#they’re on vacation we’re all taking a break from their asses | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewintersoldierdisaster · 8 months

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a/n: andrei got an all star weekend fic last year, so it’s only right that mat gets one this year! i literally have a million favorite pics from this weekend so i had to use them all i don’t care. i tried to hit a bunch of the main weekend highlights! i’m also aware that some of the timing and stuff is weird in the fic, but we’re just rolling with it and enjoying the vibes. 🧡💙

word count: 7k

tw: innuendo, dirty talk, protected sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f recieving), thigh riding, extremely minimal editing

summary: all star weekend in toronto with mat is one to remember

“Who do you think will pick you?” You ask, settled comfortably in the middle of the hotel room’s mattress, wrapped warmly in the plush robe. You have the perfect spot to watch Mat at the bathroom sink while he shaves. He’s in his suit pants, but his chest is bare, giving you the opportunity to watch his back and arm muscles move as he works.

“Dunno,” he replies, slightly muffled. You can see his face in the mirror, lips tucked in and half covered in shaving cream. He lets his hand fall to the counter and turns to face you, a crooked smile on his face made even more lopsided by the shaving cream beard. “If it’s not Mo and Auston though, I’m leaving.”

You roll your eyes, knowing that your boyfriend loves Justin Bieber almost more than he loves you. “I want Nate and Cale to pick you. I want to meet Tate McRae.”

“You can meet Tate McRae even if I’m not on her team,” Mat scoffs, returning to his shaving. “When am I ever going to get a chance to be coached by Justin Bieber? Never, Squeaks! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“You’re such a dork,” you murmur affectionately, grinning at his back and tucking your face into the collar of the robe. You have to get up and start getting ready soon, but you’re too comfortable to move. Mat’ll go over to the arena earlier for media interviews and the red carpet, but you don’t have to be there, technically at all, but you want to see the draft.

Mat finishes shaving his face and wipes his cheeks off with the hand towel. “You’re not being very supportive of my dreams,” he informs you dramatically, tossing the dirty towel onto the counter and planting his hands on his hips.

You kneel up on the bed and gape at him, amping up the dramatics. “I’m spending my vacation in cold ass Toronto instead of Baha Mar because I’m supportive of your dreams,” you laugh, throwing your arms out to your sides. “Sue me if I want you to have a good celebrity captain.”

“The Biebs would be the best captain,” Mat replies, crossing over to the bed in a handful of steps, reaching out to rest his hands on your hips. His fingers play with the tie of the robe. “He played hockey and he’s a huge fan.”

“Are their colors at least the blue jersey?” You ask. “You look so good in blue.”

Mat lifts an eyebrow. “That would make you support my coaching dreams? The color blue?”

You hum, resting your hands on his shoulders, playing with the chain around his neck. “I’m very superficial,” you inform him, deadpan.

“Yeah,” Mat replies, equally deadpan, “me too.” He breaks a second later, grinning and peppering kisses all over your face, making you squeal. His fingers dig into your sides, tickling you under the robe, and you wriggle on your knees, slumping forward over his chest when you can’t take it anymore. Gasping laughter saws from your chest and you try to catch your breath, but Mat’s making it hard with his hands splayed over your back. They’re warm and slightly rough and you’re both really wearing barely any clothes, it would be so easy to drag him down onto the bed.

He seems to be telepathically picking up on your thoughts because Mat presses a kiss to your bare shoulder where the robe has slipped off and says, “I gotta finish getting ready or I’m going to be late. But when we get back after the draft, my body is yours to use.”

You pull back and grin at him. “However I want?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “I need to conserve energy to reclaim my title tomorrow, so you have to do all the work.”

“Pillow princess,” you accuse, pouting at him.

“Just for you, babe,” Mat shoots back, cupping your chin in his hand and tilting your head back so he can really kiss you, licking into your mouth and leaving you wet and wanting when he pulls back. “Start thinking about what position you want me in.”

He winks, laughing, and heads back to the bathroom to finish getting his hair in place. You slump back down on the bed and call to his back, “I’m making sure I get two orgasms before you even get one.”

“Fine by me,” Mat calls back, hands working through his hair. “I like the way you scream my name when you’re coming on my cock.”

Your entire body flushes with heat and you press your thighs together. “Damnit,” you mutter, knowing you need to start getting ready and you definitely don’t have time for even a halfway satisfying orgasm. “For that,” you call, starting to roll off the bed so you can do your hair and makeup, “I get three orgasms before you get one.”

“You’re being so mean to your All-Star,” Mat teases, shrugging into his button down and starting to do up the buttons. You plug in your curling iron and roll your eyes at him.

“Should’ve known all the attention would go to your head,” you sigh, pretending to be burdened by him. “I’m your All-Star, Mr. Barzal, and don’t you forget it.”

His answering grin crinkles his entire face and you go to him easily when he reaches out to grab your wrist and tug you into his chest. “That’s why I’m letting you have your orgasms before I get mine,” he says cheekily, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek and disappearing to the other side of the room for his shoes.

You huff a little, a small smile playing on your lips, and return to fixing your hair. Mat finishes getting ready, lacing up his dress shoes and pulling on his suit jacket before throwing his arms out to his sides and doing a little half-turn, asking, “so, how do I look?”

“Like my All-Star,” you beam at him, tilting your head up for a kiss. He obliges. “I like this suit a lot,” you continue, reaching for your purse and withdrawing a Sharpie. You hold it up in between your bodies and tuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Just in case.”

Mat pats his hand over the pocket and kisses your forehead. “Thanks, Squeaks. Text me when you get to the arena, okay? I’ll see you after the draft.”

You nod and with one final kiss, Mat’s out the door, leaving you with some peace and quiet to get ready. You do wish that Bo or Noah had been voted in too, so you’d at least have Holly or Alexa to hang out with while you’re watching the events. Mat’s parents and Liana are getting into town tomorrow afternoon, with enough time to join you for the Skills Competition, but until then, you’re on your own.

Luckily, you run into Steph Marner outside of the arena, saving you from the awkward first day of a new school feeling where you’ll either have to sit alone or find someone you know in the arena. You know Steph a little bit from different events and you’re friendly enough, it’s not the same as having one of your girls with you, but she’s a familiar face.

“Hey, girl!” Steph greets you with a hug that you return. “Welcome to the six!”

“I really wish you were welcoming me to the Bahamas,” you laugh, falling into step next to her. The crowds are wild and you look around as you walk in, having never been to an All-Star game before this is so much fun.

She lets loose a laugh, “you and me both! It would’ve been nice to get out of the city for a bit, but what can you do?” She shrugs and you fall into small talk for a little bit, catching up on what’s been happening since you last saw each other.

By the time the draft starts, you’re pleasantly tipsy and getting into the fun. The guys are all sitting on little benches on the ice and it’s adorable watching them swing their legs like toddlers. You snap a few photos of Mat from your spot in the stands, knowing the professional photos you’ll get from the team’s social media team later will be better. The draft starts and you wait impatiently for Mat to be picked.

By the time the fourth round ends and he hasn’t been picked, you’re starting to get cranky on his behalf. And slightly anxious that he’ll be picked last, even though you know logically that won’t happen. On the ice, he keeps swinging his legs, fidgeting in place until finally Mo and Auston pick him to join Team Bieber, along with half the Maple Leafs - Mitch Marner and William Nylander included.

Steph slaps your hand in a high-five, “woohoo! Teammates!”

You laugh and cheer along with her, snapping a picture of Mat getting a hug from Justin Bieber. You immediately send it off to your group chat, adding the message: pretty sure he’s going to leave me for the biebs 😭

The girls flood the chat, but you’re too busy laughing with Steph about Mat and Mitch’s chatter on the Team Bieber bench.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “Mat’s such a yapper. He must be talking Mitch’s ear off.”

“Please,” Steph waves her hand in the air. “Mitch can’t shut up either. They probably aren’t even listening to each other.”

As the draft continues, you tune out a little since Mat’s been picked. Eventually, you tune back in and your gaze lands on your boyfriend manspreading to an extreme degree. Muffling a laugh with your hand, you shoot him a text, knowing he won’t see it until later: spread your legs a little wider, babe, i want to feel the stretch when i straddle you 👀

The draft comes to an end and it’s a little bit of a whirlwind after that, chatting with people you haven’t seen in a bit and wandering the arena until you find Mat. Or he finds you, actually.

“Team Bieber!” He crows, barely hiding his excitement now that it’s just you in front of him.

You grin at him, squeaked laughter pushed from your lungs when he crushes you to his chest in a hug. “Happy for you, Mat!”

“Babe,” he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear, “this is gonna be so fucking fun. He hugged me!”

“You are the biggest fangirl I’ve ever seen,” you tease, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. “It’s adorable.”

“I know you’re making fun of me right now,” he says, “but I don’t even care. We’ve got a Bieber concert to get to.”

You shake your head and let yourself be dragged along to the concert, knowing that Mat’s going to have the time of his life listening to one of his favorite artists perform live and that you’re going to get so many videos of him singing along that will immediately be sent to Beau for blackmail material.

The concert is actually beyond fun, and by the time you get back to the hotel, Mat’s completely forgotten about his earlier determination to be a pillow princess and has you out of your sweater and jeans before you really process what’s happening. His mouth and fingers work you up to two hard and fast orgasms, leaving you sweaty and breathless in the middle of the bed.

“Fuck,” you mutter, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing them, bending your knees to draw his cock closer to your cunt. You clit throbs and the condom-wrapped head of Mat’s cock bumps against it, making you see stars.

“One more each, okay?” Mat mutters, pushing into you slowly. You whine and clench around him, scraping your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting, but doesn’t stop until he’s seated fully inside your pussy, breathing hard. Sweat rolls down his temples, dampening his hair.

You barely last a few minutes, overly sensitive from the last two orgasms, and you come before Mat, stroking your hands over every inch of him you can reach while he pumps his hips into yours. He grunts into your neck when he comes, filling the condom and nearly crushing you with the heavy weight of his body on top of yours. The air is pushed from your lungs, Mat’s sweaty chest pressed against yours.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your hair, “that felt good. You feel good. Could stay here forever.”

You kiss his shoulder. “I’d make some kind of innuendo about being an all star, but I think my brain is melted,” you say honestly, still wrapped around Mat like an octopus and making no effort to move.

——-

Mat’s Friday is quiet, other than an early afternoon practice for the Saturday game and the Skills Competition at night, so you have a lazy morning with him in bed. Neither of you bothered with clothes the night before, so it’s easy to get your hands on him and harder to get his hands off of you. You slip under the covers and wake him up with your mouth on his cock, sucking him off until he comes in your mouth. After he returns the favror with a slow, lingering orgasm, you shower and decide to head off to explore downtown Toronto for a bit before Mat goes to practice and you head off to the airport in the rental car to pick up Mat’s parents and sister.

“Thank god you’re here,” you give Liana a huge hug after helping everyone load their bags into the trunk. “It’s so hard being the only one around to chirp Mat to his face.”

“Please tell me you have video of the Bieber of it all,” she grins at you, a little evilly. You nod and she she pumps her fist. Nadia shakes her head.

“Don’t be mean to your brother this weekend,” she turns around in the passenger seat to face you both. Michael had insisted on driving back into the city and you weren’t about to argue - Toronto traffic rivaled New York traffic.

Liana rolls her eyes. “Mom, he needs some humbling,” she replies. “It’s good for his character

growth.”

You hide a giggle behind your hand. The Barzal sibling dynamic is one of your favorite things to witness. “I promise, Nadia,” you say, leaning forward a bit, “Mat gets so much praise. He does need a little humbling every once in a while.”

Once you’re back in the city, you drop the car and everyone’s bags off at the hotel and head over to meet Mat at the arena. He’s waiting for you all in the main lobby, looking fresh and clean and beyond adorable in his new All-Stars beanie. His smile is huge and only grows when he gives his parents hugs hello. He rubs the top of Liana’s head in a noogie that has her punching his arm, while they both laugh.

“Hi,” you smile up at him. You missed him even though it’s been less than two hours since you saw him.

“Hi,” Mat kisses you quickly before tugging the beanie off his head and unceremoniously dropping it on yours, tugging the cuff of it low over your forehead and smushing your hair. You wrinkle your nose at him and he raises an eyebrow. “It’s cold and you look cute in it.”

You lift your phone, the screen lighting up to display a handful of social media notifications and texts, “not as cute as you, according to the Twitter girlies. Apparently, you’re giving babygirl.” Your grin is shit-eating and Liana openly cracks up next to you, even as Michael and Nadia frown at each other, completely confused by the social media phrases.

Mat’s ears go pink and he nudges his hip against yours. “Shut up, let’s just go for lunch and not talk about that,” he rests his hand against your lower back and slings the other arm over Liana’s shoulder, guiding the both of you out of the arena.

“Oh no,” his sister says in a sugary-sweet tone, “we’re definitely talking about it. I have a few of my favorites bookmarked to mention…” She trails off, starting to scroll through her phone.

“Mom!” Mat whips his head around to look at Nadia. She plucks the phone from Liana’s hands and stashes it in her purse.

Michael, in order to cut off Liana’s complaint, jumps in, “Mat, tell us about Patrick Roy. How’s the change going?”

Luckily, the new coach is a topic Mat could happily chatter on about for hours, so he takes the bait and you end up having a fairly peaceful lunch before heading back to the hotel for a little relaxation before the Skills Competition. Liana comes to hang out with you and Mat, while Michael and Nadia get in a quick nap after their long flight. You put a movie on, but really the three of you end up gossiping and catching up, before Mat finally kicks you both out so he can get in a short nap too.

“Love you,” he kisses you before essentially pushing you out the door.

“Yeah, I really feel the love,” you roll your eyes, quickly pulling your coat back before Mat can close the door on it.

Liana smiles at you wryly. “I don’t know how you put up with him, but thank god for you. Let’s go get a coffee,” she says, linking arms with you as you stroll down to the elevators. You have the toque back on your head, adjusted so it’s not smashing your hair flat, and you can’t help but smile when you think about Mat putting it on your head in the first place.

“He’s surprisingly easy to love,” you laugh. “When he’s not being a drama queen.”

“Ugh,” Liana rolls her eyes affectionately, “you guys are disgusting.”

“Be nice or I’m going to decide to renovate the guest room during the week in April you’re coming to visit,” you joke.

——-

The arena is even louder and more chaotic during the Skills Competition and you’re having fun with Liana, taking pictures and getting snacks while you wait for everything to start.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, scrolling through Instagram before the events start. The reel the team’s socials have posted of Mat picking out his skate blades has your panties immediately damp and you’re ready to demand it get taken down for your own sanity. You shift in your seat, damp fabric scraping against your wet cunt.

Liana looks over your shoulder to see what you’re looking at. “Oh gross,” she fakes a gagging noise. “He needs to put those away.”

“Or save them just for me,” you mumble, for her ears only. As much as you love Nadia and Michael, they don’t need to hear how horny you are for their son. Liana bumps your shoulder and your fingers slip over the screen.

“I’m gonna go blind, put that thirst trap away,” she frowns. “They’re going to start now.”

She’s right and Mat is the first one introduced on the ice. The four of you jump to your feet and scream for him, your heart pounding with excitement. Mat looks so stupidly happy to be on the ice, you can’t help but let out an extra loud wolf-whistle for him.

The Fastest Skater competition is up first and you won’t admit it, but you’re a little nervous for Mat to hold onto his title. You clench your hands together while William Nylander, Quinn Hughes, and Cale Makar go, crossing your fingers when their times are all over 14 seconds.

Mat’s fourth and you scream when he’s under 14 seconds, holding first until, of course, Connor McDavid unseats him. It’s annoying and a little frustrating, but you’re still beyond proud of Mat for being so close.

“Fuck that!” Liana grumbles, echoing your thoughts.

“He’s fastest skater in my heart,” you whisper back, purposely not telling her your plan to giving him a blow job at the end of the night.

One Timers is next. Honestly, you have no idea what the rules on this one are, but you just enjoy the show. Especially since Mat’s not that great in this competition in the end. You can see the scowl on his face and even Nadia laughs a little.

“He’s so hard on himself, even for fun events,” she shakes her head.

You can see him shake his head after his turn at the Passing Challenge, but honestly you’re really just focused on down damn good he looks with the backwards cap on his head. Watching Mat show off his skills is always your favorite thing. Mat takes third in this challenge and then talks to Kevin Weekes on ice and you record him while he talks, loving that crooked smile of his.

