wearing a suit and a MASK??

well that's the point, love. i trust you'll know it's me in the moment...unless you're not curious about me at all then that's fine i guess we'll just never meet

what a bitch. she's intrigued though.

fine, i'll see you tomorrow then

see you there 💖

yn ln genuinely smiles for the first time in four days, laying down on her back to stare up at her posters again. "well kurt, it seems this love story isn't entirely over yet...you think he'll finally reveal himself to me tomorrow night?" she asks out loud, as if the pieces of paper she talked to could respond. "shit!" she exclaimed all of a sudden, sitting up straight.

"what do i wear?!"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"does this look dumb or...?"

yn ln asks for the nth time, twirling around in her thousandth outfit idea for her best-friend to judge through their face-time call. "ew no, i liked the last one better, this one doesnt match your mask- wait try the last dress with that one fluffy bolero you have" eunchae's voice came out a second late due to the connection issues, but yn could understand her just fine. "okay wait let me try that" she says, disappearing from the camera's view and into her closet.

"how's this? cute right?" the girl smiles, spinning around to give her bestie a full 360 view. her dress was a light baby pink and it was short, stopping right above her knees. she wore a pair of tights underneath to prevent getting dress-coded, and a pretty white faux-fur bolero over her shoulders to shield her from the cold. her whole outfit matched perfectly with her silver mask, fine specs of pink and white glitter decorating it's surface. "yes! love it!" eunchae cheered, "what shoes are you wearing?" - "i want to wear the pink platforms...but what if he's short and then our super sweet kiss scene gets awkward?" she caught her friend rolling her eyes through the screen, "wear the white mary janes then, it matches your bolero anyways"

"okay...make up time!"

the girl spends the next few hours touching up her looks for the big night. she stares in the mirror over and over, making sure there wasn't anything abnormally wrong with her. yn slumps down onto her bed, careful not to wrinkle her dress. she sighs, an odd sensation bubbling up in her stomach.

"what am i so worried of?" she asked, eyes lingering at her reflection. the pinging of her phone removes her from her trance, a smile replacing the fearful look on her face as she read the message, his message.

you're not having second thoughts, are you? let me know when you're there

it's all or nothing now.

after making sure she didn't forget anything, yn jumps into the passenger seat of her dad's car. "you good, kid?" he asks, noticing the uneasy look on his daughter's face. "huh? yeah, i'm good, dad...let's go" the man nods, "whatever it is, i'm sure this'll fix it!" he said, a pointer finger reaching out towards the radio, pressing play. the girl laughs as a nostalgic tune enters her ears, black or white by michael jackson. "remember when you'd beg me to play this on the way to kindergarten?" she nods along to her dad's words, beginning to sing along to the song with him.

they make it to the school's campus in no time, stopping the car right at the drop off zone. "thanks for driving, dad. sorry i didn't tell you sooner...didn't think i was coming until i got asked" the man shakes his head, "anything for you, kiddo - can i ask why you won't tell me who the lucky boy is?" yn smirked, "i would love to, dad...i just...don't know who he is either!" that response made mr. ln's eyebrows knit together in confusion, but before he could ask anymore questions, the girl had waved him goodbye and disappeared into the building.

"oh, yn...whatever you're up to...please don't hurt yourself"

yn puts on her mask before entering the gymnasium; the usually sweaty and sports-full area had been completely turned into that of a ballroom. valentine's day themed decorations hung on every corner, hearts and bows completing the scenery. the girl smiles, wondering why it took her this long to ever attend these annual school events. 'who knew this dump was capable of looking so pretty?' that was the last clear thought she had before her conscience returned to reality. all of a sudden the heart-shaped lanterns weren't all that lovely, the romantic music playing earlier had turned into loud and hardcore techno, and worst of all the people inside the gym with her seemed to have multiplied by tenfold.

at this point it was getting too much to bear. she could barely see out of the tiny eye-holes of her mask to begin with, how was she supposed to find her mystery man in this crowd? a second away from panicking, yn escapes the rowdy gym and finds solace in the quiet hallways. she pulls her mask off for a moment to breathe, a hand clutching onto her chest - maybe this is why she never cared to go to these dances.

the girl reaches into her hand-bag, pulling out her phone. her thumbs danced against the screen and she opened up instagram to text her anonymous date.

where r u???? it's too loud i hate it i wanna go home

he replies right away.

agreed, i'll wait for you in your classroom...it's quiet and empty here

yn doesn't text back, simply nodding to herself. she gulps and takes in a deep breath as she pulls the mask over her head again. she straightens her back, walking towards her classroom and stopping right at the foot of the door. she could see his figure through the textured glass windows; he faced away from her, all she could make out was his black suit and the back of his head, where the ribbons of his mask dug into his hair. this was it. she was finally inches away from meeting the boy she had been so in love with the past few weeks, inches away from knowing his real identity. yn couldn't wait another moment - yet, at the very same time, something was stopping her from entering the room. a sense of severe nervousness rushing through her veins.

he must've felt her lingering presence and she watched as the figure inside the room turned in her direction. both masked, identities hidden, yet it felt like they could see right through each other. as if telepathically, yn felt him call for her; though he didn't utter a word. with that, the palm of her hands finally came in contact with the door, pushing it forward ever so slightly and allowing herself in.

"hey"

yn gasps as he speaks to her for the first time, his voice doesn't sound foreign at all, but she can't remember where she'd heard it from before. "hey..." her tone is more hushed than usual, breathy as she walked closer to him. they stood beside each other now, staring out the classroom's window, and up at rising moon. the girl can't help but stare at him, scanning everything that was visible to her. he's here now, flesh and skin in front of her. his dark hair, his pale skin, his tall build, his pink lips, and his milky brown eyes hidden behind his deep maroon coloured mask that covered the top half of his face. but still, she hadn't a clue who he was.

the mystery man chuckles, breaking their silence. "you can stop staring at me, yn...i'm not going anywhere" she opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out, she couldn't speak no matter how hard she tried. the pair went back to looking out the window in silence, there was no sense of awkwardness in the air though. in fact, it was nothing but comfortable.

"i like you"

it takes yn a solid ten seconds to process the words that came out of his mouth. even after they sunk into her mind she stood frozen, shocked. "w...what?" the boy's smile is visible, "i like you, yn...do you like me too?" there's a hint of playfulness in his voice, it was as though this whole ordeal wasn't too big a deal to him - unlike the way it was to her.

"i don't even know you...how am i supposed to tell whether what i feel for you is real or not?!" her tone was a lot stronger than she had planned, she gasped and slapped a hand to her mouth. she didn't mean to yell, the pressure of the situation stressed her out in ways she swore no one could imagine. the masked boy didn't fight back though, she could see his eyes softening beneath plastic that covered his face as he stared into her own. they held eye-contact for what felt like ages, no other sound apart from the loud beating in their chests. "yn..." he calls out for her, though his previously playful tone was long gone now. "yeah?" she questioned, barely above a listenable decibel.

"can i kiss you?"

her eyes get big and the girl contemplates for a second. she decides that the only correct answer was yes. besides, this was the moment she'd been yearning for all week, wasn't it?

her slight nod was all the confirmation the boy needed before he took a step closer towards her. he leans down until they were just a single breath away from one another. his hands were cold as they pressed lightly against her blushing cheeks, pulling her in. suddenly, the pair was devoid of space, their masks making a clinking sound as their lips crashed against each other's. the kiss was intense, more than anything else; a hint of desperation in the way his hands snaked down to her waist, her own ones placed against his neck.

the growing moonlight illuminated the scene, neither of them planning to let go any time soon. as the kiss began to get more passionate, yn's fingers found their way into his hair, playing with it's ends then moving up to where the ribbons of his mask sat in a knot. she doesn't give it another thought, pulling on the strings until they came undone. the boy gasps, eyes widening as they finally pull apart, the plastic material falling to the ground between them.

a breath escapes the girl's lips, her eyes beginning to water at the sight in front of her. a mixture of shock and confusion painting her complexion as she furrows her eyebrows. she can't even bring herself to blink, this was too unreal. the mystery identity of the boy she had fallen so deeply in love with...

"t...taesan?"

he sighs.

"y...yeah"

yn takes in another deep breath before ultimately breaking into a fit of laughter. "why...why are you laughing?" taesan is the confused one now, watching through knitted brows as the girl before him pulls herself together. "nothing...i just didn't think it was really you..." she said, beginning to remove her own mask. the boy's eyes glimmer a little, "what?" she asks, tossing the silver plastic onto a desk. "you're so pretty" he says, reaching his hand out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. she smiles, leaning her face into his palm.

"thank you...and i'm sorry" taesan tilts his head to the side, "for what?" she laughs again, "for bitching about tripping over han taesan and calling him an asshole...i had no clue i was talking directly to him...sorry" the boy chuckles, "yeah, that was kind of mean you know?" he pouted dramatically, something about his face made her heart skip a beat. "is that why you totally ignored me for four days after?" he was taken aback by her sudden inquiry, "maybe...sorry about that, love" her cheeks turned a deep shade of pink from the nickname. "but you know..." taesan speaks again, stepping closer and slipping his hands into hers.

"you should really watch where you're going next time!"

the familiarity of his statement sends the girl through a trip of deja vu, "you know that's technically your fault...i was thinking about who you were after all, and then i couldn't focus and then i tripped!" he smiles, "does that mean you like me too?" she rolls her eyes, "i never said that" - "but you never said you didn't"

yn ln sighs in defeat, watching the smug grin that was making it's way onto han taesan's lips. "how about you kiss me again? maybe after that i'll know whether i like you or not" the boy laughs, "you just want to kiss me, i think that's proof enough" she shakes her head in disbelief, "shut up, please?" - "make me"

and with that the space between them vanished once more, their noses bumping and their breaths short as they kissed. it didn't last as long as their last one, separating for air after the first two minutes. "okay...i confess..." yn says as she catches her breath. "mhm?" taesan hums, staring into her eyes.

"i like you too"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"oh, that's my ride!"

yn waves, signaling for her dad to come towards her. the window of the passenger seat rolls down, and the pair are met with a sleepy looking mr. ln.

"hey dad, this is my boyfriend, taesan!" the girl chirped joyfully, shooting her dad a smile. "uh...hello, mr. ln...it's nice to meet you!" the boy has a hopeful look on his face, biting down on his lip worriedly as the older man began to eye him down. "nice to meet you, kid! you better be treating my princess right...if you break her heart" - "dad! stop scaring him! we just got together, don't shoo him away"

both the guys laugh at yn's outrage. "bye, taesan. thanks for tonight, is it too early to say i love you?" the boy smiles, "thank you. and no it isn't, i love you too...and" he pulls her into a hug, leaning closer to whisper into her ear, "it's too scary to kiss you in front of your dad so i'll do that another time"

taesan watches as yn gets into her car, "i'll pick you up tomorrow, yeah? we could get froyo and go to the record store and-" he gets cut off as the girl's dad butts in. "record store? you into music, taesan?" he nods excitedly, "yes sir! love it more than anything in the world...well, maybe not as much as i love your daughter" the older man scoffs, "that's what i like to hear...how you getting home, kid?" he asks, "i'm driving. my car's parked over there" he pointed towards the parking lot and the two guys share a few more nods.

"well then, get home safe, kid"

"i will, thank you. you guys get home safe too! um, text me when you're home, okay?" yn smiles up at her boyfriend, "mhm! see you tomorrow, bye!"

she rolls her window back up as her dad begins to drive away. "i like him" her dad says all of a sudden. "yeah?" she asks, wanting confirmation from her father who just nods.

"i like him too"

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

ahhhhh this fic is kinda longggg i was working on it for six hours straight TT tysm to eli my pookiebear for this awesome ideaaaa i hope i did it justice <3!! also yn ranting to her cobain poster and then taesan getting along w her dad a bit at the end is so cutesy so true!!!! anyways, thx for reading - i hope u liked this one! reblogs n feedbacks r always appreciated :3 love, kona.

#kona's work ♡#boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor drabbles #bnd x reader #taesan #han taesan #han taesan x reader #taesan x reader #bnd taesan #taesan imagines #boynextdoor taesan #taesan scenarios #han dongmin #boynextdoor fanfic #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor headcanons

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mynahx3 · 1 year ago

Text

One Moment Was All It Took Part 2

Here’s the part 2 of Soulmate Gojo based off of @envy-of-the-apple HC !!! Prob gonna have like 6 parts ngl lolol Hope everyone enjoys, might be able to get part 3 out by Mon if my schedule remains open. Warning this chapter has non con touching, drugging, kidnapping, fighting w/ mentions of blood!! If this disturbs you please don’t read Next part with prob be spicy Masterlist

A couple weeks have passed since that cafe incident, and it completely slipped your mind—something you laughed about with your fiance when you got home that day. He wasn't very amused, but you brushed it off as just a strange encounter. Your mind was preoccupied with the upcoming wedding in the coming months. The colorful sticky notes with wedding tasks covered the calendar on your fridge, each one a reminder of the preparations ahead, and a sense of giddiness filled you whenever you glanced at the detailed schedule.

You sit perched on a stool in your cozy kitchen, meticulously reviewing wedding preparations on your laptop. Your eyes stung slightly as you read the screen, a frown evident on your face, longing for your fiance's presence to assist you. He had to attend a sudden business trip that took him out of the country.

It was good news, meaning his boss began to trust him with more responsibilities, but it also meant you were left to handle the wedding planning on your own for the time being. You were pleased to see him advancing in his career, yet you also felt somewhat overwhelmed by the additional responsibilities you had to manage.

After stretching, you stand up to take a break when the doorbell rings. Confusion overwhelms you as you approach the door, peering through the peephole to find nobody there. You open the door, keeping the chain attached as you look around. No one was there. While closing the door, you notice a vase filled with beautiful flowers on your welcome mat. A smile blooms on your face at the sight of the flowers, and you bring them into your apartment.

The flowers looked expensive in a beautiful crystal vase with a note attached to the neck of it, trimmed with gold. It reads, "Thinking of you always, even from afar. S." Your heart swells with warmth as you assume it was your fiance's thoughtful gesture. Pulling out your phone, you decide to call them and thank them for the surprise. The line rings for a few seconds before he answers, his voice happy and excited to hear from you. Noise in the background, likely from his busy office.

"Well, aren't you the romantic?" You say this, admiring the flowers sitting in front of you. A bright smile on your face as you hold your phone to your ear.

"What did I do this time?" He asked with a laugh, not understanding what you meant. You chuckle at his confusion, feeling even more grateful for his thoughtfulness.

"The flowers you sent, silly," you reply, feeling the softness of the petals on your fingertips. "Thank you, baby."

The line is silent—so silent that you think the phone dropped. Just as you were about to hang up and call back, he spoke.

"Honey… I didn't send you anything." Your smile fades at his words, your heart sinking as you wonder who could have possibly sent such a thoughtful gift.

"I'm… I'm sure the delivery person just got the wrong apartment." You shrug, looking around it to see if there was anything else written on the card—the only piece of paper on it.

Turning it over, your heart drops, and you see your name written in the golden ink with a heart next to it. You feel a shiver run down your spine at the implications, but you choose to keep it to yourself. Not wanting to ruin his mood and throw him off during such an important meeting.

"I'll just ask the front desk if anyone asks about them; I'd hate for whoever sent them to be mad that it went to the wrong person." You laugh as you crumble the card up in your hand.

"Now I feel bad I didn't get that idea." Your fiance' laughs, your nerves easing a little at the sound. "Promise I'll do something way better, sweet cheeks."

The corny nickname makes you laugh and roll your eyes. Since your high school days, he had always been cheesy and overly romantic, qualities you cherished. In the years that you supported one another, you both experienced a great deal. Despite the difficulties, you both emerged stronger after transitioning from broke college students to starting careers together in Japan. At times, he couldn't express his love in the most conventional ways, but his efforts were always genuine and appreciated.

"I got to go, babe. Another meeting is about to start." He sighed, his coworkers shouting his name over the phone. "I love you; I'll be home in a few weeks."

"I love you too." You smile happily, hearing him give you kisses through the receiver before hanging up.

You're left to your own thoughts, the vase sitting pretty in front of you. Mind trying to figure out who must have sent them. Being the taken woman you were, you couldn't figure out who must have sent them, if not your fiance'. The mystery sender lingered in your mind for a bit. But you brush it off, moving on with your day, thinking maybe a family member or friend sent them. Going on with the rest of your day, a day filled with phone calls and scheduling, you forget about the bouquet sitting on your counter.

The flowers should have been the first clue, a warning sign of what was to come. Over time, you begin to feel uneasy, feeling constantly watched. Small things in your apartment were moved or went missing—things you know you didn't touch before leaving. Additional gifts mysteriously appeared on your doorstep, each accompanied by intricately detailed notes, intensifying in their personal nature.

Fury consumed you as you unwrapped another package, revealing a set of lacy lingerie in your size and favorite color. A note with it, written in the familiar handwriting, simply said, "For our special night." The realization hits you like a ton of bricks: someone has been in your home, watching your every move. Fear grips you as you realize the extent of the intrusion into your personal space. You burned that gift without a second thought; any other gift was sent to the trash.

Your nights were restless, alone in your apartment—or at least, you hoped you were alone. The feeling of being watched grew stronger, causing you to constantly look over your shoulder. You couldn't shake the feeling that someone was always nearby, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal themselves. The once innocent gifts and flowers now felt like a sinister presence in your life, leaving you on edge and paranoid. You had even gone to the police, informing them what was happening, but they said they couldn't do anything without concrete evidence of a threat. This only added to your growing sense of dread.

Walking home from lunch with your friends, you decided to detour to a park, needing a moment of solitude. Sitting on a bench, cherry blossoms fall around you, their delicate petals drifting to the ground like whispers of reassurance, offering a sense of peace and tranquility in the midst of your fear.

As you take deep breaths and enjoy the gentle wind tousling your hair, you fail to notice someone sitting beside you as you drift off in thought. A tap on your shoulder brings you back to reality with a jump. Looking at where it came from, your eyes widen in shock at the white haired man sitting next to you. It took a second before your mind recognized him; he was the man from the cafe. There was a smile on his face, perfect as you remembered, one that brought you an icy feeling down your spine. He tilted his head, holding a single flower to you, a ribbon tied to its stem.

"Fancy seeing you here." He grinned.

Feeling unsure of how to react, you stared at the man with bewilderment, your heart beating fast. You weren't stupid enough to trust him, frowning at his close proximity. His presence put you on edge, as memories of what he said weeks ago ran through your mind. Knowing he was the one behind the unsettling messages you have been receiving the last week. Pouting, he let the flower droop a little in his hand once he realized you wouldn't take it from him.

"Don't be like that." He sighed dramatically, dropping the flower to his side, eyeing your form.

His smile was charming, reminiscent of when you first met. His eyes twinkled mischievously over his sunglasses. Under different circumstances, you might have admitted that he was quite attractive. Now he only sent chills down your spine, especially with how comfortably he said your name, as if he had known you for years.

As your shoulders tense, you try to move away from him, but just like before, he grabs your wrist. Pulling you to sit back down with him. His grip was ironclad, unmoving as you writhed in a futile attempt to break free. Every detail of his eyes was sharp and intense, as if they were staring deep into your soul.

"You know I'm surprised; you were super easy to keep an eye on." His words dripped with chilling confidence, sending a jolt of fear through you and causing your heart to race even faster. "You should really pay more attention to your surroundings. You never know what monsters lurk out there, ready to eat up a cutie like you."

"What… what do you want?" You asked, your voice small, and your throat felt tight in fear. The grip on your wrist tightened as he leaned in closer.

"That doesn't matter right now," he said casually, his tone sending shivers down your spine. "Let's get to know each other a little."

He wraps his arm back around you, letting go of your wrist to bring your body closer to his. To anyone walking by, it would just look like a couple enjoying the spring weather together. Your body was rigid as he rubbed your shoulder a bit roughly, his cold fingers feeling your soft skin.

You wish you hadn't worn that dress today; its low neckline and thin straps gave him easy access to your skin. Goosebumps littered your arms as you tried to subtly move away from his touch. His grip tightened slightly, indicating his control over your movement. A sinking feeling in your stomach settled, and you knew you needed to get away.

"I don't want anything to do with you." You told him, wishing there wasn't a waver in your voice, wishing you stood stronger against him.

His entire energy and demeanor were intense, but there was a slight furrow in his brow at your words. It was gone as soon as you noticed it, and the same cocky grin was on his face the next second.

