#want and still getting expensive phones and shoes and designer clothes

[zouisalmightie]

parent said they aren’t going to spank their kids and then decided to just let them do whatever they want. like there are so many ways to help guide your child thru life why do yall think it’s either beat the kid or just let them run wild???

[woewriting]

turning point (g!p)

pairing: tara carpenter | reader summary: tara calls you to rescue her from a bad date and things take a surprising turn. word count: 3726 warnings: mdni, +18 only! no ghostface au, reader has a dick, friends with benefits (?), clothed sex, language, smut in general. a/n: will you guys believe if i say the date part was inspired by a terrible date my coworker had? because it was and @wesstars is the proof of it!

masterlist

When the 7th episode of season 4 of Stranger Things started you felt your phone vibrating somewhere in between the cozy blankets. As you blindly looked for it, eyes focused on the TV in front of your bed, you felt it vibrating once again, but this time more than once. 

Holding the phone in your hands, the name “tara” followed by a small heart emoji showed on the screen with 4 messages attached to it. Pausing the episode, you unlocked the device. 

tara ♥︎ can you come pick me up? please this is the worst date ever 😭

Sewing your eyebrows together, you were quick to reply, asking for her location. 

tara ♥︎ im at the motel near the campus, green valley or something chad is showering and i told him i’d take an uber home because i wasn't feeling well and didn’t want to stay anymore please come fast

Typing a simple “omw”, you grabbed your hoodie, throwing it over the white tank top you usually wore to sleep along with sweat shorts that easily became a second skin.

It was easy to spot the building as a gigantic green neon sign took over most of the illumination of the empty street. You parked in front of it, patiently waiting for your best-friend as you sent a message letting her know you arrived. The place seemed expensive and well cleaned, unlike most cheap motels that took over the right side of the street near the campus of your college, still, it didn't appetize you to walk in.

Soon, the younger Carpenter ran towards you, sighing in relief when she jumped into the car. 

“That bad, huh?” You asked with a laugh, setting the first gear ready to go back home. 

“You have no idea.” Tara whined, turning on the heat, complaining about how cold it was outside in a whisper. “I'll tell you everything when we get home.”

“I'm watching Stranger Things.��� The focus on the road in front of you as you took a right turn didn't allow you to see the indignation expression on her face, more dramatic than it was necessary.

“Is Stranger Things more important than me?”

“I’m about to find out what happened at the Hawkins Lab…” You continued, trying to convince her of your cause, but her next words made you look at her with raised eyebrows, a convinced smile of someone who won drawing her lips.

“He has a small dick.”

“I'm all ears, princess.” 

The return home didn’t take more than 10 minutes, especially with empty roads and yellow sign lights. Tara started telling about her date from the second it started, which was 5PM, the exact time she started to get ready. Honestly, none of that was necessary to reach the part that it all went downhill, but you didn’t dare to interrupt, you paid attention to every word Tara was saying as you carefully parked your car in your designated spot.

The second the elevator stopped on your floor, Tara had finished telling you about the dinner part of her date. 

According to her, the food wasn't bad, but the place was crowded and the music playing was so annoying that it became a bit too much for her. It was already hard to pay attention to anything Chad was saying as the others' conversation was caught in the middle, stealing her attention, all she could was nod and smile, like one of the Penguins from Madagascar. 

You laughed at her indignation and the small wrinkle in between her eyebrows, opening the door and giving her space to walk in. Kicking your shoes away, the both of you automatically walked to the door at the end of the small hallway of your apartment, the episode 7 of Stranger Things’ last season still on pause when you sat on the bed being followed by Tara; Jamie Campbell’s beautiful blue eyes on the screen.

“... and after we got to the motel, things were heating up and his hands were on my ass and he kept pushing me against him and…” Tara stopped talking after noticing the disgusted expression on your face as you made yourself comfortable on the bed. The girl sat right by your side. “I will not spare any details.”

“I’m seriously considering automatically deleting every explicit part of it.” You retorted, shifting uncomfortably against the headboard.

Despite the years of friendship you and Tara had, from Junior High all the way to college �� where you both were right now, nothing touchy ever happened between the two of you, not even a single, drunk kiss at parties. You two were close, of course, but not this close, and hearing the vulgar words easily slipping out of her mouth was creating a weird feeling inside your chest.

“I don’t care.” The girl rolled her eyes, moving closer to you. “Continuing, Chad is gentle, nice, and it feels good to be with him, but ugh… I couldn’t even feel anything when I was sitting on his lap.” You let out a small laugh, scratching your eyebrow. That wasn’t the first time Tara rambled about a bad date, but this was Chad, a common friend, and someone that the young Carpenter had a genuine interest in. At this point, that interest had disappeared into thin air. “And when he removed his pants, he had this military patch underwear and black socks on and it was a huge turn off.”

“Black socks really do sucks…”

“I know!” The exasperated way she agreed with you made you laugh, her hand resting near your knee. “Can you believe he didn’t want to take them off? He said he has cold feet.” Her face fell against your thigh, a tired sighing leaving her mouth, hot breath hitting your bate skin. “I should’ve ran when he said that.” Tara mumbled.

Your hand naturally rested on her head in a soft petting, “You really should have.”

The brunette moved a little, laying on her side with her cheek still resting on your leg to feel the soothing moves of your fingers on her hair. The new position gave her a small vision of what's beneath the thick fabric of your shorts, the hem of black boxers peeking through. She looked away, crimson color on her cheeks as she continued the events of the night.

“But, it’s Chad, so I decided to ignore that ridiculous sock and continue.” You nodded your head. “He removed that equally annoying underwear and I swear to God! It was smaller than my hand, and my hands aren’t that big! Look.” To prove her point, she held your other hand, measuring it with her own. She intertwined your fingers together after you agreed with her, resting them both on her chest. “But I was like… okay, it’s not big but maybe he can be good with his tongue.”

“Oh, God.” You choke, closing your eyes. “I will never be able to look at him again.”

“Imagine how I feel!” Tara whined. “But then I thought to myself, he’s a terrible kisser; if he doesn’t know how to use his tongue on my mouth, imagine how bad it’ll be when he use it on my pu—”

“Okay! Let’s not use those explicit words, please.” You interrupted her, shifting again. “But damn, is that guy good at anything?”

“He has a nice body… from the waist up.” This time neither of you could hold back the laugh, the delightful sound of her laughing mixed with yours filled the room for a couple minutes, your hand still playing with the soft strands that spread across your leg. “Chad is a nice guy, but… that’s not enough for me, you know? I crave touching, feeling something. And he was so small I would barely feel anything.” Tara cried out, covering her face with her free hand as the other still held yours against her chest.

“I’m not a sexual freak or anything but I agree, at least the kiss has to be good. So that’s when you messaged me?”

“I wish.” It was your turn to sigh loudly. “We kept going and when I asked him to wear protection, you won’t believe it…”

“He didn’t have any?”

“Oh, he did.” She bit her lower lip, hand still covering her eyes as the images played like a broken record behind her closed lids. “After that awkward moment where he put it on, he got soft.”

“Maybe it was too tight or something, that can be an annoying bother.” You tried defending your friend, but the girl denied with her head, pursing her lips together, deciding if she should say it or not, but after all the details she already had shared, this one wouldn’t matter either.

“It was loose. It was the smallest size and it still was big for him.”

“Jesus Christ. I am deleting every photo I have with him. I can’t bear looking him in the eyes after knowing all of that.” Once again, your laugh filled the bedroom, making Tara look at you with narrowed eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is it me?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Am I the problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m a terrible kisser and that’s why it didn’t fit.” She explained, looking at you.”Do you think I’m hot?”

“Where did that come from?” 

“The deepest part of my curious brain.” Tara sat back up, resting her hand and yours on her thigh. “Now answer me, am I hot?”

“You are hot, Tara.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the problem wasn’t you. Maybe he was just nervous to be with you, I don’t know.”

“That does make me the problem.” Her eyes never left yours, looking for a small sign of a lie that was never found; after all, you did find Tara hot. “Why did you never kiss me?” 

You let out a deep sigh. “Because we’re friends.”

“You kiss your friends. Amber, Mindy, and I’m sure you tried to kiss my sister once too.”

“Please, don’t bring that to the table.” The pinkish tone that colored your cheeks made the other smile. “And it’s different, they’re just friends, and you’re my best friend.”

Tara moved on the bed, sitting on her calves, still looking at you, and still holding your hand. 

“Kiss me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kiss me.”

You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, trying to pull your hand from hers and moving away just a bit, but the brunette was determined, you could see it in the dark brown eyes.

“Stop joking around, Carpenter.” You said one more time, her slender fingers tracing random patterns on your thigh with her free hand, feeling the goosebumps all over your skin, big bambi eyes staring at you. “Tara…”

“Please…” She cried out, the tip of her fingers trespassing the hem of your shorts, only a few centimeters away from your clothed cock. You could already feel it twitching inside your boxers just from those small touches. “I just wanna prove to myself that I can do it and that there’s nothing wrong with me. You, as my best friends, should help me with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, I truthfully believe you can get someone hard.”

“Then why wasn’t he hard?”

“Maybe it was just a bad day or he was nervous, I don’t know.” You repeat what you said earlier, hoping that it was enough for the small girl. It clearly wasn't though.

“But we were having fun! He was sweet, polite, respectful, and paid for dinner and the motel, which was not cheap. It makes no sense!” She whined like a spoiled kid. Tara sat on your thighs, holding your face in her hands. “Lemme touch you. Please.”

“Can’t we just watch Stranger Things and forget about this terrible date?” You asked in hopes she would let that stupid idea go; she obviously didn’t. 

“We can, after we kiss.” Tara fixed herself on top of you, moving up. Your hands instantly grabbed her waist, before she could sit on your hips. “You know I won’t stop.”

“You’re like the donkey from Shrek.” You writhe under her.

“Please…”

“Dear Lord.” Your head fell back, hitting the soft headboard. “Why does it have to be me? And now?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” The girl shrugged. “Plus, you never let me see it.”

“I swear you have the strangest obsession with my dick.”

“I’m just curious about it.” Feeling the loosen on your grip, Tara moved slightly up, sitting right on top of it. “And I can definitely feel it.” The brunette pushed herself down, biting her lower lip. 

“Please, stop moving.” You whined, trying to hold her still, but she was determined, you could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t going to take long before your underwear became a bother. “Tara, I’m warning you.” 

“You sound so hot, you should use that tone with me more often.” Her hands grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, pulling you closer until her mouth was yours. You didn’t stop her or kissed her back, but your grip on her waist grew stronger. She smiled against your lips, one of her hands sliding down your body, nails scratching your belly under your hoodie, threatening to trespass the waist of your shorts. “Can I touch you?” 

You gulped hard, staring at the brown eyes that looked soft, unlike her hands. “Are you sure you want to do this? There's no point of return.” Tara nodded fast, not giving a second thought to it, playing with the waist of your shorts. “You can touch me.”

When you gave Tara permission to touch you, you thought the girl was going to wrap her hands around your soft shaft, but all she did was kiss you, slowly and enticing, and this time you kissed her back. Your hands on her waist helped her move against your lap, grinding on you at a torturous pace. 

You wanted to turn around, change your positions so you could control whatever it was about to happen, but you allowed her to be in charge; this was all about Tara proving to herself she’s not the problem, right? So you held back the urge.

Tara’s hands moved up again, wrapping around your neck as she got closer, pushing herself down on you, moaning against your parted lips when she felt your dick pressing on her even though you weren’t hard. 

Her kiss trailed down your neck, gently nibbling on the skin there. You threw your head back, moving your hands down her ass, under the skirt of her dress to push her harder against you, increasing her hips’ speed.

“Fuck…” You let out a sharp breath, completely affected by the delicate touches coming from your best-friend, and that only made her more eager to pleasure you. 

“Do you like this?” Tara whispered in your ear, softly biting on your lobule, tracing the cartilage with her teeth. All you could do was nod. She could feel you slowly getting hard against her ass.

Licking your lips, you thrust your hip up in a strong move, making the both of you moan lowly. You could come just with that friction if she continued moaning with her mouth so close to your ear, only for you to hear it.

Tara’s hands trailed down your body once again, but this time she pushed down the elastic of the waistband of your gray shorts, in a silent request for you to remove it. She lifted herself just enough for it to slide down your legs, pooling just before your knees, the black boxer still hugging your thighs tightly. 

She didn’t want to look down, too shy to do so, but when she sat back against your bulge, it was impossible to not look at it. She pursed her lips together, the moan choked in the back of her throat as she felt you pressing hard against her. A wet spot taking form on the dark, thin cloth the more she rolled her hips on you.

It was an agonizing pain to let Tara in control of the situation. You could feel the warmth and wetness dripping for her cunt, you would easily slide in her, if she allowed you to. But you didn’t know how far she wanted to go with you, after all, this was just a test to see if she could get you hard, and she definitely could as she felt you twitching against her in desperate need to release. 

This could've stopped here and now, you were hard after all, but in a bold move, her hand slipped into your underwear, her hand holding your dick in a hard squeeze that almost made you scream against her mouth. Pulling your length out, Tara wrapped her hand around your shaft, moving it up and down in a provocative way, smiling against your parted lips. Her eyes were dark, staring at you with luxury dripping from the brownish just like she was dripping on your thighs. You could feel the hot, thick liquid oozing on your skin as she rubbed herself on you.

“Fuck, Tara.” You breathed out again, broken, lewdly. 

The brunette dipped her hand in her own underwear, eyes threatening to close as she rounded her swollen clit with two fingers, but she kept them open with a wicked expression on her face. Tara pulled her dress up, giving you the privileged view of her ruined underwear, the white fabric completely transparent. You couldn’t help yourself as your finger traced the wet stain, Tara’s mouth hanging open at the agonizing slow touch.

“Stop.” She asked in a trembled voice, shakingly holding your hand with flushed cheeks. “I don’t wanna cum like this.”

“And how do you wanna cum?” 

Letting go of your hand, she watched with focused eyes as you took two of your fingers in your mouth, sucking at the slick that coated them with a satisfied hum. Tara seriously considered saying she wanted to ride your face and fall apart on your lips, but she just, messily, removed her underwear. A thin line of arousal followed the cloth as she tossed it somewhere in your bedroom, your mouth watering at that.

Tara pulled your boxer slightly down just enough for your member to be released, proudly hitting your lower belly, before placing herself on top of your cock, the blood flowing in your veins reverberating against her clit, making both of you choke on your breath. She fitted your length in between her slick folds, almost crying at the warm feeling. 

She started grinding on you, shaking at every small move. 

“This feels so fucking good.” 

Throwing her head back, Tara supported her weight on her arms, gaining a fast pace. Your hands held the skirt of her dress up, giving you the perfect view of her shining cunt, smearing herself all over your cock. You could feel that tight knot on your stomach at that.