“I can’t believe he’s tied for first,” Liana shakes her head, filling in Michael and Nadia as they come back to the seats with drinks. “Think he’ll drop a couple thousand my way?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” you nudge her side. “Right after he funds my tropical vacation.”

During the musical break, you both get up to use the bathroom and stretch your legs. Your phone is vibrating with texts from the team and the girls, chirping Mat and making sure you know to pass on the messages.

Mat’s final event is Stick Handling and you keep your fingers crossed throughout the break - he’s in third overall and honestly you think he could pull off a win. Either way, you know you’re going to celebrate with him later.

“That’s my man!” You shout when Mat’s announced for second place. “Silkiest mits in the league!”

Liana and Nadia jump up to celebrate with you - Mat’s tied for first over all with one competition left.

He makes it to the next round and the three of you cheer, laughing and more than a little tipsy off of arena beers and cocktails. It’s so much more fun to cheer him on and celebrate Mat with his family.

“I always forget how good he is,” Nadia comments. “I know he’s good, but he’s having fun out there too.”

“No, he was literally off the wall excited to come back,” you tell her. “Being selected and then getting to replace Jack Hughes in the skills comp, on top of the new coach, Mat’s been in such a good mood lately.”

“He’s also whipped,” Liana teases you. You stick your tongue out at her.

“He just knows when he has to listen and turn off his hockey brain,” you shrug, talking over the music.

“Oh, Mat sucks at the shootout,” you groan, seeing what the One on One competition entails. “I just need him to not be last on this one.”

Mat picks Igor Shesterkin as his goalie and you watch him collect six points and sit in a tie for third. The New York rivalry runs strong and you can’t wait for the Stadium Series game in two weeks. You’re kind of treating the cold in Toronto as a preview of sitting out in the cold in New Jersey.

And with that, Mat’s onto the final round.

“One step closer to that cool million,” Liana grins. “You know how big of an engagement ring you could get with that…”

You choke on your sip of water and Michael claps you on the back while Nadia frowns at Liana. “No way I need or want something that big,” you manage to squeak out. “Not to be, like, basic, but I’d take a page out of Taylor Swift’s book and marry him with a paper ring.”

Your entire face feels like it’s burning red, talking about marrying Mat in front of his parents. You do, obviously, want to marry him, but it feels strange to say so in front of his parents when you’ve only met them a handful of times.

Liana’s shit-eating grin is identical to Mat’s. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says and when you try to say anything, she shushes you and points to the ice, where the obstacle course is starting.

“Oh, he’s locked in,” Liana says and you’re all leaning forward in your seats as Mat goes through the obstacles.

“Oh god,” you groan, covering your eyes with your hands as Mat struggles with the little nets. Liana and Nadia wince at your sides. It’s like a train wreck, you can’t look away from his struggle. When they have to bring out more pucks for him, your heart sinks into your stomach.

Mat’s time in the end is awful, and you can see his disappointment on his face when he looks up at the jumbotron. He would’ve beaten McDavid if the nets hadn’t tripped him up.

“Ah, he did his best,” Michael says and you nod. It sucks that Mat didn’t place higher, but you’re so proud of him. Considering he wasn’t even chosen to be in the Skills Competition in the first place, the fact that he made it to the final round and nearly won is an incredible effort.

Mat texts you all in a group chat that you’d honestly forgotten existed, letting you know that he still has to shower and do some media availability, so he’ll meet you all back at the hotel.

Michael and Nadia decide to head to bed and you promise to let Mat know - you’ll all get together for breakfast before Mat goes to his morning skate before the game at 3. You and Liana hang out in the hotel bar until Mat joins you a little more than an hour later, spotting you immediately and wedging himself in the few inches of space left in the arm chair you’re sitting in. He squishes you to the side with his thighs, spreading them without concern. His arms wrap around your shoulders and he kisses the side of your head. “Hey, Squeaks,” he greets you, adjusting so one of your legs is draped over his and you’re as close as you could possibly be.

“Jesus,” Liana mutters. “Get a room.”

Mat squints at her, “I would love to.”

You nudge his side and murmur, “behave,” at him. All that does is encourage Mat to get in your face and kiss you hungrily. A surprised giggle is swallowed by Mat’s mouth and Liana’s disgusted scoff makes Mat smile against your lips.

“I’m going to bed,” she pushes up from her chair. “See you two in the morning. And wear a condom, I’m not ready to be an aunt.”

You and Mat choke simultaneously, Liana’s laughter echoing as she dances away. You drop your forehead to Mat’s shoulder and he shakes his head, “she really knows how to kill the mood.”

When you shift your leg though, you can feel the bulge of Mat’s cock against your thigh. “I don’t think she killed the mood that much,” you tease, curling closer to him. “Should we go upstairs and I can reward you for being the all-star of my heart?”

“Cheesy,” Mat accuses even as he’s pulling you to your feet and guiding you to the elevator bank. “I’m exhausted though, I didn’t realize how much work the obstacle course would be.”

“I’ll do all the work, don’t you worry,” you grin at him.

Less than ten minutes later you have him on his back, cunt clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mat groans, fingers digging into your hips. “Baby, god, fuck feels so good.”

You lean forward, bouncing over Mat’s cock, nails digging into his chest. “Wanted to do this all day,” you gasp. “All the posts, your fucking thighs, Mat! Been soaked for you.”

He laughs underneath you, sliding one hand to play with your clit. You whine and feel your arousal leak from your body, smearing all over Mat’s pelvis. “Thought about riding my thighs, baby?” He asks, gripping your hip even tighter and helping you bounce on him.

“Every fucking day,” you admit, choking on air when Mat bucks his hips up into yours, the head of his cock smacking against your g-spot. “All-Star Mat is my favorite Mat.”

His face is red from exertion, beads of sweat rolling down his temples, but even still you can tell that your praise is getting to him, flushing his chest pink and making his rhythm over your clit stutter. You grin wickedly down at him, knowing exactly how you want to play him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur sincerely, grinding down on him. “Came in and killed it, made it look easy,” you hiccup on a particularly aggressive bounce, “so fucking handsome. My all-star. Mine, mine, mine.”

“Fuuuuck” Mat drags out the curse, bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress so he can fuck up into you roughly. “Jesus. Wanted to win ‘cause you were there.”

You whimper every time Mat’s cock hits your g-spot, nearly there, and praise him again, “always a winner. Always my winner. Love you so much.”

Mat’s cock thickens inside of you while you clench around him and you plant your hands on his stomach for leverage and to feel his muscles bunch up in the lead up to his orgasm. He groans and squeezes a handful of your ass, bucking up into you harshly. “Gonna - sorry, baby. Need to come,” he groans your name, filling the condom with a deep growl. You keep riding him through it, replacing his hand on your clit with yours so he can grip your hips and bounce you while he finishes.

“C’mon, fill me up,” you whine, chanting his name, rolling your fingers over your clit until you finish a few seconds after him, gushing around the base of his cock and his lower stomach. You slump over his chest and Mat grunts underneath you, smoothing his hands over your ass.

“God, that was fucking amazing,” he mutters into your hair, kissing your cheek. “Gotta be the all-star more often.”

You laugh and wiggle your ass over him, cunt clenching lazily around him. “I dunno, I was supposed to take care of you, but you took over there for a bit,” you mumble against his skin.

“Couldn’t help it,” he shrugs, “looked so fucking good with your tits bouncing, that gorgeous face you make when I hit as deep as possible.” He yawns a little, swallowing the last few words of his sentence.

“Shut up,” you laugh lightly, swatting at his chest while you roll off of him, sticky and sore. Mat moves to get up, but you push him back a little and wrap a hand around his hip. “I’ve got it.” You make quick work of the condom, tying a knot at the top and padding into the bathroom to get rid of it. You rinse off quickly and bring Mat back a damp washcloth to clean off his stomach, but by the time you get back into the bedroom, he’s got one arm tucked behind his head and he’s fast asleep, letting out gentle grumbling snores.

You laugh a little to yourself, shaking your head. Men.

Still, you wipe him off carefully - not that it matters, he doesn’t move at all - and climb into bed with him, after stealing a clean t-shirt from his suitcase.

Mat chokes a little on his snore and rolls over, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you close to his chest. His arm is a strong lock over your stomach and you shift, getting comfortable before falling asleep with the warm weight of Mat’s body at your back.

You wake up a little bit later, with one of Mat’s thighs wedged in between your legs, corded muscle pressed up against your cunt, making it throb. You grind experimentally over his leg and he grunts against your hair, warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and making you shiver.

“Mat?” You whisper his name quietly and his arm tightens around your waist. You trace your fingertips over the veins on his hand.

His thigh flexes against you and you gasp, warmth pooling between your legs.

“Told you to use me,” Mat mumbles sleepily, kissing behind your ear. “Go ‘head.”

His hand is splayed flat over your stomach and he pushes gently, spurring you into movement. Your hips rock lazily over his thigh, the sleepy rhythm making it hard for you to hold onto the coil of pleasure. Mat rocks his half-hard cock into your backside and you sigh softly, heat building in your blood.

“Feels good,” he sighs, helping you move over him, eyes still shut. He hikes his thigh up higher, catching your clit on his leg hair and sensing a wave of pleasure through your body.

You whine his name, burying your fingers between your legs to help coax yourself to an orgasm. “Wanna feel you,” you whisper and Mat’s hand slips between your bodies, leaving your stomach cold, so he can roughly jerk his cock a few times, tugging until he’s harder.

He pulls you back by the hip, until his cock is nestled between your thighs and you angle back against him, slipping the head of him inside your entrance. A breathy sigh escapes your lungs and Mat rocks his hips so his cock thrusts in and out of your shallowly. Between his cock and your fingers, you’re falling over the cliff of pleasure within seconds, slick covering your thighs.

“Roll over,” you rasp, legs still trembling. You’re not about to go searching in the dark for a condom, so you settle yourself in between Mat’s powerful thighs and take him into your mouth, tasting yourself on him. Both of his hands land on your head, tangling in your hair and holding you in place while you lick at him, kissing the head of his cock and hollowing your cheeks around him until he’s coming in your mouth.

Mat groans, hips bucking up into your mouth, eyes screwed shut. “Babe, christ, love that fucking mouth,” he says hoarsely, hauling you up his body when you’re done so he can kiss you sleepily.

You’re exhausted and close your eyes again, lying over Mat’s chest, his arms wrapped around your back. “You make me so stupid,” you mumble against his collarbone, asleep before you know it.

——-

Saturday is the big game day and after your middle of the night sexcapades, you and Mat oversleep so he just barely has time for breakfast with everyone before he’s off to the arena for a little morning skate and a brief stint on NHL News.

You and the Barzals decide to take in a little bit of the Fan Fest before exploring downtown Toronto before the game starts. It’s fun to spend so much time with Mat’s family and you’re looking forward for them to coming to Long Island for Easter.

The games themselves are beyond fun to watch, since the guys are all taking it seriously while still having a good time.

When Mat and Team Bieber make it to the finals, you and Liana are beside yourselves, screaming with excitement.

“Mat willed them to a win so he can spend more time with Justin,” Liana laughs and you agree.

“Honestly, I’m not convinced he wouldn’t dump me for Justin,” you snort, snapping a picture of Mat on the ice.

Team Bieber/Matthews wins the whole thing and you know it’s just a silly fun weekend, but you can’t help be so incredibly proud of Mat and his performance all weekend. He’s been so light and happy all weekend and you know it was the break he needed to reset for the second half of the season.

After he finishes with post-game media availabilities - where he apparently mentions his future kids, much to Liana and Nadia’s delight and your slight panic, one day but definitely not any time soon - he comes and meets you all for dinner. Mat’s still buzzing from adrenaline and won’t shut up about Justin Bieber as a coach.

“He was just so invested,” he says. “Really wanted to win and knew what he was talking about.”

“Who’s a better coach,” you cut in slyly, “Justin Bieber or Patrick?”

He pins you with a wry look, as his parents laugh. “Squeaks, that’s just not fair.”

“It’s also not even a competition,” Michael points out. “I would think Patrick Roy has nothing on Justin Bieber’s enthusiasm.”

You recognize your boyfriend’s father’s sarcastic joke and giggle. Everyone knows about Patrick’s enthusiastic coaching style.

“I actually can’t wait to get back to it,” Mat says, swiping a bite of your steak off your plate. “I feel really good about the back half.”

Dinner continues comfortably for another few hours, Mat soaking up time with his family while he doesn’t have to worry about practice or a game tomorrow. Eventually, you all head back to your rooms - the Barzals are flying back to Vancouver tomorrow afternoon, while you and Mat get to enjoy the day together before the team flies in before the game.

“Oh, hey, check this out,” Mat’s nearly bouncing when you get back to your hotel room, directing your attention to a huge gift bag sitting on the bed.

You raise an eyebrow, “all star game swag?”

“Even better,” Mat’s eyes are wide. “Justin gave us all some stuff from his line.”

Muffling a giggle with your hand, you poke at the gift bag. “Justin? Your new best friend?” You ask, dryly, spotting a grey hoodie at the top of the pile.

Mat nudges you with his knuckles. “Just for that, I’m not sharing my new gear,” he informs you, pulling each item out of the bag. He’s like a kid on Christmas, giddy with each piece of merch and relaying more stories about Justin behind the bench, like you haven’t heard them all already.

You indulge him, getting ready for bed as he talks, giving him a soft, affectionate smile when he finally pauses his yapping. “You are such a dork,” you murmur, squishing his cheeks between your palms and planting a quick kiss on her pursed lips. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.”

——

Sunday is quiet, festivities over. Mat immediately pulls on his new Drew hoodie and you snag the sweats, going for comfort over fashion for your day.

“Steal that sweatshirt and send it to me,” Liana says, hugging you goodbye.

“Over my dead body,” Mat shakes his head at her. “Buy your own.”

You sling an arm around Mat’s waist and lean into him. “Oh, calm down. No one’s stealing the gifts your boyfriend gave you,” you wrinkle your nose at him in a crinkly-eyed smile.

He snaps at the waist band of your pilfered sweats and gives you a stink eye. You laugh, “I live with you! They’re going back to our shared dresser.”

“In my drawer,” Mat says and you nod, indulging him. You both know that you’re keeping the sweats.

Once Mat’s parents and Liana are off to the airport, the rest of the day is chill. You’re soaking up the time with Mat before he goes back into the grind for the back half of the season.

“Hey,” you say at dinner later, nudging his foot with yours under the table.

Mat looks up from the menu, hair a little messy, eyes still bright from the excitement of the weekend.

“I just…I’m really proud of you,” you manage to say around the little ball of emotion in your throat. You reach across the table and lace your fingers with his and Mat squeezes them gently. “This has been the best weekend and I hope you get to bring this excitement to the back half of the season.”

His grins at you, that crooked smile of his that you love so much, and says, “having you here was the second best part of the weekend.”

“Let me guess,” you deadpan, “becoming besties with Justin was the best part?”

He nods, eyes twinkling, “yep.”

“I hate you,” you snort a laugh, smiling despite yourself.

“It’s a really close second though,” Mat assures you.

With a faint sigh, you shake your head, “I see where I stand. Maybe I’ll just have to cheer for the Leafs tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Mat rushes to say and you kick his shin lightly.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “What kind of Long Islander would I be, rooting for the enemy?”

Mat pinches your palm, “a terrible one and an awful girlfriend too.”

You hum and say nonchalantly, “you’d think two blowjobs in a weekend, plus riding you, would cement me as best girlfriend ever.”

“Make it three and I’ll marry you right now,” Mat jokes, surprising a laugh out of your chest. Your heart skips a beat in your chest at the mention of marrying Mat, even as a little joke. You want to be his forever.

“You know,” you say, voice shaking just slightly, “marriage is all about give and take.”

Mat bumps his knee against yours, grinning wickedly. “Baby, if you wanted an orgasm, all you had to do was ask,” he says, voice low so he won’t be heard in the restaurant.

Your entire body heats with lust and you brush your fingers over your lips, hiding the involuntary little smile Mat’s words elicit. “Oh,” your voice is breathless, “well, if that’s all it takes.”

“You going to ask for what you want?” Mat asks, running his thumb over the backs of your knuckles.

Leaning forward, you hum, catching the faint hint of Mat’s cologne and the hotel shampoo. You wet your lower lip and watch as Mat’s gaze tracks the tiny movement of your tongue. Quietly, you murmur just for Mat’s ears, “I want some all-star orgasms before I become a hockey widow again.”