"Princess, I don't think you have a choice." His words sent a chill down your spine, filling you with fear at the core of your being.

Silently, he retrieved his phone and began scrolling through a series of photos. The photos displayed your family, friends, and your fiancé. Your loved ones are living their lives, oblivious to the danger they are in because of you. He even has pictures of you from the last week, going from you at work to you in your apartment in your private moments. Finally, he stops the slideshow, sliding the phone back into his pocket.

"Get where this is going?" He chuckles, edging even closer to make sure your thighs touch. "It was difficult to find any real dirt on your boy toy; he's a good guy. I will give him that, but... I know exactly how to make him disappear."

You nod slowly, feeling the lingering threat of danger in the air as you try to comprehend the gravity of the situation. His presence caused you to take short, panicked breaths. This is something he actually notices: a softer look in his eyes now while his hand moves to rub your thigh comfortingly. Your body stiffens as you feel the tip of his fingers tracing just below the hem of your dress.

"Gotta cut this short. Still have to prepare a few things real quick; I couldn't help but check in on my girl." He leans closer to kiss your cheek softly before pulling away.

You didn't respond, feeling too suffocated next to him. Your wide eyes focused on him; it seemed he wanted to be flush with you no matter how much you squirmed away. Fortunately, he doesn't prolong the moment, letting go of your shoulder and putting his hands on his knees.

"I'll come get you shortly; I don't want to keep you waiting too long." He says it playfully, winking as he puts a piece of gum in his mouth and smacks it noisily.

With that, he rises from the bench, looking down at you with a beaming smile, and turns to walk away. He disappears from sight, walking out of the park. This left you feeling worse than before as you wiped your cheek clean. Your gut feelings intensified, urging you to run.

When you got home, you immediately started packing, changing into a simple pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Hurriedly packing a bag with the bare essentials, leaving a mess behind in your wake. You didn't know exactly what you would do, yet you had to get away. The urgency of the situation propelled you forward, heedless of consequences or sacrifices.

It was unbearable to see your stalker in real life—a smack in the face of the true danger you were in. Quickly, you texted your fiance', explaining you were going to stay with a friend for a few days. Once you finally explained to him the situation with the stalker, he called to discuss the next steps.

"You should've told me what was happening."

"I know… I didn't want to worry you. This meeting was important." Tears welled in your eyes, and the stress of everything came to a head. Confiding in him finally brought you comfort, but a part of you felt guilty for not telling him sooner.

"Not more important than you and your safety, I love you."

"I love you too." You whispered into the phone, wiping any stray tears from your face.

"I'll get the next flight out. Stay at your friend's place until I get there," he said firmly. "Keep your taser on you wherever you go. Be safe."

"I will, thank you," you replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over you, knowing he was on his way to be by your side. The thought of having him there to support you made the situation feel more manageable.

He quickly explained the stalker situation to his boss, secured the next available flight, and ended the call upon reaching the airport. The sun had long set, and the dark sky was beginning to fill with twinkling stars, visible through the windows.

On any other night, you would have enjoyed the starry night with a glass of wine and your favorite book, but now you ignore the view. Focus on packing up for your impromptu trip away from the comforts of your home. Once you finished packing, you moved a suitcase into the living room, ready to leave.

A sudden, hard knock at the door surprises you greatly, causing you to jump. It repeats after a moment; much harsher, the door shakes in its frame. Nervously, you move silently to see who it was. Through the peephole, you see that cursed head of snow white hair, his smile as wide as ever. Stepping back, your breath catching in your throat, and your legs turning to jelly as adrenaline surged through your veins. Your stalker was outside your apartment, banging on the door while calling out your name in a joyful tone.

As escape plans raced through your mind, the realization of being in a high-floor apartment without a fire escape sank in, presenting a daunting obstacle. Panic grips you as you frantically reach for your phone in the kitchen. Just as you go to grab it, a loud, crashing sound comes from behind.

Turning around, you see the front door on the floor with a crater in it, and your stalker is smiling menacingly at you. For a moment, you both freeze, a standoff of short going on. Without hesitation, you reach for a knife from the block on the counter behind you and hold it out in front. Despite your nerves, your hands didn't shake as you pointed the sharp knife at him, a cold stare on your face.

"Get the fuck out."

The man smiles at this, laughing a bit at your attempt to intimidate him. As he stepped forward to come closer to you, his finger traced over the countertops. At that moment, you instinctively step back from him, creating distance between you. You both circled the kitchen island cautiously while he slowly removed the bandages covering his eyes.

He put the bandages on the counter, his blue eyes watching your every move like a hawk. He pauses, smirking, his hand stopping just at your phone, then quickly picks it up and crushes it in his hand. Letting the phone fall to the counter in a broken mess, he looks at you with a wide grin.

"Now we can have some real fun."

The front door was behind him; you knew you had to risk running past him or deeper into your apartment. The latter wasn't the best idea since you would be trapped in a corner with no way out but to run you would have to risk getting caught by him. With a deep breath, you made a split-second decision to dart towards the door, hoping to make it out before he could react.

As you sprint to the front door, he easily catches you, wrapping strong arms around your waist. Knife still in hand, you try to swipe at him from behind, only earning you a twist of your arm. A sharp pain radiates through your arm as he twists it more into an awkward angle, making you yell in pain and drop it to the floor in a loud clang.

Pulling you closer, he easily holds you against him, not being phased by your kicking and screams. Securing an arm around your waist, his hand held both your wrists with ease. He leans in, burying his head in the crook of your neck and taking a deep, unsettling breath. The other hand goes over your mouth to muffle your screams. In retaliation, you managed to wiggle your face out, biting down hard on his hand, your tongue flooding with a coppery taste.

This didn't seem to phase him; his blood was dripping down your chin. The metallic tang of his blood is sickening you. Nevertheless, you continue to struggle in his arms, trying to elbow him to break free. A guttural moan escapes his lips as he plants small, chilling kisses on the skin of your neck, enjoying this moment. You feel trapped, like a rat in a snake's grip, desperate for a chance to escape.

"You're so soft." He whispers into your ear, tightening his grip over you, not budging as you dig your heel into his shins.

Teeth still clenched on his hand, digging deeper for him to let go. When he didn't respond you released your jaw, you threw your head back. You hit him square in the nose, eliciting a gasp of pain from him. Blood drips from his nose as he stumbles back, momentarily stunned. Seizing the opportunity, you push him away and run as fast as you can, your heart pounding in your chest.

You run towards the door, the gaping exit mocking you, so close yet so far. You don't make it much farther; he grabs your hair harshly and throws you to the ground. On the floor, you cough and gasp for air. The impact of your back on the hardwood knocked air out of your lungs. As you crawl away from him, trying to regain your breath, he stands in front of the only exit, looking over at you with a menacing grin.

"Here, I thought it would be easy; God, I fucking love this." He wipes his nose with his sleeve, smearing blood on his face. A demented look on his face tells you that he's enjoying this far too much. "As much as I want to continue, kind of on a time crunch, babe. I'm pretty sure your lovely neighbors have already called the police."

Saying this, he crouches down, pulling you to him by your ankle. You kick at him with your other foot, one connected to his chin, but he only laughs in response, dodging any more of your attempts to fight back.

"You're a feisty one, I like that," he chuckles, tightening his grip on your ankle as he begins to drag you closer. "You're not going anywhere."

Your heart races as you desperately search for a way out of this nightmare. Keeping a hold of you, he pulls out a syringe filled with mysterious liquid from his pocket. The sight makes your heart drop. In your shock, he stabs it roughly into your thigh, pushing the liquid in. As the drug takes effect, your vision blurs and your body goes limp, leaving you at his mercy.

"Sweet dreams." He takes you into his arms, watching you fall into unconsciousness. The last thing you hear before blacking out is his sinister chuckle echoing in your ears

Hope you enjoyed lovelies! Likes/ reblogs are appreciated <3 pls no repost

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x you #yandere jjk x reader #cw dark content #cw blood #cw kidnapping #cw yandere #One Moment Was All It Took

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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we need a dj leah fic

i know nothing about dj-ing so this is all y'all get lmao hobbies II l.williamson

"lee? baby i'm home!" you called out, kicking off your shoes and shrugging off your jacket at the door. though when you received no response you frowned, walking further into your home.

"babe? leah?" you continued to call out, popping your head into the bedroom and the living room but finding no trace of the blonde. her car was in your driveway and unless you'd missed something you weren't aware of her having an event or plans tonight.

"oh here you are." you sighed in relief finally finding her in the kitchen. "baby?" you called out, dropping your bag on the counter. "lee?" you called again, the girl bopping her head focused on something else, headphones covering her ears.

you paused for a moment eyes falling to the sliver of her abs visible where her shirt had ridden up, waistband of her boxers poking out from her pants as her tanned and toned arms flexed while she messed about with whatever was in front of her.

"leah!" you yelled louder, smacking your hand on the counter a few times as your girlfriend finally glanced up, flinching a little in shock at the sight of you stood there. "hi gorgeous, didn't hear you come in." she pulled her headphones down to her ears with a smile.

"missed you." she attached to you right away with a soft smile, attacking your face with kisses before finally rewarding you with a real one, tugging you around the counter to where she previously stood.

"yeah no wonder you didn't hear me. what the hell is all this?" you frowned seeing her messing about with her laptop and some sort of board full of buttons. "dj pad." leah gave you a toothy grin, wrapping you in a hug, your head resting against her chest as you stared down at her latest hobby.

"oh leah." you sighed as she let you go, tenderly kissing the side of your head. "what?" she smiled, ducking down to kiss you properly, sending your head into a spin as her tongue swiped your bottom lip but you forced yourself to pull away.

"you always do this!" you pulled yourself up to sit on the counter beside her laptop. "do what!" leah frowned, crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow sent your way.

"you invest in some sort of hobby, do it for a week or two and then it joins your graveyard of dead interests and you move onto something else. then the cycle repeats!" you shook your head knowingly.

"i do not!" leah scoffed in offence as you now raised an eyebrow at her, jumping down from the counter. "come with me my love, let's go on a little house tour." you smiled holding our your hand, leah pulling off her headphones with a roll of her eyes and leaving them by the dj pad as her slender fingers interlocked with yours.

"example one; the hoverboard." you gestured to the item sitting abandoned in the corner of the living room, untouched for years now. "babe everyone bought those during lock down!" leah defended as you hummed.

"example two; the indoor golf set." you kicked the box sat with her trainers. "i still use that." leah protested as you fixed her with a firm look. "you've used it like four times if you're lucky."

"example three; the knitting!" leah followed you into her study as you yanked open one of her desk drawers and pointed to the abandoned bundle of wool and needles. "excuse me? i made you a blanket and that blanket was made with love." leah scowled as you shut the drawer.

"a baby blanket maybe it was like four poorly finished squares lee it could cover my ankles if i'm lucky." you chuckled moving to the large wall to wall bookshelf as leah scoffed. "psychology!" you continued, waving to the five or six huge textbooks your girlfriend was yet to even touch let alone crack open.

"hey i could still read those, that doesn't count." "but will you? signs point to no." you sighed with a shake of your head, ignoring your girlfriends hand swatting at your bum with an unimpressed huff at your tone.

"the VR goggles?" "they gave me a headache!" "the drumming pads?" "okay those were an impulse buy." "gardening? the veggie patch?" "our garden is immaculate!" "yes it is, because i'm the one who looks after it and actually keeps it alive baby. the video camera?" "hey i made the cutest video with that last year, it isn't my fault i lost the charger."

"do i need to continue baby or are you seeing the pattern now?" you challenged with a smile, swinging leahs hand back and forth which was still linked with yours.

"okay maybe i can be a little bit impulsive. but life is too short not to enjoy simple pleasures babe, even just for a moment." using your interlocked hands she tugged your body into hers, hands cupping your cheeks as her thumb pulled down your bottom lip before it snapped back up with a small pop.

"did you learn that in one of your self help books?" you grinned right as she leaned in to kiss you, head flicking back to the bookshelf. "shut up, but i'm getting pretty good! come." with that she lead you out of the office and back to the kitchen.

"leah!" you laughed as she effortlessly picked you up by the waist and sat you back on the counter. "listen." she carefully slid her headphones over your ears, pecking your lips a few times and focusing back on the dj pad.

your lips curled into a smile as you adjusted her headphones, wincing a little as a loud beat sounded in your ears, and you tried not to laugh at how your girlfriends eyebrows furrowed together as she pushed and prodded at the different buttons.

"see? not too bad eh!" leah stopped after a few minutes and you tugged the headphones down. "wait that was it?" you frowned, leahs mouth dropping into a small o at your words. "that was like someone beat boxing without a sense of rhythm. babe that was so bad!" you laughed honestly, covering your smile with your hand.

"baby!" leah whined, smacking your leg and crossing her arms. "what? do you want me to lie?" you grinned as she pulled her headphones off you with a huff. "don't quit your day job for the ibiza circuit just yet sweets, you're no fred again." you continued to tease as you patted her shoulder.

"hey it's really hard okay! these stupid programs i downloaded are no help either." leah pouted with another huff. you held up a finger for her to wait, lifting your hips to pull your phone out of your back pocket.

"here baby, one more for your bookshelf." "how to dj for idiots and dummies."

"cheeky girl." leah tutted, slotting herself in between your legs as her hands slid up and down your legs which wrapped around her waist. "have you figured out your dj name yet?" you grinned, getting your words out in between the lingeringly soft kisses the taller blonde was leaving on your lips.

"no, got any suggestions?" leah chuckled, closing her eyes as your mouth pulled away from hers and focused on her neck, her hands gripping your hips and pulling your body closer into hers as you inhaled the intoxicating scent of her favorite perfume.

"i think dj hold the mayo williamson will do numbers in ticket sales." "oh really? think i might need a tour manager love." "aren't you lucky, you've got the best in the business right in front of you." "mmm i haven't done any gigs yet gorgeous, afraid i can't pay you." "oh don't you worry williamson, i think we can work some sort of arrangement out."

#leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso blurbs #engwnt #leah williamson #woso imagine #woso fanfics

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muniimyg · 2 years ago

Text

4.5: say it 》 series m.list

note: some feelings, some banter,, some smut at the beginning of the 3rd scene <3 have fun,, enj !!! do we like yuna and tae? vibes on... the jealousy? lmk what u guys think !!!mwah <3 updating sooon

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @prdshobi @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main

fic taglist: @mint--yoongs @ellesalazar @bloopkook

Soccer was something Jungkook was known for on campus.

It never occurred to you just how well-known he was until now… Yet, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Jungkook had quit the team out of boredom and curiosity only to be begged back in as if he’s their ace.

Okay, fine.

… He probably is the ace.

Jungkook comes off as too perfect. It’s quite irritating, actually. He has decent grades, a fun friend group, and a well-balanced lifestyle. You can’t help but hate that being a part of his routine for the past few weeks has you in this emotional state: needy.

You’ve never felt this way before.

Before the arrangement between you and Jungkook was made, you two barely saw each other. His life consisted of school, soccer, and friends. You only ran into him at parties or friendgroup outings. Having one class with him every other semester has to be the closest you two have ever been.

You’ve never missed anyone before and although there’s an underlying warm feeling—your feelings of frustration and annoyance have never been stronger. His absence may have gotten your heart to grow fonder of him—but your anger and resistance to him continue to linger.

It’s almost like a haunting feeling.

As much as you want to carry on with your day and act like you aren’t waiting for his clingy text messages; you can’t help but itch and wonder what he’s doing and who he’s with. Though his text messages yesterday provided you with some sort of comfort and assurance, you can’t help but feel uneasy about all of this.

About him.

“Earth to ____?” Yuna waves her hands in front of your face. Snapping out of your thoughts, you offer her a warm smile. “Geez, you’re so out of it these days… Are you feeling sick?”

You shake your head.

For a moment there, you were so lost in thought you forgot where you were. For a brief moment, you look out the window and notice the gloomy clouds before turning back to your space. The library is fuller than usual and Yuna is sitting in front of you with her laptop and notebook. She’s been talking for the past 20 minutes about…

Something.

You can’t recall.

Maybe you should start listening to her more… You’re truly the worst friend ever.

“You look worried… Do you have an exam you didn’t study for or something?” Again, you shake your head in response. Yuna hums as she taps her fingers on her chin. Thinking to herself, she creates a solution.

“Do you wanna come with me and see Taehyung?”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Why would I want to see Taehyung?”

She shrugs, putting her hands up in defeat. “…. Was just suggesting.”

Leaning towards her, you cheekily ask; “fess up. Do you have feelings for him?”

A gasp escapes her lips as she covers her mouth with her hands. Yuna furrows her eyebrows together and looks at you in panic. “Is the ____ interested in my love life? For the first time in forever? When did you get a nose job? You’re so nosy!”

You cover your nose and glare at her.

“Shut up! Jungkook just mentioned that—”

“Jungkook, huh?” Yuna switches her hand placement immediately. She leans forward to you, putting her elbows on the table, and rests her chin on the palm of her hands. “What’s up with you two? I must’ve been wasted as hell that night at karaoke because if what I saw was true… Boy, do you owe me a girls night…”

Gulping, you keep your chin high. “What do you mean? What did you see that night?”

“He’s into you.”

“Jungkook is into everyone—”

“Yeah, right!” Yuna disagrees passionately, earning a few hushes from other students nearby. In a whispering tone, she continues. “Jungkook barely pays attention to the guys—his own friends! He does what he wants, shows up when he wants, eats what he wants and maintains his slutty figure, and parties when and with who he wants—I think… He wants you. He kept giving you fuck me eyes all night… And you! Don’t act all innocent. I saw you sulking like a little bitch! Which.. Is new? I’ve never seen you clingy before… Not with any of your exes... Not even with me."

You roll your eyes at her. Though her words rang true, you refuse to yield. If Yuna, the densest human in the world, can figure you out... You're fucked.

“You’re right.”

Yuna’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“You were sooo wasted that night.”

After a few hours of studying, you and Yuna pack your things up. She practically begs you to come with her as she meets up with Taehyung. In all honesty, it didn’t take much convincing. For some reason, you say yes with the tiniest bit of hope that Jungkook would be with him.

Although, you don’t ask.

Hurrying out of the library, Yuna instantly spots Taehyung. With a toothy smile, he waves and picks up his pace. He greets Yuna with a pat on her head and you by nudging your arm.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

Shrugging, you look around as if you could spot Jungkook. Shyly, you answer, “thought he was with you.”

“He came home late yesterday…” Taehyung says as if it mattered for you to know. “I assumed he was with you.”

In response, you shake your head at him. “Nope. I haven’t seen him in a while… Last time was when we got coffee—”

You wince at the memory.

“You okay?” Yuna’s face falls concerned. Taehyung looks at you rather confused. She hits his arm and confides in him. “See what I mean? She’s been like this all day.”

Taehyung tightens his lips as he gives your odd behaviour some thought. “Maybe she’s sleep-deprived. Are you sleepy, ___? You look a little tired.”

“Maybe the break-up is finally hitting her. Do you miss him, ___? Is that it?” Yuna suggests rather passionately. “You know, I miss him! He was a good boyfriend and you seemed happy—”

You huff, feeling defeated. “I’m just tired. I guess I’m more tired than I realize. I think I should just head home… I’ll catch up with you guys next time.”

Yuna shoves Taehyung away and pulls you in a hug. She sways you two side to side and cries; “my poor baby, ____! Feel better, okay?”

Laughing, you ask Taehyung to help you peel your best friend off of you. When Yuna lets go and gives you space, her eyes suddenly squint as if she has just seen something unpeculiar. Then, she rubs her eyes to be sure.

“Is that Jungkook?”

You turn your head and feel your heart clench.

It feels conflicted.

Yes, that was Jungkook.

… But with whom?

Before you can escape or avoid eye contact with him, Taehyung has already waved them over. Jungkook nods, acknowledging you all. He crosses the street and you turn around, keeping your head low. You do this because for some reason you feel all shy… Like you didn’t just have sex with him a week ago—in front of a mirror.

“Whose that?” Yuna asks, disregarding the fact that the two were practically a three feet away.

“Who knows,” Taehyung scoffs. “Secret girlfriend? Sneaky link? Who knows with that kid.”

Yuna gasps. “No way! I thought he was into ___—”

“Hey,” Jungkook greets brightly. Taehyung and Yuna greet him with the same energy. He offers a big smile as he stands beside you and pinches your waist. You itch away and avoid eye contact. From the corner of his eye, he catches your behaviour and feels confused.