Moving one of your hands up and taking the dress with it, you crossed a barrier when you exposed her perfect tits, holding the stiff nipple with your thumb and index finger in a hurtful squeeze, earning yourself a crying moan that only made you throb against her center, while the other hand bruised the skin of her ass. You could see the red marks of your fingers all over her waist. 

Pulling her torso towards you, your lips wrapped around her other nipple, trembling your tongue on the hardened nub, making Tara’s hands pull on your hair, keeping you close to her chest. Her hips started to lose speed, squirming in your arms as she neared her release; you weren’t going to last much, not when she started whispering your name over and over, shakingly violently in your arms. You came right after her, shooting thick ropes of cum directly into your hoodie. 

Your arms were fast to hold her against you, keeping her body close as you came down from your high together. Tara's head fell on your shoulder, her hot breath tickling the skin of your neck, you could feel her smile. 

“You okay?” Being the first one to break the silence, you asked in a soft voice, running your hands up and down her back, feeling her heart beating like crazy; yours weren't different, smashing itself against your ribcage.

“I'm great.” She mumbled out, weak and out of breath. “Are you okay?” 

Feeling the nod of your head, she pulled away from her hiding spot. When you met her eyes, a pinkish color was filling the skin around her cheekbones, coloring the freckles that spread across her face, and unlike you were wondering inside your head, things didn't look awkward after that; Tara still had that familiar, warm look in her eyes when she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” 

“For making you cum without barely touching you?” Tara laughed in a proud voice, avoiding looking down as she felt your length still comfortably placed in between her slick folds.

Your hands were firm on her waist when you lifted her hips, guiding the tip of your cock against her sensitive bundle of nerves before slowly sliding in her cunt at the same time she fell back on your thighs, trying to catch her breath at the sudden invasion. A small smile on her face at the feeling of being full, her velvety walls clenching hard around your shaft, still recovering from her orgasm. 

“For the fact that I'm still pretty hard.” Pressing kisses over her jawline, you thrusted up, a surprised moan escaping her throat. “Can you feel it? How hard I am? How good I'm filling you?” 

“Yes…” She choked out, wrinkling your hoodie in her fingers, trying to find support on your shoulders when your hands forced her up, your member coated in a thin layer of her arousal before sliding her back down. “I'm very proud of myself.” The breathy confession made you smile against her neck, softly biting on her jugular before your movements gained a steady rhythm, mixing with the wet sounds and the melody tone of her voice calling out your name for every neighbor to hear.

[spidybaby]

Dull Shine

Summary: The circumstances might have dulled the shine she had. Feeling empty even with his company.

Warnings: cursing.

Part Two

"What do you think about this?"

You turn your head away from your phone, looking at him up and down. "I like it, but maybe the black and white Jordan's?"

He nods, walking back into the closet and changing his shoes. You look at him while he does that.

It's like a routine for him, going back from training, quick visit to his mom or dad, going home to shower, and getting ready to go out.

He's been trying to spend as much as he can with his friends, Hakimi, Dembele and the team. They like to hit the club in a vip area, the other invite girls who look like the typical hooker.

You didn't worry about it, Kylian is not a cheater. He barely even acknowledged the girls. He likes to go there to be with the team.

"What about now?" He poses, showing you the fit and pulling his leg up your nightstand. "Do I look good?"

"Like a million dollar baby," you smile. Watching him get all cocky at the praise. "I feel like I should be worried. You're going out looking like this." You joke.

You walk over to him, smacking his ass in a playful way. He turns to you, smiling, wrapping his hands around your body.

"You know you're my only one." He kiss your neck. "If you want, you can come with me." He smiles into your skin. "Think about it," He says, kissing your neck again and pulling away to walk into the bathroom.

You are thinking about it, but you can't help but think of how the other girls go to those places. Dressed in the most expensive things, the best type of jewels, Cartier, Van Cleef, their expensive Louboutin or YSL heels.

You don't have that. You worked a nine to five job that didn't allow you to get the designer things.

You moved to Paris to study, wanting to get a better future for yourself. You were still paying some debt from your college.

Kylian begged you to move in with him a year into your relationship. You accepted only with the condition of him letting you help with some bills.

He obviously didn't allowed that. Letting you believe that you were going to help but in reality he was taking care of the two of you.

You never accepted his money. You loved your little job. It was not much, but it was enough for you.

You look into your things, finding a pair of cargos, and a backless bodysuit. You liked the combo, and you know he would too.

You weren't so sure about the shoes, you usually wear the outfit with some Jordan's to match him.

"I like that look." He says as you enter the bathroom, you smile, grabbing your makeup and lightly applying some.

"You look like a billion dollar baby, now." He says, kissing your cheek. "And what better way to match your look than with this."

He hands you a black box with a golden bow. You already know that there's something extravagant inside the box.

"Amour, we talked about this." You say, applying gloss. "What did we say?"

He rolls his eyes. "No gifts without consulting first."

"And what did you do?" You smile a little.

"Getting you something that my heart told me you would love." He left the box in the bed, walking over to you. "It will go amazing with your outfit, mon amour, s'il te plaît."

You sigh, nodding your head. You walk over him, kissing his cheek and thanking him. "Let's see." You fake a smile.

What you can't help but feel bad is the way he smiles that he has. He loves giving you things.

You pull a black Saddle Bag from Dior. you love it, you were trying to save for this bag for some time, always having some sort of problem and needing to use the money.

"Come here." He pulls your arm, walking you to the tall mirror in the closet. He grabs the bag from your hands. Positioning it on your shoulder. "What do you think?"

You feel bad from how much you love the bag and the way it goes with your clothes. "Thank you." You smile, turning around to hug him and kiss him.

"Now what if you put your things inside and we go meet my friends?"

You nod, kissing him one last time. You grab your bag, moving your things. You look at yourself one last time before joining him in the living room.

You were his designated driver since he didn't have a license. He picked one of his less extravagant cars, not wanting to call the attention.

The first person you see is Achraf, he was talking with this pretty brunette. "Don't let him trick you, he's still married." Kylian jokes, knowing that will make Hakimi awkward.

"I'm not, don't believe him."

The girl only nods, laughing and kissing Kylian's cheek. "Bonjour to you too."

"Y/n, come here." Achraf stands up, hugging your figure. "This idiot finally convinced you to come, so amazing."

You smile, smelling the alcohol in his breath. "I finally left the crib." You laugh.

"Pamela, this is Y/n." He introduced the girl to you. "She's Kylian's girlfriend. She's so amazing, talk with her." He push your shoulder down, making you take a seat next to her.

You felt uncomfortable, the girl clearly didn't like that either. You turn to see kylian and Achraf talking with Marqhinhos and Vitinha.

One waiter gets close to them, Kylian turns to you. "Something you want to drink, b��bé?" He kisses the top of your head.

"Whatever you're having." He nods, turning and leaving you again with the very judgy girl. "I like your nails." You say, trying to start some conversation.

She scuffed, turning to you. "Where's Emma?"

"Emma?" You ask confused. "As Kylian's ex-girlfriend Emma?"

She nods, looking you up and down. "Yeah, I miss her."

You didn't answer, getting up to go next to Kylian.

"Hey, you left my girl alone." Achraf says.

"Your girl's an asshole." You say to him, making Kylian laugh. "You really suck at picking, Haki."

The rest of the night was good. You didn't feel like leaving Kylian's side, and he didn't seem to mind.

Once you're home, you find yourself next to him in the bathroom, both preparing to sleep. "We should go out again. It was fun." You nod, finishing with washing your teeth.

You felt so out of place tonight. All these girls, all these drinks and other substances. You didn't feel like doing all that again.

You didn't belong to his world. You were used to parties back in college, but the type of being in your pj's and drink cheap alcohol from a cup.

You can't get used to the extremely overpriced drink he likes, the extremely overpriced restaurants, trips, clothes.

You turn to him. He was applying some cream, too concentrated to mind the way you're questioning yourself.

✨️✨️✨️

"You have to be joking," Celine says. "That can't be real."

"I can't make this up. That freaking girl asked me where his ex was." You laugh, passing her another dress.

"Look at the bright side. She's just a one night stand, and you're the girlfriend."

You two share a good laugh. Celine is your boss, you started working for her in your second year living in Paris.

You loved her, and she loved you. That's why even when Kylian offered to find you something closer to where he lived, you said no.

She trusted you even when you barely understood French. She helped you and taught you a lot.

She has her own brand. It was very successful. She dressed so many french models and football wags. Like Antonella and Bruna.

She's not the type of designer to order and sit around her company. She loves her stores and mostly hangs around with you on the one you work.

"Well, at least you had fun."

"I don't know." You say honestly. "I feel so weird when I'm at these places."

"I used to feel the same, but it's all in your head. You do belong there, with him." You nod, smiling at her. "Now go. I got a fitting, and I'll close the store." You nod, saying your goodbyes.

You walk for a while, trying to de-stress. You text Ethan, sending him a pic of the cinema poster that's outside a mall.

You missed hanging with him now that he's more involved with football and practicing. But you were proud because he and Kylian were playing together.

When you get to Kylians house, you see Brice there. He was doing something with your boyfriends head.

"Getting Cinderella ready for the dance?" You joke, taking a seat in the coach next to where he's seated.

They laugh, explaining that the little trim was because of the party the club does for their foundation. They have an auction in order to raise money to help the foundation.

"You have your dress ready? Maybe I can get a tie to match you." He asks, looking at you.

You freeze, you forgot to think about a dress, even tho he told you about this a while ago. You even wrote in your notes to look at some dresses.

"Wait, when did you say was the party?" You ask, trying not to show your worries.

"In two days, mon amour."

You nod, excusing yourself to go upstairs. You can't help but panic, you did forget about getting a dress.

You see into your dresses, nothing is up for the occasion, nothing says exclusive party with extremely rich people.

You chat with your friend, asking her if you can borrow a dress from her. Sadly for you, her dresses were all short ones. And the party attire is long formal.

You search online for dresses, but all of them were way too expensive for your budget. You didn't want to ask Kylian for money.

Also, you didn't want to admit that you forgot about the party and that you didn't have anything to wear.

"I feel so dumb." You say to Celine. "I forgot about the party, and now I'll have to admit that I don't have a dress."

"Why don't you take one of the dresses we have?" She asks, confused.

You look at her, ironing some dresses. "As much as I love your dresses. I can't afford them."

"Aren't you dating the footballer who earns the most in Europe?"

You hate that reaction, Kylian wins his own money, but that wasn't yours to waste or to use.

"You say it. He's the one earning that money." You go back to ironing. "I think I'll just skip this. It's no big deal." You shrug.

She nods, walking over to the back. You can hear her opening something and moving things around. When she's back, she's holding a gorgeous orange and yellow dress

"I made this for a French singer. She never got to wear it. I think I can let you borrow it." She smiles.

You looked at the dress, it was beautiful, a classic figure and the colors were subtle, nothing crazy just beautiful.

"Are you sure?"

"Just keep the tags. They are there for reference of the model and size." She hands it over to you. "I think it will fit."

You smile, hugging her tightly. "I can't thank you enough for all you do for me."

She shakes her head no. "You can thank me by taking a picture with him and having him tag me."

You nod, smiling like crazy because now you can wear something pretty to the party. "I'll make him post a solo picture of me just to thank you." You laugh, hugging her again.

When you got off work, you asked Kylian if his chauffeur could pick you up. You weren't going to take public transportation with a borrowed dress.

"Bonjour madame." Kylian smiles, pulling his window down. "You asked for a ride."

"Did I?" You acted confused. "Well, I asked my boyfriend to pick me up, but since he's not here, can you give me a ride?"

He opens the door to get off the car. Closing the door and opening it again. "Ladies first." He says, a very deep tone to look more serious. "Careful with the head."

He joins you in the back of the car. Kissing your cheek as he lays his head on your shoulder. "Thank you for picking me up." You grab his hand and kiss it.

k.mbappe

k.mbappe 👔👩🏽‍❤️‍👨🏽📸

Liked by ethanmbappe, celinedesigns and 3,950,647 others

psg 💙❤️✨️

ethanmbappe love is in the air 😩🤪

celinedesigns the outfits 😍✨️

achrafhakimi where's the picture we took? 😔

"Oh great, Achraf brought his side chick." Carol says, rolling her eyes at the sight of Pamela.

"So I'm not the only one who doesn't like her." Alessia laughs.

"No, this one right here also dislikes her." Caron elbow you, you scuff.

You turn your head to where Hakimi and Pamela are, they are chatting with Marquinhos and Donnarumma.

"She asked me if I could bring her some wine the other day at the barbecue Marcos organized. When I told her it was a self serve kinda thing, she told me nannies aren't supposed to bother the guests and just follow orders."

You and Alessia just laugh, that girl definitely had the nerve to think she was better than others.

"Talking about drinks, I'm going to get one more, you guys coming?" They shake their heads, lifting their half full drinks. "I'll be back."

You walk over to the bar, ordering a cocktail. You feel someone tap your shoulder.

"I like your dress." Pamela says, ordering a drink. You nod smiling. "So Haki and Kyky are friends."

You squint your eyes at the nicknames. "Yes, I noticed that." You sarcastically say. "Also, I think the whole city of France knows that."

"What I'm saying is, I'm here to stay." She gets closer. "And I don't want us fighting, our men's are friend. We can be too."

You turn your head at where Kylian is, even tho he's leaving the team. You know Achraf is a very important person in his life.

"I like your dress too."

"Thank you, it's Versace." She smiles. "Where's yours from?"

"Celine."

"Oh, I didn't knew they did discounts."

You choke on your drink. The audacity of her to say that with the biggest smile like it's nothing.

"They don't."

"Well, Haki told me you work in retail, very Georgina of you." She scuffed. "And let's be honest, unless Kylian bought that for you or they gifted you the dress, I don't think your nine to five allows you to get expensive brands, with the way you dress regularly."

You stare at her, wanting to wipe that stupid grind off her face with a slap.

"Emma used to buy that brand all the time, I get you want to he like her, just don't make it that obvious." She laughs.

You smile. You weren't going to make a scene there like she hoped for. "Well, if you care to know that much, Celine herself gave me this dress to wear tonight. She's a good friend."

"Yeah, sure." She turns back to the bar.

You grab your drink, not wanting to spend more time with her. Just before you left, you got closer to her.

"Talking about copycats, maybe look in the mirror because Hiba's whole wardrobe was Versace. But not from the rack like yours, she knew Donatella."

You don't even walk back with the other wags, you walk into the bathroom trying to calm your anger.

Why did she think that because you have a regular job you were less. Yes, you couldn't afford a dress like the one you're wearing and maybe you couldn't do all the things Kylian does for you. But you were happy with your job, you liked being down to earth.

You wipe the tears that your anger made you let out. Not wanting for all the girls or even her to look at you like that, you walk out, trying to get some air.

After some time of not seeing you, Kylian asked Alessa where you were. She answered with a shoulder shrug.

You walked back into the venue at the right time. He walks faster to you. "Amour, where were you?" He kiss your cheek.

"I was taking air, needed it." You half smile. "Maybe I'll ask the chauffeur to take me to your house. I'm tired."