Mat chuckles and leans forward too so he can give you a quick kiss. “I think I can make that happen,” he replies easily, leaning back in his seat. You can see from the way his body shifts that he’s spreading his legs again. You shift in your seat, feeling hot. He smirks a little at you, clearly seeing the way your body reacts to him.

Fuck, it may be a three blowjob weekend after all.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #nhl fic

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ferrstappen · 1 year

Note

hey bubs, dunno if your taking requests still but I was wondering if you could write dad!Max taking his kids to a theme park for the first time, maybe Disney?

Thank you in advance

Disney World Break (Max Verstappen x fem reader

Max insisted, like really insisted on taking the kids to Disney World, you were already in Miami and a flight to Orlando would be short forty-five minutes.

You, on the other hand, weren’t so thrilled about the idea of taking two four-year-old to a theme park, walking under the humid sun for hours, packed with people from all over the world who could recognize your very famous husband.

The twins, Luca and Mila, both carbon copies of their father, pleaded you to go during the entire flight from Azerbaijan to Florida, encouraged by their father.

“Max, they’re too young to go, they’ll last two hours, tops” You told him as the twins were sleeping, cuddling each other.

“We can take breaks or whatever, we’ll take one of those VIP tours so we can skip lines,” Max hummed at the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair while his head rested on your lap.

Something flashed as you looked at him, always acting like a child outside the track, maybe because he was trying to connect with his inner child, and it all made sense. “Baby, have you ever been to Disney World?”

Blue eyes made contact with yours, his hands finding their home on your thigh. “No, not in Orlando at least. Mum and dad took a Victoria and I to Disneyland in France, but I don’t remember much”

Those words were enough to make you close your eyes and take a deep breath, knowing both Max and you were going to regret this, but it was going to be another adventure for your books. “Ok, baby. We are going to Disney world. You better book that VIP shot soon, and of course we’re going to Magic Kingdom.”

Fast forward two days and you were on the entrance of the park, Max helping Luca to choose his first ears, all while carrying Mila on his arms and telling her to choose whatever she wanted.

“Those ears look really great on you, my love.” You knelt in front of your son, fixing his hair so it wouldn’t look messy.

Just as you were speaking with your private tour guide, Max walked next to you, placing his hand on your waist and gently squeezing it to catch your attention.

“Put them on, liefde.” Max placed a pair of classic Minnie ears, as he adjusted his own Mickey hat.

It seemed like you were not only in charge of your twins, somewhere along the way after riding the Jungle Cruise, your husband started taking Luca and Mila to every shop, money not being an issue as the twins overindulged in merch and sweets.

“What do you think about going to the teacups next?” Max asked Mila, who was on his shoulders.

“Daddy, I’m tired.” Mila complained.

The whispered I told you so didn’t pass unnoticed by Max, who playfully placed his hand very near your ass.

“Max! It’s full of children here, have some respect!” You laughed, placing a kiss on his chin, only to be interrupted.

“Eww! Mama and daddy don’t!” Luca said making a disgusted expression, only to be reprimanded by his sister.

“How about we head to the castle and take our family photo?” You suggested and Max agreed, asking the guide to walk you to the best picture spot.

The sun was glowing, the four of you wearing your ears. Mila was in front of you while Luca was in front of Max who placed a hand on his shoulder and another on your ass, giving it a light squeeze just as the photographer snapped the picture.

This wasn’t a vacation, though. Just after the fireworks exploded, you were on a SUV, full of Disney World bags including multiple t-shirts, dolls, Mickey Mouse replicas, a play set of Cinderella castle driving to the airport where the jet was already waiting for the four of you.

You laughed after noticing multiple Pandora jewelry bags full of Disney charms, bracelets and earrings, even if you insisted to Max that Mila would never wear them. Max didn’t care, whatever his princess wanted, whatever his princess would get.

Max and you were still wearing your ears, staring at Mila and Luca who were both sleeping between the two of you.

“So, what do you say to a week long Disney vacation when the season’s over?” Max proposed and you giggled.

“Only if you ride all the roller coasters with them while I eat my churro” You answered and Max laughed; his gorgeous cackle which made the corner of his eyes crinkle and his mouth form the most beautiful smile before leaning to leave a kiss on your lips, careful to not disturb the twins.

“Deal”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen au #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #dad!max verstappen

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emsuemsu · 5 months

Text

Tag game

Thank you for the tag @mycupofrum 💕💕 it's always a beautiful day to talk about oneself and also as the curious girlie I am to read about other people!!!

Fave colour: black baby

Last song: according to my spotify history my last played song was on Thursday and it was Stars Are Blind by Paris Hilton. That is the only song I listened to that day. It is a banger

Last film: we went to see First Omen a few weeks ago with my friend, absolutely shooketh from it, it was only us and a couple in the last row and they shushed us at one point. Never in my life have I felt more like a teenager in my LIFE. It was mortifying. I’m so embarrassed. We weren’t that loud though, just scared of the movie??? It was a good movie, enjoyed it, next Tuesday we’re going to see Immaculate, this spring is giving antichrist apparently

Currently reading: I have a few fics I’m in the middle of reading (one of them is A Violet Kind of Spin by @cassiaratheslytherpuff which I’m DYING to get back to!!!! jfc it’s so good!!!!! I feel so bad for taking such a long break from it but not a day goes by that I don’t think about it 🥹) and one book (Swimming in the Dark by Tomasz Jedrowski) but my reading vibes have been off for a good few months now!! I’ve read some shorter fics and listened to some podfics but reading in general feels super hard right now. I can’t wait for my summer vacation, maybe I’ll have some peace of mind and will be able to slam some words down. My tbr list is diabolical.

Currently watching: I’m going to be boring and say that I’m still on my Grey’s Anatomy grind. I’m on season 9 episode 10, 10 seasons to go. I’ve been watching s20 as it’s airing right now but it’s just not… it. This show should be taken off life support already 💔

Currently craving: a cigarette, uv index of 7, the beach and a crispy coke zero 😩

Coffee or tea: coffee, I never drink tea

Three ships: Drarry, first and foremost 🙂‍↕️ drarry has caused my brain to rot for almost two decades now and god knows when it’ll stop. I’ve been on and off the fandom, mostly off, but drarry is just a part of my goddamn DNA at this point it’s ridiculous. Next idk man. I have to say it’s a duel between prongsfoot and jegulus, your honor I love them both. Jegulus is a new acquaintance and like I don’t even know if it makes any sense at all (like where did this ship came from???) but jfc I am sat, I am folded I am silenced. But prongsfoot is the love of my life out of these two, I know for a fact that one of the first fics I ever read at the ripe age of 10 or 11-ish was Sirius/James and ever since that they’ve been in my heart, in my soul and in my mind non-stop. Prongsfoot is such a niche ship and I can’t believe it’s not more popular!!! Like they’re soulmates honestly. Funny enough I haven’t read that much of prongsfoot fics, always up for recs 👀👀 I know that was three ships already but I have to mention Kingsley/Charlie and it’s all because of @squintclover and their recent little microfics that just SLAP so hard I’m bruised black. I’m beyond obsessed.

First ship: I mean it was drarry. The one and only.

Currently working on: getting my goddamn ass off the couch and start to clean and do laundry 🥹 I have a few school deadlines as well but that does not spark joy so whatever

Thank you for coming to my ted talk once again!!! I’m tagging @valoale @cassiaratheslytherpuff @lemonlimelea @soliblomst @kk1smet @lucifergraced no pressure spill the tea if feeling like it!! 😌

#certified yapper

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apomaro-mellow · 2 years

Text

Argyle listened while Steve jotted off all the Dos and Don’ts of the evening. He nodded, but in his heart he knew he had this. Argyle had babysat a couple of times. Even though this particular gaggle included a girl with super powers and the rest who had a part in a government cover up, they were still kids. In fact they were old enough to not need a babysitter but there was no telling Steve that apparently.

But he seemed satisfied with his run down of the rules with Argyle, so he then turned to the children in question and went over them again, much to the younger teens’ annoyance.

Jonathan gave him that look. The ‘I’m gonna have an ulcer before 20 look’ and he pulled Argyle aside.

“Look, I’m not supposed to tell you this. But this is a test”, Jonathan whispered.

“A test? Dude, it’s summer vacation.”

“It’s for you. Steve and Nancy are seeing how well you can handle the kids.”

Argyle looked to the group that was settling in for a night at the Byers’ residence.

“I don’t think they need much handling, dude.”

Jonathan gave him a meaningful look. “Do you remember how my mom left us to go to Alaska? And before the day was over, dudes were shooting at us?”

Argyle nodded. He still didn’t think they had anything to worry about.

Steve clapped his hands. “Alright, if I hear anything about some trouble-”

“You’ll have our asses”, the kids recited.

“Glad to know we’re on the same page. That goes double for you, Cali”, Steve said. “You’re the adult here.”

Steve didn’t scare Argyle normally. But there was something in his eyes today. Like if a single hair was out of place, his ass WOULD be on a mantle.

So when two hours later, Argyle found himself, having to distract some guy he didn’t know while the kids were in the process of breaking and entering, he felt his ass tingle a little. They had less than ten minutes to get back to the house and pretend everything was fine.

Somehow they had convinced him that sneaking into some guy named Tommy’s house was the more important thing. Argyle was pretty sure he had disagreed but somehow found himself in a car with Will behind the wheel. Mike had been barking out orders as usual. Max had been yelling right back at him.

Lucas was trying to be the voice of reason while Dustin spouted off directions for Will and how to get into the house through the window. El had been silent until they arrived and then she became a breaking and entering machine.

Meanwhile, Argyle was at the front door, trying to keep this Tommy guy from leaving it. He had to distract from the sound of movement upstairs and the definite thump of someone falling to the ground outside. These were the same kids that snuck around a Russian base?

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

“I know those kids are like, your precious gifts from above”, Eddie said. “But they’re practically adults by now.”

“That’s really rich coming from you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a ‘super-senior’ joke or a jab at my maturity.”

“Why not both?”, Robin teased.

“Was this a fair test?”, Jonathan asked. “None of us have ever had to deal with all of them alone.”

“That’s why we didn’t unleash Erica on him”, Nancy said.

“And I had to take care of most of them when Billy came for Max. He’s got the advantage of no one actively searching out the kids right now”, Steve added.

“I just think it could be a little more balanced”, Jonathan continued as they made their way back to the house.

When they arrived, they were met with what they left. Everyone was in the living room, eyes glued to the screen, as if they didn’t wanna be caught doing anything else. Which clearly meant they had been doing something else. Both Nancy and Steve crossed their arms.

“Sooo? How was it?”, Steve asked.

“Real chill man”, Argyle said.

“Yeah”, Will added. “It was real chill.”

“Just a boring night”, Max gave a fake yawn.

“We didn’t do anything that was against your rules”, Dustin smirked.

They all knew that smirk said he had found a loop hole. But the point was they were all here and all safe.

“Okay then, make some room for us!”, Eddie exclaimed, pulling Steve over. Despite his words, he plopped down right on Argyle’s lap, then pulled Steve onto his. Argyle was high enough that the weight of two grown men on him felt comforting.

The others came to join in and finish out the night and the movie here. And if Steve later heard that vandals had ransacked Tommy H’s room, well everyone he knew had an alibi for the night.

#apo writes #fanfiction #stranger things #argyle #steve harrington #the party

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skylarmoon71 · 3 months

Text

Matt Murdock (Daredevil) - Chapter 3

You’ve settled back in since the incident.

For one you survived your midterms thanks to Matt and Foggy. They spent the few months that followed glued to your side. With spring break around the corner you were finally able to convince them that you could go to the bathroom without a bodyguard. It was sweet how protective they were. You were grateful to have such good friends.

Spring break was almost here and Foggy was back to his girl chasing antics.

“Foggy, you met her like three days ago. She could be a serial killer.”

“Then I’ll die a happy man.”

He was packing his bags for the break. Matt kept poking him with his cane every now and then and you would laugh from your seat on Foggy’s bed.

“Don’t do anything too crazy, remember we’re getting out of college together. Two more years and then we’re free.”

Foggy saluted, grabbing the last of his stuff as he zipped up the bag.

“You got it. Well, I’m going on my mini vacation with a hot babe, don’t call unless it’s an emergency.”

Matt smiled.

“We’ll try not to, have a good time.”

“You know I will. Look out for (Y/N)! Make sure she doesn’t study her brains into oblivion.”

Foggy rushed out the door as you threw a pillow at him. It smacked into the door and you could hear his laughter down the hall.

“Pain in the ass.” You grumble with a giggle.

“So what are your plans for spring break Matt?”

“I’m just going to catch up on a few assignments. I’ve been lagging behind.”

Usually people at least went to family or friends. You assumed the same with Matt until you remembered that he was pretty much an orphan. Your intention had been to go home and see your parents, but now you were reconsidering. The thought of him being here alone was a bit sad.

“What about you, going home?”

You hesitated, then shook your head.

“No, I think I’ll stick around. I saw them last week anyway. I’m sure they’re tired of seeing my face.”

“Hmm, sure you’re not just saying that so I’m not alone here.”

Your mouth fell open at how easily he’d read you.

“N-No! Of course not!”

That’s exactly what you did.

Matt just chuckled, and you huffed, moving to his side.

“Wanna go listen to the choir director yell at the students in the courtyard?”

Matt smiled, holding out his hand and you grin, helping him up as you both ventured outside.

The next couple days you spend it with Matt. You both would just take walks, or study, have some night talks. It was nice. You’d always been close to Matt, but this was the first time it was just the two of you.

“I’m a little exhausted, I’m gonna call it a night. Do you want me to walk you back?”

You shook your head.

“That’s okay Matt. I’m fine. Try to be careful. I’m the one who's accident prone but you seem to be getting all the bruises.”

Earlier in the week he’d walked in with a terrible bruise on his cheek. He’d explained that he’d run into something or the other.

“I’ll do my best mom.”

You smack his arm and he waves as he walks away.

You return to your apartment feeling content. You’ve managed to get a lot of work done, so no rushing when the break is over. You feel like you have a lot of free time and you’re learning a lot about Matt. One, he can’t sing for shit, two, his hair looks strangely professionally tamed for a guy who can’t see and three, he detests certain foods like greek yogurt.

“It just tastes like bland yogurt.”

You laugh at the words he’s said. He sounded like a child complaining about eating their vegetables. You never knew there were so many cute sides to him. Humming, you busy yourself with dinner.

“Cup noodles again I see.”

You placed the kettle on with a smile. College life was tough, but fun. You only pause when you hear knocking at the back window. You tilt your head, because you assume maybe you’re hearing things, but it happens again and you think it might be an animal. Placing the bowl down, you head over to see. When you part the curtains, the figure behind it stuns you.

Hurriedly, you lift the window.

“I-It’s you again..”

You step back and he climbs in.

“Sorry to drop in unannounced.”

You shake your head.

“No you’re fine. I’m glad to see you again.”

It’s been a while. News of Daredevil has been scarce, but you figure he’s just been working silently. After the incident, security around campus had doubled. It’s no wonder he hasn’t been spotted recently.

“I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

His words are touching. You wear a big smile.

“I’m great, thanks to you. They arrested Aaron and my friends have been watching me like a hawk. Everything is awesome.”

He nods.

“That’s good, I’m glad.”

A stagnant silence settles and now you feel a bit awkward. You’re not sure what to say, and from the way he’s now shifting in his spot, he doesn’t either.

“Umm, do you want some cup noodles?”

You internally wince, of all the things you could have said, that’s what you go with.

“I could eat.”

You brighten.

“Wow! Okay awesome. Lemme just close this window.”

You shuffle behind him, closing the window. When you straighten, you just sort of look at him. You haven’t been this close since you hugged him that night. His head tilts, waiting for you to say something.

“You know, for a guy that runs around punching bad guys you smell really nice.”

The honest evaluation actually makes him laugh and you flush, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Sorry, sometimes I guess I’m a little too honest.”

He shakes his head.

“That’s okay, I like it.”

Your cheeks are still a bit heated and you giggle bashfully, walking away to get the noodles.

You guess you could get used to nights like this.

#matt murdock #daredevil #powers #foggy nelson #humor #protective #trust #friends #care #mattxreader #feelings

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tonyhightower · 2 years

Text

Morning.

Okay, I was joking before about being stir crazy, but it's not really a joke anymore.

This week, my son Felix turned three.

I'm sick as a dog. I can barely speak.