In a low tone, only loud enough for you to hear; he mutters, “Don’t ignore me. That’s fucking annoying.”

You don’t move. Still, you ignore his seductive words.

He tilts his head at you but figures you’re just in a mood. Shifting his focus, Jungkook breaks the ice. “Where you guys going?”

“I just met up with them like a few minutes ago,” Taehyung explains. “We were gonna grab dinner but I think—”

“Hi, I’m Yuna!” your best friend interrupts Taehyung. She stretches her hand out for the girl to shake. She takes Yuna’s hand and shakes it. “This is Taehyung and my best friend ___!”

You raise your head and offer a short-lived smile. A simple, “hi,” is all you manage to choke out.

Mina has short brown hair and pretty eyes. She’s a little shorter than you and has Jungkook’s towel hanging on her arm.

You feel sick.

“Nice to meet you guys! I’m Mina, Jungkook’s friend…” she pauses and lets out a shy laugh. “Actually, I’m more of his fan than I am his friend.”

Like a groupie? Ew.

Jungkook joins her and laughs. “She usually sits around with her friends on bleachers and watches our practices. We’ve been catching up since I got back in with the team. We were going to get dinner too.”

Taehyung and Yuna nod, taking in the information. “Well, do you want to join us?” Yuna suggests. “___ isn’t feeling well so she was going to go home. It’d be nice to have better company! ___’s been so out of it today—”

You shush her.

“You okay?” Jungkook brings his attention to you.

It feels like you’ve just been kicked in the stomach. When did Jungkook’s gaze ever feel this… weird? It’s difficult to describe but it’s like you’re nervous or something. All you can really do is nod in response.

“I’m okay,” you assure him.

“You sure?” he presses, taking a step closer to you.

He’s much closer to you this time and your body betrays you by staying still. You don’t move. You don’t even flinch. If anything, you take a deep breath and inhale his scent. It’s comforting after all the days you’ve spent away from him. From the corner of your eye, you can see Yuna begin to get excited to be witnessing this moment. When you can sense that she’s about to explode in best friend behaviour, you make your move.

“Can I talk to you?” you blurt. “Please? It’s about that thing…”

Jungkook blinks.

“Sure,” he doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. Text me the address. I’ll just drive ___ home so we can talk.”

You're thankful he says this. You're thankful he goes along with your request without question. For a second there, you weren't sure if he was on your side.

Rather, you worried if he liked you enough to choose you regardless of the mix-signals and thus far constipated interaction.

Mina offers a warm smile in return, but you can’t help but notice the disappointment in her eyes as Jungkook takes your tote bag off of your shoulder and carries it. He assures Mina that he’s leaving her in great hands and that he’ll be there no later than 30 minutes.

“I parked my car that way,” Jungkook points towards the end of the street. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah,” you almost stutter. “I’ll see you guys next time. Nice to meet you, Mina.”

“You too! Feel better,” she says sincerely. “See you in a bit, Jungkook?”

“See you in a bit,” he promises. Mina takes his word for it.

Jungkook bids his last goodbye before grabbing your wrist and practically dragging you to leave. As he does so, you watch Mina, Taehyung, and Yuna wave you two goodbye. Even a few feet apart, you can practically hear Yuna begin her gossip session.

“See? He’s so into her!”

Unlike last time, there was no issue.

Oh, it was up.

Jungkook hisses at your touch.

As you take his cock out, you run your thumb across the tip. You pump him, feeling his velvety skin follow the way you move your wrist. He’s thick—practically two hands on deck kind of thick. In fact, he looks even bigger in your hands. Maybe it’s the LED lights in his car or the fact that he hasn’t cum since your last meet-up—but he was bigger than usual today. If anything, it made you drool.

Dipping your head low, you stick your tongue out and move his cock with your hands. You slap it against your needy tongue before closing your mouth and sucking on it.

Bobbing your head, Jungkook can’t resist. He grabs a fistful of your hair and begins to push your head up and down. He holds your head close, making sure his dick touched the back of your throat. You gag and he takes that as a sign to let go. Pulling away, you take a quick breath in before puckering your lips at him.

He shifts from his laid-back position and leans forward. Jungkook wraps his hand around your neck and brushes his thumb against your puffy lips.

“You know how I like it,” he utters. “Missed this fucking mouth. Begging for kisses?”

With hopeful eyes, you nod.

“Anything my girl wants,” Jungkook leans in and kisses you slowly. He pulls away after just three kisses. “... My girl gets.”

“Kiss me lots,” you whine.

Jungkook’s stomach turns. If it could do flips, that’s what it does. He would be an idiot not to know why you were acting this way… Yet, he still wanted to have fun.

“Make me cum and I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With that, you get back to it.

You spit on his dick as you pump him at a slow pace. His hands travel to your shirt, pulling at the neckline to see your cleavage. You let go of him to lift your arms. Without hesitation, Jungkook helps remove your shirt and admires your breasts in a plain black bra.

Suddenly, you shift your position. The passenger seat is extremely uncomfortable considering you’re giving him head… But this part must be the hardest part. You lean your body towards him more, prioritizing your breasts. Somehow, you manage to bend a certain way and slip his dick in between your tits.

“Holy shit—” Jungkook cries as he begins to lose it.

You bite your lip, trying your best to make this work. You hold your breasts closer together as he begins to pump himself. Every time Jungkook lifts his hips to dig himself deeper in, you can’t help but like the way the head pops up.

It’s almost cute.

The position doesn’t last very long. You begin to cramp and Jungkook misses your mouth. So, you switch back to giving him a blow job. Then, that doesn’t last very long because Jungkook can’t do it anymore—he can’t hold it in. His breath hitches as you suck his dick. He throws his head back and hisses your name.

“___,” he cries, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Then, he cums.

He spills himself into your mouth and you swallow. As he empties himself, you take it upon yourself to lick his dick clean. Today, his cum tasted sweeter than usual. You wonder if his diet changed or if you just haven’t tasted him in a while.

Jungkook stares in amazement as you finish him off. He can’t help but let his mind spin as his body tingles from the sensation you caused. When you finish, you straighten yourself out and he hands you your shirt. Putting it on, you sit yourself back properly in the passenger seat and sigh in relief. Jungkook tucks himself back in.

“Good talk,” you joke, attempting to lighten the mood.

Oddly enough, you feel awkward. What were you supposed to do now? After you two got into his car, it didn’t take much time before you threw yourself at him. Happily, he received your kisses and took it upon himself to drive towards his place. Parked outside his home, the coast was clear. You gave him head and now you feel stuck.

Jungkook notices the panic in your eyes and reaches his hand out. He places them on your upper thigh, causing you to look at him.

“What’s up with you?” Jungkook can’t help but ask. “You miss me too much?”

You scoff, “as if.”

He laughs, moving closer to you. Jungkook rubs your thighs innocently and squeezes it. It’s comforting for some reason… You like the way he touches you.

“Spit it out, pookie.”

You shrug. “Nothing. Just wanted to give you head. You can take me home now.”

“Ha!” Jungkook taunts you. He then removes his hand from your thigh and reaches for his phone on the dashboard. Looking at the time, his eyes widen.

“Shit!”

“What?”

“It’s been an hour? Mina called me like five times. I’m late—no, I missed it.”

Giving him head didn’t take an entire hour.. No, it was the flirting and the clingy talk that took majority of the time. Convincing him to let you give him head? That wasn’t even a conversation that needed to be done. It was always yes for you. So, you took your time.

Flirting.

Kissing.

And giving him a sloppy blowjob that completed the 1 hour mark of stalling.

Your lips curve into a small smile. Looking away, you feel a sense of relief. You aren’t proud of yourself but… This was something you could live with. As you stay silent, you think of what you could possibly say in this situation without coming off suspicious.

But, your silence lasts a second too long.

“Wild guess but… Did you give me head so I’d miss the dinner?” Jungkook theorizes.

You turn to him, eyebrows knitted together and your head slightly tilted to look confused. “Are you blaming me for missing the dinner?”

“Are you gaslighting me?”

You’re tongue-tied. For the first time in forever, you have no come back. Your brain can’t think of any words. Slowly and then all at once, you felt like a stupid idiot sitting in his car. Had you gone too far? You’ve never seen yourself act upon jealousy like this… You have no excuse. You have no explanation. You don’t feel like yourself.

“Mina’s pretty. Is she your type?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your question. Partly because he didn’t want to entertain whatever you had stirring up in your mind and partly because he didn’t want to feed tour ego.

“___? What’s up with you?”

“I don’t know.”

He sighs, not knowing whether he finds this irritating or cute. Why would you sabotage something so meaningless? Dinner with friends? It’s not like you weren’t invited either… His thoughts lead him to one question: “I think you’re acting jealous. Are you jealous?”

Unsure of what to do, you decide to give up. “Are you going to be mad at me if I admit that I am?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this you admitting that you are?”

You reply in silence.

“___?”

“Give me a fucking minute, okay? I’m trying to figure out if I should lie or not,” you groan. Taking a moment, you look into his eyes. “Am I supposed to lie, Jungkook?”

Now, he feels choked. “Maybe.”

You blink at him.

Before you can stop yourself from the words that have been spiraling through your head all day—you confess softly; “I’m jealous.”

His head begins to spin. Is this what post-orgasm depression is? The pit of his stomach feels weird…

Taking a deep breath, you shift your body to face him as best as you can. Fidgeting with your fingers, you push yourself to admit the ugly truth: “I don’t think I can lie about it… Jungkook, I don’t like it. I don’t like seeing you with other girls and I’m annoyed you have a little fan club. So, yeah. I sucked your dick so you’d miss your little date. I’m sorry, it was selfish of me… So, go catch up with her if you want…. I was out of place. I don’t care anymore—”

“Yes you do,” he cuts you off.

You gulp, noticing the way his eyes have lit up.

“Say it,” Jungkook insists. “Say it and I won’t go.”

With shifty eyes, you ask, “really?”

In all honesty, he wasn’t looking for a specific word or phrase. He just wanted you to say it. Say something. Make this fuck session mean something.

Jungkook breathes, “I’m all yours if you want me to be.”

“Yikes…”

He shoots you a glare. You’ve ruined the moment.

Jungkook reaches over and unlocks your door. “Fine. I gotta get going. You can walk home from here, right? Mina won’t mind me being a little late—”

You hit his chest with an annoyed look on your face.

He smirks, “say it.”

“Jungkook,” you begin. “Don’t make me feel this way, okay? The second you continue this vibe, I’m going to expect more from you and that’s not what we—”

“Then expect more,” Jungkook scoffs. “It’s simple, ____. If you’re jealous, tell me. If you like me, tell me. If you hate this and want out—give me at least two weeks’ notice so I can emotionally prepare.”

A part of your heart feels like it’s being tugged. Was he always this good with words? For some reason, you find it humorous. “You bring up confessing a lot… Are you trying to tell me something, pookie?”

“Please,” Jungkook laughs. “I’m not here to play stupid games and win stupid prizes. I’m not confessing until I have you absolutely in love with me… Pookie, this jealousy thing? It’s just the start. Just a little longer and you’ll be standing outside my window in the pouring rain, begging for me.”

In response, you make a puking face at him. “Shut up. The minute you get jealous, I’ll make you eat your words.”

He leans in and puckers his lips. “Why waste your time getting me to eat my own words when I can eat something else?”

You cup his face and squish his lips together. Pressing your lips against his, you pull away quickly with a cheeky smile. “Keep entertaining your little fan club and you’ll be eating nothing.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “It’s not my fault they watch while we practice—”

“Jungkook.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

He does just that.

Jungkook buckles your seatbelt and then his. Turning on the engine, he pulls out of his driveway and begins to drive you home. It’s a short 15 minute ride, but it’s filled with your rambling and constant shuffling of songs in his playlist.

As he stays silent, half-assed listening to you; he soaks in your presence and can’t find a single fibre in his body to be mad at you. He knows that what you did tonight was unacceptable. You had caused Mina to look like she got stood up and jeopardized a perfectly peaceful night by earning him a place on Taehyung’s hot seat of questions later tonight… But it’s okay.

With the smile on your face and the way you hesitate to reach for his hand as he drives; he can’t but help to feel like it’s worth it. Your hand will take his without a second thought one day. One day, you’ll be a part of the little fan club you hate so much. One day, it’ll work out because it has to.

If he never goes through these exact moments with you, maybe he wouldn’t have known his feelings for you… But, he does and it’s so clear to him.

Jungkook will wait for you.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fwb #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts scenario #bts jk fic #bts smau #bts imagine

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wlntrsldler · 1 year ago

Note

I keep imagining the first time Luke and Mr. D met after Luke's hickeys/scratches went viral

LMFAOOOOO ANON THIS IS SENDING ME

here is how i think that conversation played out (suggestive content ahead):

"shit, five star, your dad is calling me," luke mumbled, eyes wide as he looked down at his phone. "he never calls me."

connor snicked from his bunk in the tour bus, "well, given that the whole internet is talking about you right now after the show you gave them last night, i'm not surprised."

"ha!" travis exclaimed, sitting up on his bed. "put it on speaker. i wanna hear him yell at you."

you rolled your eyes, "he's not gonna yell at you."

luke turned to you with hopeful eyes, "you think so?"

"well, he's probably not gonna yell at you," you scrunched your face up, rethinking your words, "like 55% chance he won't yell at you."

"i don't like those odds, babe."

"answer the fucking phone, luke."

luke clicked the green button on his screen, chewing on the nail of his thumb. he rolled his eyes, pressing the speaker button as travis kept egging him on. chris and clarisse opened the privacy curtain of chris' bunk to listen in on the drama.

"hey, mr. d," luke cleared his throat, ignoring the quiet giggles from the boys when his voice cracked. "what's up?"

"is my daughter with you?"

"say no," you whispered. so you were wrong about the odds. your dad was 100% about to yell at luke and you selfishly didn't want to get your ass handed to you just yet. you were going to avoid your dad's calls for as long as possible.

"uhh... no?"

"oh jesus fucking christ," you sighed, smacking your palm against your forehead, "that was soooo convincing."

you heard your dad type on his laptop before shutting it. there was some background noise that subsided after you heard the shut of a door. it seemed like your dad went into his office to get some privacy.

"hey, kid," your dad said, no doubt addressing you now.

"hey, dad," you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, leaning down to speak into the mic of luke's phone. "how are you?"

"don't start with me," he said, "would it kill you both to not do whatever it is you do that results in those pictures? pictures that are all over the internet by the way!"

a snide remark was on the tip of luke's tongue, because yes, it would kill him to not do the things that resulted in the pink marks on his neck and the healing scratches on his back, but that didn't seem like the right response.

"dad, you never had an issue with them taking their shirts off during shows before. and luke has gone out on stage like that before."

luke cringed, remembering one too many instances where he'd gone out on stage with hickeys all over his neck. it felt like a lifetime ago now, as if ever since you walked into his life that past version of him was someone he didn't recognize anymore. he much preferred remembering the name of the girl who left him marked up, especially preferring that it was only you who did that to him.

"that was before he started dating my daughter!" he replied, "i don't want to know anything about your relationship, but i'm in an unfortunate situation where i happen to manage the career of your boyfriend's band so i have to deal with it sometimes. so for the love of god, please please, stop."

"i'm so sorry mr. d," luke mumbled, "i completely forgot about them and by the time i realized, it was too late."

you could practically see your dad pulling at his hair, a habit he had when he was in stressful or awkward situations. he didn't speak for a good thirty seconds and then he sighed, "just keep your goddamn shirt on."

luke gulped, "got it."

when your dad ended the call, the entire bus erupted in laughter, including you. luke's face was as red as a tomato as he groaned and buried his head in his pillow. your shoulders shook as you giggled, laying on top of him. he instantly turned his body to wrap his arms around you.

"that wasn't so bad," you cooed, running your fingers through his curls, "and that was a shit apology, baby. you were smug as hell on stage when people pointed out the scratches."

"i wasn't thinking of the consequences of my actions," he said, "i was caught up watching people connect the dots that my girlfriend is not only hot but a fucking animal in be--"

"okay, that's our cue," travis cut off, closing his curtain. connor followed his head, popping in his airpods. clarisse sent you a wink before she disappeared behind the curtain with chris.

"i'll stop leaving hickeys on you," you kissed his face, enjoying how flustered he got. "but i can't promise too much on the scratches."

"i'm gonna stop taking my shirt off at shows, i think," he mused, toying with the hem of the shirt you wore. "i don't think i can take another surprise call from your dad. i think it took years off my life."

"your fans will be highly disappointed," you teased, leaning over to his ear, "but if you're gonna keep your shirt on, does that mean hickeys on your abs is fair game?"

luke licked his lips, tugging on his own curtain to give you two some privacy, "absolutely."

#frances replies #poisoned mercury chats #luke castellan x reader

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worldheadcanons · 2 months ago

Text

☆ picture this!

requested by no one! gender neutral reader. starring . . . italy, france, russia, & canada. warning for general stalking mentions. fandom masterlist found here. 📌 . . . author notes: i do love the way canada & reader + france & reader have found their own little rhythm within their relationships. ivan straight up sending selfies is frying me but i honestly feel like he wouldn’t gaf. ivan’s reader is somewhat debra morgan coded i’ve realized.. i like the dynamic tho.

feliciano vargas!

— the text comes through about an hour after you get home from work. it’s an interruption to the youtube video that you’re watching on your shitty laptop while eating dinner. an interruption to your video time is a crime beyond words; even so, you opt to pick up your phone and check the text.

— it’s a picture of you. not just any picture of you, a picture of you hard at work cooking pasta for your boss. a clean black apron was tied around your waist and your brows were furrowed in concentration as you tasted the sauce off a wooden spoon. accompanying this picture was a simple message: ‘you looked so cute cooking today, tesero*.’

— you were a private chef by day, cooking and cleaning dishes for this rich family. the father of the family had passed before your arrival, leaving behind two brothers. they were both bachelors, still living in their childhood home.

— your nose scrunched up in annoyance. the shot was a clear one, almost professionally taken. undoubtedly, it was captured by your stalker. how did he get such a good photo? it’s as though the guy took the picture from inside the house. or, he’d been right outside the kitchen window.

— you opt to reply with something just as simple. ‘don’t go near my place of work again.’ he’d managed to get past your bosses’ security and close to the window — it was unsafe, not just for you but for them. they’d treated you well. you weren’t going to risk them getting hurt.

—your stalker doesn’t take too kindly to your words. ‘don’t be like that :( i won’t hurt anybody, i promise. i just like to see you.’

— you scoff at the response before sending one back. ‘i don’t trust that.’

— ‘:(( i don’t like when you’re mad at me. what can i buy to make you happy with me, mio amore?*’

— ‘you can’t buy my affection. stay away from my place of work.’ you huff before sitting back. who did he think he was? you glance back at the youtube video you were watching, only to realize your old laptop had completely shut down. when you felt the bottom, it became clear that it overheated. maybe downloading all those sims mods wasn’t a great idea... after some thought, a minute later you texted him, ‘a new laptop would be nice.’

— ‘consider it done ❤️’. the reply is sent seconds later. you didn’t know it, but he was grinning to himself. a new laptop for his darling, one with special programs already downloaded… what a perfect request from you.

francis bonnefoy!

— your phone dings at work. you pick it up, a slight smile on your face as you recognize the ‘unknown’ number. you ought to make him a contact at this point — he’s been stalking you for how long? and, more important, how long have you been playing into it, enjoying it?

— this time it’s a picture of you at the grocery market, while you were down the frozen treat aisle. ‘didn’t know my sweet had an eye for sweets’ it reads. how cute. your attention’s taken off of your work as you think of a clever little reply.

— feeding into his delusions was definitely wrong; you should’ve gone to the authorities. you had threatened him many times, but never followed through. how could you? he was the one piece of excitement in your otherwise dull life. it’s not that things were bad… they were just too stable. your routine had become monotonous and your mind craved the mental stimulation that good banter could offer; if it happened to come from your stalker, well… if nothing else, he was a source of free entertainment. and, at times, companionship and comfort, despite his depravity. you were just as depraved as your stalker was, though. only difference was that you could hide it. ah, but back to that response…

— ‘looks like you don’t know me as well as you thought’. it’s something of an insult, implying his stalking skills weren’t up to par. it’s also a challenge to prove you wrong.