If there's something he used to do, it was reading you like an open book. You missed that. The way he would tell something was wrong before you even did.

"I'll just wait a little more because of the club bosses." He kiss you quickly. "I'll ask my bodyguard to accompany you to the car."

You nod, walking quickly to the table to say goodbye to your friends. Saying the same excuse. You're tired, but not physically, you are tired mentally.

From all the pressure you put yourself into. Even when you want to try, you can't do it. You don't feel like you belong to his world.

You change into your pajamas, as you wash your face and do your routine. You can't help but feel anger at the words of Pamela.

You looked at the dress before turning the closet light off. She was right. You couldn't afford it. You were playing Cinderella with it.

✨️✨️✨️

"Are you sure you don't want me to pay for the dry cleaning?" You ask again. "It's the least I can do, just let me-"

"Honey, since you wore that dress, my lines are going crazy for the same style in different colors." She smiles, taking the dress from your hands. "Actually, when did you say was the ballon d'or?" She laughs

"Not until a few months." You laugh with her.

"I think it's enough time to design something just for you. But that would be me as a brand, this was me as a friend."

You thank her again, turns out wearing her dress made not only the signer but other models want the dress.

You felt special when she told you that, asking you to help her with the online orders, even when she had a team she trusted you with her life.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Coffee is on me, by the way."

"Hey. Take tomorrow off, I think you deserve it after how hard you work."

You nod, saying your goodbyes and leaving the store. You got to your favorite coffee shop, getting yourself a treat.

Kylian asked you to pick up his mother's birthday gift, giving you his card and telling you to go crazy if you wanted.

"I called the bank and told them Ma femme is going crazy with the plastic." he says before leaving to practice. "If it's something like a bag, she wants it in blue."

You tried to find something blue because that's what she asked. You know she likes jewelry too. Maybe both can be nice.

You text Kylian a picture of the options you have. He was in a meeting with Luis Enrique, and they were creating a plan for the UCL game.

You walk out of the store with the bag for Fayza, moving to Cartier to get her some jewelry, maybe a necklace.

You get a pair of earrings and a necklace to match. You know she will like it, you and her have similar taste in clothes, bags and jewelry.

Kylian texted you to get him a bucket hat from Louis Vuitton. He wanted one for a long time, and now that you're out and about.

You picked two for him, a black one and a white one. You text asking if that will be all or if he would like something else.

You check the store, finding a cute Alma Nano bag that in your eyes was so cute, You think about what he says, you can spend as much as you want on his mom gift and if you want something you can pick anything.

You text Kylian a picture asking if he likes the bag. You were questioning if you should or not.

"Madame, I'll go get the hat you requested. I'll be right back." the sales girl says to you. "You can wait on the couch, or you can keep looking around."

You nod, looking around the store for something else. Eyes going back to the bag.

"Oh God, you're here." You hear someone saying. "If you're filling applications, I need a maid." Pamela laughs.

Her hands were full of designer brands. You smirk when you see the Versace one. "Trying to fill Hibas side of the closet, I see."

She rolls her eyes. The knife digging hard on her with all the ex-wife jokes. You enjoy the way her face turns kinda red.

She was about to say something. The sales girl interrupts her. "Madame, I have the items upfront per your request."

"Merci, I'll be right there." You pass Pamela, ignoring her for the sake of your evening. "Can I add this bag to my bill, please."

You pay for the things, getting out of the store without paying mind to Pamela. You didn't need her to ruin your mood.

The chauffeur was waiting for you, Kylian texted you to go pick him up after picking you up.

"Hello, sunshine." You smile as he opens the door of his car. "Long time no see, Mister Mbappe."

"Like what?" He asks, following your joke. "It's been like five years, isn't it?"

"So long, Paris." You dramatically say. "I got you your hat, two actually."

He kiss you hello, seeing the bags in the front seat. "Perfect, I can look fancy at the beach."

You two chat about his day during the way home. Kylian was excited about the ucl game and you loved that for him.

You two walk with the bags, well, he did. You carry his toiletry bag. "So you want to make something for dinner together?" You ask, leaving his things at the entrance of the house.

He nods, searching for a tutorial on something he's been wanting to do for a long time. You collect the ingredients, helping him with the preparation.

"Tomorrow we are invited to Hakimi's sister birthday party." He says, opening the oven and leaving the food there. "It's going to be at Hakimi's."

You think about the whole Pamela situation. You know you want to tell Kylian about it, but you're not sure if you want to ruin his mood today or ruin the whole invitation thing.

You think about it while you finish with the salad. You hate confrontation and you hate creating an opportunity for her to bother you some more.

"Ready, bébé." He says, placing the dinner on the table. "Let's eat and I'll tell you about my day" He says, kissing your neck.

He serves you two. You bring some water for him and a soda for you. Needing some sugar to sweeten your day.

Kylian talks about his day training and how he will shoot a new commercial for Oakley, the glasses brand that he models for.

"And I asked them for a pair of glasses for you. So you'll be the first one to try the new collection."

"Woow." You laugh. "Since we have connections, we are getting free sun glasses."

You finish dinner between jokes and talking about what to buy for Hakimi's sister.

You have to talk to him. You tell yourself that again, and again, and again. You don't want to look like the bitter friend of the ex who doesn't approve the new girl.

You move to your room, fixing the washed clothes into their designated spot in the closet. He was in the bathroom, applying his night skincare like you taught him.

"Hey, can I talk to you about something?' You ask loudly.

"Oui, bébé." He shouts back.

You keep putting the clothes in the racks. "I know this might sound weird, but I don't like Pamela." You began. "She's just so mean and such a freaking brat around me. Thinking she can diminish me because of my job and shit. I don't feel like putting the nice act with her anymore."

You let everything out, feeling more relieved now that it was out and you didn't have to tip toe around her in front of kylian.

You wait for his response. Silence is taking over the room. You can hear a sound of voices in the background.

You move to the bathroom, finding him with his phone in his hand, watching a video about a show or something like that.

"Did you even pay attention to what I said?" You ask mad.

He looks at you, pausing the video. "Pardon, oursamme sent me this video. It's so funny. Here, watch it."

You shake your head no. Walking back into the closet. You're mad at how you can hear him talk about everything, but he can't even hear you for two minutes.

You finish what you are doing. Walking into the room and finding him still watching his video. You roll your eyes and walk into the bathroom to take a nice shower.

You can't help going to bed mad at him. You felt trapped, he didn't pay attention to you, and you only want to be able to say things that you feel.

The next day, you didn't even say goodbye to him when he left, he was too busy with his phone to notice, only saying a quick goodbye and patting your head.

You spend the rest of the day in a mood. Not really caring about anything but being angry at how much he diminish your feelings and focus on something dumb.

The night approaches, you want to send him alone to the party, but Hakimi's sister was always friendly with you. And she came to your birthday last year with a nice gift.

You dress simple, a one-piece full bodysuit you like, since it was chilly you picked a jacket and your black and white dunks.

You fixed your hair and did your makeup. Something natural since you knew everybody there and everybody knew you with and without makeup at this point.

Kylian was sitting on the couch, waiting for you to be done. He was now aware of your mood. When he came home you just rolled your eyes and refused to heard about his day.

"Ready?" He asks.

You nod, grabbing the gift you got and grabbing the house keys. "Which car?" You ask, very dryly.

Kylian hates when he knows he fucked up but doesn't know at the same time. He can't piece what he did to make you mad.

"The chauffeur is waiting for us." He says, low tone. His hand find the small of your back. You move, not wanting to have his hands on you.

The whole trip was like that. He's thankful Achraf's house is relatively close to his own. Because he can't stand the silent treatment you're pulling on him.

"Hello" You smile, hugging Hakimi's sister as you enter the home. "Happy birthday, you look so beautiful."

You make some small talk, Kylian watching you. His sight is burning your skin. You can tell he's observing, he's like a hawk watching his prey.

"Happy birthday." He says, hugging his friend's sister.

You stayed with her, walking into the home and saying a quick hello to the other people. The list of invitations was mostly known faces.

"Thank God you're here. I can't stand being alone with that woman any more." She whispers, head pointing towards Pamela.

You roll your eyes. "I can't stand her either, she's a narcissist with pretty hair." You joke to get some frustration out.

The subject changes, you were talking about life, about updates on different topics you discussed in the past.

"Excuse me just a moment, I'll go check if the food is ready." Hakimi's sister says, walking to the kitchen.

You take the opportunity to go to the bathroom. Going quickly and checking your makeup. You apply a little more lip balm and go out.

"Well, well, well. Cinderella's here."

You sigh, not wanting to engage in the conversation you pass over Pamela, who quickly grabbed your arm.

"Didn't your parents teach you that it was rude not answering when you're being talked to or taught you basic manners?"

You lift an eyebrow, asking back. "Didn't your parents teach you how to respect others?"

She wanted to answer, trying to dig the knife she's been planting on your chest, but you're quick.

"And didn't you know that even with that prude face you're just a stuck up little bitch who thinks is better than anyone else but in reality, you're just an insecure piece of crap?" You whisper close to her, looking her up and down. "Look at you, hiding under all that. Your parents must hate you, having such a hypocrite for a daughter. Being such an ugly person on the inside must feel bad. So don't worry, I get what you're doing. It's not about my job or my clothes. It's that you feel inferior even with all that gold on you."

You walk back to the living room, leaving her there alone. You feel nice. Letting all that out was refreshing.

You went on with your night, some of the wives came to the party, leaving you with a nice circle and not only the birthday girl and you.

"Why is Hakimi looking at you like that?" Alessia asks, making you turn your back to where they are.

Hakimi was looking at you in a weird way. Talking to Kylian while doing it. He turned his head to find you.

"Don't know, maybe his gold digger told him something about me." You shrug, not minding it.

The night was good for you. You walk into the house happy and relaxed. Kylian was silent. You thought it was because of the silent treatment and decided to stop it.

"Hey, what if we see that movie you told me about?" You were finishing your night routine. He enters the bathroom, his eyes fixed on your reflection. "You okay?"

He sighs, not feeling like fighting. "I know what happened with Pamela." He confess.

You lock eyes with him in the mirror, his rough energy making it obvious that he was mad about the situation that happened at his friends house.

"You do?" You ask, making him nod. "Well, about time. She's crazy if she thinks she can get close to me again. What a loser."

He chuckled, shaking his head no. "Are you serious?"

You turn to him, confused about what he knows and how he knows it. "What?"

"You insulted Pamela." He says, his tone is so serious you feel like your parents are scolding you.

"What?" You repeat. "Are you serious right now?"

"Look, I know you didn't like her the night Achraf introduced you to her, but leaving her alone is one thing and belittled her about how Hakimi is just using her to forget his ex and how she's just replaceable is wrong."

You stayed quiet, not believing his words. How is it that you two are discussing the interaction her and you had in so different ways?

"I never say that"

"Well, she left saying you say that."

"Oh, so you believe her over me?" You ask offended.

"Non, but why would she lie? She even left telling Hakimi that she needs to think about their relationship because of what his best friend girlfriend thinks."

You laugh. "Is this a joke?" You ask, turning again and closing your creams. "Because if it is, it's a good one. Stop playing."

He's not laughing, he's quiet as a tomb. "I'm not laughing, am I?"

"Kylian, that never happened. How convenient it is that you get to believe her when a night ago I told you how she belittled me in every way she can."

"You never say that."

You turn back at him, mad at him. "I did."

"You didn't."

"I did, but you, asshole, were paying attention to that stupid video Ousmane sent you." You threw your hand towel at him. "I told you how I felt, but you chose to ignore me, and here we are."

"I don't recall that."

"How convenient." You exit the bathroom, grabbing your pillow and blanket. "You prefer to call me a liar and believe that I would do something like that than talking to me and getting my side."

"Where are you going?" He asks, joining you in the bedroom. "Don't be ridiculous, leave that there."

"No, Kylian, you can sleep alone tonight. I have a feeling that maybe you don't want to sleep with someone who belittles people the way I do and who treats people the way I do. Because it's how I am, of course, even after years of dating, you would think that and take someone else's side."

You walk out of the room, pillow in one hand, and blanket in the other. You enter the guest room that was near your room.

"And don't bother trying to get my story, I'm sure with her side, you have enough to make your own mind." You yell at the door frame. He's stood in front of your bedroom door. "Oh, and I know for a fact Pamela is not going to be the only one thinking about her relationship because I certainly am too."

You slam the door as hard as you can. Locking it . Not even ten seconds later he's shaking the doorknob, asking you to open the door.

"I'm not going to open the door. You chose her, Kylian." You yell again. "You chose to believe her over me." You say lower, crying about the whole situation. "I'm your girlfriend, and you chose her."

The overwhelming feeling of anger and guilt is making you cry, you don't even know why you feel guilty about what you say.

Kylian gave up after twenty minutes. You weren't going to open the door. The way your cries can be heard from outside the door is killing him.

He thinks about what you say, but he can't remember if you told him or not about how Pamela was treating you.

He remembers that you ask him to talk about something, but his stupid self didn't pay attention to the things you told him.

He couldn't sleep. He can't even rest because every time he closes his eyes, he can hear your cries. Even when you're sleep in the bed.

He needed to apologize. He texts Achraf, explaining that Pamela has been bothering you and you just responded back to her.

Hakimi knew you. He had never seen you disrespect anyone. You're friendly and kind to everyone, so maybe you're not lying here.

You woke up extra early, and he had a deep sleep, so when you got to the room and took your clothes and basic things to get ready, he didn't even feel it.

Your eyes were swollen from all the crying. You tried your best to cover your exhaustion with concealer.

The sad eyes you have are impossible to cover. That's why people say the eyes are the windows to the heart. Because you can lie all you want, but your eyes will tell the words your mouth can't.

"Bad night?" Celine asks, handing you a coffee. "It's a double, thought you might need it."

You gave her a half smile. Not wanting to say anything about the topic. She understood, not wanting to push your boundaries.

"Any plans for this weekend?" She asks. Trying to get you to talk and not look like a sad puppy.

"Kylian has an important reunion with his new coach. He invited only five of them with a plus one." You say, remembering the reunion he told you about during dinner on the weekend. "But I'm not sure if I want to attend."

"Why?"

"First, because I'm mad at him." You began telling, making Celine surprised about the first point in your list. "Second, some of these players I don't even know about. I've seen them, but never even talk with them." You exhale, already uncomfortable.

"And third?"

"I don't have anything for the occasion, I feel like my closet is a second-hand craziness that makes stupid bratty models think I'm not enough to be in their presence." You throw the pencil in your hand on the counter.

Celine listen closely to your words. "You are more than welcome to take any of the clothes from the store, you know that."

"And I'm grateful for that. Thank you so much for offering me to take something from here on a loan." You say with honesty. "I just feel like I'm playing dress up with your charity." You feel your eyes tear up. "Celine, I can't afford any of the clothes you design, and somehow, I'm posting on social media about me wearing them, like if I'm not five euros away from breaking the bank."