I'm exhausted, I'm burned out, I'm tired, I'm tired. I'm tired.

I'm stuck in Paris. (Stuck? In Paris? How can you even?) I haven't seen Paris yet, barely at all.

Right now, Paris is just a place I've managed to hurry through a couple of times to get some stuff from IKEA or the boulangerie, and then hobble home on my still-unhealed knee, because we gotta get dinner in, or Felix is edging towards a meltdown and we just need to get him to a place where that can happen more safely and less publicly, and then get him to calm the hell down and, for lack of a better term, go the fuck to sleep.

I don't have any money. We have two credit cards, both in my wife's name. It's okay, I have nothing to buy anyway.

I have nothing to offer. I'm taking up space. I'm Jo's second child. I fucking hate this part. I need her permission to do pretty much anything. This isn't what either of us signed up for.

I'm not doing French lessons. I'm barely keeping a Youtube channel afloat. I've put out a video every Tuesday, until this week. I have a script, It's shot (poorly, but it's at least ready), but this is Winter Vacation Week for X, and it's also his birthday week, so we planned our first party (which is code for: emailing every parent in town we know and begging them to come over, drink our wine, and be our friends).

And then X's Grandos are here for a few days to see our place, which is great on its face, but they're not here to babysit while J & I get our shit together. X is home for two weeks, and there's no respite.

I love my kid truly and forever. I love him so much that I'm sacrificing the one thing that's making myself sane, because it's more important, on a minute-to-minute basis, to make sure he's okay.

I was told that would start to happen less and less as he becomes a little more independent. Like, I'm looking forward to the last day I ever have to wipe his ass. We're not there, but that day is now on the horizon, which is a thought that brings me indescribable joy.

I'm off my meds. No more ADHD meds of any kind until I get my Carte Vitale. (Our Titre de Séjour is on its way.) Could be weeks. Could be months. So, as a substitute: coffee. Lots & lots of coffee. Morning, noon, night. Worrying about cortisol & anxiety is, to paraphrase Leona Helmsley on Paying Taxes, is for the little people. I have a kid I really want to raise properly.

I've spent the last six weeks literally unable to walk, unable to buy even the most basic of things for the house, unable to put any more art up on the walls, unable to dance or pick up or even sit down with my child to read a book. He has to come to the couch, like I’m 90.

It's his birthday today. He calls me "Broken Racecar." My heart breaks a little every time he says it.

Jo is doing so much around the house, at a time when she needs to be writing. That's her job. It's literally why we're here. It's why this is all happening. It's why I'm staring out the window at a city I really want to start falling in love with, that I really want to write about & take pictures of & interact with.

I'm stuck in the exit lounge. I'm standing on the banks of the Styx, waving a ticket at a boat that isn't in dock.

Get help. Yeah, I know. I know. Except ... English is not the LIngua Franca of this place (uh, Franca is), which means I can't just walk into a place and get either (a) the drugs I need, or (b) something more shrink-adjacent. (I truly don't think I have a genuine psychological issue at the moment; it's more just the isolation and the fact that my go-to fixes for what ails me are things I don't currently have access to for one reason or another. If I was running, I'd be fine. If I had a workspace and the time to actually make videos & write screenplays, I'd be better. If I was able to actually get out into Paris and, y'know, enjoy the city that we've all worked so hard to become a part of, and get involved in the new world we've crossed an ocean to but up against, then fuck yeah go me.)

But kvetching about this stuff in the hour every morning before my sick three-year-old wakes up is not a useful way to spend my time. I need to be cramming in a French lesson or CREATING TEH CONTENT or whatever. So, Ima get on that.

Fun stuff to come. Promise.

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nonotnolan · 2 years

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Soulmate Swap

“Look, Roy... I know you’re still hurting from your break up... but there are plenty of fish out in the sea! Or, you know, casual hook-ups, whatever is more your speed... anyway, most of them aren’t as crazy as Lacey. I promise.” When Roy invited me to spend the weekend at his family’s beach house, I sprang at the opportunity. He needed time to get away from life, but he didn’t want to go alone. Sure, I was gonna spend the weekend on sob duty... but he’s one of my closest friends. I’d be lending him an ear either way, so at least this way I’m getting a vacation out it.

Roy smiled back. “Admittedly, being less crazy than Lacey is not a high bar. I dunno, Pedro... I’m just not sure I’m cut out for the bachelor lifestyle anymore. Trying to find someone is such a pain in the ass, so whenever I do manage to hook a girl, having a one night stand just feels like such a waste, you know? I’m looking for a relationship. I can’t just hop on Grindr and find a hookup like you can. I... don’t mean that to be rude,” he added quickly. “Just... between the tats, the chest hair, and the muscles, you never have issues hooking a guy. But me, I don’t have much in my favor except my family’s money.”

I shook my head. Roy had self-esteem issues on a good day, but ever since Lacey broke his heart, it was getting even worse. He was a good looking guy-- sure, he was pretty slender, and his smooth skin confirmed that he’d never worked a hard day of manual labor in his life-- but that didn’t make him any less of a man. And if a girl couldn’t appreciate his good looks and sharp wit, well, her loss.

“Are we really going to have this argument again?” I asked. “We’re not going anywhere until you stop selling yourself short. You’re a hell of a guy, and your perfect girl is out there, somewhere.”

Roy pulled two vials out of his back pocket, and placed them on the table next to his beach chair. “I had a different plan, actually. It’s a modified true love potion. The red one causes the drinker to swap bodies with their soul mate, and the purple one reverses it.”

I paused, examining the liquid in the vials a bit closer-- the purple one had bits of globby slime suspended in it, while the red one was thick like honey. “And your soulmate is just supposed to be okay with having their entire life interrupted like that?”

“Okay, see, the fact that your first reaction is to complain about the logistics of the potion, rather than express any sort of skepticism? Yeah, that’s why I invited you out here this weekend. If they’re my true love, they can handle a little bit of weird magic. The potion’s supposed to take ten minutes before it takes full effect. So just... sit here next to me, find out who ends up in my body, and ask them some questions. Get their name, write down their phone number... stuff like that. Then, give them the purple vial once you’re done.” He paused, flashing a wide grin before downing the red liquid. “What could go wrong?”

Frankly, I could think of any number of things that could go wrong, but it was too late now. I grabbed a pen and paper, and joined Roy outside on the rear deck. I was all set to interrogate whatever woman ended up inside of his body once the potion kicked in, but the warm sun and salt breeze was far too relaxing. Well, if she was going to be his true love, she could figure out how to wake me up.

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

I woke up to someone shaking my arm. “You dumbass!,” the voice said, playfully chiding me. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a crush on me? I went through all of that work to find this potion, and we could have just talked to each other instead!”

I opened my eyes and found myself looking up into a mirror. No, wait, I was looking up at my own body. Hang on. I looked down at my chest, only to find that I was suddenly wearing a blue polo. The same one Roy had been wearing today. My arms were less hairy, and Roy’s Apple Watch was on my wrist. But if we switched bodies with each other, then...

“Roy, you have a crush on me? Since when did... I thought you were straight!” I felt myself blushing with embarrassment, but I couldn’t help but feel my chest ignite with hope and passion. “I didn’t think I had a chance with you, and I didn’t want to make our friendship awkward, so I just... I didn’t say anything. Besides, you and Lacey were cute together, so I figured that ship had sailed. You’re not gay, are you?”

He leaned down next to me, grinning ear to ear. “Pedro, I’m bisexual. I thought you knew. And here I was, thinking that you were out of my league. You’re like, the pinnacle of strength and masculinity, and I’m over here--”

I leaned over and kissed him full on the lips. It was somehow everything I had imagined it would be, even if we were in the wrong bodies. “Don’t you dare sell yourself short,” I said, once we pulled away. “If I wanted a muscle bro for a partner, I’d just stick my junk in a glory hole at the gym.”

Roy just smiled. “Speaking of which, perhaps we should explore the bedroom before you drink the purple vial?”

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

It’s been three weeks, and I still haven’t taken the purple vial. Roy’s parents were thrilled to learn that their son was suddenly willing to take a finance job at his father’s firm and slowly earn his way up the ranks. In my own body, nobody wanted to take a chance on the gym employee who earned a business degree at a community college. In Roy’s body, suddenly the glass ceiling had been lifted. It’s amazing what the right connections will do for a guy.

It’s a new job, so no one noticed when Roy suddenly started a more intricate manscaping routine. Well, maybe his father would have... but we’re on opposite ends of the building so that no one can complain to HR about the nepotism. The fact that I’m getting on-the-job training in Roy’s body means it will be near impossible for us to swap back, but I don’t hear him complaining.

Roy’s made himself at home in my body, and he’s been doing a great job of keeping up with my gym routine. He insists on wearing my glasses instead of my contacts, but otherwise you’d never suspect anything was different. Well, he did quit my job as a Personal Trainer at the gym to focus on “my” new OnlyFans account, but we both agreed that would be for the best.

Honestly, I think we’re going to stay like this. Roy knows exactly where to rub my back whenever I start getting sore muscles, and I know precisely where to nibble on his earlobes to maximize pleasure. We’ve even started calling each other by our old names. Looking into my eyes and calling myself Pedro was weird at first, but it’s starting to become more natural.

Do I feel a bit silly that it took a magical body swapping love potion to figure out that my best friend and I were in love with each other? Absolutely. But I don’t regret it in the slightest.

#male body swap #gay body swap #casual body swap #gay male story #queer romance #after the swap #bisexual body swap

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stormblessed95 · 2 years

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This isn’t really an ask, but I have to get these thoughts off my chest…I keep thinking about how much sense it makes that they were going to take this break in 2020.

It would have been their 7th year, and we know what that number means for them. Not to mention “We Are Bulletproof: The Eternal” literally sounds like a goodbye song — or if not goodbye, at least a career-culminating song of immense gratitude. I mean they literally say “we got to heaven.”

And then the world changed, and no wonder they were so sad that they missed that tour — it was going to be it for them, at least in some ways. And they knew we needed them in that moment, and so they picked themselves up and pivoted, and they brought joy and wisdom and heart and fucking content for the next year and a half straight, worked their absolute asses off, made it to way more people (and got subsequently judged and hated on by more people) than ever. And now, the break isn’t just convenient or good timing or well-deserved — it’s something some of them seem to desperately need on a visceral level.

If we’re being honest, we knew that Dynamite and Butter and PTD sounded… different. Good, but different. We knew they were losing a bit of their direction, and I think that’s worse for some of them than others, based on what they value most (ex: Joon and Yoongi, as lyricists, are heartbroken by not being able to be as authentic as they want, Jimin on the other hand is made for the stage, so most likely, anything that puts him there is enough for him). So instead of burning themselves out, flaming out spectacularly on the world stage, they consciously and carefully planned out this beautiful stepping away, complete with a crap ton of extra content, and new music, and all this shit they really didn’t have to do but they’re them, so of course they did.

If we’re really fans, we HAVE to let them have this. We have to loosen our iron grip and step the fuck back, and say thank you by letting them LIVE. People are going back and forth — debating whether this is the end, or whether we should take their word for it that they’ll be back (sidenote: when have they ever lied?). But it doesn’t matter whether this is permanent or not — they gave their whole youth up for BTS. They sacrificed like nobody’s fucking business, even two years after they thought they would.

Let’s be grateful for once? Maybe? Grieving is cool, but let’s not be angry, or paranoid, or panicky. If all that they’ve been is all they’ll ever be, it was more than enough. And we know them — it won’t be.

Namjoon said that he’s living in the best possible reality, out of all the realities in the multiverse. Let’s take this opportunity to work on ourselves and make sure that’s true for our own lives as well? Make them proud? Idk. What are your thoughts on the whole thing, Stormblessed, now that I’ve written a novel? Lol.

Thank you for being a steady and calm (mostly when ppl aren’t trying your patience at least 😂) voice of reason and being an OT7 true fan. You’re the best of us, for sure.

Ahh hi, thank you for the kind words! They are so appreciated! And I do try to be calm for the most part lol! If you see my post about car sharing later today and I'm possibly slightly cranky, well I tried my best. But I'm low on sleep. Lmfao my kids don't sleep on vacation apparently 😂 I shared my thoughts over the news of their break and focus on solo work yesterday as well. And I feel even more firm in my belief that this is good for them and I'm excited to see where they go from here after Joons letter and JKs vlive. Spoiler alert, I basically fully agree with you.

Thank you so much for sharing. I'm glad you feel comfortable doing so here 😊

I've also had a few people DM to ask if I'm going to keep going with the blog, so in case anyone else is wondering. The answer is yes. I am not going anywhere. I'll be here supporting all 7 members solo albums and projects. As well as continuing my post series here. Including my Jikook timelines, my Duo Dynamics posts, my DVD commentaries, my run bts posts, etc etc. Lol I've got a lot of "in progress" stuff here. So no worries, I'm here to stay for a while.

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wonderlandleighleigh · 2 years

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It’s a deeply strange experience, Ethan thinks, to go from the jungles of Vietnam to this.

Lenny had vetoed Steiner this year, uninterested in dealing with the gossip and the bullshit. He’d gone rogue and rented an enormous cabin right on the Hudson River. Ten bedrooms, and as little stress as humanly possible.

He sips his beer as he watches the people around him. Lenny is standing at the grill, cooking everyone dinner, giving Ma a break from the kitchen. Kitty and Esther and Chaim are chasing Lan and Lily around the yard. Both sets are grandparents are playing cards around a picnic table, while Uncle Noah and Susie chat with Lenny, and Ma, Aunt Astrid and Mei are talking not far from the grill.

And Pop is watching intently from the other side of the large patio. The man has been quiet and sulky since they arrived, forced on vacation, kept in close quarters with the whole family.

Ethan wonders sometimes if his father has ever been truly happy a day in his life. He wonders if maybe he was before Ethan was born. When he was first married. Or dating Ma.

He wracks his brain to think of times during his life when he saw his father happy, and he’s hard-pressed. Maybe when he and Mei were first married? Or when Lan was born?

He thinks about the times he’s seen Ma happy. Laughing at Lenny’s jokes. Her second wedding. Bringing baby Lily home from the hospital to meet Ethan and Esther and Kitty. Ethan’s high school graduation.

Her face when Ethan had walked in the door after his honorable discharge. She’d been tearful, but smiling. Hugged him tightly. Cried all over him. Checked him over, taking stock of changes and - god forbid - missing bits.

“You look a million miles away,” his Zeyde tells him, amused as he sits next to him on the table.

Ethan shrugs, sipping his beer. “Just thinking. Watching everyone.”

Moishe nods, considering everyone. “it’s certain a motley crew we’ve collected over the years. Two comedians, a doctor, a club owner, a matchmaker, a spook, a theater critic. Whatever Susie does.”

“She’s a talent manager, Zeyde,” Ethan chuckles. “She’s giving me a job.”

“I could give you a job, if you need a job,” Moishe grumbles.

“I want to do what Susie does,” Ethan tells him. “I want to find the people who can tell joke, or...sing or dance, or...do magic like Alfie does magic, and I want to help them find an audience.”

Moishe chuckles. “Well, okay. It’s a nice ambition to have.”

“I was thinking about Pop,” Ethan admits, his voice going quieter. “I don’t know. I’ve been watching him since we got here yesterday. He never seems...happy.”

Moishe grunt in agreement as he sips his own beer. “Your pop has a hard time with just enjoying a moment. Letting go of his unhappiness. And that’s what it’s about, really, isn’t it? Everybody’s unhappy sometimes. The world is a shithole in a lot of ways, a lot of the times. But finding those little pockets where we can forget for a little while - look - look at your Uncle Noah. He works for the government. He knows better than any of us ever will just how much shit we’re in as a planet.”

Ethan nods.

“And Lenny. Lenny’s been to hell in a handbasket and back,” Moishe goes on. “Overdosed on drugs and thrown into treatment. Legal troubles coming out of his ass until a handful of years ago. But here they both our, laughing at whatever dumb shit Susie is telling ‘em. They’re happy now. They may not be happy when we get home, but for now...”

“That’s nice,” Ethan tells him. “The idea that it’s okay to focus on ‘for now.’ I like that a lot.”

“Not bad for a guy who works in women’s clothing,” Moishe jokes. “Remember that next time Abe looks at my like I’m an idiot.”

Ethan laughs and shakes his head. “Do you think there’s anything in he world that will get Pop to just...forget the unhappiness for a little while?”