— ‘really? i know your shoe size and sense of fashion. remember that shirt i bought you friday? and don’t forget i know your favorite foods.’ you can almost hear his voice, a note of irritation hidden within his tone. the mere thought was attractive — god, you really were depraved — a second message comes in shortly afterwards. ‘i love learning new things about you anyways, mon chèr*.’

— i’m sure you do. you let out a quiet chuckle, glancing around to make sure no one was watching you slack off. ‘send me some ice cream and i’ll be nice to you on the phone tonight. buy my favorite flavor.’

— ‘demanding much?’ you’re sure he scoffed before sending the message. he’d walked right into your trap, though.

— ‘i’ll flirt back this time. you can even record the audio. don’t you want that, mon petit ami?*’ thank god for those three years of french you took in highschool. would you really flirt back? maybe. maybe not. you just needed him to think that you would.

— his reply is immediate. he’s caught in your web. ‘ouias. can i have a hint of your favorite flavor?*’

— ‘no. good luck.’ you smile to yourself before trying to refocus on work. tonight would be interesting at least… andyou’d be satisfying your sweet tooth.

ivan braginsky!

— as you get ready for bed, you hear a soft buzzing noise coming from your phone. ah. you roll your eyes as you check the notification. it’s the same unknown number that’s been texting you for the last month. this time, the message includes a photo. as tired as you are, you’re still quite curious, so you open the text just to be met with a dark picture of you sleeping in bed two nights ago. what. the. fuck.

— you knew what night it was because of your pajamas. you were asleep in the photo, body completely relaxed and unaware of anyone being in your room, watching you. your eyes narrow as you read the accompanying message. ‘i just wanted to say goodnight, sleepyhead 😊’. right…

— you’d let the texts go on because quite frankly, they were a boost to your ego. that, and you may have gotten drunk once and texted him back. but now, they had to stop. ‘i’m blocking this number. if you text me again, i’ll call the cops. and don’t come near my house again.’

— his reply takes a moment. ‘you sleep better when i’m watching you, you know. i’m only keeping you safe.’

— you let out a snort. ‘that’s not fucking true.’ your reply is blunt, which hopefully will throw him off.

— ‘i know you love me. drunk words are sober thoughts. you’re just tired now. go to sleep, koshka*.’ well shit, that didn’t work at all.

— you’ve never seen the guy. you’ve never even heard his voice. you knew only his name and the fact that he was utterly obsessed with you. and you? you were.. unsure of how you felt about him. the attention felt good and.. surely it wasn’t bad to want some attention every now and then. still, he was fucking creepy, taking pictures of you from in your room somehow.

— finally, you sent a last reply. ‘goodnight, ivan.’

— you didn’t see it until the morning, but ivan sent back a reply of his own. not just a message, but another picture — a picture sent at 2 am of him in bed in the dark. a man around your age, with silver hair and vibrant, violet eyes. his nose caught your eye immediately. it was.. hot… he was looking up at the camera with a small smile. ‘thought of you as i went to bed. we’re both in bed at the same time, aren’t we? goodnight, koshka*.’

matthew williams!

— it’s a lazy sunday for you. you’re lounging about the couch, enjoying yourself, when you get a message from that special number. he’s been calling and texting for months. by now, it wasn’t even one sided. it was… complicated. even so, you smiled as you saw he had texted you. he usually doesn’t text on mondays. any other day, sure, but you’re certain he hates mondays.

— you check the text out and it’s a picture from an old social media account you had as a teenager. your eyes widen. you thought you deleted it! underneath the picture he sent you a simple message, ‘LOL’.

— ‘where’d you get that?’ you asked him. it’s not like you had the power to scrub your old pictures from the internet but you definitely deleted that account years ago. you’d prefer to never see any of your tween tumblr pics ever again.

— ‘i have my ways. you were a cute kid.’ he replies, much to your annoyance. you’re about to tell him to delete it when he sends a follow up picture, one of him as a teen. ‘just so we’re fair,’ he says ‘here’s a picture of me’.

— the picture captures a lanky kid with pale skin and a nervous look on his face, which is covered in acne. faint blonde curly hair is all about his head and in his hand is an old purple game boy. his nails are painted black and his skinny jeans are of a similar color. the picture reminds you of a different time; a time where emo kids walked about and converse were the coolest shoe you could have. he must really be in love with you. more than obsessed, he was in love. and he trusted you. why else would he show a picture of him as a kid? especially one like that?

— you smile a little to yourself. ‘you were cute, too.’ an awkward kid, you were sure, but still cute. how he’d grown into the man he was today.. the man who fell for you.. well, who knows.

— ‘i still am.’ he replies. he doesn’t send a picture of his face, likely to keep himself somewhat anonymous. smart. but he does send a picture of him flexing his biceps. which.. well, it’s a picture you decide to save. what? you have needs! ‘i have muscle now too.’

— ‘you’re feeling sharing today, aren’t you?’ you tease. every day, the two of you seem to grow closer and closer. he’s grown far less violent, too — maybe because you’ve grown a lot more willing.

— ‘do i get a reward for being so open?’ he says, ‘maybe let me in your house? i’ll be a good boy, promise.’

— you set your phone down, biting your lip. he’s so charming it’s frustrating. how do you even reply to that? you shift in your seat, rereading the message… how to reply, how to reply!

☆ TRANSLATIONS.

— *”tesero” should translate to darling. i used the masculine form because that’s more gender neutral.

— *”mio amore” should translate to my love.

— *”mon cher” means my dear or my darling.

— *”mon petit ami” means my boyfriend, (literally) my little friend.

— *”ouias” means yes or yeah (a very casual yes).

— *”koshka” should translate to kitten. i like to think he calls reader kitten because of how feisty they are; enough of the “sunflower” pet name in fics!

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thirstywoso · 10 months ago

Text

LESSONS IN PHOTOGRAPHY (PART 4)

Jessie Fleming x Reader 18+

AN: this is shitty, the ending was so rushed but my motivation got lost somewhere on the way. I do have more works coming which will hopefully be better than this one!

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: smut, fingering, strap on use, marking, sucking the strap, again probably more but I can't think

Your finger tips trace over the purpling bruises, feeling the heat rise in your core again as your eyes flicker over to where the camera sits on the side.

That's when a great idea comes to mind.

Heart racing you look at the clock again, surely Jessie wouldn't be back for a little while yet.

Pulling yourself up out of bed you go to where the camera is set up. Removing the SD card and grabbing your laptop from the side you sit back on the bed pulling up the video.

You watched the close up of Jessie as she inched her way towards your dripping and aching core, the memory sending heat waves to the exact same place, only this time you didn't have Jessie to help satisfy those needs.

You then watched as your girlfriend possessively growled the word "mine" into your thigh before making eye contact with you through the screen.

The throbbing between your legs becoming all too much as you snake your hand under the waistband of your panties finding your soaked centre.

Running your fingers through your folds you find your bundle of nerves, tightly circling it with your slick digits. Groaning at the feeling, obviously not as good as Jessie would do it but watching her on the screen sliding her tongue through your folds whilst her nose bumps along your clit made you hotter than ever.

Throwing your head back you push two fingers into your soaking core, your pussy hungrily swallowing your fingers enjoying the delicious stretch they provided.

The feeling so good that you didn't hear the front door open and close downstairs and your pants drowning out the noise of your bedroom door as it creaks open.

It's only when your head snaps forward and eyes shoot open seeing your girlfriend staring down at you as she grabs your hand stilling it.

Too afraid to move the tape keeps playing on your laptop, making it very hard to deny what you were just doing. If not for the video you were watching but the evident sheen of arousal on your fingers that Jessie was now beginning to suck into her waiting mouth.

Swirling her tongue around your digits you couldn't even speak, continuing to stare at her as she pulls your fingers from her mouth with a pop.

Shutting the laptop and putting in on the side she pushes you backwards straddling your waist.

Looking you in the eye as her hand closes around your throat. Gulping and the thick tension that now filled the room. Opening her mouth to speak you had only now realised neither of you had said anything since she entered the room.

"How many times have I told you that I'm the only one that's allowed to touch that pretty pussy?" She asks

"Umm" you swallow.

"Too many, too many times after I have asked you nicely, demanded you, pleaded with you and yet you still disobey me" she pauses for a beat

"What will it take for you to finally listen to me? Huh? Or is that it? You get off on being punished like the filthy little slut that you are?"

Your mouth opens to respond but no rational response comes out

"That's what I thought"

Squeezing down on your neck a little harder her thumb pushing on your chin so you're forced to look up into her eyes.

"I own that pussy, you only cum when I tell you that you can"

"Yes Jessie" you whimper out, mouth agape staring up into her darkened eyes.

"Good" she replied before spitting into your mouth and holding it shut so you swallow.

"Good girl" she says before standing up off the bed.

Removing her clothes as you remove your remaining items which were your sleep shorts and panties.

"Look how wet you are for me already, this is going to be so much fun" she grunts out with want.

Crawling back on top of you her fingers find your wet slick sliding through your folds sending ripples through your lower stomach. No matter how many times you did this with Jessie it always gave you fireworks down below.

Kissing along the column of your neck as she lazily spread you with her digits. A sigh getting caught in your throat as she suckled down on your pulse point, laying seductive kisses, nips and licks along the bruises she had left the night before.

Lacing her free hand with your fingers propping it above your head as she continued her administrations only adding to the marks already littering your skin, the dark purple contrasting with the red. Running out of space to mark she looks up at you.

"Clearly these marks mean nothing to you, I own you and if this isn't enough for you then I'm going to have to claim your chest too" she shrugs at you.

Her mouth then attached to the side of your breast, sucking down hard grazing her teeth along the hot skin, trailing her tongue from one side of your chest to the other. Back and forth littering your skin with hot seething bites and kisses, marking every piece of available skin. Going back over any part she missed, claiming you inch by inch, pulling back she looked down at you grinning.

"Perfect" she whispers.

You sit up slightly looking over at the mirror and can see the way your entire torso is marked up, completely destroyed, absolutely no chance you'd be able to hide any of them.

"Jessie please" you beg.

You get a laugh in response "patience"

You squeeze your legs together trying to pull her fingers deeper in an effort to get some relief, looking down at you with a sadistic grin she removes her fingers and holds your legs apart.

Gazing down between your legs before letting out a guttural moan at the way your arousal coated your thighs.

Transfixed on you, Jessie could barely speak. Mouth agape as she took you in before muttering "I cannot wait to have you cumming down my chin" a promise that you sighed at.

You knew it wasn't going to be easy, she had wanted to punish you for disobeying one of her rules, at least now you knew eventually you'd be getting some pleasure. Which is one of the things that keeps you strong throughout all of her ministrations.

"You are ruining our sheets already, dripping everywhere for me huh?" She asks teasingly

You just nod your head, eyes fixated on hers.

Leaning down to kiss you, she takes your bottom lip between her teeth biting down slightly before soothing it with her tongue, which she then slides into your mouth tangling with your own tonight. Starting out slow and teasing and working up to being a hungry and needy kiss.

She moans into your mouth and you can taste the faint orange of one of her energy gels on her tongue.

Your rake your nails up and down her back, feeling her relax more into the kiss, her already sticky skin pressed tightly against yours.

Some people would probably find it gross but the scent of a sweaty Jessie after she had been training just turned you on even more. Especially when she pushed up off of you on her forearms and you could see the way her muscles flexed under then sheen of sweat.

"Hey, my eyes are up here" she laughs as your eyes slowly trail back up her body to her face.

"S...sorry" you stutter out

"Admiring the view?"

"Of course I am" you say confidently.

With one final peck to your lips Jessie kisses a path of fire down across your chest and abdomen to where you were dripping.

"Maybe I should've put a towel down for you" she laughs before kissing your pubic bone.

Proceeding she kisses everywhere but where you need her, she then looks up at you one last time as your hands find her hair pushing her towards your core.

"Do you not remember what I said to you, I'm the one in control and now you'll have to wait longer"

She then begins kissing around where you need her again as your hands scratch at her scalp, looking up at you she blows gently across your centre before attaching her lips to your swollen puffy clit.

Suckling on you, her arm finding its way around your hips holding them down to the bed as you try and arch your back pushing yourself up into her mouth.

Flattening her tongue along your folds, gently dipping her tongue inside you before running back up towards your clit. Her tongue dancing across your nerves as you tug at her hair, before dipping between your folds and along your entrance.

Groaning at the taste of you on her tongue, slipping inside of you lapping your juices as you dripped down her chin. Grabbing the pillow and holding it over your face biting down to stop yourself from screaming out.

Jessie tearing it from your grip and throwing it to the floor, pulling her mouth away from where you needed her "don't you dare suppress those beautiful noises, I want to hear everything" she says before her middle and forefinger find their way inside you abruptly.

Her mouth returns tongue matching the pace of her thick fingers as they scissor you open, you can't help but clench on her fingers feeling so fucking full of her, trying pull her deeper inside you.

"You look so fucking beautiful the way you take me" she groans into your dripping heat before her teeth graze gently over your clit bringing it into her mouth. Her tongue flicking across the nerves as she continues to hold it between her teeth.

Seconds later you are begging Jessie to let you cum, so badly needing that release that she had promised you.

"I can promise you it won't be that easy" she laughs removing her fingers and shuffling up the bed so she's straddling your abdomen, her fingers slipping past your panting lips so you can clean them of your arousal.

Once she deemed you finished she took them into her own mouth the faint taste of your arousal still evident.

"I think it's time I fuck you properly, I thought what I had given you last night would be enough but clearly not" she rolled her eyes at you.

Jumping off the bed she retrieved the strap on from you en-suite bathroom where it had been left after it was cleaned the night before.

Returning she again straddled you before shifting upwards so she was on your chest, looking down at you with almost black eyes you knew exactly what she wanted and you obliged.

Drawing circles over your lips with the head of her new appendage before dragging it down pulling your bottom lip with it, opening your mouth so that when she pushed forward again the tip found it's way in. You swirl your tongue around opening your mouth wider allowing Jessie to start fucking your throat.

Her head thrown back as you gag and choke on her length, unable to reach up with your arms pinned to your sides by her legs you could do nothing but take the battering your throat was getting.

Your eyes welled with tears as she finally pulls back out of your mouth smiling down at you.

"You're such a good girl, slicking up my cock for me"

She shuffled back down your body before tapping the strap on your already throbbing clit.

Hooking your legs over her shoulders Jessie filled you in one fluid motion, a cry falling from your lips and an urgent groan from hers. Kissing you as she pulled back and re-entered you speeding up each time.

Holding herself up on her muscular arms she looked down into your eyes, boring into your soul you had to look away. The intensity of Jessie's gaze all too much as you felt yourself become full and the empty repeatedly.

Grabbing your face she twisted it to look at her "eyes on mine whilst I fuck you pretty girl, this pussy is mine"

She continued to jackhammer into you, her legs out straight on her tiptoes to get the angle just right as she slammed her way home. The tip of her cock hitting just the right places as you walls were stroked perfectly, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Play with your clit for me, show me just how good you touch yourself seeing as you like it so much" you are quick to snake your hand between your legs ferociously rubbing at your clit until one last thrust of Jessie's sends you over the edge.

"You're fucking mine and I hope you know that"

Nodding at Jessie as you refrain your breath "Yes Jess"

Flopping down next to you spent from her day of training and her multiple workouts with you.

Cuddling into her side you sigh in contentment ad you both drift off.

#woso #woso x reader #jessie fleming #jflem #wofo #woso imagine #portland thorns #women's football #women's soccer #canwnt #woso smut #jessie fleming smut #jessie fleming fic #jessie fleming imagine #woso fanfics

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

A Guiding Hand 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won't let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: surprise double chapters!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You lay in the dim glow of your laptop, the screen saver swooshing back and forth, giving light to the dark. You’re limned it its idleness, in a similarly inert state. You blink, eyes dry and raw, your head pounding. Your back and shoulder pang with your inactivity as you lay on your stomach, neck twisted to one side.

Your vision is static and fuzzy, the air humming. You groan and drag an arm up, the effort alone like lifting a boulder. The world is distant and desolate. There is nothing beyond those four walls.

A chime comes from your laptop. You stare at the curtain, darkness along the borders. It’s night time already. Or again. You don’t know. You lost count of the hours, rather, days.

You roll over and peer at the abyss above. The ceiling is similarly shrouded in shadows, the corners clustered with darkness. Your head spins at the effort of your movement. Your tongue is starchy and sticky from neglect. You cough and sit up, nearly falling back against your pillow.

You don’t want to be awake. It’s so much easier to sleep. Nothing makes sense in your dreams but everything is awful in real life.

You push yourself to the edge of the bed and reach for the plastic cup of stagnant water. You sip from the brim and a slam brings you back into focus. Your hand shakes and you clack the cup back on the table, turning to watch the wall as chaos erupts on the other side.

“Goddamn, Irene, get off of me. I ain’t tellin’ ya again,” the holler rolls through like thunder. “Fuckin’ skank.”

Your eyes round as your ears ring. You cover them and back up to cower against the headboard. Your lip trembles as you hear a crash followed by the shatter of glass.

“We were having fun, sweetheart,” your mother’s desperate yawl comes over the patter of her feet, “don’t go so soon, please, baby.”

“Why you actin’ like a goddamn whore?” The man snarls and you hear your mother whimper. You sniffle as you fold yourself up and push your chin down against your knee, shielding your head as if it’s you taking the blow.

“I--” your mother snivels, “I just wanna love you, hon.”

You close your eyes. Lee huffs and stomps past your door, his shadow flickering beneath. He’s just another in a line of men your mother brings around; each one as angry as the last. It always starts the same; at first, they’re nice, then you hear how they change.

“I’m too damn tired and it’s too damn late. I’ll be back when you get your head screwed on,” he retorts and hits the wall, making you jump again as the springs of your bed squeak. “And you’re a goddamn mother... should know better...”

You crouch in fear, locked up as you listen through the wall. You hear him moving around as your mother begs him to stay. You press your hands to your ears so you can’t make out her words. The front door of the apartment snaps shut and quaver out a breath.

You wait until you hear your mother retreat, herself crying, and the clink of a glass comes shortly after. You wipe your face and lift your head slowly. You won’t be able to sleep, not with your heart racing like this.

It takes all your strength to crawl across the bed and put your feet to the floor. Your stench clings to your unwashed clothes. You haven’t changed in a couple days at least. You can barely remember the last time you left your room.

You sit down in front of your computer. The metal seat of the folding chair is hard and cold, even through your pants. You squiggle your fingers over the touchpad of the outdated laptop, as thick as a book.

The screen wakes up and you key in your passcode with one finger. The wallpaper comes up, the colours stinging your eyes, and you squint as you adjust to the glare. You tap on the envelope icon to open your inbox.

At least a dozen unread emails clutter the folder. Reminders and notifications automated by your obligations and inactivity. You scroll through and delete the messages telling you to submit your assignment and noting several missed tests. At the very top, the latest of the bunch, is from a person.

Your heart sinks as you see the name and the subject line. Professor Raymond Smith, Attn: Overdue Work. God. You clutch your head and your eyes tinge once more. You don’t have enough moisture to summon any more tears. Your head pulses and your eyes itch but you can’t cry.

You shudder and make yourself look at the screen. You hover your hand over the mousepad and make yourself tap. Just one quick touch and the message opens.

The professor greets you by name. You want to dissolve into nothing. It’s easy to just be a student number on a screen but now he picks you out of the bunch and you know exactly why. You haven’t logged into the learning site in a week or more. You haven’t been able to make yourself.

‘It has come to my notice that your last tasks have gone unsubmitted. As your instructor, I am obligated to check in to see whether I can expect these assignments to be submitted for grading. As well, I would offer any support necessary for you to do so.

Please respond to this email at your convenience so we might rectify this situation. You may also schedule a meeting through my calendar linked in my signature.

Best Regards,

Professor Smith’

You cringe. How do you explain to him that this always happens? That you’re just a failure?

This was supposed to be different, but just like everything, you blew it. You thought that you could make this work. You remember the day you got your acceptance; the program is manageable and you can do it all online. You thought you were getting better but your mom stopped refilling your script and you stopped caring.

You sit, blindly staring at the screen. For an hour, maybe more, caught between shame and sadness. You can’t just run away from another thing. You take a breath and raise your hands over the keyboard. It’s just letters on a screen.

Dear Pro

Hello Professor

I apologize for not submitting my work. I will not be able to complete this course due to mental health personal reasons.

Thank you.

You read and re-read. You guess it’s good enough? You don’t know. Whatever. Just another poor excuse.