You can't help the sobs, walking to the bathroom to hide. You feel embarrassed, with your boss, with your life and with your social status.

You were done with people diminish you because you were a retail worker. People calling you a gold digger because you date Kylian.

You're done with pretending to be someone you are not just to be able to fit with the people he's around.

He can afford hundreds of thousands of dollars in clothes, in shoes, in hats or watches. You can afford some pieces from boutiques at the mall when you got a bonus or when you have a special occasion.

You live in a house he paid with a month of working. House you could never afford in this lifetimes or the next five.

You were basically living out of him, and still not even close to making ends meet because the neighborhood stores were five times more expensive that the ones downtown, because just in transportation to where his house is you spend half your income.

You were leaving a life that was not for you. Everybody around him knew that. It was just about time for him to figure that you were just a bump on his way.

You gather composure, thankful for your waterproof mascara. You walk back upfront, meeting a very concerned Celine.

"I'm fine, I don't want to talk about it." You say. Helping her with some things at the store.

You remained quiet for the rest of the day, feeling embarrassed. You missed your family, you missed your friends.

You feel alone. That was an issue.

You have Kylian's family. You have the wags who were your friends. You have Celine. But at the same time, you didn't.

You can't go over to his family to talk about things he does or to get advice because that's not correct in your eyes.

You can take advice when it's asked, but you are not going to rant about your issues with him like you would with your best friend.

You won't rant about the problems of being in the public eye and how people like Pamela treat you with disrespect. But they know about it. Some of them got the same comments, maybe not directly to their faces but on social media every day.

You need your family and friends.

Moving out to a different country with no one to relate to, with no one to talk to about the struggles of barely know the language.

"I'm going home. Do you need me to help you with something else before I leave?"

"No, it's okay." She smiles. Kissing you cheek goodbye. You nod, grabbing your things, giving her the report of the day like always. "Hey, Y/n."

You turn back to her. "Yes, ma'am?"

She hands you a bag. "Open it at home. It's something I forgot to give you." She smiles.

You nod, saying your goodbyes to her and telling her that you will text her when you are home.

You feel a headache, entering home and walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You find Kylian eating and sitting on the counter.

You don't like not talking to him. You want to hug him and cry in his arms. You want him to tell you that everything will be fine and that you are okay and safe.

He has earbuds on, not noticing your presence. You open the fridge and grab the water. Passing next to him and touching his arm.

He jumps a little, quickly taking his earbuds off to pay all the attention to you. "You're home."

You nod, drinking a whole glass of water. "Yes, you're early." You say, serving a glass for him. "What you got there?"

He thanked you, sipping some water. "It's a sandwich. Want a piece?" He placed the sandwich back in the plate and slid it to you.

You took a bite out of the sandwich. It tasted weird from all the ingredients he put inside of it. "It's an interesting flavor. But I think I'm not that hungry."

He finished the sandwich. You took a seat next to him on the counter, a glass of water in hand. "How was your day?" He asks.

"Good, same as always."

He nods, not sure how to approach the situation. He feels horrible about everything. "Can I be honest with you?" He asks.

"Always." You smile, reassuring him.

"I don't know what got into me, I should have listened to you instead of watching that stupid video. And I'm mostly sorry for making you cry and feel like you are something that you are not."

You want to speak, but you let him finish his rambling apology. Knowing he's being honest, this was his way of saying sorry, rambling about the thing he's sorry for, and then getting to a point.

"I know Pamela is someone I know before we even met, but that doesn't mean she's allowed to tell you things or make you feel a certain way. And I won't tolerate that happening to you. I know you and your character. I'm sorry about last night and any other night in the past, I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you don't matter, you do, to me you are the most important person."

You feel your eyes getting teary. You needed those words more than anything. You needed the reassure he's giving you. You needed him.

"Can I give you a hug?" He asks, getting down.

You open your arms, letting him get into your embrace. "Je t'aime." You kiss his neck.

The hug lasted for what felt like hours. That was what you both needed. Specially you.

"Want to go upstairs and take a well-deserved bath?" He asks, kissing your head. "I can even get some strawberries to eat with the chocolate you like." You nod, kissing his lips.

✨️✨️✨️

You didn't work on weekends, mostly because since you weren't just a regular worker at the store, you were upgraded to a little privilege of having you weekends off.

You spend the day organizing some papers you left unattended for a while now. You moved some books that you planned to donate to some students that needed them.

You still needed to find a dress for the activity that was taking place tonight. Ready to go back to Celine and see if she can help you pick something.

You promise her that you will always come to her for anything if you ever needed help. And as much as you feel like you're abusing your privilege, she will likely not let you pay for anything you pick even if you could.

You finish your organization and change into something more presentable to go out with. Asking Kylian's chauffeur to take you to the store.

"Bonjour, mon ange." Celine greets you when she seed you walk in. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good, I'm sorry about that scene. I was just not in a right place that day." You hug her hello.

"It's okay. We all have those days." She laughs. "I know I'm a little lost when it comes to dates and days, but I know for a fact that today you are not working." She hums.

"I'm not, but I have an event, and I want to get something pretty. Maybe you can help me?"

You bat your eyelashes at her. Making her laugh and hug you by the shoulders. "I have the perfect dress for you."

She showed you some dresses, most of them way too formal for the event. But then you see this beautiful short long sleeve black sequin dress.

"It's perfect." You say. "Can I try it on?"

She nods, "Show me how it fits."

You try it. It fits like a glove, it's the perfect length, the perfect material, everything. "What do you think?"

"Fits like a glove." She smiles, making a sign for you to spin. "Parfait" she happily says.

You change quickly. Wanting to run home and get ready for the night. You pass the dress to her as you finish putting your shoes back on.

"So, here's that dress for you." She hands you the brand bag.

"Will you let me ever pay you?"

"I dont think so. But I think I have an idea. If you want, you can return it on monday or keep it." She smiles.

"I'll bring it back, I promise you that one day I'll be able to pay you back everything you do for me."

She hugged you goodbye. Wishing you a great night. You went back straight to the house. Excited about getting ready.

You took your time, getting your hair and a very natural makeup. Kylian got back home in the middle of your routine.

He got ready with you. He was wearing something between formal and not so formal. Nothing too serious, but nothing casual.

"Can you zip me up?" You ask.

He looks at you up and down. Your back greeting him. He runs a finger down your spine, making you arch from the sensation.

"Amour, no." You chuckle.

He kisses your shoulder, moves to your neck, and finishes with your other shoulder. "I love how you look." He whispers in your ear as he zips the dress.

You turn, kissing him and thanking him. "Ready, Mister?"

"Ready, amour." He smiles.

You two arrive at the house of Luis Enrique, his wife and daughter were there with him. He invited Zaire-Emery, Zague, Lee Kang, Vitinha and Kylian.

They came with their plus one, some of them brought their girlfriends and some of them brought their agents.

Kylian sat next to you, on the other side of him was Lee and on the other side of you was Zague.

Lee was with his agent. "You are Kylian's agent?" He asks. His English sounded so adorable since he's not used to it yet.

"I-" You were going to answer, but kylian interrupted.

"She's my girlfriend, Y/n this is Lee, Lee this is Y/n."

"Oh, nice to meet you, you are so pretty. Kylian always talks about you." He shakes your hand.

"Thank yo-"

"Hey Lee, did you saw that we are going to change the training schedule?"

You decided to remain quiet, Kylian was nervous, and that shows, he's very talkative with everything.

They keep talking about different topics. Luis Enrique and his wife were making sure everyone was comfortable.

"Can you pass the salt?" Zague asks. "I'm Zague, by the way, sorry." He laughs.

"Here that salt." You laugh too. "And I'm Y/n. Kylian's girlfriend." You shake his hands the same way with Lee.

"Nice to meet you. This guy always talks about you." He smile. "Are you from Paris? You don't sound french."

"No, I'm actually from -"

"Zague, Lee wants to tell Luis about that day you fell into the pool." Kylian laughs.

"Do it." He chuckle. "Sorry, I didn't get to hear your answer."

You were interrupted again by Kylian. Feeling a little off about it. Zague notices your face falling from the cut in your words.

Not that you were complaining, but kylian interrupted every single interaction you had with everyone. You feel dumb, people asked you things, and you were cut off almost every time.

The dinner was good. You got to sit in front of Luis's daughter, Sira. She was a cute girl and very talkative too.

"Horse riding? that's so cool." You smile at her.

"Yes, I love doing it."

"She's amazing. You should come to one of the competitions they do here in France. It's an experience." Luis says.

"She's afraid of horses." Kylian joined the conversation.

"I'm not." You laugh, thinking he's maybe joking. "I actually think horses are cute and powerful."

"Didn't you once fall off of one?" He asks.

Luis and Sira look at each other, confused about why kylian was bringing that up. "I've fallen a good amount of times. It's pretty normal."

"Yes, and believe me. At first, horses can be scary." Luis says. "Kylian, another glass of wine?"

"Yes, let me serve this one."

Kylian took the bottle, moving his arm a little faster and by mistake throwing your glass all over you.

You feel the cold drink hitting you, moving the chair back quickly, trying to save the parts where it didn't hit yet.

"Oh my God." Sira says, getting up and grabbing a napkin. "It's okay, I think my mom has a cleaning product."

"Let's not worry, your dress is black and I think it'll be safe." Kylian says, tapping his napkin on your legs where the wine hit.

You want to say something, but you are too mad at him to even say something. Being afraid that you will lash out in front of everybody.

"Wait, you have your tags on. Let me take those." Kylian tear off the tags. Making you let out an angry but small growl.

You close your eyes and inhale. "Luis, can I please use your bathroom?" You ask nicely, smiling to hide your emotions. "It's okay, it was an honest mistake. Please do take that glass of wine. I'm just going to dry myself, and we can keep talking."

Sira walked you to the bathroom. She even gave you some wipes and a towel to help with the situation.

"If you need anything else, I'll be over here at the rooms. Second door to the left." She smiles, leaving you alone at the bathroom.

You want to cry, you feel weird, you're dirty and sticky from all the wine you have on you. And kylian pulling the interrupting act was stressful.

You clean the wine off your legs and arms, and you fix your dress that was still wet, and you throw the used wipes and paper at the trash can.

Three knocks made you open the door. Kylian was standing there. "Hey, you okay?"

You roll your eyes, stepping outside. "Can we go home? I don't feel well, am sticky and uncomfortable." You whine.

"Yes, I'll go get your bag, wait for me outside." He says, hurrying to get your things.

He excuses you with everybody. Saying goodbye and thanking Luis for the dinner. They all understood and told him to tell you goodbye.

The drive home you were silent, trying to calm your anger at him. You don't want to yell. You don't want to fight. You just want a shower and a good night sleep.

You enter the house and take your shoes off. Leaving them by the door. You try to unzip your dress, but you can't reach the zipper.

You feel his cold hands, undoing your zipper. "I'm really sorry." He apologizes. Hands massaging your shoulders.

You put your hands in your chest to hold the dress. "Please don't touch me." You walk one step forward. "I'm taking a shower."

He sighs. "It's was an honest mistake, Y/n."

You stop your steps. Turning and walking down two steps. "Was you interrupting on everything I said also unintentional?" You ask, stern tone.

He shakes his head no. Moving upstairs to be at the same height as you. "I said I'm sorry, let's get ready for bed and call it a night."

"A tasteless sorry is supposed to make it up for me?" You walk the rest of the steps. He was already on the second floor. Walking towards the room. "I'm talking to you. Stop ignoring me."

He pulls the silent treatment card, going to the closet to change into his night clothes. You slam the bathroom door, angry at him.

You left the dress on the floor. Feeling nervous about ruining the dress Celine let you borrow.

You shower, taking that hideous feeling. Trying to calm down to be able to face what's outside the bathroom.

He's ignoring you. Under the covers with his phone. Back turned to you. You close the closet door. Not sure if you want him to address anything.

You try not to cry, you have been feeling ignored, you have been feeling bad bout different aspects of your life, and all because of him.

You let yourself get humiliated for the sake of not creating any drama that can get used against him.

You have been a good girlfriend. You're not a bad person. You won't categorize yourself as someone who deserves bad things because you never do bad things to others.

You grab your small suitcase. You pack some basics. You walk into the bathroom with a toiletry bag. Grabbing your most necessary products and things. You walk back into the closet. You finish packing.

You don't move the suitcase just yet. You get down to where your purse is. Walking back upstairs and locking yourself in.

You open the browser. Searching for a flight home, finding one in three hours. You book it.

Texting your friend and telling her that you will be home at the time the ticket says it's landing, she asks you if you are okay and you just say you'll talk once you are there.

You don't move for a few minutes, you tear about the fact that you will leave Kylian alone. That you will have to tell him that you will leave to be able to rest your mind.

You gather courage, order an Uber. Opening the door. He's now watching something on the tv. "Kylian, we need to talk."

"I don't want to fight. Let's talk tomorrow."

"I won't be here tomorrow." You say, your voice is shaking.

He turns, you're with tears rolling down your face, suitcase in hand. "Amour, what are you doing?" he throws the sheets quickly.

He walks over to you, trying to grab you. But you back off. Lifting your hand and making him stop.

"Kylian, I need time. I can't keep going with my days like this. It's not just about tonight. It's the whole Pamela situation. It's just too much." You cry.

"You don't need to leave. I'll go. But please stay here. Mon Amour, please."

"I have my ticket already booked. I'm going home. " You whisper. "I'm not breaking up with you. I just need time. I can't keep going like this."

"This is our home." he whines, not being able to get your reasoning.

"No, this is your house. Those are your friends, this is your country."

You walk past him. Feeling your heart break. You hurry to the strairs. The suitcase is not cooperating with you, wanting to go quickly.

He grabs the suitcase, making you turn to face him. "When are you coming back?" he asks, tears in his eyes. "Because you will be back, aren't you?"

You nod, sobbing. "I'll be back in two weeks"

He then gets your suitcase down the stairs. When you are at the bottom, you throw yourself on his arms.

"I'm sorry, Kylian." You cry. "But please understand that I need to do this. I need to get all this out of my head. I feel so unworthy. I feel so out of place that I don't fit in your world."

"Stop, you do. You are so worthy to me and to everyone around us who loves you and cares about you." he hugs you.

"I'll be back." You pull away. "My Uber is here." You say seeing the notification of the driver. "Je t’aime"

He kisses you. He dries your tears with his shirt. "Text me when you get there. You have the card I gave you? If you need anything please use it."

You nod, kissing his lips. You pull and walk outside. Once you are about to get into the car, you turn to see him standing there. You wave and close the car door.

[holylulusworld]

Compensation (3)

Summary: No one messes with Walter Marshall.

Pairing: Mobster!Walter Marshall x fem!Reader

Warning: angst, a lil plot twist, scared reader, fluff, possessive Walter, language

Compensation (2)

“I know it’s not your apartment, but please, make yourself home, princess,” Walter murmurs as he follows you inside the guest room. It’s not far away from the master bedroom, the one Walter inhabits.