Moishe sighs heavily. “I thought marrying your mother and having you and your sister would work. And then when that fell apart, I thought the club. Maybe Mei and your brother. Nothing seems good enough.” He looks at Ethan for a long quiet moment. “I love your father. He’s my son. But I’m so glad that you don’t seem to have those kinds of struggles.”

“No?” Ethan asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“No,” Moishe chuckles. “No, I saw you the other night, taking a bite of brisket at the dinner table. Pure bliss from one bite of your mother’s cooking. And then reading a story to little Lily before bed. I know happy Ethan. That was happy Ethan.”

“It’s hard to be home sometimes,” Ethan admits. “It’s hard to feel normal. But the moments that feel good, I have to hold onto them.”

“So you’re not back there,” Moishe completes the thought.

Ethan nods in agreement. “So I’m not back there.”

“Your father never went to war,” Moishe shrugs. “He didn’t get drafted for the Korean War. He wasn’t old enough for the Big One. And we were so relieved at the time. That he didn’t have to face something so terrible. But if he had...would he be more grateful?” he ponders, but then waves a hand. “Ah, don’t mind me. I’m just an old man talking nonsense.”

Ethan grins a little and pats his grandfather’s back. “Sure, Zeyde.”

It’s then that Lan comes running up, punching Ethan’s leg. “YOU’RE IT!”

“Oh, shit,” Ethan mutters, hopping up and setting his beer down. “I’M IT!”

“LAN, NO!” Esther cries. “ETHAN IS THE WORST!”

Lily squeals as she and the rest of Ethan’s siblings scatter.

After a rowdy round of tag, Lenny calls them all to eat.

Ethan sits between his mother and Kitty, eating happily. “Who knew Lenny could grill?”

“Me,” Kitty snickers. “Daddy may be useless in a kitchen, but set him in front of a bunch of hot coals and whole lot of meat and he’s a whiz!”

“Happy to be useful sometimes,” Lenny jokes, chuckling lightly from Ma’s other side. “I’ll teach you sometime, Ethan. Great for impressing girls.”

“Not that he needs help impressing girls,” Pop argues.

“Oh, no, I do,” Ethan laughs a little. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“Good boy,” Ma laughs. “Don’t just rely on the good look.”

His father looks chastened.

“Don’t you worry, Ethan,” Grandma Rose says, beaming. “When you’re ready, I’ll find you a nice girl.”

Ethan smiles, used to humoring all of his grandparents to a certain extent. “Thanks Grandma.”

“He doesn’t need a matchmaker,” Papa Abe argues. “I didn’t need a matchmaker.”

Grandma Rose rolls her eyes. “Abe, we have been over this.”

“Well, I think Ethan is perfect, and he’ll find the perfect girl,” Bubbe announces.

“Don’t let that go to your head, please,” Mei mutters to Ethan from across the table, smirking, amused.

“Don’t you worry, Ma,” Ethan promises.

“Can we talk about something other than marrying Ethan off?” Esther asks, a touch whiny.

“I saw a turtle today,” Lily tells them all. “It had a pretty shell and I said hello.”

“Hey, turtles are great,” Lenny pipes up.

“No pets,” Ma says.

“Midge...”

She gives him a pointed look. “No pets. I am done cleaning up poop that isn’t mine. No pets.”

“There are all different kinds of turtles, Lily,” Uncle Noah tells her, smiling. “Have you ever seen a sea turtle?”

She shakes her head, perking up. “Sea turtles??”

“We’ll look at some books when we get home,” Noah promises.

“I bet they have turtles in the reptile house in the zoo,” Lenny offers. Off of Midge’s look he adds: “We can make that a father-daughter activity.”

Lily smiles and keeps eating her hot dog. “They carry their houses on their backs.”

“Free housing, what a luxury,” Moishe jokes, making most of the table laugh lightly.

Ethan shakes his head and eats his hamburger.

#fic #au #Marvelous Mrs. Maisel #the whole cast #plus lil baby oc's #Ethan Maisel #Midge x Lenny

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jungkxook · 3 years

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—midnight getaway. (m)

⟶ pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

⟶ genre: sprinkle of youtuber!wooyoung + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 6,488

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: a “romantic” getaway surrounded by your friends leads to an interesting night alone with wooyoung

⟶ warnings: pwp, wooyoung says baby a lot bc he’s in love, some teasing woo, exhibitionism, doggy style, sort of praise kink, ass play (fingering, fem!recieving), breast play/fondling, finger sucking, riding, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: this is the first fic i’ve written in a while and my first ateez fic no one come for me pls also this is dedicated to the lovely @kithtaehyung !! thank you for always encouraging me and my wooyoung antics!! 💛

p.s. this is shamelessly inspired by this wooyoung selfie!!

“Ugh. You obviously like her.”

The begrudging sigh comes from Yeosang, narrowly giving Wooyoung a heart attack when he realizes that you’re still within earshot. This wouldn’t have been so much of an issue had Yeosang not been so clearly talking about you to Wooyoung, though he barely has any time to recollect himself. Instead, sprawled out on the poolside of the villa the group had rented out for their week-long vacation in Jeju Island, Wooyoung firstly decides that he has no idea what Yeosang’s talking about.

“We’re just friends,” Wooyoung retorts.

“A friend you invite with you on a romantic getaway?” Yeosang asks with a wolfish grin.

Wooyoung shakes his head. He can still see you through the windows of the villa, now in the kitchen talking to Hongjoong. You’re all bright-eyed and glowing from the sun, in a swimsuit you had been putting to use just a few minutes ago when you took a dip in the pool. “Some romantic getaway, considering there’s seven idiots in the same house as us. Also thought this trip was meant to have no distractions.”

Which isn’t really a lie, because while their trip to Jeju was mostly for their YouTube channels, it was also meant to serve as a well-deserved break for the boys, and their leisure work of choice wasn’t exactly taxing and the majority of their trip so far has been spent simply enjoying themselves. Hongjoong had been so adamant too that there would be nothing to hinder them during their well deserved break. And of course you jumped at the offer to tag along when Wooyoung asked you, because you were his best friend but, moreover, his best supporter when it came to his passion and his videos.

“Yeah,” San hums nonchalantly from within the pool. He had been one of the few to jump in with you earlier, “but I don’t think friends flirt with each other on a daily basis.”

“Not to mention your video was all about her,” Jongho adds from beside Wooyoung. “I thought we were supposed to be promoting tourism in Jeju, not Y/N.”

That was a bit of an exaggeration. Sure, you had featured in a lot of the video Wooyoung had only just posted for his “Our Side of the Story” series he was doing (mostly daily vlogs, or aesthetic short films that you’ve always loved ━ much like the others, who have found a way to incorporate their love for music, dance, cooking, and everything in between in their vlogs), but you always made an appearance when you were so close with him. His viewers were used to it by this point, safe for the occasional questioning comments as to whether or not you two were dating. This video in particular saw you having the most fun in a while, frolicking the streets of the city, sprinting across the beach into the shallows of the ocean to try and splash Wooyoung with water; shaved ice shared between you and him and the way you snuck a bite of his when he was preoccupied, bike rides along the waterfront, and clambering along hiking trails so you could pose in a field of flowers that you had so desperately wanted to see.

Now, Wooyoung gives a roll of his eyes. “Funny. I don’t know what you guys are talking about.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yeosang sighs again. “When are you gonna tell her the truth?”

“The video already kind of did,” Jongho points out tauntingly. “If I was Y/N, I would have already realized.”

“Yeah━” San is beaming now as he clambers out of the pool, “but if you don’t want her, Woo, can I make a pass at her? Y’know, just to help take her off your hands━ Ow! What the hell?”

San jumps suddenly when Wooyoung chucks one of the pillows off of the lawn chair at his head.

“Keep your hands off her━” Wooyoung chastises. It’s meant mostly as a joke, but he worries when he recognizes a small part of him seems to care a little too much.

The others seem to find it funny at least, erupting into howling laughter that’s quick to fade when you wander back out to the pool and throw yourself next to Wooyoung.

“They’re definitely starting to catch on.”

Wooyoung lets out a weary sigh, though you’re starting to find it difficult to focus as he continues to kiss down your throat.

So, maybe if any of the boys walked in and saw the both of you in such a compromising position, they would be indescribably confused while also preparing to point an accusatory finger at Wooyoung for technically lying to them. But it isn’t really a lie, and certainly not one neither he nor you were keen on keeping for very long. It’s just that it seemed a whole lot easier to keep your newfound two month relationship with Wooyoung a secret for a small while.

It was mostly to give the both of you enough time to enjoy yourselves thoroughly without the prying eyes of your friends (who, while always supportive, are already passionately invested in your lifelong friendship with Wooyoung, pointing out his feelings for you even far before he could decipher them), their vlogging lifestyle, and their fans, while also waiting for the proper time to expose the truth. After the Jeju trip, you had both promised each other. But that plan was beginning to look more and more faulty as time passes.

What was supposed to be an innocent trip to Jeju with your friends turned into a tricky game in which Wooyoung had entirely different plans that consisted of you only. Specifically, how many times he can find you alone away from the boys to have his way with you. By now, night has since fallen and, after a short duration of time unwinding around a small bonfire in the backyard, the boys had all since retreated to their own rooms. You’re positive most are already long asleep and the ones that aren’t are beginning to nod off, exhausted after a long day and drowsy with liquor from the night of drinking. You’re fortunate Wooyoung at least first chose to find you alone in your room of the villa, but you still panic. Because Wooyoung should be sleeping in his shared room with Hongjoong down the hall from yours, yet here he was.

“My video today probably didn’t help,” Wooyoung adds.

You hum in response. “I don’t know if sneaking into my room will help with that either.”

At this, Wooyoung grins wide. “It’s fine. Hongjoong’s passed out cold. You should hear his snores. Plus━” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep without wondering how quickly you can cum.”

You nearly choke as you hear the words fall from Wooyoung’s mouth.

But it wasn’t his fault ━ he has needs too.

The first night of your trip called for a joyous celebration at a nearby restaurant that resulted in everyone being blissfully drunk by the time you returned to the villa. You had gotten so dressed up for the occasion that Wooyoung hated to see it go to waste, adorned in a pretty floral sundress ━ one that has always been his favourite (and, no, he promises that’s not solely because of how nice your boobs look in it, though that’s definitely a plus). If the boys could hear his thoughts now, they’d certainly pick him apart.

The house, however big and spacious it may be, is certainly not empty. Even just next door to your room is the shared room both Mingi and San are in. This is a fact you choose to remind your dear boyfriend of now. “The boys are sleeping.”

“Screw the guys,” Wooyoung groans into your neck. His strong arms slide around your middle from behind, pulling you into an all too familiar and warm embrace. He’s caught you just before you can shed your dress and slip into something more comfortable, all radiant and shimmering from a day out in the sun. You melt almost immediately against his chest as he nibbles on the skin just below your ear, on the corner of your jaw. He whispers ardently, “You look really pretty today. You always do, but especially today.”

A gentle smile spreads across your face. You instinctively reach out behind you to rest your hand on the nape of his neck, fingers tugging at the hair there. “I wore this dress just for you. I know it’s your favourite.”

“Yeah, because your tits look amazing in it,” he snickers. As if to emphasize this, he reaches down slyly to cup one of your breasts over the material of your dress, giving it a squeeze.

“Well, now you’re just trying to distract me into bed with you.”

“Is it working?” he asks hopefully, a smug grin on his face.

You snicker, fidgeting in his hold to face him and patting at his shoulder. “Maybe if we weren’t surrounded by a group of seven drunk men who could potentially hear and walk in on me sucking you off at any moment.”

But Wooyoung has already waited all day for the boys to leave you two alone. Waiting any longer may as well have felt like an eternity in a certain type of special hell that he wasn’t exactly keen on.

“And?” A sudden smirk stretches across his face. He leans in close to you, lips brushing faintly against your ear. “You didn’t have a problem letting me fuck you against the practice room mirror the other day.”

You swat lightly at his chest, scoffing suddenly. “Wooyoung!”

But he has a point. In all fairness, it had been his idea to take you against the practice room mirror when the boys had gone home and you were dropping off food to your poor boyfriend still working late at night. You certainly hadn’t complained then when he had you coming around his cock with the practice room door left unlocked. It’s such a Wooyoung thing to say too, being that he’s not often caught off guard, especially when he’s so blatant and confident about all things sex.

“Can’t you keep it in your pants for one night, Woo?”

“No, he’s in pain,” he pouts childishly. He bites playfully at the tip of your nose.

You sputter for air, dissolving into a fit of laughter. “You did not just call your dick a he━”

“Okay, I’m in pain,” he corrects. He starts kissing down and back up your neck. “It’s not my fault you look extra hot today. Besides, you looked like you were having so much fun today. Is it so wrong for me to want to keep pampering my beautiful girlfriend?”

“With your dick?”

“Yes, with my dick.”

You snort.

“And━” He drags out the word purposely, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I don’t even want you to suck me off, by the way. All I want is to fuck you senseless right now.”

Oh.

His words send a nerve right down to your core. Your thighs instinctively press together at the thought.

All things considered, you’re not any better. There was no denying how devastatingly attractive your boyfriend always looked, but especially today. A well-deserved break and the Jeju sun did him well, with a beautiful tan starting to glow on his face, free of any make-up or cover-ups. The usual stress of city life and work doesn’t weigh heavy on his brows anymore, and though his hair has gotten longer, it’s a neat and pretty mess ━ a little unruly from the sun and chlorine, and from having taken it down from its half-ponytail, but pretty nonetheless ━ with the under half of it bleached blonde and the top half dyed black. Dressed in nothing but a casual old t-shirt and a pair of board shorts, he’s both wholesomely cute and yet sexy at the same time.

And, while you are surrounded by a group of rowdy boys, Wooyoung isn’t necessarily wrong. He always seems to have a knack for making anything romantic enough if he tries, attributed to his charming ways. A night of lovemaking (or whatever he has in mind) in your room with a beachside view is, all things considered, kind of romantic.

You purse your lips now. “Think they’re all asleep?”

“With how wasted they are? Absolutely,” Wooyoung says brightly. “I tripped over a shoe in our room and Hongjoong didn’t even move.”

It’s risky, sure, but the sudden yearning to be with Wooyoung was almost debilitating. There was no doubt you could both get away with having sex in a packed house, right? Either way, it doesn’t really seem to matter. You’ve already been persuaded, and Wooyoung knows.

He pulls you in for a kiss and you let him get carried away for a moment, reveling in the way he needily nips and sucks at your lower lip. Then, finding a second of clarity, you can be heard saying against his mouth breathlessly, “We’ll have to be quiet.”

“Mmm,” he hums distractedly. “So quiet.”

But that was like asking Wooyoung not to breathe. It’s this passing thought, and the way he pulls and tugs you over to sit on his lap as he sinks onto the edge of the bed in a desperate haste, that has you giggling. He leaves a trail of sloppy kisses down to the underside of your jaw and then along your throat.

You tug at the hair at the nape of his neck as you begin to rut your hips against his slowly. “You look really handsome today, baby. It’s nice seeing you so relaxed for once.”

His stare meets yours suddenly, all sparkling and awed. He grips your waist and presses you a little more firmly against his hips so you can feel his semi-hard dick against your inner thigh. “Ugh,” he sighs, “say that again and I’ll bust a nut right here and now.”

Another giggle meets his ears, but this time it’s a little less focused as it splinters off into a whimper the longer you continue to grind against him. You decide to humour him. “I saw your vlog. It was pretty.”

He audibly whines now, his heart threatening to burst through his chest. “Yeah? I worked hard on it.”

“Is that how you see me?” You think back to the video and how you looked, the soft music overlapping it all.

“Yeah,” he deadpans, “like that piece of washed up kelp you tried throwing at me today━”

“You’re so━”

“I’m joking. Of course that’s how I see you, but that’s only a fraction of what you look like to me. A camera doesn’t do you justice.”

“So you think I’m pretty?” You snicker.

“So pretty.” He kisses you again, this time a little more earnestly. He sighs dreamily against your lips, “No, actually. If my dick isn’t in you in the next minute, I’m gonna go insane.”

A delighted simper sounds from you. “Don’t even have to cum, just as long as you do━”

Your jaw drops open as you find an angle that has you pushing your clit against his clothed dick just right. But even though you had so innocently offered to only get him off, part of the fun was seeing how quickly and how many times he could make you cum before finishing himself off. You deserve it, after all.