You hit send and you peek at the time. You look at the original email. It’s a bit strange the instructor would email that late. You delete the email and go back to bed, hiding under the blanket. Typical, just another stupid idea.

📓

Your head throbs as you wake up. You’ve slept too much. Nothing different than usual but you haven’t left bed for more than a couple minutes at a time. Your skull feels ready to cave in and swells with each movement.

You get up, stumbling as you find your bearings, shuffling to your door and into the hall. You go into the bathroom. It’s a mess, like usual. Your mother’s clothes are on the floor and a man’s razor is on the edge of the sink. Is he here again?

You relieve yourself and flush, washing your hands then your face. You should probably shower while you’re in there. You lift your arm and confirm the need. You stink and your clothes are damp with your sweat.

You undress and crank on the faucet. You step into the grimy booth behind the counter as the water splashes down cold and slowly warms in the whining pipes. You shiver and let it cleanse you as much as it can.

You squeeze out some of the discount soap that smells like a hospital and scrub yourself as the air steams around you. You hear an odd creak then the plastic of the toilet seat hitting the porcelain tank. What the heck?

You grab the edge of the curtain and peek around it, smearing lather along the plastic. It’s opaque enough to blue your silhouette but not completely hide you. That man, Lee, belches as he holds his dick and pisses. He looks over and smirks.

“Ah, sorry, darling, didn’t know you were in here,” he chuckles and turns straight, leaning to brace the wall as he sighs, “goddamn, my balls are tight.”

You pop back behind the curtain and grimace. Ew. It’s not the first time you’ve had an awkward run in with one of your mother’s suitors, for lack of a better term, but no less jarring than any other. You shut off the water and back up, reaching past the other end of the curtain to grab the towel.

Something closes around your wrist and has you yelping. You cling to the curtain, staying behind it as Lee tugs on you.

“Don’t needa be shy, darlin’,” he tries to drag you out, “doubt it’s much different than your mama.”

You try to yank back but he’s too strong. You slip and barely save yourself as you grab onto the towel bar. You cry out, “let go! Please!”

He squeezes and you wince, pressed against the curtain as your knees buckle. Your soles are slippery on the wet tile. You whine and whimper, heart pounding in your chest.

There’s a knock at the door and he lets you go. You quickly pull free the towel and hide in the shower to wrap your body in it. You don’t think it’s clean.

“Everything okay?” The door groans with your mother’s entry.

“Ah, I’m just tryna piss and your daughter’s making all sorts of fuss,” he scoffs and flushes the toilet, “like she ain’t never seen a real man before.”

“Oh, Lee, you shoulda let her finish--”

“What’s the big deal, she was in the shower,” he deflects, “you know I ain’t her for that brat.”

You pant and lean against the wall, veins coursing with adrenaline. Your mother grumbles as they leave. You feel the draught of the open door and warily sidle out from behind the curtain. You gather your clothes and check that the coast is clear and find your way back to your room.

You pull on a fresh hoodie and your least dirty pair of sweats. You need to do laundry desperately. You need to do a lot of things. Your computer bings as if to agree with that sentiment.

You sit down at the table and stare at your laptop. The folding plastic thing has barely enough room for that and your notebook. You sigh. All you do is sigh. Everything is just a disappointment. You have nothing but trash around you and you fit right in.

You open the lid and login. You could watch that play through of the new fantasy game you can’t afford. Or you just break that damn thing. You have an email.

You don’t click on it right away. Instead, you scroll through a subreddit on an obscure television show you streamed on Youtube. All the posts are years old and the place is dead. If you’re good at anything, it’s avoidance.

Finally, your anxiety knots tight enough for you to do something. You close your browser and open Outlook. You make a strange noise as you see the response to the email you sent days ago. Or by your estimation. You scratch your neck until the skin burns.

You work at deleting the spam from your inbox before you’re forced to face the Re:

You click and read with trepidation. Again, the professor addresses you by name.

‘I understand that you are dealing with personal obligations. Considering how far we are in this course, I would like to allow you the opportunity to complete it successfully. If the current workload is too much, we can discuss alternatives to meet the learning objectives.

I would prefer that we have this conversation face-to-face. If you would like explore your options, please use the link below to meet with me on Tuesday at noon. Please confirm here and I look forward to meeting and speaking with you then.

Also let me know if I can do anything else.

Professor Smith’

You want to melt into nothing. You want to evaporate from existence. You want to just keel over and die. How embarrassing!

You want to delete it a forget. You want to say now and through everything away. You want to go back to how you’ve always been. You want to be a slug in the dirt. You want to stop hoping because it only ever ends like this.

But you can’t. You hit the trash button but then you can’t help but stretch your fingertips between CTRL and Z. The message reappears and you read it again and again and again. It feels like this is the moment. This is the big decision you make; is your life always going to be like this or are you going to try?

You hit reply.

‘Thank you, Professor Smith. I will meet you on Tuesday. I appreciate your understanding and I will do better.’

Your eyes blur as you move the cursor over the little arrow. You take a breath and tap your fingertips. That’s that, then.

#raymond smith #a guiding hand #dark raymond smith #dark!raymond smith #professor au #the gentlemen #raymond smith x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series

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tinybeetiny · 8 months ago

Text

Priorities: K.H

Toxic!HongjoongXReader

I guess this can technically be toxic Hongjoong. As usually this is not I how I think he actually is. I literally love this man so freaking much 🥹 we’re both Scorpios ssoooo anyways enjoy the angst

If you would like to be a part of the taglist please fill out this form

Cw: Gaslighting,

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist

They way he never put you first, ever. “Sorry love I can’t make tonight’s date. I have to finish a few songs but I’ll make it up to you next time” he says putting his phone on the desk turning his focus back on the screen of the laptop “you said that the past 8 times Joong” you sigh standing up from the table you’ve been sitting at for 45 minutes “I’m busy (Y/N) you know this. My job is really important and requires a lot of time” he said running hand through his hair “I’m important too you know. I can’t remember the last time I actually got to see you and not on the phone. I’m just getting tired” you say, your voice dropping at the end. It’s quiet for a couple minutes and you’re sure that he’s not even paying attention anymore “Hongjoong?” You hear him sigh “look (y/n) I’m sorry but I’m busy I can’t do this right now, we’ll talk later” he rushed out before hanging up leaving you to stare blankly at your phone.

A few days had passed since that night and you have yet to see Hongjoong let alone hear from him, not even a text. You debated on texted him knowing he’s busy and didn’t want to cause an argument. But he’s your boyfriend, you should be able to see and talk to him and not have to feel hesitant about it. You’re about to hit the call button when you hear a knock on the door. Through the peephole you see your very tired looking boyfriend standing on the other side on his phone. He looks up as he hears you opening the door. You give him a small smile as you step aside to let him in, he takes off his shoes and makes his way to your couch slumping down tiredly.

“So how are the songs coming along?” You ask as you sit next to him “it was tiring but I think I made good progress” he said turning his to look at you, his eyes looking empty. You missed the way he used to look at you. You missed when he treated you like someone he actually wanted to be around. You miss him. “That’s good! I’m sure the guys are going to be happy with it” you say trying to smile “they are, we started recording yesterday which surprisingly didn’t take long so we just hung around the dorm the rest of the day” he says sleepily while shutting his eyes. You felt a slight pang in your heart hearing that. He didn’t think to even send you little text any time after they got home “I figured you were busy the whole day since I didn’t hear from you” you watch him frown without opening his eyes “I just needed a break from screens and wanted to be alone for a little bit” he shrugs as if it were not big deal.

You really didn’t want to argue with him especially when he looked so tired but you didn’t know when you’d have another opportunity to be face to face with him like this. Taking a deep breath you just it all out “you know I haven’t seen you in almost a month. We haven’t had an actual engaging conversation in 2 weeks. I can’t even remember the last time we went on a date. It doesn’t even feel like a I have boyfriend. I understand you’re busy with work but I haven’t heard from you in THREE days Joong, I couldn’t even get a single text from you and to hear that you weren’t even busy the entire time feels like such a slap to the face. I don’t understand. If I did something to make you act like this towards me please let me know because I don’t know what to do anymore” you expressed crossing your arms and standing, waiting for his response

“I understand you’re upset but this is my work, what I do for a living, what I love, it’s a lot of hard work and time. I really don’t want to keep having these useless conversations over and over. Ateez is my priority and I have to focus on that above anything else” he says sitting up staring at you. You really don’t know what to say with what he just said, he basically said you’re not a priority to him and if that’s the case then what’s the point of this. Fight the tears that are building in your eyes you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

You turn away from him so he doesn’t see the hot tears rolling down your cheeks “I don’t want to do this anymore” you sniffle, you hear him stand up and make his way to you “me neither. I don’t like these little confrontations” you feel him wrap his arms around you making your heart break even more. “No. I don’t want to do this relationship anymore” you cried as you pushed him away “It’s obvious I’m not important to you and it already feels like we aren’t together so why don’t we just end it here” he stares at your for a few seconds to see if you’re joking, waiting for the ‘just kidding babe, I love you so much’ but it doesn’t come. He stares at your tear stained face. He scoffs crossing his arms “you’re upset right now, why don’t we talk when you’ve had time to calm down and think” he says grabbing his things. He stops when he hears you laugh bitterly “that’s actually really funny because I have had more than enough to think about this and we should’ve broken up a while ago” he starts to panic once he realized you’re being 100000% serious “you can’t be serious. Look love I’m sorry okay, I know I’ve been busy and neglecting you but I’ll make it up to you I promise. Let’s go out now, I can take you wherever you want to go” he rushed back in front of you but you just shook your head tired of the circles “I can’t do this anymore Joong” you whispered “Please don’t this (y/n) please. I swear I will find more time for you” he begged feeling his own tears gathering “I’m sorry, I’ve made up my mind” you say turning away from him

“You’re really going to throw this all away? Just like that? I told you what you were getting into when we got together but you were so insistent on making it work” somehow he turned it on you making it your fault for not wanting to make this work or wanting to stay in a relationship you were no longer happy in. Anger bubbled inside of you because how dare he. How. Fucking. Dare. He. Taking a calming breath as you try not to explode you stare him dead in eyes and see nothing. No love. No adoration. No anger. No hurt

“I think it’s best if you leave Hongjoong” he does nothing but stare at you for a minute before making his way to the door, grabbing his shoes, not even bothering to put them on and walking out.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez angst #kim hongjoong #ateez kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #ateez captain #captain hongjoong #hongjoong angst #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n

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hearts4mxlay · 5 months ago

Text

What’s the matter, baby? ♡

☆ ~andrew’s had a hard day.

୨୧ · · “Send me kisses when it’s grey skies.” · · ୨୧

“Finally…”

puffed out by yours truly after a long day of work.

He stepped inside setting his bag down and closing the door, the cold air hitting his wet face. The forecast didn’t even hint at rain when Andrew checked this morning, the walk from the museum to the parking lot already had him soaked. The car ride back home was silent, except for the drumming of the rain against the car. To add another layer when he called out for you, there was no response.

“Darling?”

silence.

taking his shoes off he walked further into the apartment, that’s when he started to hear the faint talking coming from the tv; and there you were, knocked out on the couch, laptop still open, pen in hand and all.

Andrew began tapping his foot taking in the sight of you sleeping, somehow it felt like his day was still going off the deep end …but why..

He decided to leave you be, just take a nice hot shower… he should feel better then right?

The day was just filled with gloom, the skies constantly grey from the random pour of rain, and Andrew’s day keeping the same theme of shit.

Maybe it was because he had to rush out the house this morning? Maybe it was the lack of sleep the night previous, his empty stomach…the rain drenching him on the way home or… possibly it’s his clearly overworked lover asleep in the other room..speaking of which he never got to speak or even get his kiss goodbye this morning.

“Andrew?” Darling broke the silence that Andrew had been sitting in since he got out the shower.

“sorry I hadn’t heard you come in, I was tired pretty much all day…but im here now,” stepping closer, his face came more into view.

“yeah I saw..I didn’t want to wake you though, you probably needed it.” his voice somewhat dry, he continued to look down at the ground as he sat on his side of the bed.

“What’s the matter, baby?” you questioned approaching his side.

“you didn’t wake me before you left and you never even called me today. Are you alright?” you asked giving him a kiss on the cheek

Andrew turned his attention to you in response to the kiss, a slight smile on his face.

“my apologies Darling, today was…definitely something, but I feel better now,” Andrew leaned over giving you a kiss, he felt 100 times better now, it showed through his wide smile.

Letting out a slight laugh “Is that all you needed? a kiss?” you teased

“Possibly..”

Ok I hate this, do yall fw it 😶

♡ xoxo

#andrew marston #sakuverse #zsakuva #hearts4mxlay

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unforced3rr0r · 2 months ago

Text

THE DEAL || CA

————————————————————————

pt. 2, (previous part)

summary: Carlos hated having a PR manager, especially one who was his age. Convincing her to leave was the best plan he'd ever had, but what happens when he realises he doesn't want her to go?

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warning: diabolical tension

a/n: this is kind of all over the place because I’m trying to build up enough foundation before the tournament starts. I hope you like it (please tell me how much you like it, I need validation)

MASTERLIST

You sat in an uncomfortable silence typing away on your laptop. In your peripheral, you could see the Spaniard slowly moving to lie down on the sofa from his seated position.

"Don't fall asleep." A frustrated grunt came from Carlos as he repositioned himself slightly resting his head against the back of the sofa.

"Okay and if they ask you about potentially facing Djokovic?" Your eyes watched the screen intently scanning the prospective questions on your laptop.

"I tell them I've beaten him before and I believe I can again, especially with my new serve and resetting over the break." His tone was dull and his eyes watched the ceiling.

"Perfect, any questions about the back end of last season or concentration just try to redirect and talk about the work you've been doing over the break." Carlos nodded, scrutinising you're every movement with his gaze.

You wrote down notes that you could send Carlos on everything you'd been discussing. You leaned back against the sofa, gently falling into the cushions as you moved to sit cross-legged.

Carlos' eyes observed you as you intently stared at the screen, "D'you get bored doing this?" Your eyes flitted to the Spaniard briefly for the first time since you began going over questions,

"What do you mean?" You returned to doing work, shaking your head at the silly question as you watched the time in the corner of your screen tick by.

You were desperate to get this done so you could return to your room and sleep, doing your best to ignore the looming tension of the deal you had earlier agreed to.

"I get bored at you asking me questions, and I'm the player. Don't you get bored of writing up answers and managing my media presence?" You paused briefly, the condescending tone grating on you. You met the brown eyes that hadn't left your frame.

"I love my job, I get to see behind the sports in a way no one else does. Plus I'm good at it." He looked sceptically,

"I'd rather play." You shook your head in amusement, finishing up the final question.

"Unfortunately we can't all be professional tennis players Alcaraz." He smirked at your response, getting up off the sofa and heading to the kitchen area.

You emailed the Spaniard the work you'd done the evening, finally closing your laptop and letting relief flood your body.

"Luckily for you, we're done for the evening. I'd like some pyjamas and then I'll get out of your way." You stood up moving slightly towards the door, begging to leave the company of the man who held you with such contempt.

"Gracias a Dios" (Thank god) His thankful tone stung slightly, envying the time when your clients enjoyed your company, and you'd stay long after the work was done due to the friendships you had founded.

He disappeared down the corridor and you stood by the door awkwardly. The night had ended up being the easiest day you'd had since you started, and all it took was promising Carlos you'd quit.

You knew the next issue would be telling his team and Juan Carlos would no doubt try to convince you to stay. But the thought of enjoying your job again loomed in the back of your mind and pushed you forward.

Just over two weeks. That's all you had to get through and now with Carlos actually cooperating it should've been simpler.

You checked the time and the massive 00:00 glared at you on the screen. It was a busy day tomorrow that involved you waking up with the sun and the dream of a full eight hours sleep has slipped from your grasp.

Just as you began to mentally plan for the content and work you needed to do tomorrow, Carlos reappeared his 6-foot stature looming over you.

"I don’t have pyjamas, so this is just some joggers and a t-shirt." He handed you the clothing, his hand brushing yours which jolted through your nervous system. In the last six hours, you'd been closer to the Spaniard in the entirety of your time working for him.

You avoided the brown eyes looking down at you, taking the items and moving towards the door. "That should be fine."

You walked to the door, reaching for the handle and standing in the open doorway. Just before stepping out into the hallway, you turned to face the Spaniard, shooting him a small smile that he didn't return.

"See you tomorrow Alcaraz." He nodded and the door closed in front of you.

Defeated you trudged back to your room, slipping into the far too big-for-you shirt and joggers that the Spaniard had lent you. They were bathed in his cologne and the musky scent filled your nostrils as you climbed into bed.

As you lay there waiting for sleep to hit you, you thought of what this job would've been like had Carlos not hated you from the outset.

Watching him play was magnificent and you wanted to be a part of the team that helped him achieve greatness, not to mention his Spanish charm had won over so many.

Every cold glance he gave you cut deeper and as you drifted off to sleep you were haunted by the way he had looked at you the first time you met.

...

The sun beat down on the outdoor courts. You watched Alcaraz move diligently from edge to edge of the light blue tarmac. The heat permeated through your body as the light summer dress you wore did nothing to alleviate the temperature.

You gaze fixated on the Spaniard's taut muscles and how he slid to seemingly effortlessly receive the ball. You had your phone up, taking photos and videos to go on Instagram later, but really you found yourself distracted by each noise that left his lips.

Your sunglasses rested lazily on the edge of your nose, and as Carlos' arms hit the ball over and over, your eyes watched his biceps carefully.

You understood why he had a flock of women watching his every move, his physique and tennis ability pulling so many in. Then there was his annoying smile.

The ball hit Juanki's torso with Carlos letting out a loud laugh that echoes through your mind. Carlos looked to his team who also laughed over the moment and his eyes flickered to you.

When he saw that your eyes were already on him, he smirked. A smug look took over his face and he shot you a wink, your face turned red and you quickly moved your gaze back to your phone.

You sent the photo to Carlos and picked up your bag, heading onto the court.

"Alcaraz, interview time let's get going." The clock was ticking down and media day was calling, with Alcaraz lined up for a fairly full day of pre-tournament interviews.

"cinco minutos más." (five more minutes.) The Spaniard called to you calmly as he continued hitting the ball back and forth across the court.

"Alcaraz. Now. We're already late." Carlos rolled his eyes, Juan Carlos telling him to go. The Spaniard headed towards you, the smile long gone replaced with his usual grimace.

"Disfruta la vista allá atrás" (Enjoy the view back there?) he taunted, his large hands reaching down to grab his tennis bag that was by your feet.

While he bent down to grab the bag, he brushed your side, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his arms brush yours. Then leaning into your ear as he stood back up. "You were blushing."

"I was doing my job, you know, filming content for you. Plus it's hot out here, I was just flushed." Your tone stood strong, but your eyes were telling a different story. Your body was covered in goosebumps, the bench behind you stopping you from stepping away.

He finally took a step away, which allowed your shoulders to fall in ease. He began to walk off with the same smug look as before back on his face, "¿No tenemos una entrevista a la que llegar?" (Don't we have an interview to get to?)

You shook your head, annoyance for the man filling your body. Not only was he being difficult, but now he'd resorted to teasing and taunting which was somehow worse than his angry indifference.

You turned to face Juanki as you began walking off the court behind Alcaraz, mouthing 'I'm going to kill him' which elicited a laugh from the coach.

"Have fun you two!" He called out and was met with two frustrated groans. Carlos stood at the exit waiting for you to catch up and began trudging behind you.

Walking through the grounds, he smiled, waved, and took pictures with the multitude of fans who spotted him. You'd silently stand to the side or offer to take the photo when needed.

The consistent stopping slowed you down, but you didn't mind when you saw the giddy smile of every fan's face as they met with Carlos' warm demeanour.

You eventually made it to the conference room. Before stepping into the room, you grabbed Carlos' arm, pulling him out of the doorway. He turned to face you, his eyes analysing your fingers wrapped around his bicep.

As his gaze focused on your hand, you pulled away as if his skin had burned you. "Sorry. I just wanted to remind you of everything we went over. This is just pre-tournament chatter so you should be okay."

"I've got it. Why won't you just let me do it." His tone was sharp and you rolled your eyes, your arms crossing in front of your chest in annoyance.

"It's not that I think you can't do it, I just want to help." Carlos took a step back from you, scoffing at your plea.

"Well I don't need your help." He left your side, walking into the room before you had a chance to respond. You threw your hands up in pure frustration, but the Spaniard had his back to you so the action was mostly for yourself.