The luxurious bedroom looks bigger than your former apartment. It’s part of his well-designed home. Everything in the room looks brand new and expensive. From the vanity table to the chaise lounge. There is a velvety, high-end carpet placed under the luxurious four-poster bed.

“I know you must be tired, but let me give you a tour,” he says and wraps one arm around your shoulders. Walter guides you toward a door on the other side of the huge room. His warmth is almost unbearable. You want to bask in it and feel safe, but you can’t.

Walter drops his arm from around your shoulders to point at the door.

“Walk-in wardrobe. Through the other door is a bathroom, with a shower, a bathtub, and everything you’ll need.”

You can't find your voice, so you nod. Everything is just too much. Your boss killed a man for you. Your home got destroyed. And now he wants you to live with him.

Why? You have no clue.

“How about you take a warm bath and get settled in? I’ll be right next door, Y/N. If you need anything, the door to the left is mine.” He smirks when you look up at him with big, wide eyes. “You’re safe here. Nothing will happen to you on my watch.”

He finally steps away, letting you breathe. Walter looks you all over again, humming as you look adorable in his sweater. It’s too big for you and reaches your knees.

“Thank you,” you murmur; it’s all you can do. “For everything.”

Walter hesitates for a moment. He stares at you for what feels like hours before he cups your face with his right hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll have everything you need. Get some sleep now.”

And then he turns around to leave you even more stunned. You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your skin when the door shuts behind him.

You stare at the door for a little longer before you turn toward the walk-in wardrobe. Opening the door, you gasp. You expected it to be empty, not filled with clothes.

You slowly walk inside, glancing at the pretty clothes. Dresses from designers you only ever saw in fashion magazines, soft sweaters, and shoes in every form. Nightgowns, pajamas, even socks. Everything is your size.

“That’s impossible,” you grab one of the sweaters, frowning because it’s brand new. ���How can he know my size?” Even if Walter knew your size, how did he manage to get so many clothes in such a short amount of time?

You’re overwhelmed once again. Stumbling out of the wardrobe, you make your way toward the bathroom door. Maybe if you splash cold water on your face, you’ll wake from this dream.

“I said no!” Walter barks on the phone. “I don’t want to meet up tonight or any other night.” He makes a face as one of his regular sex dates purrs filthy things. “Stop that, or I’ll make you stop. Never call me again. I have someone now."

He hangs up the phone, immediately blocking her number.

“You have someone now?” Rachel cocks a brow. “I didn’t know you’re dating. When did that happen?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Walter waves her off, not in the mood to explain his love life to her. “I’m not into Chanel any longer. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No.” She shakes her head. Rachel tries to stay professional, never getting involved in her boss’s private life. “I was just wondering if you need us to protect the new woman in your life.”

“She’s not for you to worry about.” He dips his head to glance at Rachel. “I need you to check on the whereabouts of Y/N’s ex-boyfriend. Find me some dirt I can use against him. That fucker has to stay away from her.”

“Why not find a final solution?” Rachel questions. “I can send someone to get rid of him.”

“The cops would connect the dots, Rachel. Y/N works for me. She lives at my place. Suddenly her ex disappears?” He huffs. “We cannot risk drawing too much attention toward us and our business.”

“Got it, boss. I’ll find all the dirt you want.

Opening the cabinet in the bathroom, you frown. There’s lots of makeup, creams, lotions, and everything you could wish for. Everything is unopened.

The expensive shampoo and conditioner are the ones you always wanted to try. You shake your head. How could Walter possibly know about all that?

No. He can’t. Maybe one of his girlfriends liked the brand, and he had some left to give to you. This must be it. Everything else doesn’t make sense...

You decide to forget about what happened and do what Walter told you to do. You’re going to take a warm bath and try to get some sleep.

“No!” You wake up screaming. The soft blanket clutched to your chest, you stare at the door when it bursts open. Walter storms into the room, a gun in his hands.

“Princess?” He steps inside your room, looking for an intruder. “What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone try to hurt you?”

You’re panting heavily, close to panicking. “I-I…he…” You shake your head, and Walter sighs. He had hope you’re going to heal knowing the man attacking you is dead. How foolish of him. Of course, you won’t get over what happened so easily.

“It was a nightmare,” he concludes and steps even closer to your bed. Walter looks at you, clinging to the blanket. “Do you want me to stay?”

He presses his hands to his sides to not scare you even more. You look at him, wrinkling your forehead. “I can sleep on the floor or on the chaise lounge.”

Dipping your head, you look at the small chaise lounge. A huge man like Walter could never sleep comfortably on the furniture.

“I don’t know,” you tug at the blanket, eyes darting from Walter’s face to the gun in his hand. “Would you?”

“Sure, princess,” Walter murmurs your name as he secures his gun. He puts it on the nightstand before he turns to close the door. You’re nervously chewing on your lower lip. Your boss is crawling under the covers to lie next to you. His big hands reach out for you to bring you into his arms.

You go stiff when he nuzzles his face in your neck. “I’m here, Y/N. He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe with me, princess. Always.”

“Okay, Walter wants the dirt. Get it!” Rachel barks orders at the tech nerd they hired some months ago. “Oh, and do me a favor.” She runs her hand over Jensen’s back. “Check on Y/N Y/L/N and her father too.”

“Why?” Jensen frowns. “The boss wanted me to do the same months ago. I thought he was satisfied with the information I gave to him.”

Rachel frowns deeply. “Months ago?”

“Yup. Boss wants me to check on every employee, but damn, he even wanted to know about her favorite ice cream.” Jensen grins before typing away on his keyboard. “Does he want me to print him everything again? I bet he accidentally threw it away.”

“Can you send me everything to my account?” Rachel asks. “And not a word to Walter. I want to check on her background again. I need to be sure he didn’t overlook an important detail.”

“Not much to find out about her,” Jensen shrugs. “Her parents died in an accident. Nothing interesting or fishy about it. She’s a single child. Do you want me to continue?”

“Her parents are dead.” She frowns deeply. "Compensation, my ass!” Rachel exclaims before glaring at Jensen. “I want everything you got on her, her parents, and everyone she ever talked to. If you tell Walter about this, I’ll cut your tongue out!”

You fell asleep faster than Walter expected. His warmth and two strong arms wrapped around you made you feel safe.

“I’ve got you, princess.” He murmurs in your neck. “I knew when I saw you that first day after you came to my town that you’re going to be mine.”

Walter closes his eyes to allow himself to get some sleep too. He regrets nothing. Having you finally in his arms was worth all the effort.

The only thing he regrets is that he couldn’t stop the bastard from attacking you. Walter should’ve made a move on you sooner. Your attacker would’ve stayed away from you knowing you’re Walter Marshall’s girlfriend...

Part 4

Tags in reblog.

[ihavethedreamies]

Oh, Baby-Girl | Bang Chan [NSFW]

Bang Chan - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5.4k

Pairing: Bang Chan x Tall!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Mafia AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Mentions of Guns (Mob/Mafia type stuff), Bodyguard! Chan, Mob Boss Daughter! Reader, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! & M! Receiving), Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Spanking, Daddy Kink (it is Bang Chan after all), Unprotected Sex (Not Recommended), Big Dick! Chan

Author's Note: Oh no, what is this? I couldn't have possibly wrote this since I am working so diligently on packing. Well, as long as it's here…

There is just something about the choreography for Chk Chk Boom that did something to me, I'm sure many of you agree.

P.S. If you haven't read my stuff before, or much of it, you might not notice, but the rest of you have probably figured out I got a bit of a face-fucking fascination. Thanks for getting to know me.

Revised (1/31/25) - I forgot to change the name to (Y/N), so I fixed it!

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

Being a mob boss’s wife isn’t nearly as fun and glamorous as the movies and shows (and TikTok) make it out to be. However, being the mob boss’s daughter? A bit of a different story. You’re protects from the violence and crime, but still get to reap the rewards. Fancy clothes, expensive jewelry, a nice car, and a bodyguard as well. Despite never being able to see him, you know you’re well protected as you walk down the streets of New York, spending all of your papa’s corrupt money. A few designer shopping bags hang in the crook of your elbow over your cropped jacket, fur lining the ends of the sleeves and lapels. Faux of course, you might be the daughter of a criminal, you’re not a monster. The thin heels of your over-the-knee (faux) leather boots click on the sidewalk as you tap away on your phone with your thumb. People move out of your way as you walk, you just have the aura of ‘fuck around and find out’. The gum in your mouth smacks as you chew, sneering at a child who doesn’t move out of the way fast enough. Your eye roll is hidden behind your Versace sunglasses, but your down-turned lip covered in dark red lipstick is still obvious. Your stiletto acrylic nails are the same dark red and click against your phone as you scroll through your search results. Despite how you look and dress, you still prefer to shop sales. That gives you more bang for your buck, since your father does limit your money some. As you pass an overly full trash can, you pluck the gum from your mouth and onto the pile. It’s lost all its flavor… Approaching the next store, you’re about to enter when you suddenly feel something instinctual rise up in you. You halt, people scurrying around you still, and with your natural height paired with six-inch pumps, you still stand a head above a lot of the passerby. You feel vulnerable for some reason and huff in frustration, shoving the door open to the boutique you had stopped in front of. It’s not your original destination, but you instantly feel safer being inside. It’s not anywhere close to the first time your ingrained sense of danger has kicked in, and it won’t be the last. You there’s at least one bodyguard tailing you even if you never see him, but that doesn’t mean the shelter of a store isn’t welcome.

“Welcome.” One of the employees calling out snaps you out of your trance, having been looking out the window at the street. You turn and give her a forced smile and remove your sunglasses. Deciding to look around while you’re in the shop, you admire some of the items, but none of them are up to your standards, but that lingering feeling…lingers. Picking up a pair of shoes to look over, you look out the window once more, trying to see if you can pick out anyone lurking outside. Nope. Pressing your lips together, you sigh and move to leave. Stepping back onto the street, you look around again, trying to be subtle, almost like you’re looking for a cab. Still not seeing anything that sticks out, you move on and toward your actual destination. You’re hit with an even greater sense of doom as you hear the screech of car tires in the distance and you spin around to see a black SUV hurdling down the street, unusually empty for New York. Like it’s in slow motion, as the vehicle approaches, the window rolls down and a gloved hand sticks out, a Glock in his hand.

“Shit!” You move to duck behind a parked sedan, and you yelp when your heel snaps as you dive for cover. Your ankle twists and your tights rip, but you get behind the vehicle as you hear the gunshots. People around you scream, and you scramble to hit the emergency button on your phone, but…it’s shattered. It must’ve hit the sidewalk harder than you did.

“Fuck~” You shove the device into your purse, and you watch as people run and scream. Getting up just enough to peer through the blown-out window of the car you’re hiding behind, your ankle protests, and you fall back down, catching yourself with your hand.

“Did you get her?” You hear a gruff voice shout followed by, “No!” Then, through the running pedestrians, a huge man appears, a gun in his hand. He’s right down the sidewalk, and you’re right in view. Before you even have the change to pray, a figure steps between you and the assailant. You can’t see since he’s in your way, but you hear his gun go off and watch the goon fall from between the legs of your savior. He has to be the bodyguard that your father told you is constantly at your tail. The man groans and curses, the same SUV coming to help haul him away, clutching at his knee. Sirens grow closer and you try to get up, pushing on your scraped hand. You wince again, at least three of your nails on that hand are broken, a fourth cracked, and your heel is ruined. It would’ve been way too awkward to try and stand with just one pump, so you take off your other one.

“Here.” The man who saved you has an accent, you can’t quite place it in the moment. His leather-gloved hands grab your forearms and he more or less yanks you up. When you stand before him, he’s…short. About an inch or two shorter than you…with your heels off. He’s also really fucking hot. It’s clear he’s a bit shocked at the height difference as well since he’d never been so close to you. Was he the guy always guarding you? You guess it doesn’t matter if he’s shorter if he’s protecting you from afar. He shoves his pistol in the back of his pants, and you watch his white t-shirt struggle across his muscular chest as he does so.

“You okay, love?” Australian, it’s definitely an Australian accent. And it’s also really fucking hot.

“Y-yes.” You finally answer and you jerk to grab your bags, but he’s grabbing them alone with your purse before you can get close.

“Can you walk?” He nods at your bare feet, and you stand on one of them, rolling your twisted ankle to test it. Putting weight back on it, “I can manage.” He then starts to lead you into the nearest alley as the police cruises grow closer. At least you have tights on as you meander through the not exactly clean back alleys, and he finally brings you to another big black SUV parked behind some bakery.

“Here.” He opens the passenger door, and you climb in as he throws your bags in the back. You sit, shaking still as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Sh-should I be up front?” Your voice is also shaking still, and he starts the vehicle.

“The windows are tinted, but we’ll be quick.”

“Quick? Where are we going?” Your father’s building is a good twenty minutes away, let alone the house on the outskirts of the city.

“Closest place is mine.”

“Y-you’re my bodyguard, right?” You just realize that even though he saved you, that doesn’t mean it’s his job. The man huffs and wrangles his leather jacket off, tossing it in the back as well. The clean lines of your father’s crest are tattooed into his bicep, and you slump in the seat.

“What’s your name?”

“Chan.”

“Just Chan?”

Yep.” It seems he’s been waiting for you to buckle up, because he reaches around you to grab the still unfastened belt, doing it for you. He smells really fucking good to and your head swims. The spike of adrenaline seemingly got all parts of your body worked up, but you force the wave of arousal down. It is not the time nor place for any of that. The ride to his place is quiet, thankfully, because if he talked more, you’d be a goner. Trying not to be obvious, you would look to the side to stare at him. His side profile is immaculate, strong nose and jaw line, full lips…

“So…are you…?” You didn’t know how to word your question without sounding rude.

“Korean.” He knew where you were going, and you let out a small ‘ah’ of understanding. Your father didn’t get along with the Yakuza, nor the Chinese mafia, so Korean made sense. Korean-Australian at that…right?

“Australia?” You want to make sure, not great at picking out the different British-origin accents.

“Yep.”

“Am I annoying you?” He sags at your question and shakes his head.

“No, love, just trying to keep an eye out.” He pointedly looks in the rear-view mirror and you let out a quiet apology. The silence makes sense then.

“Put your sunglasses on.” Chan nods at the item in your hand, and you do so, pointedly looking out the window as he pulls up to the security gate of his building’s parking garage. Getting in without any comments from the guard, he parks in what you assume is his designated spot. The bodyguard gets out and open your door for you, giving you his hand for assistance. You grunt when you land wrong on your still upset ankle and he catches you, making your chest press to his.

“S-sorry.” You flinch back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and he smiles gently.