“God, you’re such a good girl,” he moans. He takes a moment to appreciate you in your current state. You, straddling his lap, eager hips moving against his with your brows pinched in concentration, the pretty material of your dress hiking up around your thighs. He reaches down, palms rough as they grip at the soft flesh of your thighs. “Look at you, already so needy for me. It’s so fucking sexy.”

Wooyoung fidgets beneath you. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck, nipping at your throat.

“How do you want me first, princess?” he asks sweetly now, peppering kisses along your throat, tongue soothing the marks he’s left behind. “Want my fingers in you?”

“N-No━” You croak. “Just wanna feel your dick.”

Excitement prickles at the tips of his fingers as he massages circles against your hips. “In your mouth or in you?”

“In me,” You rasp. “Now. Please, Woo━”

He marvels for a moment at how he’s so stupidly in love with you and your pretty words despite them having such dirty implications, and he hastens to please you. A wolfish grin tugs at his lips as he smothers them against your mouth, but then the giddy sensation of finally getting to have his cock buried in your walls overcomes him. He murmurs into a wet kiss, “As much as I love this dress, let’s get it off of you.”

He hastens to help you shove the straps of your dress down your shoulders, then off your arms. Then, he watches as you stand up to shimmy your way out of it, the material pooling at your feet, exposing your figure and the fact that you’re not even wearing a bra. The swell of your breasts meets his eyes first, and you’ve barely just kicked your way out of your panties when he’s pulling you onto his lap again, warm mouth latching onto one of your breasts. His lips wrap around your nipple, teeth nibbling on the sensitive bud. He can’t seem to get enough, moving to bite and suck at the soft flesh all over, shifting from one to the other, then down the valley of your breasts. A moan falls from your lips, hands pulling harshly at his hair as you push him further into your chest.

“Wooyoung…” You whine. “We gotta be quick.”

Though he wants nothing more than to mark up your chest all over, he relents only when he remembers that the boys are nearby. “Okay, okay━ Here━”

He grabs at your waist, shifting you around until you’re on your back splayed out beneath him. Towering over you, he pushes the material of his shorts down, pulling his aching dick from the tight confinements. Your eyes fall to the way he fists himself hurriedly, tip all red and glistening with precum, and the one prominent vein bulging along his length. You bite at your lip, legs instinctively spreading wider for him.

“Are we really gonna do this?” he asks, excited. “With the guys here?”

“Think it’s too late to ask when we’re both already naked,” You giggle. You remind him again, this time a little weaker, “Just remember to be quiet.”

He hums in response. Then, he teases you by running the length of his hard dick against your slick folds, already dripping with slick arousal.

“God, baby,” he groans, “you’re so wet already.” He taps the tip of his cock against your pussy, the sudden jolt sending your head spinning. As he rubs himself on you, the sticky wetness glides along the prominent vein of his length and spreads messily out to the top of your inner thighs. “Did I do all this to you?”

“Woo, no teasing,” You chastize in a small whine. A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling, and you hate having to resist all his teasing touches. “What if someone tries coming in?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Let them. If it’s Seonghwa, even better. I can finally get payback for when he purposely ate some girl out on my bed.”

You snort lazily, stifling your giggles. “Focus, baby.”

“I am focused,” he says smugly. He emphasizes this by pressing his dick a little harder against your folds, teasing the tip of it against your entrance. “With you spread out like this for me, all sexy━ Fuck, I’m so focused.”

But what he doesn’t tell you is that the thought alone of one of the boys walking in on the both of you is enough to excite him to no end. He can imagine it now, one of them wandering into the room while you’re writhing beneath Wooyoung, taking his dick so well, moaning nothing but his name. He yearns to feel you all at once, hurrying to please you.

Without warning, he pushes himself into you, cock stretching you wide in just the way you both like. Almost immediately, low gasps and groans sound from the both of you.

“Ah, f-fuck! Woo━” You smother your sudden cries with a hand clamping over your mouth.

“Shit, I know,” he sputters for air. His voice is heavy in your ear, a low grunt only for you to hear. “You feel so fucking good, baby━”

His head is swimming even just at the way your walls wrap around his tip so snug. He pushes himself into you the rest of the way, bottoming out with a sudden forceful and indulgent thrust when━

The headboard slams against the wall, exceptionally loud.

“Fuck, Wooyoung━ Woo━” You grip at his arms. “The bed.”

His eyes meet yours, stunned momentarily as you wait and listen. A minute passes, but the house continues to remain silent.

“It’s okay. Even if they do hear, it’s not as if they probably won’t know what we’re doing,” Wooyoung points out, matter-of-fact. “We haven’t exactly been very careful lately.”

“Still,” You insist. Your walls throb around his hard dick, desperate for some sort of movement. “It’ll give me some peace of mind.”

His heart swoons at your timidness, and though he has fun teasing you, he would never actually want to risk getting caught by one of the boys (however many close calls he’s already had with you) or, worse, upsetting you to the point of no return.

In the next moment, Wooyoung pulls out of you, then pushes back in again, this time less forceful. He swears he tries to be wary of the bed and of making too much noise but, much to both of your dismay, while the frame doesn’t bang against the wall too noticeably, the bed still creaks beneath you.

Wooyoung grits his teeth. He tries again, then one more time, and though your head lolls back at the sensation of him stretching you wide, you meet his gaze with your own apprehensive hazy one. Even Wooyoung’s patience is wearing thin when all he wants to do is tear you apart ━ that, and the slight creak of the bed is enough to start driving him insane.

“Fuck this,” his pace stutters to a halt, “let’s get on the floor. Can you get on your hands and knees for me, baby?”

“Good idea.” Your heart jolts in your chest from the excitement.

Within a matter of seconds, he’s parting from you, leaving you momentarily stunned at the loss of warmth. He helps you to your feet so that the both of you can sink to the floor on your knees. Before you can drop into all fours, Wooyoung stops you by reaching out for the blanket on the bed and tucking it underneath the both of you, but mostly to soften the ground underneath your knees. When he catches you surveying him with a fond gleam in your eyes, he quirks a brow.

“What? It’s just so you don’t get too uncomfortable,” he says sweetly, peppering a few kisses along your shoulder. “Is this good?”

“Amazing.” Your heart swells at all his gentle touches. You catch his lips on yours, faintly murmuring, “I love you. Like, so much.”

You can feel his grin against your mouth. “You know I love you too. And as much as I would also love to hear you go on about how I’m the most perfect boyfriend, I need to be in you right now.”

A pretty giggle meets his ears, and he marvels for a second how you’re so quick to oblige. Propping yourself up on your elbows, your ass juts out in his direction. You give it a little tempting wiggle, and he hurries to position himself behind you. With one hand on the small of your back, he guides you back down his length.

“Ah━ Fuuuck━” He moans. “Arch your back a little more for me, baby.”

You do as you’re told, leaning forward just enough on your elbows and sticking your hips back to meet his as he sinks balls deep into your core. Then, he’s crumbling apart, all breathy panting as he tries to focus.

“Shit, baby━”

“Mmm━”

“You’re so tight. So wet. I’m not gonna last,” he pouts, as if it’s a genuine disappointment. He watches as he pulls out of your heat just enough before shoving himself back in, his dick covered in a glistening sheen of your arousal. You’re so damn wet, he wonders how he hasn’t slipped from you yet. His hands grip and tug at your ass, spreading you to see the way your cunt pulsates and stretches around his dick. So perfect, almost as if you were made for him. “Tell me. Wanna hear how good you feel right now.”

“S-So good,” You mumble drunkenly. “God, you’re so good, Woo. Fuck━!”

His gaze droops down to your breasts, bouncing with each thrust of his hips into yours. He reaches around and grabs at one of your boobs. The gentle shake of the soft flesh in his palms is always his favourite feeling, and he can’t help but squeeze at them now because, god, he really does love your tits. If he had all the time in the world, he would do anything to fuck himself between your boobs, and cum all over your chest ━ but that will have to wait for now.

“Ah━ Fuck━ Wish I could take my time with you right now,” he moans, planting sloppy kisses along your shoulder. “I can’t wait till we’re alone. Gonna take care of you so well, baby.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grunts. He reaches down with his other hand, thumb pressing against the tight hole of your ass. The sensation alone is enough to have you nearly keeling over, a strangled cry of pleasure ripping from you. “Want you coming on my tongue so bad. Gonna fuck you against every surface too. You deserve it. You’re always so good to me, princess.”

“Only for you,” You whimper. If he wasn’t so pressed for time, the affirmation alone would have been more than enough to make him melt in your very hands. But his dick is still so hard, and your pussy is still so wet, all he can focus on is not slipping from your walls with every thrust of his hips. “Ah, Wooyoung! Y-You’re so━ So hard━”

You bite harshly at your lip when a loud moan threatens to spill from you. You bury your face in the blanket around you, clutching so tightly at the material. A part of Wooyoung finds it amusing, if only because, if the boys are awake and don’t hear your lewd moans, there’s no doubt they won’t be able to hear the sound of skin against skin as his hips slap against your ass.

“Let me hear you, baby,” he coaxes now. “Moan out loud for me.” When you shake your head, he snickers. “Want it harder? Will that help you?”

He gives an experimental roll of his hips, a little rougher than usual. It sends you teetering forward, a broken groan tumbling from you that’s left muffled by the blanket. He can hear you mumble wantonly, “Don’t be a tease.”

A cheshire-like grin spreads across his face. “Here━ Come sit on my dick. Wanna feel you so deep━”

His words make you moan softly, followed by the way he pulls out of you just quickly enough to sit back against the bed. He tugs you onto his lap and you follow suit, spreading your legs further apart as you sink onto his leaking dick. Down, down, down, until it almost feels as if he’s hitting your cervix, and suddenly you’re not so sure you’ll be able to keep it together any longer. That, mixed with the way he’s gazing at you, all hooded eyed and alluring, you’re very close to dissolving into a mess right in his very arms.

“Ah━ Ah━ Fuck, baby━” You grip at his shoulders as you adjust to the new feeling, hips squirming above his. “Wooyoung, please━”

But your words fall short. The desperate plea that hinges in your voice fades into nothing more than the urgent need to feel more of him, to have him absolutely wreck you, as you begin to rock your hips back and forth on his dick.

“Please what, baby?” he taunts lazily. But he knows what he’s doing, slyly beckoning you to make a mess, and moan for him.

His palms are warm as they slide up your sides, then around your back, hugging you close to his chest. He thrusts his hips up just once into you, sending you into a haste that has you lifting yourself up and then back down his cock. As you adopt a steady and reckless pace that has you bouncing on his length, he watches your every reaction. The way your face contorts at the sheer pleasure, brows pinched so hard in concentration, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Your hands reach out to thread through his long locks, pretty blonde tresses running through the seams of your fingers. You tug lightly at the root, earning a low groan from him.

“Fuck, Y/N━” His head rolls back against the mattress at your quick pace. “You’re so fucking sexy━ So desperate for my dick━ Ah━”

He moans suddenly, only this time it’s less muffled than before. Whether he does it the first time to tease you or simply because he had gotten carried away, you aren’t quite sure. Either way, it’s enough to startle you, even amongst the daze you’re in.

“Wooyoung━” Your voice is a small warning, but it lacks any severity when it splinters into a whine. “Not so loud.”

“They’re━ Ah, fuck━ sleeping━”

You meet his mischievous stare with your own heedful one. Your pace slows, if only just, and you’re certain this time that when he moans even louder, it’s entirely on purpose.

“Woo!” You clamp a hand softly over his mouth, smothering the tail end of his crude groan.

The grin that forms on his face beneath your hand is evident of his amusement of his toying with you but it turns sluggish quickly. The sight to see is hot enough, with the drowsy lopsided smirk poking out from underneath your hand as he watches you continue to ride him, now a measured gyrating against his own hips. When he realizes you’ve chosen to keep your hand over his mouth, he reaches up to grab a hold of your wrist, his large fingers splaying out and then up over your knuckles.

“Come on, baby. It’s okay. Let it out,” he hums. He kisses at your fingertips, tongue swiveling around to suck on your digits delicately. “Not even one tiny moan? Let me hear that pretty voice of yours.”

He can feel your thighs begin to shake around him and, judging by the crescendoing of whimpers tumbling from your mouth, he senses you’re close. Your free hand still grips at his hair, this time a little tighter as you try to anchor yourself in place to rock your hips a little faster. Wooyoung hisses delightfully at the feeling, a small lethargic chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest.

Rough hands grab at your waist now, shifting you around abruptly until you’re splayed out on the floor on your back with him hovering over you. His length stays wedged snugly in your walls, never once slipping, and as he settles against your chest, he lifts one of your legs up and over his shoulder. An animalistic growl slips from him at your pinched face, and the way your cunt starts to squeeze around him. With this angle that his hips pound into yours, his cock hits so deep into your core, pummeling against your cervix again and again.

“H-Harder━ Wooyoung━” You pant. “Please━ I’m gonna━”

Finally, a moan sounds from you. Loud and unabashed, a little broken and exhausted, but beautiful to Wooyoung’s ears nonetheless. In fact, it’s so sexy of a noise that it’s enough to nearly push him over the edge but he relents, if only just for a little longer.

“Ah, there’s my favourite sound,” he smirks. His tongue lavs at the underside of your jaw, and your hand finds itself tangled in his hair once more. “Gonna be a good girl and let the boys hear you now?”

You try with all your might to silence yourself, but the task proves more and more difficult. A few more slams of his hips into yours, and you’re crumbling apart right before his eyes.

“Fuck━ Wooyoung━”

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts into your ear. “Cum for me.”

As you come, the sudden gush of wetness around your core coats his length and he almost accidentally slips from your cunt. You’re clenched so tightly around him, Wooyoung feels as if he has to gasp for air to stay focused. His eyes still stay trained on you, watching as your face contorts as you writhe beneath him. But it’s your shameless moaning that sets him off, albeit still softer than usual but much louder than he was expecting from you with the boys so close by.

“Ah━ You’re so fucking hot━” he whines. “Gonna cum━”

Every thrust of his hips sends you bobbing up and down, and as you come down from your high the pleasurable feeling of his hard cock still burrowed in your sensitive walls has you whimpering softly. Your legs try to separate further, beckoning him for more.

“Cum in me, Youngie,” you beckon dazedly. “Wanna feel it so bad━”

“Oh, fuck━” he gasps. “Can I?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You’re so good to me, baby. Aren’t you?”

His pace quickens, hips snapping into yours urgently. One final shuddering thrust and he’s overwhelmed by his orgasm, cock pulsating within your aching walls as his cum fills you up. He has to bury his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his moans, listening to the sharp gasp for air you take when you feel his release.

He rides out his high in a few more leisure rolls of his hips, though he seems more concerned now with kissing your throat slowly. He gently unravels your leg from his shoulder, then slumps against you like the comfortable heavy weight that he is. His dick lays softening still buried within your walls, now leaking with his cum.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” You hear him sigh dreamily into your neck. “‘Cause you are.”

“Almost daily,” You concur with a giggle. Your own fingers smooth out his hair, fixing the messy strands, and he croons with delight. He leaves a trail of sweet kisses up along your throat, then your jaw, and then the corner of your mouth. Safe for the laboured breathing as you both try to calm your shrill hearts, you’re made aware so suddenly of just how quiet the room suddenly is. “There’s no way the guys slept through all of that.”

“I’m sure they did.” Wooyoung nibbles gingerly at your lip. “There’s nothing to worry about. Especially right now. I’m so tired. We can deal with the potential consequences later.”

You snort. “How did I know that’s exactly what you would say?”

You catch him smirking before he plants one last kiss on your lips. Somehow, he’s able to pry himself off of you long enough to slip into his shorts laying discarded on the floor before disappearing outside of the room into the darkened hallway. He returns moments later with a damp towel to help clean up the sticky mess between your legs, then tugs you back onto the bed with him.

“They’ll see you sneaking out of my room if you sleep here,” You point out through a yawn.

“I’ll get up before them,” he insists. “Just give me an hour with you, like this.”

You can’t resist the urge.

At the very least, you fall asleep first in his arms, his fingers playing with your hair. He must slip away from you at some point during the night, unraveling himself carefully from your sleeping figure to retreat to his own room. You’ll tell the boys eventually of your relationship with Wooyoung, you swear.

But for now, there, under the covers of the bed, you have all the time in the world to enjoy yourself with Wooyoung in pure, unadulterated silence.

In the morning when you wake up, you join your boyfriend with the rest of the boys downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast.