You moved inside the room and sat down in the front row, ready to take notes.

The questions started light and easy, talking about the Spaniards off-season, the changes to his serve, the added weight in his racket. He answered the questions diligently, following everything you'd been through the night before.

You couldn't help but smile as he answered perfectly time and time again, showing you how easy this job could've been and subsequently how needlessly painful the Spaniard had been making it.

But then it fell apart. The questions began to get more pointed. More trying, asking him about losing to Jannik, losing to players outside the top 20, another year of struggles at the US Open. Then the straw that broke the camel's back came.

"So Carlos, your performance declined rapidly at the back end of last year, especially after your loss to Novak in the Olympics. How does that affect your mentality coming into Australia knowing you could face him?"

Shit. You knew you'd prepared Carlos for the question but you also knew how painful the Olympics loss had been. You knew how he was dreading facing Novak and you knew by the look in his eye that he was caught off guard by the question.

Your breath shallowed while you tried to stay calm as he sat there looking from the interviewer to you, the unease clearly written on his features.

"Um." He paused, he caught your gaze and you tried to send him a reassuring look. He looked down to his hands, lifting his head to meet the interviewers' gaze.

"I think to say my performance declined rapidly is stupid." Shit. Your head fell into your hands and you held back an audible groan. Some in the press conference laughed but Carlos didn't join in.

"I also beat Novak at Wimbledon, so maybe he should be the one scared to face me, no?" The room fell into a tense silence. The stone cold look on Carlos' face put off any follow up questions.

Carlos stood up, his demeanour clearly agitated, ringing his hands at his sides. He left the room and didn't slow down for you like he usually did. You quickly left, thanking the interviewers and apologising for Carlos before you rushed after him.

"Alcaraz, wait!" He didn't turn around, instead turning a corner and disappearing out of sight. You turned the corner and found him resting against the wall, shoulders slumped and hands covering his face.

"What was that?!" You stood in front of him and he pulled his hands from his face.

"Oh come on Y/N, He was out of line!" Carlos raised his voice in frustration, a clear sign of how much the interviewer had got to him.

"And we had prepared answers, you didn't need to be an asshole about it." You rested on the other side of the hallway, your annoyed facade matching the Spaniard's.

"You have no idea what it's like to sit there and have everything you do, questions and torn apart." Carlos stood up straight, closing the distance between you with his angry ranting.

"Maybe I don’t, but I do know what it's like to have to deal with you being an asshole." His face was mere metres from yours. Your hands moved to rest on his chest as he moved his mouth down to your ear.

"Then it's a good thing you won't have to for much longer, isn't it?" His spiteful tone sent a cold chill down your spine as his hand slid to your waist.

"Counting down the days Alcaraz." His breath hit your neck and you snapped, pushing away the tennis player's large figure. He had a smirk on his face as he stumbled back slightly.

You moved away from him, turning away from him quickly and storming away from the interaction. Your heart was racing and your chest was pounding, unable to sense if it was blinding rage or maybe something else.

————————————————————————

taglist: @kcharlyy @champagnecoastca

#Did this eat?#I actually can't look at it anymore #this too way longer than it should've #i'm ready to get to the tournament now #I hope people liked it or i'll cry #carlos alcaraz #tennis #alcaraz #carlitos #atp tennis #carlos alcaraz fluff #carlitos smut #carlos alcaraz angst #carlos alcaraz smut #please tell me it’s good #the urge to make it not a slow burn is so strong

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builtbybrokenbells · 1 year ago

Text

CAPITAL VICES | GREED

Greed: an intense and selfish desire for something

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, semi public sex, pretty public sex briefly 😭, quickies, fingering (f!receiving), sir kink, lots of dirty talk, touch of degradation, touch of praise, lots of flirting, teasing, cum play I suppose?, name calling, mentions of toxic relationships, brief mentions of abuse/abusive relationships, mentions of cheating, drinking, swearing, fluff, sorry if i miss any!

hi!! i got internet today and finally finished this up. so happy to get back into the swing of things. my second roommate finally moved in and life seems pretty okay for once. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻 also this chapter is a wholeee lot, some fluff, lots of filth, and for once, not really much angst!! (Lightly edited too, my apologies)

😈: Call me?

The text tone rang through the air, immediately breaking your focus from the screen of your laptop. You read over the message a few times, hating that it immediately prompted a rush of emotion straight through you. It was despicable that he had so much power over you by simply existing, and the fact that he barely said a word made it all the worse. Perhaps the most incriminating notion of it all was that you were ready to drop everything you were doing in exchange for a moment of conversation with him. Instead of feeding into the temptation, you typed back a simple response.

You: Busy.

The read receipt immediately sold him out, letting you know that he was sitting in the chat awaiting your response. Somehow, he knew you wouldn’t comply. It was a tell tale story, him giving you an order and you doing whatever you could to ignore it. Eventually, he got his way, but you did always seem to put in a good effort. Within seconds, his name lit up your screen with an incoming call. You rolled your eyes, debating on whether to answer or decline. After a few moments of awkward staring, you hit the green button. Before you could even utter a greeting, he was already speaking.

“What’s got you so tied up that you can’t talk, angel?” He asked, the sultry tone immediately sending a wave of butterflies through your stomach.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Jacob.” You snipped, setting your phone down beside you on the table. After a moment of silence, the vibrations began again, showcasing his request for a video call. This time, he really did begin to get on your nerves. Reluctantly, you accepted. “You’re needy today.” You rattled off the astute observation in an attempt to get under his skin, but it did not seem to bother him. He remained silent instead of spewing out a counter argument, looking a bit tense as he studied the screen. “Christ, what is your problem?” You asked, propping your phone up against your laptop screen.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked again, relaxing once he’d recognized the familiar paintings hanging on the wall of your bedroom.

“Working.” You said, biting down on the inside of your lip as you zoomed in on the photograph you were editing. Your eyes flickered back to your phone, the sight of his face nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. “I, uh, I’m just working on some wedding pictures.” You found it difficult to keep your rigid exterior when your eyes connected with his, the soft brown immediately warming your cold expression. “Why the video call? Worried there’s another guy in my bed?” He let out a chuckle, but did not deny the accusation. You knew that’s exactly why he called, but he refused to admit to his jealous tendencies. Although there was no relationship between you two, it was quite apparent that the two of you were only concerned with seeing each other.

“It’s nearly six; why are you still working?”

“Just want to finish these up. I’ve had them for a couple weeks now, and I usually don’t like to keep them this long.” You explained, touching up the lighting in the background of the photo. “Someone has been distracting me.”

“I wonder who that is?” He smirked, happy for the recognition.

“Yeah, I wonder.” You rolled your eyes. “Is that why you called? Looking for some late night entertainment?”

“You always think the worst of me, darling.” He smiled, rustling with something off camera. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“You know you don’t have to compliment your way into my bed.” You glanced at your phone, noticing his eyes lingering over you as you spoke.

“Maybe I just wanted to be nice.” He offered, knowing that his compliment had nothing to do with his desire for sex. You were both aware that all he had to do was show up and he would get exactly what he wanted, but it was more than that to him. He liked to call things as they were, and if that meant flattery in any sense, he was more than happy to dish it out.

“You? Being nice?” You raised an eyebrow, unbelieving that the compliment was without any deeper significance. Even after days full of sweet words, you still had difficulty trusting that he was sincere rather than doing all he could to keep you on his hook.

“Oh, shut up.” He dismissed you. “What are you doing in an hour?” Your eyes flickered to the clock in response to his question.

“Well, that depends if you mean exactly an hour from now. At 6:47, I’ll probably still be sitting here working, but at 7, I’ll be cozying up with a bottle of wine, wondering when you’ll come knocking on my door.” He laughed at your need for theatrics, finding your wit incredibly alluring.

“How about at 6:30, you have your hair done and put on a pretty little dress, and at 6:45, you answer the door and let me take you to the bar for a few drinks?” He offered, unwilling to take no for an answer.

“Why would I come with you to the bar when I can get drunk at home?” You questioned, already knowing that you would obey his wish and be waiting for him well before he arrived. It still proved plenty of fun to push his buttons, and you couldn’t resist. “It would be much more peaceful; I wouldn’t have to listen to you all night.”

“You’d love to listen to me all night, don’t fool yourself.” He brushed you off. “I know I’d love to listen to you all night.” His tone dropped as he added the second part, letting you know that conversation was not something he was expecting to come from your mouth by the end of the evening.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You rolled your eyes. “Why waste your money on drinks when you can come fuck me right now?” You posed the idea, hoping that he might comply with the request so you didn’t have to waste time dressing up. It was a fruitless endeavor anyway, knowing that when he got his hands on you, the dress would be long forgotten and your makeup would be ruined.

“Because I’m going to the bar with my brothers, angel, and I’d really like it if you came, too.��

“That seems awfully domestic.” You muttered. “Meeting the family definitely isn’t my definition of casual.”

“It’s my definition of friends.” He argued. “Besides, you’ve already met Josh. I know you’ll have a great time.” You heaved a long sigh, saving your work and facing the phone fully. He gave you a smile when he noticed your attention was focused on him.

God, how he loved to be the center of attention.

“Then I’ll take you home,” he explained, making sure you were listening carefully “and I’ll fuck that attitude out of you, all night long.” Your cheeks dusted pink at his vulgarity. Although you had effectively said the same thing, it always seemed dirtier coming from his lips. “Sound like a deal?”

“6:45, Jacob. Don’t be late.” You warned.

“For you? Never.” He smirked, ending the call with no formal goodbye. You sat for a moment, shaking your head at the strength in which he affected you. Without any further debate, you closed your laptop and stood from your chair, making your way to the bathroom to hop in the shower.

It had been about three weeks since the fateful night at the bar left you tangled in Jake Kiszka’s web. Three weeks of constant certainty that the two of you would remain solely connected through intimacy but neglect any romantic feelings. It was working out well, but your excessive indulgence had been pushing boundaries of greed since the first night you met. Now, it was uncommon for you to spend a night without being immersed in him, whether than be at your own home or at his. Your bed smelled like him and his memory was embedded in the fabric of your pillowcases. And in your shower, and your kitchen counter, and even your living room furniture. There was no part of your home that was free from the mark of his memory, and even if you tried to convince yourself to hate it, you knew it was there to stay.

There was not a surface in your household that was free of his touch, and not a fiber of your being that was free of his deadly charm. He had a hold on you stronger than anything you had felt before, and it was welcomed, even if you refused to admit it to him. Jake’s company was fantastic, and the fact that you could indulge in it without worry of further commitment or heartbreak was comforting. He was not in love, and neither were you, and you were both content with the knowledge that you did not have the intent to be with each other in such a way.

He had become your friend despite your reluctance to accept it. On top of that, he’d become the very thing that haunted every thought and dream that crossed your mind. You were a woman gone mad, desperate for a hint of attention and begging for the grace of his hands. The concupiscent nature between you was near embarrassing to choke down, and the strength in which you felt for him was incomprehensible. You needed Jake in the same way a starving man needs food, and the pleasure that he gave you had long surpassed a need for survival; sometimes, it felt as though it was the very thing that your being was put on earth to receive. Pleasing him went hand in hand for all he gave to you, and you were fine knowing that the two coincided with perfect unity.

He was placed in your life for many reasons, and sometimes you believed none of them were good, but you knew that you would go to the ends of the earth to reward him for the service he provided you. It was a relationship built from sin, yet even the barren depths of hell could not scare you away from him, because an eternity filled with suffering would be worth the moment of euphoria you felt at his hands. He was the devil, and you were the worshipper that in turn, gave him all of his power. He would be nothing if you were not feeding in to him, but the chains that bound you to him were so tight that they had fused to your skin. It was a vicious cycle that both of you were aware of, yet cared little about freeing yourself from it.

Love, although not something that you wanted to admit to, seemed to be creeping up on you with the utmost of silence, trying it’s best to kill you before you ever noticed it’s company. You were not in love with him, and even when he was wrapped around you in the most intimate display, you still did not feel the emotion. But, just because you did not feel it, did not mean it did not exist. Love was everywhere, surrounding you at all times and existing within you even while asleep. It was not love in the traditional sense, and nowhere near close to the kind that made you want to get married and settle down with children. It was the love of his company, and the love of his sharp tongue and sweet words. It was present in the shared jokes and coffee in the morning after spending the night together (Coffee and lunch had become routine, because you did well to adhere to your no breakfast rule).

It was different than any love you had experienced before, because it was not the type that made you willing to sacrifice yourself on his behalf nor go insane trying to love someone who did not love you. It was enjoyment in his company, and the laughter that hung in the air. You loved him as a friend, and you were in lust with him as a person. You were not dependent on his help to survive, but you did not want to picture a life without him in it. He was a great companion, and a fantastic friend, but you could not seem to view him as anything more. You did not want to blame it on his character, because it was simply not true. Jake was fantastic, but it was your own personal issues and morals that stood in the way of anything further than casual sex. So far, despite your limited time apart, he hadn’t seemed to overstep any boundaries or push your limits. As far as you could tell, he was content with the same things you were, and he had no interest in anything more.

For now, it was a comfort to know the both of you wanted the same outcome, but perhaps it was the most dangerous thing of all. The only thing that was worse than one person falling unwillingly, was both of you falling unknowingly.

You climbed out of the shower, drying off as you checked the time on your phone. Once your body was free of any water droplets, you wrapped your hair in a towel and moved on to your closet. Your eyes scanned your wardrobe, landing on a cute little black dress. You slipped it on, settling your arms in the long sleeves and straightening the front. It had a plunging neckline, the bottom of it reaching just under your chest on your sternum. You searched your room for tape to hold the soft fabric in place. When you were certain it would not move, you fixed the bottom, settling it mid-thigh. You took a quick look in the mirror, content with your choice and ready to move on to makeup.

In the bathroom, you had a constant eye on your phone to ensure Jake wasn’t texting or calling. He hated to be kept waiting, and you liked him enough to not want to push that button. You ran a comb through your hair as you blowdried it, adding a few loose curls to the ends for some volume. With little time to spare, you dusted some eyeshadow over your eyelids and put some mascara on your lashes after dabbing on a touch of foundation. You picked through your lipglosses and rushed through the application after hearing a knock sound on your door. With a small smile on your face, you rushed to greet your company for the night.

When you opened the door, you nearly fell to your knees at the sight. Jake was dressed in all black, with similar clothes to the night you met him, but somehow he seemed even more beautiful than he did then. There was a chain dangling from his neck and a few rings on his finger, and of course, the familiar cocky smirk adorned on his lips. You began to realize that Jake would not be himself without it. “6:45 on the dot.” You noted, your brain finally catching up with the moment.

“Told you I’d never be late for you, angel.” He recalled, taking a long look over you. “Seems like we match.” He tried to hide the lustful staring, but his eyes were permanently fixated on the exposed skin on your chest.

“I guess so.” You said, your eyes just as focused on the unbuttoned portion of his shirt. The need you both displayed for each other was shameless, and it was the loudest thing in any room you entered.

“You look fantastic.” He said, taking a step forward and letting the door close behind him. When he did, you caught a strong scent of cologne that was unfamiliar to you. It was new, it seemed expensive, and it was so heavenly that it was difficult not to tear his clothes off right then and there.

“Is this what you had in mind for a pretty little dress?” You teased, giving him a smile.

“Even better than what I had in mind.” He corrected, snaking his hand to your hip and pulling you into him. He brought his free hand to your chest, gently running the knuckle of his index finger down between your breasts and stopping at the same spot that the fabric resumed. A shiver went down your spine at the light tickle of his touch, and your skin ignited with a fire that could not be contained. “All of this just for me, sweetheart?” His tone was low and gravely, overtaken by desire for you.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, honey.” You brushed off his claim, yet both of you knew the defence was weak. You dressed to impress him, and his eyes and hands were the only thing you wanted on you. “Maybe I just wanted to make a good first impression.” He raised an eyebrow at your statement, challenging you without saying a single word. You nearly faltered under the weight of his stare, but you remained strong despite your tendencies to submit to him.

“Your idea of a good first impression is dressing like a whore?” He questioned, but the harsh words did not match his stature nor his tone. It was incredibly playful, almost as if he was trying to initiate foreplay already. Your cheeks burned red at the statement, but you continued holding his unwavering stare.

“Worked on you, did it not?” You asked, a small smirk playing on the corner of your mouth.

“So you’re trying to get them into bed, too?” He did not lighten up on his intense gaze, but somehow you were just content that you seemed to catch his undivided attention.

“If I remember correctly, you were doing all of the trying that night. I wasn’t interested in taking you home.” You reminded him of his relentless efforts and your continuous rejection as if it hadn’t been playing on repeat in his head since it happened. His hand slipped to your ass, bringing you closer to him with a force that made your head spin.

“Are you trying to get yourself in trouble again?” He asked while his fingers pressed into the skin that was already bruised from the night before. The pain held little importance compared to the mess that was beginning to form between your legs. “Why is it so hard for you to admit that you want to look good for me?”

“Because I’d hate to fuel your ego any further.” You snipped, but your hand was in search of him, landing on his side as you attempted to pull him closer. “And I’m not a liar.” You were, but neither of you needed to point out the obvious.

“That’s okay, angel. You don’t have to say it. Your body does all the talking for you.” He loosened his grip, giving you a small pat on the ass. You couldn’t help the frown that took over your face as he began to pull away. He caught sight of your expression, pausing for a moment as a glimmer of joy filled his eyes. “So that’s what it is,” he muttered, his gaze flickering to your lips. “You were hoping to piss me off enough so I would fuck you before we left.”

“No,” you shook your head, rejecting the idea even if he hit the nail straight on the head. He gave a low chuckle, leaning down and pressing his lips to your own. Your eyes fluttered closed, finding your prior arguments ceasing to exist within seconds of his touch. When he pulled away, the smile had returned to your face as if it never left at all.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” As domestic as the statement was, you couldn’t argue with it, for you had missed him just as much.

“I know.” You hummed. You did not have to say it back because he knew you did, too.

“Get your stuff so we can get going.” He ordered.

“Pushy,” you muttered, but turned to do as he asked.

“The faster we get there, the faster we can come back here.” He explained, watching you intently as you walked away from him. He was already itching to get that dress off of you, and it was no secret. You could see it in his eyes.

“Could just stay here.” You offered, calling out from your bedroom. You weren’t opposed to meeting his brothers; far from it, really. You quite enjoyed Josh’s company when he showed up unannounced at Jake’s apartment, and you could only assume you’d get along just as well with the others. What you did like more than drinking was the sex Jake had to offer, and you knew sitting tipsy in a bar booth was nowhere near as enticing as having him alone in your bed.

“You don’t sound very excited.” He noted, holding his hand out for you to grab as you walked out of your room. With little hesitation, you slipped your own into his and flicked the lights off.

“I am excited to meet them, but more excited about what comes after.” You corrected, pulling your keys out to lock the door behind you.

“Trust me, angel, if you’re good for me tonight, I’ll be good to you.” You nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to you about that. As for being good, you weren’t sure if you could uphold the standard, especially to his expectations. Holding your tongue had never been a strong suit for you, but you could definitely give it a shot.

“So what do they think we are?” You asked, letting him guide you to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door for you, allowing you inside. Once you were settled, he closed it and got in the drivers seat. “Do I have to pretend that we’re in love, or do they know what we’re doing?”

“Sam and Danny think that we’re friends.” He chuckled, starting the car before looking over to you. “Josh only knows better because he saw you in my apartment.”

“Ah, so I’m a dirty little secret?” You raised an eyebrow. He smirked, giving a shake of his head as he slipped his hand to your thigh. You rested yours on top of his, hoping that he would keep it there for the whole drive.

“No, sweetheart.” He said, backing out of your driveway and into the road. “I just wanted to avoid them having any impression of you in their heads before they met you.”

“What does that mean?” You questioned, looking out the window as he drove.

“That means,” he paused, turning up the radio only slightly “you’re more than just someone I have sex with. I didn’t want them to know you as that, because you have way more to offer.” You couldn’t deny the tugging of your heartstrings as he spoke, finding his response genuine and sweet. “I don’t want them to like you because they feel like they have to. I want them to like you because they got the chance to know you like I do.”

“No pre-existing conditions,” you whispered “thank you, Jake.” Instead of a verbal response, he gave your leg a light squeeze. “You must bring home some interesting women if you’re scared they’re going to feel required to like me.”