“It’s okay, Miss (Y/N).” Fuck, if you’re already attracted to a guy with an accent, don’t EVER let him say your name. As he’s out of view to get your bags you mouth an exaggerated ‘oh my god’ and quickly shut your mouth when he shuts the back door. He leads you toward the entrance door for the building, staying slow to accommodate your slight limp. Getting in the elevator you still keep your sunglasses on just in case, though the building seems pretty secure. That doesn’t mean the security watching the cameras are always completely trustworthy though. Enough money can convince most people of anything. You exhale tiredly as you stop by his door and Chan presses the code into the number pad and it pings. He holds the front door open for you and you enter, hobbling down the entry hall. It’s a nice place and you wonder how much your father pays him to watch you nearly 24/7. Or…

“So, are you my guard a lot?”

“During the day.” So, yes.

“How long?”

“Hm…about three years.”

“Ah…” That’s a pretty long time. So, he probably knows a lot about you, and you’ve never him before in your life.

“Oh! I need to call papa…” You rummage through your purse that he sets on the coffee table. As you sit on the couch, you then remember that your phone is broken.

“I’ll handle it, love.” Chan sets your shopping bags and your shoes down as well and you’d totally forgotten about your heels. When did he grab them too?

“I need to call a few others as well, if you want something to eat you can rummage through the kitchen.” He nods toward the other room behind where you sit and you nod as he goes down the other hallway, deeper into the apartment. You take the chance to look around and you wonder if he’s ever here. Well, if he’s watched you every day for three years, he probably isn’t. The decoration is simple, almost like it’s a hotel room rather than a living space, but it’s nice. Maybe his bedroom is more personal? Hearing his muffled voice from further in, you stand and meander to the kitchen like he suggested. Opening the fridge, there’s more than you expected since the rest of the apartment is barren. Nothing sticks out though, but you notice an object is in the over despite it being off. You knew exactly what it is. Opening the oven, you grab the pizza box and open it as your mouth waters. You aren’t sure if pizza is your favorite because you have it all the time (it’s a front for your father’s shenanigans) or if you genuinely like it. Holding the day-old slice, you chew absentmindedly, snooping through the rest of Chan’s kitchen. He has a little wine display on the counter, and you pull one of the bottles out to look at the label. You snort, of course he has your family’s vintage. Maybe he gets a discount? At least you know you like it. Holding the slice in your mouth as you reach for a wine glass in the cupboard, you have to get on your tip toes to reach one. Can he even normally reach them? There’s dust on the glass, and you ponder if he ever uses them.

“Sorry I don’t use those glasses often.” His voice startles you, but you keep a firm grip on the glass then set it down.

“That’s fine… Do you just… drink from the bottle?” You easily and expertly pull the cork out with your bare hands since it’s sticking out enough and he blinks at the ease with which you do so. Just because you’re the daughter of a mob boss and don’t fight yourself, doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Your father made sure that if it comes to it, you can punch a guy’s teeth out just as well as any bodyguard. That doesn’t help with guns, mind you.

“Uh, no,” he huffs an airy laugh, it’s actually kind of cute, “I just use a normal glass.” He goes to the cupboard next to the one you’d been in and grab a square-shaped cup that looks like it’s more for whiskey than wine.

“Are you doing okay, love?” He leans against the counter as you pour yourself a glass after giving him some.

“I guess. My ankle kind of hurts still.” You easily balance on one leg, lifting the other foot to roll the joint around, testing its pain level.

“Just because I’ve never met you face to face doesn’t mean I don’t know you. Are you okay?” He presses and you flinch to look at him. It’s not…creepy per se, just…odd. You sigh, taking a sip, your hand still shaking a bit.

“Y-yeah. I mean, I’ve been around guns and stuff, but… I myself have never been shot at; you know?”

“I do, actually.” He smiles cheekily and you sigh in mock annoyance.

“Well, it’s a little unfair that you seem to know me so well, and I have no knowledge of you.” You walk around the island and back toward the living room, sitting in relief on the couch. You cross your leg over the other, injured ankle dangling in the air. Chan sits down next to you, leg up on the cushion so he can face you, toned arm resting on the back of the sofa. You feel his eyes linger on your tight-clad legs, your leather short-shorts showing most of your thighs. His gaze stops at the tear in the supposedly tear-proof pantyhose, then snaps his head up like he’s just been startled awake. The man knows you know he’s ogling your legs, and the tips of his ears turn red as he clears his throat. How is such a handsome man so cute?

“What do you want to know?”

“How did you get to be my bodyguard?”

“I had no mafia ties before. I guess that was a good thing. I was more or less scouted to be a bodyguard when I was a bouncer at some penthouse night club. It seems some of your dad’s guys saw I was good, and I got offered way more money than any other job. They doubled it when I took the spot as your personal bodyguard.

“I see. Where did you learn to shoot so well?”

“I started at the shooting range when I was in college with my friends. I got better through work and your father made sure I was an expert before he put his baby girl’s life in my hands.”

“Hm, you obviously don’t know me that well.” You pick up on a very small detail, wondering if he knows what it is.

“Hm… Not his ‘baby girl’, his ‘little kitten’.”

“Oh, maybe you do know me well then~?”

“Quiz me, baby-girl.” The way he says it is so different than two seconds prior. His tone deepens with it and a smug look settles casually on his face. You can’t help but watch his throat move as he swallows a sip of wine and you take a sip yourself, then set the glass down.

“What’s my favorite color?”

“Red. Something else.”

“Brand?”

“Prada. Something real, (Y/N).” Chan leans further into the cushion. You’re right about at eye level, and you wonder…

“Does it bother you I’m taller?” You change the subject so fast he nearly gets whiplash. You are genuinely curious. You’re tall for a woman anyway, let alone when you do wear heels, and some guys don’t care for it.

“Height doesn’t play into what matters, baby-girl.” His slightly cryptic answer intrigues you, but you move back to the previous topic.

“What’s my favorite book and why?” He sighs, hugging a laugh at your shift back.

“You tell people it’s 1984 because of the psychological implications behind it, but your favorite is actually Dragon Ride because it go you into fantasy. You read it eight times in elementary school, and you have a signed copy.” Chan grins at your bewildered expression. Once again, in any other situation that would be creepy as hell that he knows, but three years of observation would key him in.

“Okay, smart guy,” you pick your glass back up, slinging your legs up under you on the couch, facing him.

“Why do I currently not have a boyfriend?” That’s something you can’t just say, it has to be observed.

“You hate romance. Flowers, chocolates, a fancy meal. You hate it, but because you like fancy clothes and jewelry, men think you lean that way. You’d prefer a movie date at home or going horseback riding.” Shit, that’s a little creepy. More so that he knows you so well, it’s like he can see into your head, that kind of creepy; not that he’s a creep. Chan nearly cackles as he giggles at your bewildered expression, and you whine. Why is he so cute?

“Why are you so cute?” You accidentally speak your thoughts aloud and you immediately freeze, since he does too.

“I’m cute?” He manages to get out after you both sputter for a few seconds.

“W-well, I mean-“

“I’m cute?” The simple inflection change completely shifts the meaning of his question.

“You think I’m cute?” You whisper and he sets his own glass down, then he takes yours so he can do the same. He shifts down the cushion, so his knee touches yours. Chan leans in and you clench your jaw to remain strong. Don’t kiss him, don’t kiss him, don’t kiss him-

“Baby-girl, if I didn’t do you really think I would still be watching you ten hours a day, every day?” Oh. That’s a good point. Chan crooks a brow, waiting for an answer or something, don’t kiss him-

“You want to kiss me that bad?” he finally asks, and you jolt back, eyes leaving his mouth and shooting up to his eyes.

“What?! No?” Your voice cracks and he presses his pretty lips together, so he doesn’t laugh at you.

“So, you don’t want to?”

“I never said that-“ He catches you. Literally. You try to reel back so you can get off the couch, but his hand grabs your wrist. It’s gentle, but tight enough that he can yank you back to him, and he swallows the squeak he pulls out of you. Your body melts, all the tension from the earlier attack as well as the sexual kind that’s been taking your body over, leaves. The kiss grows from a low heat to a full inferno rapidly. Your jacket is shed, then your necklaces and bracelets, and as his tongue creeps into your mouth, you claw at his shirt. Your fingers unevenly scratch at his skin through the fabric since about half of them are broken. You both pant when he pulls back, and he slightly shoves you down so your back hits the cushion and he sits up more on his knees. You watch with glee as his shirt comes off; fucking hell, he’s perfect…

“Oh, my god.” You gasp and his smug grin twitches briefly in bashfulness, but he composes himself.

“Let me see you, baby-girl.” He easily holds himself up over you as his body nestles above yours, his strong jean-clad thigh jamming between your mostly bare legs. He kisses you again as his fingers easily pluck the buttons of your shirt open and he pulls you up by the sides. As you sit up, you yank the shirt out of where it’s tucked into your shorts and then toss it away before falling back. The micro-fiber was a much nicer feeling than what could have been cold leather. You shiver when his calloused hands run over the smooth and soft skin of your sides and tummy. His nose runs over your collar bone, and he nuzzles the swell of your breasts where they sit in your plain nude bra. If you knew you were going to get fucked tonight, you would’ve worn something much sexier.

“Don’t worry, it’s coming off anyway.” It’s like he can read your mind and you yipe in shock as he unfastens the front latch so quickly it’s like he does it telepathically.

“You wear them with a front latch because you can’t reach around your back from when you hurt your shoulder in middle school.” He really does know you well. You just blink but then Chan forces a mewl from you as his strong thigh presses hard into your covered mound.

“Focus, baby-girl.” His voice lowers even further, and it makes you shiver. Strong hands grip your ass over your shorts, pulling your hips to grind on his leg as his mouth meets yours again. You whimper through the kiss, goosebumps raising on your skin as the button of your shorts easily slip open, the zipper pulled down, and then your pants soar through the air somewhere you care not.

“There are already torn…” He justified as he grabs the hem of your pantyhose and easily rips them to literal shreds. Chan lets the remnants fall to the floor and you feel your slick through your panties against your bare thighs. At least your panties are a cute lacy purple and not just plain nude.

“You’re absolutely stunning.” He praises, hand running up your thigh so he can hitch it against his hip. Chan rolls his hips, and you squeal at the large bulge in his pants pressing to your barely covered cunt. If he feels that big through his jeans, what the hell is he hiding? He chuckles when your hips jump to get another brush of friction, reaching into his back pocket. As he pulls the foil package from his pants you snatch it from him.

“Planning this?” You try to tease him, but his gaze darkens.

“Oh, baby-girl, I’ve want to fuck you for two years now.” The man declares. You turn the pack over to look at the label, making a mental note at the size, then you look at him coyly.

“You clean?”

“Yes?”

“Good.” You toss it behind your shoulder, then grab his belt loop, pulling him to you as you sit up. You smirk at him, head tipped back so you can look him in the eye.

“Can you really feel me like you want through a rubber?” He swallows hard, all that confidence from before seeming to leave, then rushes back.

“Not even fucking close.” He admits, pushing you back down and starting to lay open mouth kisses against your neck. He sucks hard, his teeth nibbling the flesh and you shudder with a delighted whine.

“We can put my pill to the test~” You tease, and he groans, kissing down your chest. His mouth seals over your nipple as he wrestles his jeans off and you exhale in bliss as his fingers rub at your folds through the fabric still covering them.

“You care about these?” He snaps the hem of your panties. You do, but you really want to watch him tear them up more.

“Nope.” You pop the ‘p’ and the lace rips and joins your other items of clothing somewhere behind him. You yelp when his hands grab your waist and shove you up the sectional, so he has room to lay on his stomach. Before you get the chance to prop yourself up on your elbows, his tongue runs up the fold of your pussy and his nose brushes your clit.

“Fuck~!” You toss your head back, body twitching as he decides to bury his tongue inside of you. He groans at your taste, hands roughly grabbing the backs of your thighs. He rolls you back, holding your legs apart and up as he mouths at you like a man starved. Your little mewls and squeaks fly out between heaving breaths, and you feel his grip tighten, knowing he’d leave bruises. When he lets go of your left leg, he makes sure you rest it on the back of the couch, and then his finger presses into your twitching cunt.

“You’re drippin’~” He chuckles, then adds another finger and your whole body seizes. Expertly, he crooks his fingers up, the ends pressing against your cervix and with a final lick to your clit, you cum. He eagerly helps you ride out your high, then cleans his fingers off with his tongue as you pant for air. Your forearm is slung over your eyes as you come back to earth, and you only move your arm to watch as he removes his final garment. You hadn’t even got a chance to look at him in just his boxers, but there he stands in absolute glory. His cock stands proud, arching up toward his toned stomach and you heave yourself up so you can see him better.

“Oh~” You giggle, wrapping your fingers around his cock and he groans at the feeling. You bite your lip, eyes meeting his giddily, then you swallow the top, whining at the salt of his precum.

“(Y/N), baby-girl~” He tosses his head back as you take more of him into your mouth. He’s thick, your jaw protesting a bit, and you still have a good few inches to go when the head hits the back of your throat. Your eyes flick to his again, and you make sure to watch his face as you keep going, only gagging slightly as your nose presses to his groin.

“Oh, fuck…” He nearly whimpers, gripping your hair, then loosens his fingers. He groans as you bob your head, breath harshly moving through your nose as his cock fills and leaves your throat. His hips jump and the sudden movement makes you gag a bit harder, but it makes your cunt clench as well.

“Shit, sorry!” He panics, but you pull off slowly, giving him your best boba eyes.

“Wanna keep doing that~?” You hope your intention is clear and he doesn’t even hesitate. The hands still in your hair pull you back onto his cock and you sit like a good girl as the fat head of Chan’s dick batters your throat. Your eyes roll back, loving not just his rough movements, but the pretty noises leaving his mouth.

“Hm, you want me to cum down your throat, baby-girl~?” Chan’s hips jerk unevenly, and you can feel his cock pulse on your tongue. You hum and nearly wiggle with glee as he presses your nose hard against his lower stomach and paints your throat white. You eagerly swallow each pump and drop, and he mumbles something about wondering why he waited so long to have you. Only half-softened, he pulls out of your mouth, and you lick the rest of his release off your lips. You don’t even get the chance to give him a smug grin before you’re flipped over onto your stomach, and he heaves your hips up.

“Tell me if I do something wrong.” His comment seems odd, but it seems he really does know you well… You gasp a moan as his hand smacks your ass, the skin stinging, and he can see your empty cunt clench around nothing.

“You want daddy’s cock?” His thumb runs through the slick of your folds, and you tremble. There’s a very specific reason you only call your father ‘papa’. You only wish you’d found Chan sooner to actually put it into practice.

“Fuck, yes, daddy~!” You squeal in joy, hiccupping when his other hand slaps your other ass cheek.

“Get ready then, baby-girl.” You’re ready mentally, but your pussy isn’t. Your cunt burns as he buries his fat cock into you with one thrust. You revel in the sting, crave it, and your already tight walls clench around him hard. Even if he wasn’t fucking you from behind, you’re sure he’s long enough to fill you completely, the tip nestled tight against your cervix.

“Fucking hell…” You sigh, nails digging into he thick fabric of the couch. He lets you get used to the stretch, but you just want him to move, you’re even getting antsy.