You’re the last to arrive, having wanted to take your time in the shower ━ a fact that Wooyoung laments, because he wanted nothing more than to shower with you to “save water” (which really just translates to more sex), but with only two bathrooms and nine people, the feat seemed impossible. Now, you sidle into the seat next to Wooyoung at the kitchen table, smiling down at him when his eyes flicker to you which seems to go unnoticed by the others.

“How was your night?” Yunho asks passively once you’ve settled into place. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod, as Wooyoung answers, “Best sleep of my life.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” This amused offhanded scoff comes from San under his breath. It causes Mingi to almost choke on his sip of orange juice as he snorts into the glass.

“What was that?” Wooyoung asks.

“Oh, nothing,” San says. The smirk on his face says otherwise. “Thought we heard some loud noises last night. It was weird.”

Then there’s Mingi, leaning across the table to catch your attention alone. He shoots you a more merciful look, though he still seems entertained nevertheless when he whispers to you, “You have something on your neck.”

Your hand instinctively clamps onto your throat, over the spot Mingi points to as you mentally curse yourself. While you had been so preoccupied the night before trying not to make any noise, you forgot to warn Wooyoung against leaving any noticeable marks on your body ━ a bad habit of his, and your fatal mistake for forgetting to check the morning after.

The others are fortunately not paying attention, already absorbed in their own conversations, but the horror of so clearly being found out by San and Mingi sends you into a frenzy. It even seems to alarm Wooyoung judging by the way he starts laughing nervously, though maybe that’s because your knee bashes against his under the table and sends him jumping in his seat.

Clearly, you have a lot of explaining to do. Eventually.

The last thing you hear San say before he and Mingi howl with laughter seems to make even the charmingly confident Wooyoung slightly frazzled, and leaves you all the more confused.

“Some romantic getaway, huh?”

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

#wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #wooyoung x y/n #ateez #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung imagine #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung oneshot #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung fluff #ateez fanfic #wooyoung imagines

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enhal0ve · 3 years

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My jake brain rot has been soo SO bad lately!! Time now I don’t know if Jake listens to chase Atlantic but moonlight is such a jake song like HELP?!!? He’s so like seductive without even trying like his eyes yk his Scorpio energy!!

I feel like he’d def fuck you in his car to that song. And I know I KNOW that kid has a corruption kink. I can’t explain it but he screams “I love corrupting peoples innocence” it def makes him dizzy

Like imagine he’s driving and there’s soft music playing in the background. You’ve both been driving for hours cause ur going on vacation with the boys. And your relationship is kinda new maybe two or three months into it. So previous to this you’d been talking about getting into the physical aspect of your relationship, and you admit no one’s ever touched you.

He would have to stop himself from rolling his eyes back and groaning. Asking “so no one’s ever touched your pretty pussy?” And you’re just so shy and meek talking about what you know you like just from stuff you’ve seen or read. And idc IDC dom!jake def has a daddy kink. Argue with the wall because he’s def a commanding type of dom. The way he takes care of people. He definitely likes to be taken care of don’t get me wrong but now especially since he has little control in his life he loves taking control and calling the shots. And if you’re inexperienced that little frat boy would eat that shit up.

(This is all over the place omg)

So anyways ur driving and the song comes on and he briefly takes his eyes off the road to look at you, and you look so pretty in your dress sitting in his car looking at the moon. He can’t help but get unbelievably hard at the thought of ruining you in his backseat.

So he places his hand on your thigh and you shiver. You’re just sensitive and everywhere he touches always burns because the way he looks at you gets you so worked up.

He’s pulling off the side of the road and giving you his bedroom eyes. Saying he just needs a little break from driving. He’s been so busy lately with his idol activities poor puppy just needs to unwind.

He leans over the console cupping your face bringing you into a kiss that’s so heated you swear, that alone is gonna fog up the windows.

And you’re ready you’ve been ready, so you’re asking him to touch you in a quiet little voice and he’s pulling away tilting his head to the side. His eyes shining as the corner of his lips tug up into a half smile, “what’s that darling” pretending he didn’t hear you cause he’s a little shit. And he’s getting off to the fact that you’re so innocent and he’s about to make you say loud and clear that you want him to ruin you.

“Need you to touch me jake. Please” and he fake pouts his finger dragging the strap of your dress down your shoulder, “aww how cute. Shy huh?”

And you’re nodding gripping the fabric of your dress in your fingers so hard they’re turning white.

“So needy huh?” He’s so condescending about it you wanna whine. “Uh huh please.” And he’s putting the car back into motion and ofc you’re confused as hell like you thought you were about to be wrecked and he’s smirking, “we’re going to a parking garage I’m not trying to get in trouble” he laughs lighthearted like he’s not about to wreck tf outtta you in a minute

And when you finally get to the parking garage he’s parking somewhere where it’s dark, and no one can see what’s about to go down.

And before you know it he’s pulling you into the backseat and placing you on his lap. Your dress being rolled up to your hips. And it’s over for you he’s touching you everywhere. And he smells so good and feels so warm you’re getting dizzy. He’s marking up your neck and keeping his other hand on your ass guiding you to grind over his hard on.

It’s uncomfortable but he’s got you on your back and you wouldn’t wanna lose it anywhere else to anyone else, and he’s tapping your clit through your underwear, “never been touched here huh?” And you bite your lip, “not till just right now JJ,” and then he’s like a man possessed groaning and taking a breath to keep himself calm.

And after he’s made you come on his fingers he’s sliding just the tip of his cock in. Your face is scrunched up and your so tight he feels like he’s gonna pass tf out if he can’t cum in you. He tells you the head is the worst part and it’s gonna feel so good soon. He’s gonna make you feel so good soon.

And when he finally pushes into the hilt. He’s so deep in you you’re squirming your hips around and he’s giving you a sharp look, “don’t fucking move unless you want me to cum in you right now.”

And ofc you listen because his accent is so thick and he sounds so strict.

And then when it’s okay he’s sliding all the way out and pushing all the way back in, and you’re both moaning and breathing heavy.

And then he’s pinning your hips with the weight of his thrusts. They’re almost punishing and you have nowhere to go so you’re laying there taking everything he gives you and he’s saying the most filthy shit in your ear, “tight pussys all mine huh?” “All daddy’s now hm?” “No one’s touching it every again ‘Cept for me.” “Ruining you for everyone else”

And he sure is. He’s rearranging your guys fr and you’re a sweaty whining mess. Your legs are locked tightly around his waist while he’s drilling into you. And I’m a firm believer that jake eats hella healthy like he was an athlete before he was an idol

So after he’s made you cum at least three times around his dick he’s coming in you, and his cum is thick and it’s filling you up so much that you’re coming again, it’s honestly so messy and he can’t even be bothered because he’s your first and he’s making you a mess in HIS car on HIS dick.

And the aftercare is so nice afterwards he’s all sweet and smiley jake and he’s got so much pride cause he just actually fucked you dumb

Ngl y’all I blacked out while writing this what the hell. Anyways yeah happy jake brain rot hours

#enhypen hard hours #jake drabbles #jake hard hours #jake sim smut #enhypen jake smut #jake smut #wth was I on #jake x you

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after-witch · 4 years

Text

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit.

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend?

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave. You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off.

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right?

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful. He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #yandere ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #knives out #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

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sxnnimoon · 3 years

Text

Little One pt.2

I am telling you guys right there is to be a LOTTTT more smut within this series. This is only the beginning. Hope you all enjoy part 2 as much as part 1 !

Paring- OT7 x Reader (poly)

Summary- Through your husbands line of work they take a week or more off to spend some time with their wife.

—————————————————————

Arriving at Celeste you were in awe at how many people were always here. Not wanting to brag but your club was by far the best at bringing in not only money but also people. You knew what people wanted. The feeling of letting go with a hint of sexual tension and endless booze. You all went up to your usual spot. Right in the middle up top so you had a view of the whole place.

“Y/N,” said your favorite waitress Cleo.

“Lo! So good to see you.” You said hugging her. “How’s everything?”

“Everything is actually amazing. Tonight has been nothing but smooth.” She smiled.

“I meant with you silly.” You nudge her arm. “How’s baby girl?”

“Of course!” she giggled. “She’s amazing, finally almost ready for school. I may just cry.”

“Well don’t, you may make me cry.” You smiled, rubbing her arm.

“The usual I presume?” She asked.

“Boys?” You looked at your husbands.

A round of yes’ and sures were heard.

You laughed.

“Yes and get something for yourself as well!” You pointed after her.

She nodded.

“You are just too nice.” Namjoon said, pulling you into his lap.

“She’s an amazing worker and mother.” You smiled. “I think I’ll keep her around.”

He nodded.

Once the drinks were brought you downed a few shots to start.

“You better behave tonight.” Yoongi said.

“Whatever do you mean?” You smirked at him grabbing another shot.

“You know exactly what he means.” Taehyung said from beside him.

You giggle at the memory of you fighting off some drunk guys who started a fight with Chi. You were buzzed but boy did you impress your boys, not a scratch left on you. That was a night to remember.

“I’m gonna go dance.” You said practically bouncing in Joon’s lap at the beat of the music. “Anyone wanna join me?”

“I’ll meet you in a few minutes.” Kookie said.

You smiled, shaking your ass as you headed for the dance floor. You found your girls at the edge of the dance floor talking with Cleo.

“Ladies.” You said hugging Chi from behind.

“Someone’s on one.” Said Skye laughing.

“I’ve had a few shots. I feel amazing.” You smiled, running your hands down your body.

They all giggled.

You removed your blazer leaving you in your dress as you didn’t wanna get warm.

“Shall we?” You said pulling them to the floor.

They all yelled in excitement.

Fever by ENHYPEN started playing and you all were grinding on each other. You were in your element. From above your boys watched you. They were in awe of you.

“You gotta see her. She looks hot.” Hobi said.

“That dress.” Jimin said. “I had no idea it was backless.” He bit his lip.

“She’s playing with fire tonight.” Yoongi said.

“This is gonna be a LONGGGGG week for her.” Tae said, smirking.

“Look at her grinding on them.” Joon said. “She knows what she does to us.”

“I’m going down.” Kook said.

They all nodded, eyes still on you.

Letting the music take you, you felt a pair of familiar hands on your body.

“Nice of you to join me.” You smirked, grinding into him.

“You looked too good, I had too.” He held your hips in place.

You hummed, throwing your head back into him.

“Beside,” he began “the show you put on with Chi and Skye, you were killing us.”

“You enjoyed it?” You turned to face him.

“Baby I am so close to taking you right now.” He said. “So what do you think?”

You turned back around grinding hard into him.

His grip on you tightened.

“Don’t start this little one if you know what’s good for you.” He growled into your ear.

“But I like it, baby.” You pouted. “Don’t you?”

You stepped away from him, hands running on your body as you moved your body to the beat of the song.

“Let’s get a drink kitty,” Chi said, pulling you from Kookie.

“Bye baby.” You smiled leaving him on the dance floor.

He shook his head before making his way back upstairs.

“She will be the death of me.” He said plopping down next to V.

“She’s trouble that one.” Yoongi said, sipping his drink.

“Girl you are so gonna get it when you get home.” Chi said.

“Ugh you are so lucky.” Skye said.

“All that dick and they're good looking? I’d be prancing around like that too.” Chi said.

You giggled.

“They treat me like royalty, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You smiled while sipping your drink. “Besides, they liked the show we put on for them.” You smirked.

“Oh really now?” Chi said.

“Maybe we should take it up a notch.” Skye said.

You knew exactly what they meant.

“Let me find the perfect song.” You smirked walking away.

Sacrifice by Black Atlass ft. Jessie Reyes began playing. You knew what this song did to them, especially if it involved you.

Taking your girls to the middle. You all started off solo before moving in together. Chi in the front, you in the middle and Skye behind you. The boys were watching you like hawks. They knew you had your way with women but boy did it rile them up seeing you like this in the middle of them. Both of them kissing on you as you grabbed Chi's ass pulling her closer. This was nothing new between you three. You had your few share of moments between each other but it never meant anything and never ruined your friendship over it. You knew what you were doing and you were pleased to look up and see them all staring, you blew them a kiss before going back to dancing as the song was coming to an end. Making your way back up top, all eyes were on you.

“You,” V began. “Will be the death of me.”

“Did you enjoy the show, my love?” You bit your bottom lip.

“I should take you here right now,” Hoseok growled. “Let everyone know what a naughty slut you’ve been.” He bit your neck. Earning a moan.

“Shall we head home then?” You put a finger under his chin.

“Let’s go.” Yoongi said, pulling you away.

Walking through the club to leave the girls spotted you being rushed away. They giggled. They knew what kinda night was underway for you.

“Don’t break her!!” Skye yelled.

“We have a retreat after your vacation. She’s gotta be there.” Chi added.

You laughed at them waving bye.

Getting into the limo you were placed on Jimin’s lap.

“You were naughty tonight.” He whispered in your ear making you squirm.

“Do you know the things we wanna do to you?” Hoseok said into your other ear.

“I wasn’t that bad daddy.” You moaned out as Jimin began doing circles on your nipple. Hoseok pulled your dress up, exposing you. The cool air hitting you made you moan.

“No bra or panties?” Yoongi said. “It’s like you wanted a punishment.”

“But look at how wet I am for you daddy.” You whined out at them.

They groaned, they loved you in this state. All turned on and willing to do anything for them.

“Touch me baby.” You whined at Jimin who was running his finger on your thigh getting very close to your heat.

“Not here princess, we’re almost home.” He whispered.

You let out a whine.

“Keep it up little one or you won’t be getting any dick tonight.” Jin said sternly.

You instantly shut up.

“That’s a good girl.” Namjoon said.

Once home they all hurried inside, Jimin holding your waist kissing on your neck as you walked in the house.

Once inside he pushed you into the door leaving a trail of wet kisses on you.

“Tonight Jimin and Hobi have their way with you.” Jin said. Earning a whine from Jungkook.

“It’s okay Kookie, you can have a taste tomorrow.” You said biting your lip.

“You’re in for princess.” Hoseok said, putting you over his shoulder.

He entered the play room (Red Room if you will) placing you on your feet.

“That was fun.” You giggled.

“It’ll be more fun once these clothes are gone.” Jimin said.

“Strip baby.” Hobi ordered.

You pulled the straps down your arms before letting the dress slip to your feet leaving you in your heels. They both looked at you in awe. The curviness of your body drives them crazy. You bent down to undo your heels when they stopped you.

“Leave them princess.” Hoseok said.

You stood back up.

“Aren’t you both a little too dressed.” You crossed your arms.

They began undressing, your eyes practically ready to fall out at the sight of them. You were ready for them.

They saw you staring, Jimin beckoned you with his finger to come to them. You instantly got on all fours and crawled. Once in front of them you were eye level with their cocks. You reached out for them only to be swatted away.

“Bed. Now.” Hoseok ordered.

You got onto bed waiting on your back. The quietness of the room only made you more anxious. You were about to speak when you felt a mouth on you, making you cry out. You grabbed onto what you could that thing being Jimin’s head. The things he was doing to you were incredible.

“Jimin.” You moaned out. “More..please.”

“You want more baby?” He said in between licks.

He soon entered a finger making you moan loud. You felt the bed dip, looking over you were met you Hobi’s dick.

“Open little one.” He said.

You opened eager to taste him. He entered with ease , starting off with a slow pace before ducking your throat. You were in heaven.

“I’m gonna add a second, okay baby?” He asked.

You moaned out against Hoseok's dick as a second finger entered you. The vibrations from you caused Hobi to groan, almost bottoming out.

“I-I’m close.” you moaned.

“No you’re not.” Jimin said, removing his fingers.

You whined at the loss of contact.

“Don’t be a brat Y/n.” Hoseok growled. “Ass up.”

You got up quick.

“That's a good girl.” Jimin said coming up behind you.

He began running his tip against your opening.

“I-I need you..now.” you moaned out. “Stop teasing.”

“Why should I?” He began. “You’ve done nothing but tease us all night.”

“But you enjoyed it.” You giggled.

Jimin slapped you on the ass. You moaned loud.

He entered you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. The amount of times you have had them all in you and yet you still couldn’t handle it.

You cried out gripping the sheets as he entered you fully.

“Move baby.” You said.

He began slow, building up a steady pace. You were a morning mess.

“You like when hyung fills you up?” Hoseok said watching Jimin fuck you.

You cried out.

“Answer him.” Jimin said earning a slap to your ass.

“Yes Hobi,” you moaned out.

“What was that?” He said getting close to you.

“Yes daddy.” You mewled out.