“Why do you think I don’t date?” He quipped. His tone was light, but it didn’t seem like he was joking. For a moment, you felt like you could see straight through him. For another, you felt like you could relate to him. You did not know how to respond, so you didn’t. You were not in the game for comfort or therapeutic measures, and neither was he.

As you looked out the window, a strange feeling washed over you. You did not know Jake nearly well enough to be so entranced by him. You had pegged him as a whore without really knowing who he was, and you had built your walls up so high that you could not see over them for long enough to understand Jake for what he truly was. He did not seem to want a relationship with you, but he did want to be involved with you, and so much so that he hadn’t let you forget it since the minute he walked into your life. It did not appear that he was entertaining anyone else, and in truth, you did not fear he was simply because you knew he did not have the time. Between working, texting or calling you, or being with you, he seemed pretty preoccupied. More than that, he seemed content. In some strange way, you were, too, and one of the biggest problems you had with dating had already been conquered without you even realizing it.

Jake was integrated in to your daily routine so well that it almost seemed empty without him, and it was not in the negative way you perceived it to be in the beginning. He was a positive addition to your routine rather than a distraction, and he did not interfere with the things you believed he might. When you found clothes he forgot, you washed them and folded them alongside your own to return to him at a later date. He watched whatever you put on the television without a complaint, and offered you new music rather than forcing it upon you. He took up space in your bed, but did not impede on your own. He did not keep you up at night by snoring or stealing blankets, and often times, you slept better with his lazy arm slung over you. You did not want to wed him, but he had certainly proven that he was not a waste of your time.

Denial is a stage of grief, after all, and grieving your former self was all you had been doing as of late.

“What’s your favourite color, Jake?” You asked, looking back over at him. He glanced at you from the drivers seat, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he processed your question.

“What?” He laughed, still unsure of your words.

“Your favourite color.” You repeated as if it was a completely normal inquiry.

“Uh… red, if I had to pick.” Fitting for the devil, you thought.

“Okay.” You nodded, looking back out the windshield.

“Why do you ask, sweetheart?”

“I guess I just feel like I don’t know enough about you sometimes.” You explained, feeling a small spark of embarrassment ignite in your chest. “We spend so much time together and I don’t even know your favourite color or which brother is your favourite, or anything like that.” He let out another hearty laugh at your words, finding your desire to know more about him intriguing.

“So you want to know me, now?” He asked, surprised that you were asking questions first.

“We’re friends, are we not?” You snipped, your tone sharp and defensive.

“I’d like to think so, but you seem to disagree.” He chuckled. “Ask me whatever you want angel, and I’ll answer.”

“Whatever I want?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering if he realized the extent of his promise. He did not try to take back the claim. Instead, he nodded his head to show you he was being truthful. “Okay, I guess I will, too.” Although begrudgingly, you thought it was only fair to be open and honest with him if he was willing to do so with you.

“What’s your favourite colour?” He asked, curious himself.

“You’re pushing it.” You warned, a smile on your lips to show you were joking. “Green. Dark forest green, like the way the trees look when the sun has just set.”

“Good to know.” He said, making sure to store the information in his mind.

“Do you do this often? Or am I just one of a kind?” You finally spewed out the most pressing question in your head.

“No, you’re one of a kind.” There was no room for doubt in his answer, because his tone was laced with utmost certainty. “I’ve never done this before, actually.”

“So why am I so special?” He looked back over at you, studying your face as he formulated a proper response.

“You’re different than anyone I’ve ever met.” He started slow, trying his best to word it properly. “I don’t like dating, and I don’t like commitment all that much, but I liked you from the minute I saw you. I wanted you, but for some reason, I wanted to know you even more than I wanted sex. I didn’t want to leave in the morning and never see you again.” He said, focusing on the road as he spoke. “I figured I’d shoot my shot and if you turned me down, no harm no foul. Then I started talking to you, and I knew there was no way I was walking away without you. Your snarky little comments and your sarcasm was impossible to ignore, and your lack of interest was just making me more interested. You had a comeback for everything I said, and I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who I clicked with like that.” He shrugged. “The sex was mind blowing, and you get along with Josh really well. Was kind of a no brainer for me.”

“Oh,” you nodded, feeling your cheeks warm with another blush. You hated that you always seemed to be blushing when he was around. “I, uh, I don’t like that stuff either, and I really don’t like one night stands, but I liked you too. I’m pretty stubborn, and I think I just assumed you were lying to get what you wanted.”

“S’okay.” He gave your thigh another squeeze. “I get it. People suck.”

“Yeah, they do.” You agreed. “I told myself a long time ago I would never date anyone again, and I still feel that way, but I do like you and I like what we’re doing.”

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to, but I’ll always listen.” He promised, pulling into the parking lot of the bar.

“It’s not a very long story, but I wouldn’t want to bore you with it.” You shrugged.

“I’ve got all the time in the world.” He assured you, putting the car in park and turning his attention towards you. When you caught his eye, it was astounding how much care was held in his gaze.

“I’ve gotten my fair share of strange looks and whispers around town for the last few years.” You explained. “Usually when you’re divorced before 25, people talk. At 22, it was even worse.” He did not change his expression, nor did he make a move to speak. He was listening, and he knew he would listen to you until long after the sun came up with no judgement and no interruption. In the three weeks he’d known you so intimately, never had you mentioned a word about your past so bluntly. He was desperate to know you, and he felt lucky that he was even getting the chance.

“I was stupid, and I married my high school sweetheart. At eighteen, he bought a cheap ring at the nearest pawn shop, and I wore it proudly, just like it was the most expensive diamond in the world. By nineteen, we were moved in to a shitty house in the poor part of town and I had his last name. Life wasn’t glamorous, and it certainly wasn’t easy, but I was happy. I worked part time as a server ay diner off the highway and made the rest of my money taking shitty pictures off my dad’s old camera from the 90’s.” You said, looking down at his hand burning into the skin of your thigh. It looked prettier on you than your ex’s ever did, and even in the short time you knew him, you knew that for certain. “When you’re that young, you don’t listen to anyone. No matter how many times I was told I was making a mistake, I didn’t listen. Kids never do.”

“What happened, angel?” He asked, noticing the disdain growing in your eyes.

“People change.” You finally looked up to meet his eyes. “Sometimes for the better, but most of the time, it’s for the worst.” You weren’t sure why you felt so comfortable telling him everything, but you didn’t feel the need to hide anything from him, and you knew that no matter what, the story would be safe with him. “By twenty, he’d already slept with half of the women in the neighborhood; it didn’t seem to matter if they were married too. If anything, I think he liked the thrill more than he liked getting off. Before I turned 21, he stopped saying I love you and turned to fists and raised voices. I was lucky that my sister opened up her spare room to me when I finally found a way out, and I was even luckier that he had a good job and lots in his savings account when I took him to court. I got a restraining order and changed my name, and bought a house on the other side of town with the money I got in the settlement.

“I had no idea, y/n.” He said, a spark of sadness showing in his eyes.

“Of course you didn’t. I’m not that person anymore, and I never will be. I don’t talk about it because it’s not who I am, and it’s not something that holds any value anymore. I changed, and I got over it; it was five years ago, but I don’t date anymore because I don’t think I could ever give anyone any power over me again.” You were lying through your teeth, because you knew he held a power over you, even if it was not romantic. Your strength astounded him, and as much as he wanted to voice his willingness to protect you for the rest of his life, he knew you did not need it. You seemed like you had more strength at 27 than he could ever comprehend in his lifetime. “It doesn’t change the person sitting next to you; I’m the same as I was the minute before I opened my mouth, and I don’t want you to think differently.” You took in a long breath. “Friends know each other, Jacob, so don’t ever doubt our friendship again. You know more about me than most of the world.”

“Understood.” He smiled. “Friends it is then, angel.” He was estatic to finally hear the words come out of your mouth without hesitation.

“What about you, then? Dating isn’t your game either, so I hope your story isn’t as tragic.” You joked, trying your best to lighten the mood. The tension was heavy in the air, and unlike usual, it was not sexual in any way. The weight of your confession was crushing the both of you, and you desperately wanted to change the subject.

“No, not quite.” He chuckled, understanding that you wanted to joke your way through the hurt. “Cheating takes a toll after a while, and I guess lots of people find it a fascinating hobby.” He explained. “After it happens so often, you get sick of pouring your heart into someone who doesn’t really give a shit in the end. I dated a girl for a very long time. We met not long after I graduated and we stayed together until about a year before I moved here. Loyalty wasn’t her thing, and I think I was too blind to see her for what she was. The guys hated her, but love makes you stupid.”

“That it does, Jacob. That’s why I don’t do it.” You said. “I value my sanity far more than I care about being alone.”

“Right,” he nodded “I spent a few months heartbroken, and then I just stopped caring. I had a few one night stands, but I didn’t really like it. Sex is fun, but when you told me there was no point in getting to know someone only to try and forget them in the morning, I couldn’t have agreed more. When I met you, and you felt the same ways I did, and you understood that sex is different than a relationship, it was like a breath of fresh air.”

“It was.” You agreed. “I like being friends with you, Jake, and I really like having sex with you, but that’s why I was so stern about not falling in love. I’m not ready for it, and I probably never will be.”

“I get it, and I feel the same way.” He sighed, happy to know the truth about the situation.

The only unfortunate part of the truth was that it did nothing but open the next door that was in the way of falling for each other.

“I’d like to know you, Jake.” You admitted. “Really know you, like more than what we’re doing now.”

“I’d like that, too.” He smiled.

“Still no breakfast, of course.” You informed.

“Of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughed, genuine happiness radiating from his features. You felt a flutter of warmth in your stomach, finding yourself almost too excited to see him happy. “Would you like to go inside?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded, unbuckling your seatbelt. He got out of the car to open the door for you, holding your hand as you steadied yourself on your feet. When he was certain you had your balance, he slipped a loose hand to your lower back. “I’m excited to meet them.” You assured him, knowing that he had fear of you going because it felt obligatory.

“Good, I know they’re excited, too.” A small smile crossed your lips as he opened the bar door for you, allowing you inside first. When he stepped in beside you, his eyes drifted across the filled booths. Ray caught sight of you from the bar, sending you a wave as he studied the sight before him. Not once in the last five years had he seen you walk in the bar with someone by your side, but he was happy to see the smile on your face. Usually it was hard to get one out of you until you were a few drinks deep.

Jakes eyes landed on a familiar face and he began guiding you towards your company for the night. You drew in a deep breath, settling your nerves as you tried your best to convince yourself the night would be good. “Hey!” An excited voice called out. The familiarity was nice, and you looked to meet Josh’s eyes as Jake pulled up a chair at the end of the booth. “I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”

“Sorry, that was my fault.” You chuckled. “I was caught up with work.”

“No need for apologies, you’re here now.” He assured you. You looked to the other side of the booth, catching the curious eyes of two more boys. You gave a warm smile, extending your hand out to shake theirs.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You said, shaking the first boys hand.

“I’m Danny.” He smiled, his eyes lingering over your face. He seemed sweet, and you didn’t even need to talk to him to sense his kindness. It was radiating from him. You did the same with the next boy, already knowing who he was without him saying his name. If you ran into him on the street, you were certain you’d recognize him. He looked so similar to Jake that it was nearly alarming.

“And you’re Sam?”

“So he’s told you about me?” You had to laugh at the similarity between his statement and the one Josh gave you when you first met.

“Only good things.” You promised.

“I can say the same.” He grinned. “I hear you play piano?” He raised an eyebrow, curious about the fact.

“You heard correctly.” You nodded. “My mom thought it would be a good way to keep me busy, and she was right.”

“I’d love to hear you play sometime.” He said, genuinely curious.

“I’m sure we can arrange something. I hear you’re quite talented, too.”

“You should come to our next show.” Josh offered, cutting in with his grandiose idea.

“I’m sure she has better things to do.” Jake chuckled, rolling his eyes at his brother.

“No, I’d love to, actually.” You shut his notion down. “I haven’t even heard him play yet, so maybe we could kill two birds with one stone.” Sam nearly choked on his drink at your words, looking over at his brother with wide eyes.

“He hasn’t played for you yet?” He asked, looking back to you. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Guess we just never got around to it.” Jake said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck while he hoped they would drop the subject.

“Are you nervous?” Sam asked, even more baffled than he was before.

“No,” he snapped, shutting him down. “Quit it.” You chuckled at the altercation, finding their banter funny. Seeing them so close and comfortable with each other made you miss your own sister. She had moved a few towns over the year prior, and you hadn’t seen her much since. Sam seemed to back down at his sharp tone, settling back in his seat while he sipped on his drink. “Do you want a drink?” Jake asked you, prompting you to sit down beside Josh in the booth.

“Yes, please.” You smiled, following his order. Jake nodded, already knowing what you wanted. He hadn’t managed to forget a single thing about you since you first met. Sometimes, it felt like the knowledge plagued him and he would die from the sickness of needing more.

“So, y/n.” Sam said, watching as Jake disappeared from sight. “What do you do for work?”

“People pay me to take their picture.” You explained. “Weddings, maternity, cheesy family portraits, all that fun stuff.”

“Ever do photography for a band?” He asked.

“No, but your brother has been trying to convince me to do your promo shoot for the new album.” You admitted. “It seems like it would be fun, but I don’t know if I’m what you’re looking for.”

“Don’t say that.” He scoffed. “I’m sure if Jake is okay with it, you’re more than fantastic. He’s pretty picky when it comes to band stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, intrigued by his words.

“Yeah,” all three agreed, the response heavy. “The whole music thing was his dream, so he’s pretty specific. He must like you a lot.”

“Oh.” You cheeks tinged red again, almost flattered that he thought highly enough of you to want to work with you. “Who knows, maybe he can talk me into it.” You shrugged. “So you’re the bassist and he’s the drummer?” You asked, pointing to Sam and Danny for their respective roles. They nodded, confirming your words. “That’s cool that you all get along so well.”

“It’s tough by times.” Josh admitted, not willing to pretend it was always sunshine and rainbows. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, one. She’s only a year older than I am.”

“So you get it.” Sam chuckled.

“I do. She’s my best friend, but we do hate each other. Just part of the sibling relationship, I think.”

“Exactly.” He nodded. With that, a drink was sat in front of you and Jake took a seat in the chair at the end of the table. He gave you a small smile as you thanked him, but moved on quickly. “Water for you? That’s new.”

“Driving tonight.” Was all Jake replied, uncaring about having to stay sober. Getting you home safe was his only priority.

The group descended into small talk, starting first by trying to get to know you, then slowly moving on to joking and laughter. It was nice feeling like you fit in straight away, and during the entire night, you never felt out of place. Jakes brothers were arguably easier to get along with than him, and you were happy you hadn’t shied away from the invitation. For once, company seemed to make your night all the more memorable rather than put a damper on it. You found the boys fun to be around, and you could not remember the last time you laughed as much. Somewhere between drink three and four, Jakes hand slipped to your knee underneath the table. You barely paid any mind to it, and if anything, it was welcomed. You could never seem to convince yourself to disregard his touch, and often times found yourself searching for it.

The group joined together and purchased some shots for the table, which only began a gruelling game of quarters. The tension was high and the competition was fierce. Josh and Danny started, then you and Sam went head to head. Even though Jake wasn’t drinking, he stepped in for a few rounds, which eventually landed Josh in the chair at the end of the table and Jake taking post in the booth next to you. The innocent hand on your knee steadily grew more comfortable, which then provoked him to move his fingers further up your thigh. His touch was searing, and quickly turned into the only thing you could focus on. You were stuck on the inside of the booth, knowing that you would not be able to step away to calm yourself down unless he allowed it.

In essence, you were trapped, but it was not striking a fear within you; instead, there was an excitement to see how far he would take things before he backed away.

When Sam and Danny found themselves in an argument with Josh over something so small and trivial that you had missed it entirely, you felt Jake’s hand sneak even further up your leg. He settled his hand under the hem of your dress as his fingers were nearly brushing against the fabric of your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat, but you could not deny your desire for him to keep going despite the very real possibility of being caught. It was always the same with him; no risk was too high, because the reward would outweigh the risk any day.

“Jake,” you whispered, glancing over at him through the corner of your eye.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” He asked, his expression nearly fooling you into believeing he was doing nothing at all.

“Behave.” You warned, but you were hoping he wouldn’t listen. He never did, and you weren’t truly expecting him to, anyway.

“What ever do you mean?” He smirked, turning his head down towards you ever so slightly. With a little help from your own neediness shining in your eyes, he managed to push your legs apart just enough to run his finger over your clothed cunt. You let your eyes flutter closed, trying your best to keep a straight face while he continued on his torment. He took in a long breath, nearly feral at the feeling of the arousal pooling between your legs. Your departure was long overdue, and he had been waiting to get you out of the dress as soon as he showed up at your door.

“You guys want to play a round of pool?” Sam asked, his attention suddenly on the two of you. You opened your eyes, trying extra hard to make sure your expression wasn’t giving away the incriminating act Jake was doing under the table and out of sight.

“What do you think?” Jake asked you, clearly trying his best to push you to the limit. As he asked, his touch grew stronger and more pronounced, focused intently on the thin lace that was covering your clit.

“Sure, why not?” You breathed, hoping that a quick answer would divert the attention away from your flustered expression. “I suck though, I’ll warn you now.” You gave a nervous laugh through clenched teeth, trying your best to ignore Jake’s antics.

“You okay? You seem a little… distant.” Jake pressed, hoping you might crack under the pressure.

“Yeah, think I just drank too much too fast.” You brushed him off, now determined to prove him wrong. “Might take a little break for a while.”

“Wouldn’t want you getting sick.” He sympathized, although clearly fake and only offering the statement to keep you in the position for as long as possible.

“Of course not, I’ll be alright.” You said, holding his gaze. There was a fire in his eyes, dangerous and mischievous, and yours were pleading with him to surrender. You were caught in a stalemate, neither of you willing to back down, yet neither of you able to win.

“Shall we play?” Josh asked, also seemingly invested in yours and Jake’s staring contest.

“Sure, just give us a minute. We’ll meet you over there.” He assured them, not looking away from you as he spoke.

“Okay.” They agreed, sliding out of the booth and making their way towards the pool table. Once they were out of earshot, you opened your mouth to speak.

“You trying to get us in trouble, Jacob?” You scolded, noticing that he still failed to withdraw his hand.

“No idea what your talking about.” The smirk on his lips was infuriating, but what even worse was how badly you wanted to lean over and kiss him. The devil made his presence known in the inviting warmth of his brown eyes, falsely claiming peace and serenity despite the invitation being nothing but filthy underneath the surface. “What’s wrong, angel?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you scolded, but could only care about his finger that had dipped underneath the fabric he had been teasing you through.

“Jake,” you hissed, but it was not with discontent.

“If you give me a kiss, I promise I’ll behave for the rest of the night.” He informed you, watching your lust clouded eyes with a type of longing you could not begin to comprehend.

“A kiss? That’s it?” You questioned, squirming underneath his stare.

“Yeah, haven’t gotten once since we got here.”

“Because your brothers think we’re friends!” You argued.

“Think that jig was up a long time ago.” He laughed, finding his power over you near comedic.

“Christ, kiss me then.” You rushed out, nervously watching to make sure nobody had picked up on your obscene display. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet exchange. It was nowhere near the same intensity of what he was doing beneath the table. As he pulled away, so did his hand. His promise was kept, and you finally felt like you could take a full breath of air. “You are needy today.”

“Get over it.” He gave your thigh a squeeze, humour laced in his tone. “Let’s go kick their ass in a game of pool.” You nearly had whiplash at the sudden change in direction, but you couldn’t seem to find it within yourself to be upset with him. He extended his hand out for you to grab, helping you to your feet as you straightened out your dress.

“I told you I suck at pool.” You warned, praying that he didn’t get his hopes up.

“Even if we lose, I still consider it a win if I have you as my partner.” You thought your face was going to ignite in flames from the intensity of the blush on your cheeks. He led you towards the rest of the group, keeping a steady hand on your back so you didn’t stray too far from his side. When you rejoined the rest of the crowd, you realized they barely noticed the length of your absence, too busy hitting balls aimlessly across the green velvet of the pool table. As you watched Sam line up a shot, you realized that you might actually have a chance at winning. He seemed worse at the game than you, if it were possible.

“Good thing they don’t pay you to play, Sam, cause you’d go broke.” Jake said, watching a striped ball bounce of the side and crash into the 8 ball, sending it straight into the corner pocket. You giggled at the sight, watching Sam shoot his brother a glare as he straightened up.