“Move, please.” Your wiggles are stopped with a hard spank. You yelp.

“Daddy, please.” You correct and he runs his thumb over your reddening skin.

“Sure thing, love.” Your cunt tries desperately to keep his cock inside, and a few drops of your wet land on the couch. Your breath leaves you when his hips snap, fucking back into you hard and fast, his pace not letting you catch it back. He loves the little mewls and grunts he’s literally fucking out of you. Your cheek is pressed to the cushion, drool already pooling from the corner of your mouth. He’s waited too long to take you, he decides, and he’s going to make up for the lost time.

“C-Chan, fuck-!” Your orgasm is cresting fast, a familiar burn rising with your orgasm.

Spank!

“Fuck, daddy, I’m gonna-“ Your breath shudders as your orgasm hits and he slows his pace some, grinding his cock into you as your pussy spasms.

“Oh, baby-girl~!” He groans as your cunt squirts even more slick onto his groin and balls, even both of your thighs. You slump after what seems like minutes and heave for air, but he isn’t anywhere close to done. Your near scream as he starts to pummel his hips against your ass again goes straight to his head. He leans over you, hands near your shoulders. Normally, he’s used to leaning over a girl quite a bit, but his hands fall to the sides of your shoulders rather than your head, your body just as long as his, legs even longer. Despite the small height difference (in your favor), you feel small under him; he has broad shoulders and thick muscles, and an even thicker cock. The hard and deep thrusts turn shallow, his dick barely leaving your cunt but battering your womb at the same time, bringing you up to another orgasm fast.

“So deep, daddy~” You nearly cheer, and he’s found your weakness. He presses his hips into yours, barely moving them and you gasp, a fourth orgasm already approaching. He feels your walls clench harder and you feel your pussy start to sting, but you need to fall apart again. It’s too much for him then, your raw heat and gummy walls begging him to pump you full.

“Gotta test that pill…” He mumbles, then groans as he finally falls over as well. The sticky heat of his cum fills you, so much it spurts out from around where your bodies meet, pushing you over the edge as well. Your head swims from the force of your final orgasm, stars dotting your vision. As he pants for air over you, he watches your eyes flutter; you’re wiped out.

“I’ll let you sleep over, baby-girl. Gotta rest for when I fuck you stupid tomorrow morning.”

Master-Master List

Stray Kids Master List

[letsgoletsgetit08]

home for the holidaze

summary: Seonghwa promised Yunho he wouldn't sleep with his half-brother, Hongjoong, while he is in town for an extended holiday sabbatical. He quickly realizes how idiotic of a promise it was to make.

warnings: mdni, dom!hongjoong x sub!seonghwa, recreational drug use

word count: 10,706

ao3 link: home for the holidaze

“Just whatever you do, please don't sleep with my brother.” Yunho warned Seonghwa with a serious expression. Seonghwa rolled his eyes. He remembered Hongjoong from growing up in the same neighborhood as the two of them. Though Hongjoong was closer to Seonghwa's age, he had ended up befriending Yunho instead. Hongjoong had been sent to an elite private boarding school across the country and they barely saw him except at holidays. He was shorter than his little brother (they had different moms) and Seonghwa always recalled him as being rather stuffy, uptight, very serious about doing his assigned reading over holiday breaks, where Yunho and Seonghwa were more inclined to sneak off to smoke weed at the playground.

Seonghwa was only half listening, very focused on Animal Crossing, “Yeah, I get it, no offense but I'm really not interested. He is way too uptight for me.”

Yunho sighed, seeming relieved, “Okay,” he turned towards the door, “Okay. Cool. I'm gonna go get him from the airport, then. You still down to meet up later for dinner?”

“Sure, just send me the location and a time.” Seonghwa said a little dismissively. 

“Sweet!” Yunho walked through the door, calling out over his shoulder, “Later!” 

Seonghwa had virtual trees to shake and rooms to design. It was his day off and he planned to take advantage of it fully by getting stoned and playing Animal Crossing until his eyes were the things crossing instead. Then he would probably re-watch Empire Strikes Back for the hundredth time. He had been a little reclusive lately. His breakup with Yeji was affecting him more than he'd like to admit. He knew Yunho had noticed and had tried to help. He also knew that six months should have been enough time to get over a relationship half that length. But he was really struggling with the part where he was the one rejected. Not to brag or anything, but he had always been the rejector, never the rejectee. It certainly had given him empathy to those he had broken up with in the past. This sucked. And the guilt of that realization - how he now understood how those he had broken up with had felt - also wasn't helping. He wanted to, was finally ready to break out of his funk. At least mentally. But it was like his body wasn't ready to listen yet. He would stare and stare at the dust bunnies on his floor and get so icked out by them that he felt almost angry. But he still couldn't convince his body to get up and vacuum. He was a very tidy person so it made things like that even more frustrating. A layer of dust on the coffee table was holding his attention more than the credits rolling on his movie, his phone lighting up with a notification was the only thing that shook him out of his stupor. 

Yucifer

Joongie picked that ramen restaurant we used to like downtown. See you there in 30? 

Me

Alrighty

Sweatpants had felt like a completely reasonable option for one of their favorite old haunts. That was, until he saw Hongjoong. Looking very put together for someone who just spent nearly ten hours on a plane. Dressed in slacks, an expensive looking sweater, and designer loafers. Intellectual property law was a lucrative career, evidently. What was more surprising was that he looked so stylish. Growing up, he had stuck to polo shirts and khakis with ugly dress shoes that looked like they belonged to someone forty years his senior who shopped exclusively at Walmart. Practical. Already a tiny adult by his early teenage years. 

Seonghwa felt weirdly exposed in comparison, though he was just as clothed as his companions. He ran a hand through his hair as he approached the table, trying in vain to become a little more put together before he was spotted. 

Too late. 

“Park Seonghwa!” Hongjoong called, trying to catch his eye. 

Seonghwa met his gaze sheepishly, feeling embarrassed to be under the spotlight, “Kim Hongjoong. Good to see you, man.”

Yunho scooted over in the booth so that Seonghwa could sit across from Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong’s whole demeanor was different from Seonghwa's memory. Where he had once been full of nervous, high-strung energy, he was now calm, almost intense. Cool and confident. 

It was… something.

If Hongjoong noticed that Seonghwa was currently clawing his way out of a deep depressive cycle, he didn't let on. Seonghwa felt like he was being studied, but not in a bad way. Just maybe in a way that made him nervous that he would break his promise to Yunho. 

Hongjoong was the first thing that had truly piqued his interest in half a year. And he had agreed not to sleep with him. Because he was a fool, probably. 

“When do you go back to Sydney?” The question rushed out of Seonghwa’s mouth before he could stop it, realizing it probably sounded rude. 

Hongjoong laughed, “Ready to get rid of me already?”

Seonghwa blushed, “No, no. Sorry. I realize how that sounded. I'm happy you're here. Staying with us.” His gut twisted at the last part. Hongjoong. Staying into their guest bedroom. Their rooms were jack-and-jill, connected by a shared bathroom. 

“I'll be here at least through New Years. I'm taking an extended vacation.”

Fuck. It was October 3rd. Three months.

Maybe Hongjoong was straight. Maybe it wouldn't be an issue. 

It was an issue. 

Hongjoong seemed to be hell-bent on trying to not-so-subtly flirt with Seonghwa all night. 

“Yeah, work has been hard.” Hongjoong’s foot was out of his loafer, tracing up Seonghwa’s ankle, “My days are long.” A wink that Yunho had conveniently missed. 

He was sure Hongjoong would have stopped if Seonghwa had given any indication he wasn't into it. Unfortunately, he was very into it. His breathing became hard to regulate, cheeks flushing, both things easy enough to place blame upon the alcohol they were drinking over the appropriate place for blame - Hongjoong's foot working its way further up his leg. When it reached the junction of his inner thigh, Seonghwa stood up abruptly, mumbling a mostly coherent excuse about needing the bathroom. 

Once in there, he splashed his face with cold water, trying to get it together. He took a few steadying breaths and washed his hands before heading back out, trying to keep Yunho's voice in his head, asking him to not sleep with his brother. He hadn't expected wanting to so badly when he agreed without second thought earlier. How was he supposed to know Hongjoong had grown out of his awkward stuck-up goody two shoes phase and into… whatever the fuck he was now. Hot. Domineering. Interesting. Confident but not cocky. Did he mention hot? So fucking hot. 

“Everything okay?” Hongjoong asked, eyebrow cocked, sly smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, uh.” Seonghwa sat down, crossed his legs, gave Hongjoong a look he hoped conveyed that they should cool it for now, “Yeah, all good.” 

“Perfect.” Hongjoong said, “I already took care of the bill. You guys ready to head out?” 

“You didn't have to do that, Joong.” Yunho told him. 

“I know,” Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa when he spoke next, “but I wanted to.” 

Seonghwa wished he had an excuse to not ride back with the two of them, but he had taken the train there and there was no reason to not let Yunho drive him when they were all going to the same place. Hongjoong rode up front, which Seonghwa was grateful for. Though under different (read: literally any other) circumstances, he would have been happy for the man to ride in the back with him. In his lap. Fingers in his mouth, even. 

His mouth watered at the thought of it. 

It was going to be a long fucking three months. 

Once back at their apartment, Seonghwa and Yunho helped Hongjoong carry his belongings from the car into the guest bedroom, the man in question thanking them before saying he was going to go ahead and turn in for the night, citing jet lag as his excuse. 

Seonghwa didn't expect to see him again, and he also wasn't used to sharing his bathroom, so he was quite startled when he opened the unlocked door to reveal a shirtless Hongjoong brushing his teeth at the sink closest to his respective room. He was in thin light blue sleep pants, but his tattoos were the most surprising thing. His half sleeve had been hidden by his sweater earlier, but the design was bold and beautiful, just like its owner.  

Seonghwa was probably gaping at him for too long before he shook out of it, “Shit! Sorry. Not used to someone being in here. I can just-”

Hongjoong stared at him as he leaned down to spit in the sink, breaking eye contact at the very last second, taking his time finishing up before finally wiping his mouth and turning towards the guest room, his bedroom (Seonghwa would have to get used to thinking of it as that), calling a very nonchalant, “All yours,” over his shoulder as he exited. 

All of that lead up for… nothing? 

What sort of mind games was he playing? 

Hands suddenly landing on his waist startled the hell out of Seonghwa as he fixed himself an omelet the next morning, nearly causing him to flop his breakfast onto the burner.

“Smells good,” Hongjoong whispered into his ear.

Yunho was already at work. Seonghwa was closing at the bar that night so he had most of the day free. He had gotten up early after a fitful sleep, and began finally cleaning like he had been trying to force himself to do for a month now. It felt good. 

“Want one?” He tried not to let on what Hongjoong’s touch was doing to his brain. He was probably failing miserably, “I'll make a second one. I don't mind.”

“Mmh, how very domestic of you, dear.” Hongjoong all but growled in his ear. 

Jesus. The butterflies’ wings caught on fire in his abdomen. He subconsciously leaned back into Hongjoong's embrace, pliant in his hands. 

“Do you still take your coffee with half and half?” He managed to get out through shaking breaths. 

“What a good memory you have.” Hongjoong whispered, lips ghosting down his neck, not actually making contact, only teasing, making him shiver. His presence was gone as soon as it had come, leaving Seonghwa feeling almost crazy for thinking it had happened in the first place. 

He finished preparing both omelets and fixed their coffees, setting all of them on their little dining table. Hongjoong chose to sit directly across from him, making sure Seonghwa could watch him enjoy the food he had prepared. 

Hongjoong didn't make any more moves though, and after they were finished, he cleared the table before Seonghwa could protest, thanking him for breakfast, practically dismissing him. 

“I hope I won't bother you by cleaning. I go into work around 3pm so I won't be a nuisance for too long.” Seonghwa didn't know why he was telling him his plans for the day.

“No bother at all.” Hongjoong spoke to him while washing the dishes but didn't look up, “Where do you work?”

“Oh. Um. It's a bar called The Bar is Low. Near uptown. It's not really a gay bar but I guess we attract a certain clientele.” He was rambling. 

“Yes, I can imagine you attract a certain clientele.” Hongjoong said it like he was implying the customers were there for Seonghwa alone. 

“Well. Joke is on them because I'm not interested.” Seonghwa answered dryly. 

“No? You're not gay?” Hongjoong asked. 

“Ha! No, no. I'm definitely bi. I'm just not interested in dating anyone right now. Haven't been for almost six months now.”

“Bad breakup?” 

Seonghwa felt tears well up behind his eyes, which pissed him off. He thought he was done crying about it by now. He answered, hoping his voice didn't sound too thick with the looming tears, “Yeah. Not been the best year for me.” 

“Mmh. Well. You deserve to be with someone who sees your value, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong said it so casually, glancing over his shoulder as he did. 

Seonghwa picked nonexistent lint off of his t-shirt rather than make eye contact, mumbled a “Thank you,” under his breath, trying to swallow the tears down. 

Hongjoong was too damn astute, though. 

“Hey, whoa, I'm sorry,” he dried his hands in a hurry, now finished with the dishes, “Come here.” He rushed over, pulling Seonghwa in for a hug. Seonghwa began sobbing embarrassingly hard, soaking Hongjoong’s shirt, choking out apologies, “God, I'm sorry, I haven't cried about it in weeks. Fuck.”

“Shh,” Hongjoong rubbed soothing circles on his back, “Don't apologize for having feelings, honey. You're okay.” 

“Sorry.” Seonghwa repeated himself despite the instructions he had just gotten, pulling away from the hug. 

Hongjoong reached up to wipe his face dry with a gentle thumb, repeating himself, “You're okay. Hey, look at me.”

Seonghwa obeyed, finding the other's eyes to be softer than he'd seen them so far. 

“I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. I didn't know about the breakup.” Hongjoong offered, hand still on Seonghwa’s cheek. 

“Oh,” Seonghwa swallowed, “No. Um. I don't mind.” He thought he was probably blushing profusely, using every brain cell he had left to keep his eyes locked with Hongjoong's, “I like the attention.” He admitted, so quietly he barely heard it himself. 

“Noted.” Hongjoong’s thumb traced his jawline, “You’re in control here, Hwa. I want you to know that. Just say the word. Either way. And I'll stop. Slow down. Or… I'll start in earnest. But it's up to you how this goes, darling.” 

“I'll keep that in mind.” Seonghwa managed to choke out, suddenly very aware of how close they were standing. Too bad he was still chicken shit scared, “Um. I'm gonna. Go. Uh. Clean. Sorry about your shirt.” 

Hongjoong chuckled, “Stop apologizing. I'll see you later.” He stepped back, leaving Seonghwa room to step away and head towards his room.

And he did clean. As soon as he got off to the thought of Hongjoong, fingers stuffed in his mouth and music blaring to muffle the noises. Maybe he left the bathroom door connected to his room open just a tiny crack, though. Maybe he hoped Hongjoong had caught a glimpse. 