“Good girl, look at you taking his cock.” He cooed.

“I’m gonna cum.” Jimin moaned.

“Cum baby.” You yelled out. “Give it to me.”

A few more strokes and he bottomed out. You collapsed, laying on your stomach for a few seconds before Hoseok flipped you over.

“Get ready baby.” He smirked.

Sex with Hoseok was something else, he was always tying you up and doing everything in his power to please you.

“We’re not going all out tonight.” He said entering you. “ I’m not going to last very long.”

You cried out as he began a brutal pace. He knew exactly what to do to get you to cum. You could feel the knot beginning to form in you, you were close.

“I’m close Hoseok.” You moaned.

“Me too baby,” he said almost out of breath. “Just hold out for a bit, ok?”

You nodded trying your hardest, you ended up clenching around him making him lose focus.

“Cum for me princess,” he said.

You cried out as you released on him. He came soon after. You were out of breath, you couldn’t wait for what the next few days brought you. They took notice of your state and knew you were to pass out soon,

“Let’s clean up baby and then you can head to bed.” Jimin said already working to clean you up.

After cleaning up they placed you in your bed, both getting in on either side of you. Both wrapped their arms around you making you feel safe, you soon began to drift off to sleep.

#imagines #imagine #bts mafia au #BTS #bts mafia fic #mafia bts #bts mafia imagine #mafia fic #mafia au #smut

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pasteljeon · 4 years

Text

sincerely, yours (m)

summary: in which you return to an apartment full of 7 horny boyfriends.

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings: pining, dirty talk, heavy petting, sexual tension

length: 2.9k

notes: this is another blm commission written for the amazing @/himbeaux-joon. thank you so much for your support and donation! i hope you enjoy n forgive me for the wait.

“You’re fucked.”

You pull your phone away from your ear out of pure disbelief. Squinting at the screen, you’re assured you’re speaking to the right person when your friend’s name peers back at you.

“Sorry?”

She said it so casually and offhandedly you do a double take. Your luggage rolls noisily behind you, a hefty and rather rickety thing, though you don’t quite have the heart to rid of it just yet. It has character, stickers and stamps collected from your various travels scattered on the cover. Some are fraying and others greying and half-peeled. Some are new, recently added to the collection and sparkle almost obnoxiously next to your dying ones.

“You are so fucked,” she laughs. It’s less of a laugh and more of a cackle. You check your phone again. Still her.

“Are you going to elaborate on that?” You say dryly as you finally wheel yourself out of customs. The last month has been hectic, your job and position requiring you to fly overseas for the past three weeks. You would think your boys would have been used to the asynchronistic nature of your schedules considering how busy they usually are, but they did finish the last leg of their tour just as you left. Your company offered another two weeks of paid vacation is a thank-you for the generous contract you just signed. Your boys protested and pouted but you took it, adamant about finally taking that much needed break.

They reluctantly let you go, faking tears but understanding, their jobs equally as, if not more, stressful.

“Nope.” She pops the p with some dark sense of satisfaction, and you repress the shiver that crawls down your spine. “But I can say it’s a good type of fucking. You know, the one where you bend Jungkook over the—”

“Okay, got it, thank you,” you cut her off hastily, holding a hand over the speaker to muffle her voice that rises into a sing-song, glancing around discreetly to ensure no one’s eavesdropped over your rather scandalous conversation.

“You ever notice how whiny your boys can get when you’re away?” She teases when you return to the line. Rummaging in your purse for some change, you scan the airport café for some iced coffee, chuckling, “Yes. You have no idea.”

“You know all the boys have a chat exclusive for their very not safe for work thoughts?” she tells you. It makes you choke and laugh simultaneously, the cashier eyeing you strangely as he takes your order.

“I don’t know how they make it sounds so hot,” your friend continues blandly. “Normally it sounds so greasy. But they’re usually so well-behaved and polite. I was so shocked. I had no idea that Jimin liked—”

You yelp, staring down at your shirt. Luckily, it’s dark enough to hide the stain, so you mop it up sheepishly, thanking the server who offers you some napkins, clucking sympathetically.

“What?” You hissed, pulling to the side. You’re whisper-shouting into your phone now. “They did what?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? Didn’t Rhys tell you? He was rolling all over about it,” she snickers. You splutter. Rhys is a close friend to the both of you, and often spent nights gaming with Jungkook and Taehyung. You knew your boys had a group chat with your other male friends but … “But they’re usually so polite,” you exclaim.

Your friend clicks her tongue. “Cue exhibit A. Anyway, good luck girl. You’re gonna need it.” Without waiting for your reply, she ends the call, her cackles cutting off into an odd ringing in your ear.

“Oh dear,” you say to yourself, staring down at your drink. “What am I walking into?”

Your friend’s call is lousy warning, if you’re going to be honest.

Only the maknaes are able to pick you up from the airport, with the remainder of the boys caught up in the photoshoot. They were able to wrap up before your flight landed.

They’re a ball of hazed energy. Dressed casually, face masked and caps donned, they somehow manage to blend in with the crowd of receivers. Your breath catches. In the short time away, you’ve forgotten just how little justice pictures and videos do for them. They’re beautiful.

They watch you like hawks, glazed eyes dark and you’re genuinely a little concerned for Taehyung. The outline of his length presses insistently against his black slacks, but he pays no attention, half-lidded as he peers at you through thick lashes. You’re shocked no one’s carded him for public indecency yet. The image alone is enough to make your core to clench.

There’s no fanfare, no glee, no innocent excitement, no cheerful, “noona!” you expected from the youngest. Instead, Jungkook silently reaches over to relieve you of your luggage, fingers grazing your palm. He pulls down his mask to kiss the corner of your mouth. He visibly tears himself away, and you can see the way his veins pop under the pressure, jaw clenching hard. Electricity sparks down your spine, making you shiver.

“Heart. Welcome back,” Taehyung rumbles as he tips your chin up. His voice is more of a growl, the sound reverberates from his chest, low and incredibly sexy it makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

“I missed you,” Jimin pushes his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. He catches your hand when you reach for him, steadying your shaky knees. You clutch at the sleeve of his turtleneck, his palm cupping the back of your head as his nose skims the column of your throat.

“G-guys, we’re in public,” you manage in a faint whisper, and Jimin’s grip tightens briefly before he reluctantly pulls away. Jungkook takes your other hand, Taehyung leading the way to the car.

They brush your concern off easily, not even bothering to scan their surroundings in case anyone’s recognized them. You do a cursory sweep anyway, but find the airport still relatively empty, the crowd occupied with their own arrivals. Suddenly, you’re once again struck with a profound sense of appreciation for Namjoon’s forever careful scheduling of your flights so this could be possible.

The underground parking lot is quiet, and you exchange no words as Jungkook’s Mercedes comes into view.

The sexual tension is, as they say, palpable.

You move to follow Jimin into the backseat, but Jungkook grabs your wrist, twirling you around. The cool metal meets your heated skin for a brief moment before he pulls you close. “Noona,” he murmurs, bringing your arm to his lips. He fastens his mouth over your pulse point, suckling gently. His lashes tickle your inner wrist.

“Jungkook,” you say breathily, his leg coming to push your thighs apart. You nearly collapse onto him, and he releases you with an agonized sigh. The mark blooms darkly, and he lets out a long exhale.

“Gguk.” There’s a warning in his tone.

“I know,” the maknae bites back. He lets you down slowly, hungry gaze raking over your form one last time before he lets Taehyung help you into the car.

He walks to the driver’s side, forehead pressing against the hood fleetingly before sliding into the seat. It does nothing to settle the heat stirring in his stomach. He can’t bring himself to regret it, though, despite the way his pants dig into his hard cock.

Just a little longer. His fingers grip the wheel tightly, knuckles whitening as he pulls out of the lot.

They can hardly keep their hands off of you, glued to your side the entirety of the ride back.

Jungkook wants to scream out of pure frustration. He can hardly concentrate, though it is the crack of dawn and traffic is sparse.

He can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick sounds of your makeout sessions. He resists the urge to check the rear-view mirror for the nth time. He knows one glance is enough to make his thighs clench.

He hears your soft, melodic sighs between kisses, lips likely beautifully swollen and plump from their coaxing. He knows that Taehyung is sweet, and that Jimin is eager, a little rough. It's downright pornographic. His eye twitches.

“Mmm, Chim,” you mewl.

That's it. He growls. “Guys, knock it off. Otherwise we’re taking her in the back of my car.”

“Wouldn't be such a bad idea,” Taehyung murmurs, and Jungkook risks a glimpse, only to see Taehyung mouthing at your neck, one hand down your pants. You're a vision, sprawled on Jimin's lap, head tossed back against his neck. Back arched, shirt halfway unbuttoned, bra peeking out and hair disheveled.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook barks. He’s a second away from breaking the wheel. Red light. He watches Taehyung suck a blooming flower against your neckline. He pulls away reluctantly to admire it.

“It's fine,” Jimin pipes up, and Jungkook swears he pops a vessel with the way the older slides a hand up to cup your breast, thumbing your peaks from under the silken material. “We're here.”

The maknae parks the car hastily, all too relieved to be home. He practically yanks the hinges off the passenger door open. Jimin groans, almost falling flat on his ass at the sudden momentum. “Jeon!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, stepping aside for Jimin to step out. Jungkook catches you, stumbling with trembling legs and poorly adjusted shirt. He sweeps you into his arms without another thought, moving briskly towards the entrance. His strength makes you squirm in his hold, clutching his tensed bicep.

“Smell so good,” he groans, and he has to pause at the door, letting you down only to pin you against the glass, kissing you hard.

“Taste so good,” he pants, unable to stop himself from grinding against you. He wants you close, craves you. Your hands snake under his shirt, pushing it up impatiently to flatten your palm against his toned stomach, the other fumbling with his belt.

The sound of the leather and metal coming undone makes him hiss, hips jerking. “Sensitive baby,” you murmur teasingly, fingers digging into his v-line. Jungkook’s breath stutters, cock throbbing unwittingly.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” he moans, slumping onto you as you give his clothed length a tentative squeeze. He’s so incredibly hard it’s painful. The blood rushing to his dick is making him dizzy, a little breathless.

Before you can reply, the door is abruptly wrenched open. You gasp, Jungkook nearly toppling over, but he braces you under his arm, catching you easily.

“Told you he wouldn’t make it in before he succumbed.” You look up to see Hoseok gazing down at you with those strong brows of his, studying you with an intensity that has your body flushing with heat again. Even upside down he’s gorgeous beyond reason.

Jungkook flips you back up, and Hoseok’s lips quirk when he catches you floundering.

“Bet he came in his pants.” Namjoon walks forward, hands in his pockets and his tone is casual, like he’s discussing the menu from your favourite diner.

“Colour me shocked the neighbours haven’t carded the two of you for public indecency,” Yoongi drawls, smirking when Jungkook blushes darkly.

“I’m going to develop abandonment issues if you keep forgetting about us like that.” Jungkook rubs his neck, embarrassed, as Taehyung and Jimin step in with mirroring looks of disgruntlement. Taehyung walks over, lips quirking wryly as you slide your arms over his neck.

“Don’t tease,” you chastise, but he ignores you in lieu of pulling you close, swaying slightly to the sound of his quiet humming. His hands are hot, burning through the thin material of your shirt as he presses you flush against his body.

“Romantic,” you whisper, smiling. Taehyung smiles too, eyes still closed.

“Welcome back, beautiful.” You startle at the sound, but smile at the familiar voice, leaning into his touch. Taehyung allows you to slip from his hold, the newcomer twirling you around.

“Hi, Jin,” you say shyly, biting your lip. Seokjin beams, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Missed you so much,” he says softly. “Was about to lose my sanity if you were away any longer.”

You laugh aloud, and Seokjin looks a little awestruck at the sound, watching you with that soft, adoring look in his eyes. “I thought you would’ve enjoyed the peace while I was gone.”

“Hardly. I was left in a house full of horny kids. The testosterone levels were crazy,” he sighs dramatically. “Pass.”

Somewhere in the background, Namjoon snorts. “Please, hyung. You act like you weren’t jacking off three times a day to her pictures.”

Seokjin squeaks, Hoseok roaring in laughter. Jungkook claps a hand to his mouth, trying and failing to hide his mirth, sexual tension momentarily forgotten.

You loop your arms around his neck with a coy smile. “Is this true, Jinnie?”

“Don’t tease me,” he mumbles into your neck. He feels the shaking of your silent giggles and groans. “I hate you, Joon.”

“If it helps, I’m flattered, you know. And the feeling is mutual, in case you were wondering,” you whisper to him.

“It wasn’t just that,” Seokjin grumbles, glancing away as the tips of his ears darken. “I always want you around. You’re my home, you know.”

Your heart swells, fingers tingling. “Jin,” you say softly, cupping his cheeks. He looks everywhere but at you, complexion mirroring a tomato alarmingly fast. Seokjin, who can dish out sweetness but never take it, mood maker but so shy. Seokjin, who is kind and charming and gorgeous and has a big, beautiful heart.

“I love you so much,” you whisper. He looks at you wonderingly, as if mystified by such an all-encompassing sentiment.

“___ … You have no idea how much I adore you,” Seokjin breathes, a little giddy, a little lightheaded by that fond, warm expression you’re regarding him with.

“Not more than me.” The two of you jump at the sound, jolted from your secluded bubble, to see, shockingly, Yoongi pouting behind the eldest. The composer has his arms crossed, brows knitted and cheeks puffed out.

“Did you forget about us again,” Yoongi says, petulant. You and Seokjin look at one another, stunned, before bursting into laughter.

Namjoon and Hoseok join the rapper, crowding the two of you from the sides, sporting similarly roguish grins. Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook share a mischievous look, squishing in close.

“Guys,” Seokjin complains, broad shoulders being quashed by the sheer force of Jungkook’s biceps. Your face is pressed uncomfortable tight against his – impossibly solid and strong – chest.

“Can’t – breathe,” you yelp, voice muffled. A hand grabs your wrist and pops you from the throng.

“Hello again,” Hoseok grins.

“Hoseokie,” you gasp, a little winded but still incredibly grateful for a breath of fresh air, something the dancer himself seems to embody.

“Sunshine,” he says happily, reaching for you. Before he can wrap himself around you, Namjoon comes slamming in, dimples and all.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed our little reunion, my dick is hard and throbbing and the obscene amount of times I’ve simultaneously cried and jacked off to the sound of your voice is absurd, my cock should’ve wilted at the pure ferocity and angst I’ve poured onto the poor thing, and I am beyond ecstatic to have you back – so much so that I need to rail you against the our skyline balcony, lest I implode within the next two minutes. So! Let’s move to the bedroom, shall we?” Namjoon says matter-of-factly.

“Good idea,” Hoseok beams, completely unfazed by their leader’s rather lewd confession as he scoops you up easily, your boyfriends quickly following suit.

Hoseok sets you down onto the centre of the king-sized bed, silk sheets bunching beneath you as you sprawl over them. You move to sit up on your elbows, but Jungkook hovers over you, pressing you down instantly.

His dark eyes rake over your form unabashedly, one hand popping the surviving buttons of your top and the other pulling off his shirt.

“Greedy maknae.” Jungkook readily ignores Seokjin’s disgruntled mutter in the background as he leans down kiss you.

“Missed your taste,” he murmurs. Your hand trails down his bare chest, retracing every memorized groove and dip of his unfairly gorgeous body.

“Jungkook.” He tears himself away, panting heavily, to glance at Namjoon, who sends him a warning look.

“Don’t be selfish,” the rapper chastises. Jungkook drops his gaze to where you lay splayed out beneath him, hair mussed and lips swollen, chest heaving as you recover from his ministrations.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound apologetic at the least. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, growling once before he slides off.

“You’re in for a long night, beautiful,” Hoseok tells you, cupping your face and thumbing your cheek slowly, revelling the heat that tinges your skin. “You have no idea how much we’ve missed you. And not just this.”

“I missed you all too,” you whisper, smile soft.

Yoongi closes the door.

Your phones blow up the entire night, left collectively buzzing beneath the couch cushions.

[03:21] rhys: damn, y’all still banging? it’s been 4 days

[04:28] rhys: i need a gf

“Mmm. Tickles.”

“Good morning, gorgeous.” You smile into the pillow, eyes still closed, turning your head to the side expectantly. You know your expression is a little blissful, and you hear his fond chuckle.

“Love you,” you mumble. Someone presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Love you too, heart.”

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