“I’d like to see you do better, then.” He held his arm out, prompting Jake to grab the cue. He obliged, taking a long look over the table before settling on a solid ball. He lined up his shot, and with one swift moment of his arm, the white ball knocked the blue one into a side pocket. With a cocky smirk, he handed the cue back to Sam, rejoining you without saying a word. “Show-off.” He muttered, fishing the balls from the pockets and racking them in the middle of the table.

“Just admit you suck.” Jake laughed, pulling you into his side even further without even realizing it.

“You just want to impress her,” Sam snipped. “Let’s play, then we’ll see who sucks.” Jake opted not to respond, but he went to the rack on the wall and grabbed a cue for himself. He motioned for you to pick one for yourself, which you did with great hesitation. If Jake thought Sam was bad, he certainly wouldn’t be pleased with your performance.

“You’re up first, sweetheart.” He said, gently nudging you towards the table. You let out a long exhale, taking a step towards the table and bending over to line up the cue with the ball. From behind you, you heard Jake take in a sharp breath, unsure of what his issue was. As you broke the rack of balls and straightened up, you turned to look at him. The far away look in his eye was familiar, and your eyes widened at the realization of why he reacted so strongly to the innocent moment.

He had worked himself up teasing you at the booth, and was almost brought to his knees from the sight of you bent over the table.

‘So much for the boys thinking we’re friends.’ You thought, but you could not seem to be upset at him. The knowledge that you drove him crazy was nothing short of an ego boost, and you understood that you had a chance to get revenge for his merciless actions just moments earlier. You took a few steps towards him, turning to watch Sam take his shot. As you did, you made sure you were close enough for your ass to brush against him gently. His hand shot to your hip, holding you firmly in hopes that you wouldn’t move any further. You bit back the smile begging to break on to your lips, knowing that it would not take much to get him in the same state he had you in before starting the game.

“Easy, angel.” He whispered, his voice low but the warning clear. “Wouldn’t want to get us in trouble, would you?”

“No, sir.” You replied, just quiet enough for him to hear. But, trouble was the only thing you wanted to get into, and you weren’t sure how much longer you were willing to wait. He gave your hip a gentle squeeze, happy you were in clear understanding. With that, he stepped towards the table and started his turn. Josh was sat on the table opposite of your own, watching carefully in hopes of calling someone on an infraction of the rules. When he returned to you, he seemed a little more relaxed and forgiving of your actions.

“Another drink?” He asked, noticing that yours was nearing the end.

“Sure,” you nodded, looking up at him with a smile. “Thank you.” He nodded, leaning down and pressing a small kiss to your lips. You knew it was to satiate his own need for you, and the small contact would give him enough satisfaction to make it through the rest of the night. You watched as he walked towards the bar, a small smile stuck on your face as your head swam with intoxication.

“Not a girlfriend, eh?” Josh said, raising an eyebrow. Your head snapped towards him, almost embarrassed at his confrontation.

“Not a girlfriend.” You confirmed, firm on your stance.

“Can you be?” Sam asked, laughing at your response. “We like you.” Your heated with a blush (or the alcohol, you couldn’t really tell), happy that they seemed to take to your company well. You would be lying if you said you weren’t afraid of rejection.

“You can like me without me being a girlfriend, you know.” You said, watching as Danny finished up his turn.

“Obviously,” Sam rolled his eyes “but I think we can all agree we would like for you to be one. Don’t want him to fuck it up.”

“He can fuck it up just the same with a label.” Your counter arguments barely seemed to phase the three.

“I never thought he’d find someone nice. Everyone else was… well, horrible.” Sam chuckled, turning his attention to you fully. “He seems to like you a lot. He talks about you all the time.”

“He does?” You questioned, shocked at the statement. He nodded in response, looking to make sure Jake wasn’t already on his way back to the table. “Didn’t think we were that serious.” You said, making a note to discuss it with him when you were alone.

“I don’t think he does, either.” Josh laughed. “We just think it’s a shame you’re not. He has a pretty bad track record, and he kind of swore off the whole dating thing. He was insufferable for a little while, and then he met you. Seemed like it cleared his head a little bit. It’s nice.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling dread settle in your stomach. The cold feet you got from his simple statement was astounding, and you felt like running out the door and never looking back. You were not ready for feelings, and he promised to abide by the rule. If he was acting differently when you weren’t around, you weren’t sure you would be able to keep up at the same intensity without setting some boundaries.

“He’s on the same page as you, friend who is a girl.” Josh assured you, wanting you to know that you didn’t have to worry. “I think we all just like you, and we hope that you stick around for a while, at least.”

“Okay,” you calmed slightly, happy that Josh recalled your statement from the first time you met. “Because friends is all I do, Joshua.”

“Right,” he agreed, but it did not seem like he believed you. “You’re the friend that so happens to be a girl, and he’s a boy that is indeed just a friend.”

“Perfect, you got it.” You laughed, nodding in agreement. Just as you settled back into silence, Jake made his return from the bar with your drink in hand. Somehow, when he was back in sight, the fear disappeared and was replaced with a sense of calm. His eyes caught yours, and that little smile on his lips told you that everything would be alright and you need not worry about a thing. When he was a few feet away from you, the gravitational pull that constantly surrounded him seemed to pull you in, muting the rest of the world and allocating your energy solely on him.

“My turn?” He asked, handing you the whiskey glass.

“No, it’s mine. Too busy talking.” You admitted, your eyes never leaving the entrancing features of his face.

“Or were you just waiting for me?” He teased, his eyes watching you with the same intensity. “Am I your good luck charm, angel?”

“You wish.” You brushed him off, but your smile told him his comment was welcomed.

“And?” He raised an eyebrow, appalled that you ever thought differently and wondering what your issue with it was. He loved being needed by you, and that had never been a secret. You smiled, giving him a slight smack on the arm before turning towards the table. You looked over your options, but not in hopes of winning the game. Instead, you pondered the best spot to lean over the table to drive him just as crazy as the last. You were like two sex-crazed demons, doing whatever you could to instigate the inevitable and making each other suffer in the process. Greed had become you long before the night of drinking ensued, but your infatuation with each other seemed to hit an all time high, for not even a public setting could keep your hands away from each other.

You walked to the other side of the table, making sure you picked a ball that was in front of him. You leaned down, low to the velvet and lined your stick with the cue ball. Your dress left little to the imagination as is, but with the help of gravity, anything left to wonder was quickly answered. Jake had a tight fist around his cue, knuckles white as his eyes fixated on the fabric ever so slightly pulling away from your skin. You drew your arm back, putting a little more force than needed into your strike, making sure that you looked up at him to see his reaction as the top of your dress struggled to remain secured to your chest. He caught your eye, his jaw clenched tightly as he tried to remember where you were and who you were with. When you returned to your upright position, you gave him a subtle wink so he knew your intent was personal.

Sam moved to take his turn, completely unaware of the silent battle between you and his brother. You brought your drink to your lips, so invested in your own game that you let a dribble of whiskey fall from the cup and trail down your chin. You swallowed down the burning liquid, knowing that his stare hadn’t once broken from the obscene display you were putting yourself in. The cold droplets fell from your chin down your neck, eventually reaching the valley between your breasts. Slowly, it melted into your skin and disappeared into the fabric resting on your sternum. When you withdrew the drink from your lips, you thought you might have pushed him too far. As he watched, it almost seemed like his brain was short circuiting as he tried to keep up with the vile thoughts he was having about you. The interaction was so small that nobody noticed it other than him, but he was so invested in you that not a single motion would ever be missed.

Your skin was ablaze with desire from the thought of his hands alone, and neither of you were interested in the game of pool anymore. Reluctantly, Jake took his turn, glancing at you intermittently between his shots. By the time Danny took his, there was only the eight ball left.

“Can you help me?” You asked Jake, giving him a small, innocent smile.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam shook his head, shutting it down. “That’s cheating.”

“How so?” Jake asked, uncaring for any rules and itching to get his hands on you.

“We can’t do that!”

“Actually, you can.” You corrected, walking over to meet Jake by the cue ball. “You just don’t want to. Or, you didn’t think to ask first.” Sam gave you a glare, clearly not liking the two against one outlook.

“Grand chancellor will allow it.” Josh interjected, finding Sam’s discontent hilarious. Even more than that, he was hoping Sam would actually ask for Danny’s help if you missed.

“Who made you the grand chancellor?” Sam argued, clearly fighting a losing battle.

“I did,” Josh said, giving him a smile. While Sam argued his point with Josh, you and Jake had taken it upon yourselves to lean down over the table to line up your shot.

“You’re being a brat, sweetheart.” Jake whispered in your ear as he settled himself behind you. “That’s not very nice. Thought I told you to be good for me tonight?” His hand came up to your arm, fixating them in the correct position as his other one held your hip.

“I think you’re just horny.” You shot him down, completely ignoring his accusation. “I’m just trying to play pool.”

“No, you’re just trying to be a cocktease.” He corrected, his tone quiet but his delivery harsh. “You want me to take you into the bathroom and fuck you?” You could not deny the dull ache between your legs that stemmed from his question. “Is that what you want, sweet girl?” He hummed, his mouth settled just over your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, completely unfocused on the shot he was supposedly helping you take. “Answer me.” He hissed, guiding your arm back to fake the shot, getting you used to the motion.

“No, sir.” You lied through your teeth, knowing that it was exactly what you wanted. You did not think you could survive the drive home without a taste of what he was offering. As you spoke, you made sure to push your hips back into him only slightly; it was not enough for anyone else to pick up on, but the erection growing against your ass told you he’d noticed it as clear as day.

“What do you do to me?” He muttered, flickering his eyes between the white and black ball. “This is how it’s going to work, okay?” He said, taking a deep breath. “After we win this game, you’re going to go to the bathroom. Stay there for a while, I’ll pretend you aren’t feeling well. Then, I’ll come and check on you, and I’ll fuck you so good that you won’t even remember where we are.” A light gasp left your lips as your cunt clenched around nothing. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You muttered.

“Good, now hit the fucking ball and get this over with.” Instead of responding, you drew your arm back and hit the cue ball with just enough force to send the eight ball into the corner pocket. As you did, he made quick work at adjusting himself before anyone else noticed. Sam was so busy fighting with Josh that he didn’t even notice your stellar victory.

You straightened up with a smile on your face, knowing that Jake was the reason behind your success, yet still feeling proud that your hands made the winning play. Danny, who couldn’t have cared less about competition, applauded you and offered a high five. You responded with the same energy, jittering with excitement. When Sam turned to face the table, his expression was filled with disappointment at losing. You did not have the desire to console him over the loss, instead muttering a quick word about a good game before excusing yourself to the bathroom. You bustled to the other side of the bar in the direction of the bathroom, estatic when you found it vacant and awaiting your arrival.

You closed the door and clicked the lock, taking a quick look at yourself in the mirror. You straightened your hair and wiped away any specs of mascara that had fallen. Your foot was tapping against the ground as you waited for the knock, feeling like the seconds were more similar to eternities. Eventually, there was a soft knock on the door. With a breath of courage, you unlocked the door and opened it. You barely had a spare second to greet Jake, because he was already pushing his way inside and slamming the door behind him. He was in such a rush that one hand was already reaching for you as he fumbled with the lock.

You did not have the chance to say a word before his lips were on yours, desperate and angry at your relentless efforts to get under his skin. His hands shot to your hips, pulling you into him as the kiss dissolved into a messy and sloppy display of emotion. You let out a moan into his mouth, already descending into euphoria from the feeling of his body so close to yours. His fingers snaked under the skirt of your dress, forgoing any formalities as he bunched it up over your hips. Once your lower half was uncovered, he gave a hard tug on the elastic of your underwear by your hip, destroying yet another pair in wake of desire. In truth, you did not care; the only thing you cared about was him being inside of you, and you feared you would go insane if you had to wait a minute longer.

He gripped at your hips again, picking you up and roughly settling you on the counter while never breaking the kiss. You locked your legs around him, drawing him closer while hoping he never had to leave. If you could stay tangled amidst the web of his sinful touch forever, you would never have to search for anything more. “Did you think you were being smart pulling a stunt like that?” He asked, finally parting from you in a mess of heavy breathing. “Did you think being a tease would get you want you wanted?” He pressed even further, stopping his tornado of inquiry to bring his hand to his mouth and spit onto his fingers. “That you would get away with it without any punishment?” He lowered his hand to your cunt, the feral energy finally bubbling to the surface and ravishing his expression.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You pleaded, painfully aware of his touch that was so close yet just out of reach. “Didn’t mean to upset you.” You rushed out, looking down at his fingers just inches away from your heat.

“No?” He asked, his jaw hard set and his eyes dangerous. “Then what did you want, angel?” He was withholding any reward until he got a suitable answer from you. “Tell me exactly what you wanted, and I might be nice enough to give it to you.”

“I wanted you, sir.” You said, looking up to meet his eyes. “I wanted you to touch me. I need you to touch me. I can’t wait any longer.” You whined. You could not find it within yourself to be embarrassed about your own desperation, because your need for him far outweighed your own ego.

“Yeah? You want me to touch you, sweet girl?” He questioned, moving his hand just a little closer to you. “You just wanted me to take care of you? Make you cum all over my fingers right here in the bar?” Your face flushed at his vulgarity, but it only turned you on further. You could listen to him say nothing but filth all day and you would hang on to every word.

“God, yes.” You nodded, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. “Please, Jake. I promise I’ll be good for you.”

“So fucking needy.” He growled, but his hand connected with your aching core as he spoke. You gasped at the sudden change, not expecting him to give in so easily. He spread your arousal to your clit, slipping his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he dropped his middle and index finger to your entrance. You bit back a moan as he began pumping his fingers into you, moving his thumb in time with his fingers. “I love it.” He confessed, nearly breaking down from your sounds of pleasure. “You know I’ll always give you what you want, baby. Just have to say the words.”

“Feels so good, Jake.” You whimpered, closing your eyes in bliss as he remained on a steady pace.

“As much as I’d like to stay here and fuck you all night, we have to make it quick. Don’t want people wondering where we are, do we?”

“No sir,” you agreed, using his body as support to keep you upright. You had an iron grip on his bicep, your skin electrified when his nose brushed against yours. You were only concerned with the pleasure steadily rising in your belly and the boy who was standing before you. When he was with you, with his skin on yours, nothing else in the world mattered, and nothing to come in the future would ever matter half as much. He was everything, and you were slowly coming to terms with the notion. Jake was the only man that held any importance in the entirety of the world, and the only one you ever wanted to touch you like such. He was an addiction, a disease that ravaged your whole body and left nothing behind. He was more evil than you could begin to comprehend, but you felt blessed to have him around.

The devil was the master at the game, convincing you that his company was a virtue when in reality, it was only the beginning of an eternity of suffering.

“This is what you needed, angel?” He crooned, watching his own work unfold in real time. His eyes were locked on his hand, his breathing laboured and his mind lost within the fantasy of fucking you again. “This is what you wanted so bad?”

“Yes, sir.” You groaned, feeling your heart thud against your chest. Your entire body was no longer under your command, now completely subject to whatever he felt inclined to do to you. You did not care, and you didn’t think you ever would. Even if he decided to bestow suffering, it would still be better than any kindness from another.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” You nodded against him, your legs trembling with the threat of your climax. “Don’t be shy, baby. Let the whole bar know how good I make you feel. I want to hear all of those pretty noises.” You were trembling under his touch, and his words struck the nail into the coffin. Without ever loosening your grip, you descended into an orgasm stronger than any you had ever felt before. You tried to cry out his name, to thank him for the grace he had given you, but you could not speak anything coherent. Even in the mess of jumbled thoughts where his name was most prominent, you could not seem to find the strength to speak it. As you rode out the high, he used his free hand to undo his belt buckle while continuing to pump his fingers into you. Before you had time to calm down from the excitement, he had freed himself from his jeans.

He withdrew his fingers, but you didn’t have time to grieve the loss of contact before he was pushing himself into you. Once he bottomed out inside of you, he brought you closer to the edge of the counter, allowing for easier access. “Fuck.” You cursed, letting your head fall back as you focused on the feeling of him. Sometimes, when you thought about it for too long, you convinced yourself that he was perfectly crafted and put on earth just to please you. The way your bodies moved in sync, moulding together in perfect harmony and pleasing each other just how you needed without even having to try. It was so hard to deny that it made your head spin, and the intensity in which you felt it to be true was nearly overwhelming.

“Tell me how good it feels, angel.” He purred, burying his head in your neck as he sucked at the sensitive skin.

“So fucking good, baby.” You sighed, tangling your hands in the hair at the base of his neck. You tightened your legs around him, hoping to bring him even closer than he already was. “You fill me up so good.”

“Such a dirty little whore.” He groaned, losing himself to the pleasure. You were both pent up, ready for a release before you ever made it to the bathroom. “Do you like being a whore for me, baby?”

“I love it,” you confessed, feeling the knot tightening in your belly, ready to let go at one slight movement. You were holding back, wanting to experience the height of the pleasure at the same time as him. You did not care that the entire bar likely knew what the two of you were doing, and you didn’t care about the awkward stares that would ensue when you emerged to join the crowd. You only cared about the boy you were wrapped around, and the fact that you got to spend the rest of the night with him after you went home. “I’m gonna cum, Jake.” You warned, a sharp gasp sounding as he pulled you towards him as he thrusted into you. The tip of his cock slammed into your cervix, sending a jolt of pain through you that was satiated by intense pleasure afterwards.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He hummed, straightening up to catch sight of your face as you descended into your second orgasm. You nodded, your fingernails clawing at the fabric of his shirt to hold you in place as if you were scared of floating away. “Let go, angel. Cum for me.” You bit down on your lip, suffocating the moan that was trying to break free as he continued on his relentless pace.

“Oh, god.” You muttered, your eyes squeezed shut in bliss as your limbs began to tremble. He leaned down, capturing you in a kiss in hopes to silence your cries. He was only willing to share so much of you before the greed began to take over. He wanted you all to himself, and he wasn’t shy of that fact. Your moans fell directly into his mouth, feeding into his already wicked ego. The fire that burned in his heart was directly acreddited to you and your pleasure, and he survived solely of the way his name rolled so beautifully off of your tongue. As much as you were addicted to him, he knew that he was just as much, if not more of a victim to you.

The orgasm washed over you at the same time as his, both of you reaching your peak in a mess of curses. You sung his name like a hymn, and he uttered yours like a repentance. Neither of you could withstand the weight of the sin, but you were happy to die in each others arms. As you came down, he slowed his pace, careful not to make a mess of both of you. You let out a collective sigh of relief, the ghost of your orgasms still tingling over your skin as he pulled away. You couldn’t help but let out a whine of discontent as he pulled out, already missing the feeling of him inside you. He chuckled at your expression as he watched your face.

“Don’t be greedy, sweetheart.” He said, heaving a long sigh. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you, yet. Don’t think you’re going to get away with all of that teasing.” Your cheeks burned red at the thought, knowing that once he got you out the door, you wouldn’t be able to escape the repercussions of your actions. Even so, you knew that the punishment would be pleasurable, and you were already itching to take him home. He helped you off the counter, but stopped you as you made a move to clean yourself off. You looked up at him, confused at his intent. Before speaking, he grabbed the fabric of your dress and pulled it back down over your hips.

“What are you doing?” You breathed, looking up at him.

“That’s my way of making sure you say a quick goodbye.” He smirked.

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head, making a move to get past him again. He held you a little tighter, giving a disapproving tsk.

“Get out there,” he ordered, clearly showcasing his seriousness. “Finish your drink and say goodbye without making a mess, and then I’ll take you home and finish what you started.” You held his stare, both of you intense and unwilling to back down. “Clocks ticking, angel.” He reminded.

“Fine,” you huffed “but you better not pull any tricks once we’re out there.”

“Me? Never.” He grinned, a sparkle of adoration in his eye as he tried to gauge your comfortability with his request.

“Wipe the lipgloss off your face. Don’t think pink is your color.” You snipped, straightening your hair and your dress before stepping out of the bathroom without another word. He laughed at the fire in your eyes, doing as you asked and straightening himself up, too. When he left the bathroom, he watched you walk back towards his brothers with nothing short of love for you in his heart.

Although he’d never admit it, he was falling just as hard as you were. Greed had finally played its fatal part in the impending outcome of your situation, and sealed your fate of being infinitely intertwined with Jake Kiszka in a way you had been desperate to avoid.

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