“Need a re-make for table eleven on the fly, please!” Wooyoung’s voice broke through Seonghwa’s thoughts. He had been drying the same glass for who knows how long, lost deep in thought about a certain new roommate of his. 

“Hwa!” Wooyoung pleaded from the expo area. 

“Sorry!” Seonghwa strided over, “What’s wrong with these?” The martinis looked perfectly fine to him.

“They swear those are gin. They ordered vodka.” Wooyoung explained.

Seonghwa grabbed a cocktail straw and dipped it into one of the martinis in front of him, stoppering the end with his thumb and dropping the liquid into his mouth.

“Oh. Yeah. That’s gin. In my defense, vodka martinis should be criminal.” He said as he began shoveling ice and pouring water into two clean martini glasses to chill them before making the drinks. 

“I like vodka martinis.” Wooyoung defended himself. “Bone dry and slutty filthy dirty.”

Seonghwa scrunched his nose in disgust, “You just like olive juice. And this is why they only let people with good palates be bartenders.”

Wooyoung brushed his split-dyed hair out of his eyes, pouting, “I have a good palate! It’s just different. And you got this job because the manager said he was afraid you’d kill him if he didn’t let you bartend!” 

“And I might have! Fuck waiting tables. Bartender privilege is amazing in comparison.”

“Who was going to kill me?” A deep voice rounded the corner of the kitchen into the bar. 

“He was, Yeosang! Not me. I’d never. You’re too pretty.” Wooyoung batted his lashes at his work crush. 

Yeosang blushed, trying to contain his smile, his face turning pink to match the birthmark by his eye. He tied his neon green hair back into a half-up, purposely avoiding Wooyoung’s gaze, “You really shouldn’t flirt with your manager, Wooyo.”

Wooyoung landed a firm smack on Yeosang’s ass as he passed by, before placing the correctly made martinis on his tray and sauntering away.

They thought no one knew they had been sleeping together. They were stupid. And horrible at hiding it. 

Wooyoung reappeared a few minutes later, “So what’s got your brain on a different planet tonight?” He asked, leaning across the bar, nosy as ever. 

“Yunho’s brother is in town. For like three months” He said, not intending to elaborate, but knowing Wooyoung would pry until he got it out of him anyway. 

“The stick-in-the-mud twink attorney?” 

“The very one.” Seonghwa sighed, resuming his task of drying dishes. It was slow that night. He had mainly been doing side work, not so much actually making drinks. 

“What, is he secretly hot or something?” Wooyoung was stabbing cocktail cherries onto a sword-shaped toothpick. 

“Very astute.” Seonghwa placed the cherries down on the rail below the bar back where they belonged before resuming his task. 

Wooyoung ate the cherries on his toothpick and leaned over the bar to retrieve the jar, “Why is that a problem?”

“Because,” Seonghwa swatted Wooyoung’s hand away, “Hey! Enough with the cherries. Because Yunho specifically made me promise not to sleep with him!”

Wooyoung waited until his back was turned to snatch the jar, hiding it under the bar this time as he fished more cherries out, “So? Just do it anyway. That’s what I would do. Isn’t he just visiting? Do it and ask for forgiveness later.” He tried to put the jar back before Seonghwa noticed. 

“Did you just-?”

“No? Just what?” Wooyoung said around a mouthful of cherries.

“You’re such a little brat.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes. Really, he was quite fond of his coworker. He made it nearly impossible not to like him. 

“You love me.” Wooyoung trotted away to clear the only table they had had in over an hour. Tuesday nights were like this. Yeosang would probably cut him soon and take over bartending for the rest of the night to save on labor costs. And so he could close with Wooyoung and make out in the back. Whatever. Saturday nights always made up for a whole slow week. 

Seonghwa picked up takeout on his way home and had just sat down at the kitchen table to eat it when his phone lit up with a notification. 

Yucifer

Crashing at Mingi’s tonight. Just a head’s up. Feel free to toss my laundry on my bed if you need the dryer. 

Me

Thanks man, later.

He tucked into his food, trying to not let his mind spiral at the thought of being home alone with Hongjoong that night. A few minutes later, his phone lit up again

[Unsaved Number]

Looks like it’s just us tonight.

Me

Hongjoong?

[Unsaved Number]

The one and only

Wanna get stoned and watch a movie

Me

Kim Hongjoong does illicit substances now? Since when?

Evil Man

Shut up. And Hurry up. Shower and brush your teeth and meet me on the couch in 30

Heat coiled in Seonghwa’s gut. He hated how much he liked how bossy Hongjoong was acting.

Me

Aye, aye, captain

Evil Man

Nevermind I decided I hate you

Me

Wait, no, come back. What about “yes, sir”?

Evil Man

Much better.

Me

Yes, sir

Evil Man

Mmh, I could get used to that

Seonghwa didn’t necessarily think Wooyoung gave out the best advice. But after the year he’d had so far, he decided to throw caution to the wind. Two fingers deep inside of himself in the shower, thinking of Hongjoong’s instructions the whole time, he was more sure of his decision than ever. He had never ever broken a promise to Yunho. Sure, he felt a little bad about it, but Yunho would have to understand that he hadn’t felt so alive in months. He needed this. 

He sat staring at his collection of sex toys in his bedside table drawer for too long, wasting time, risking being late, before finally selecting his favorite butt plug, guiding it inside with practiced ease. Another risk, but screw it. 

He finally emerged from his bedroom dressed in the shortest silk sleep shorts he owned. Light silver. A matching silk babydoll shirt, trimmed with black lace, on top, hair wavy and messy after his shower. The outfit was probably too much. Yeji had had a habit of making him feel weird about his good looks, not on purpose, he was sure, but in a way that read as her being intimidated and wanting to be the “pretty” one in the relationship. But he liked feeling pretty. He wanted to be told he was pretty, but he felt silly asking for it. So he felt a little embarrassed as he walked (slightly awkwardly) out of his room into the living room. 

All of his fears were quickly erased at the look on Hongjoong’s face as he emerged. He was wearing the same light blue pants from last night, dark hair swept off of his forehead, the planes of his chest visible through his thin black t-shirt. 

“Oh, darling. Look at you. All of this for me?” Hongjoong asked, beckoning him over, patting his lap. 

Seonghwa nodded as he straddled his lap gingerly, trying his best to avoid jostling around too much or else the plug would be uncomfortable. 

“Use your words, sweetheart.” Hongjoong instructed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Yes, sir. All for you.” Seonghwa replied, his voice low, a little raspy from his nerves. 

“Lucky me.” Hongjoong whispered, hands roaming Seonghwa’s body, thumb grazing his nipple on its way down, making Seonghwa’s breath catch in his throat, before landing on his hip, which he gave a small squeeze, “You’re exquisite, angel.” His hand continued down, landing on Seonghwa’s ass cheek, fingertips pulling him apart ever so slightly. Seonghwa squeaked out a tiny moan at the sensation, senses heightened with the object he was playing host to. 

“I got myself ready for you in the shower.” He admitted, forehead tipping down to Hongjoong’s as the man kneaded the soft flesh underneath his hand. 

“Trying to be teacher’s pet are we?” Hongjoong teased as his hand found its way under the silky fabric of Seonghwa’s shorts, fingers dipping in the soft crevice before they discovered the exposed part of the plug, “Oh. Well, look at you. A little presumptuous, no?”

“Sorry.” Heat flooded Seonghwa’s cheeks, the embarrassment suddenly almost overwhelming, tears threatening to build in his eyes. 

“No, no, no,” Hongjoong tilted his chin up with his other hand, “Uh-uh. I love it. Don’t get in your own head. I’m thrilled you picked up on my lead and even more so that you’re here, presenting yourself to me like this. It’s so hot, baby. I promise. I won’t tease so much, I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay.” Seonghwa murmured, still recovering.

“We can stop any time, promise.” Hongjoong kissed his cheek to seal the contract. 

“I don’t want to stop. I just feel a little bad because I promised Yunho I wouldn’t do this.”

“Do what? Sleep with me?” Hongjoong asked, petting Seonghwa’s hair. 

“Mhm.”

“Oh, baby. He has been talking you up to me for months now. He didn’t explicitly mention the breakup, but I figured it was something like that.” Hongjoong laughed, “He probably told you that so this would feel forbidden or something. I get the feeling you like to do the opposite of what you’re told, typically. When you’re feeling more like yourself, no? I mean does he have a habit of crashing at Mingi’s? My guess is he thinks this will help you get over your ex. He’s a schemer like that.”

Oh. OH. 

“Well. I feel stupid.”

“No, sweetheart, don’t.” Hongjoong pulled him to his chest, kissed the top of his head, “You’re not stupid, you’re a good friend. You’re just out of sorts. And that’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to make you feel good. You deserve to feel good, Seonghwa. Will you let me?”

Seonghwa steeled himself, sitting up to look at Hongjoong, “Yes. Please. I want that so bad.”

Hongjoong smiled, his eyes beginning to turn back to their original dark, lustful state, “Good. I’m glad. Because you look good enough to eat right now and I might go crazy if I can’t have you.”

Blood rushed south at his words, suddenly nothing felt nearly as important as pleasing the man underneath him, “You can have me. Please have me.” He pleaded, hips swiveling into Hongjoong’s at the thought of it. 

“Oh, I plan on it.” Hongjoong’s hand returned to grab his ass, guiding him to grind down again, “I’m going to take you apart piece by piece and put you back together again so that the only word you can remember how to say is my name.”

Fuck. 

“Yes, please. I want that, Hongjoong.” Seonghwa all but begged, continuing to move his hips as the other guided them, their quickly hardening cocks rolling together tantalizingly. 

“Come here, then, pretty.” Hongjoong whispered, finally pulling him in for a kiss. 

Seonghwa felt his brain go fuzzy. The kiss was deliberate, measured. He wasn't going to give Seonghwa too much at once, preferring to take his time, draw it out. Seonghwa was more accustomed to heated, passionate sex. Clothes ripped off in a whirlwind. Rushing towards the finish line without taking in the scenery. 

Seonghwa tried to lean in more to deepen the kiss but Hongjoong pushed him back gently, “No, baby. Let me. You just let me take care of you. Can you be good for me?”

Seonghwa wanted him so bad, could have taken him in one go right there, easily. But he was very interested in letting him lead, “Okay, yes.” He sighed, “Yes, sir.” He corrected himself. 

“Good boy,” Hongjoong stroked his hair, “So good for me.” 

Seonghwa preened at the praise, leaning into the other's hand. 

Hongjoong reached for something on the table beside the couch, producing a small, light blue intricate weed pipe, already packed and ready to go, as well as a gold zippo, engraved with his initials, “Still wanna smoke?” 

“Sure, if you do.” Seonghwa offered. 

“I do. I want to shotgun with you.” 

“Look at you, Kim Hongjoong! Full of surprises.” Seonghwa teased him.

Hongjoong’s face turned devious, “I'm not the one who is about to be full of something, jagi.” He trailed his hand down Seonghwa's face, thumb tracing over his bottom lip before using both hands to take the first hit from the pipe. Once he freed one hand again, he reached up and pressed at the spot where Seonghwa’s jaw hinged, asking him to open up. He obliged and let his face be pulled towards Hongjoong's, lips so close they were almost touching. He took the hit, inhaling greedily like it was oxygen. 

“Your turn, love.” Hongjoong handed Seonghwa the pipe as he exhaled. 

Seonghwa took his hit and leaned in to pass it along to Hongjoong. Time passed slowly as the high began to hit and he exhaled into Hongjoon's mouth. The latter barely let him fully release the hit before he was crashing their lips together, this time with more need, fervently. Seonghwa blindly placed the pipe down on the table beside them, not caring much how it landed. Nothing else was important right now. 

He felt Hongjoong’s fingers latch into his hair, tugging it slightly as he turned his head to the side, tongue teasing the seam of his lips before finally probing inside, eliciting an embarrassingly needy whine from somewhere deep inside Seonghwa’s chest. Seonghwa's tongue sparred with Hongjoong's until the latter caught it and sucked on it, nearly sending Seonghwa into a dizzy spiral of pleasure. 

Hongjoong pulled back abruptly, “Bed. Now.” He commanded. Seonghwa got up, his thighs shaky from straddling Hongjoong for who knows how long. 

“Mine or yours?” Seonghwa asked as he grabbed Hongjoong'a hand, leading them towards their connected bedrooms.

“Yours, gorgeous. I'm not even unpacked yet.” 

“Yes, sir.” Seonghwa simpered, loving being bossed around. 

“Kneel on the bed for me, darling.” Hongjoong instructed. 

Seonghwa did as he was told, hands in his lap, ass resting on his heels. 

He watched as Hongjoong stripped in front of him, maintaining eye contact as much as was possible, leaving his crisp linen boxers for last, peeling them off slowly, releasing his fully-hard cock. It was lovely, not braggadociously large but well-proportioned, nicely formed, and flushed pretty pink. Seonghwa was apparently staring at it with stars in his eyes. 

“Like what you see?” Hongjoong asked as he stroked himself, walking towards the bed. 

“Yes, sir. Want you in my mouth. Can I? Please?” Seonghwa asked, peering up at him through his thick eyelashes. 

Hongjoong smiled, “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

He climbed up onto the bed in front of Seonghwa, kneeling but raised up so his cock was level with Seonghwa’s eager mouth. 

“You can pull my hair.” Seonghwa offered as he took Hongjoong’s length into his hand, “I like to know if I'm doing well.”

“I'll be sure you know how well you're doing, beautiful.” Hongjoong smiled as he stroked Seonghwa’s hair. 

Seonghwa licked his lips, glad the weed hadn't hit so hard to have given him dry mouth, and began licking the tender underside of Hongjoong’s tip before working it inside genuinely. 

Hongjoong moaned as Seonghwa sucked him in, hollowing out his cheeks, hitting his soft palate. He felt his hair be tugged on, “God, yes, baby. Just like that.” Hongjoong praised from above. 

Seonghwa hummed at the praise, setting a pace, bobbing his head and working his tongue in time with the strokes. He could feel Hongjoong's hips stuttering, trying not to fuck his face, getting close to his release. Suddenly, Hongjoong pulled on his hair, backing up a little, “You're going to make me cum like that, baby.” His hand caressed his cheek, “And as much as I'd like that, I really want to cum inside you.” 

“Yes. God. I want that.” Seonghwa stared up at him knowing he probably already looked fucked out with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. 

Hongjoong chuckled, “Mmh so eager. You're dangerous, little bunny.” 

Seonghwa let himself be pushed back onto the mattress, “Dangerous?”

“Very. You're going to have me tempted to keep you.” Hongjoong's hands grabbed Seonghwa’s wrists, pinned them up by his head as he leaned down to kiss him once more, caging him in, not allowing a reply. He came up for air and dismounted, following a hunch for supplies, looking towards Seonghwa as his hand landed on the drawer pull of his bedside table. Seonghwa nodded, confirming the location of the lube and condoms. Hongjoong gathered them and placed them within reach on the bed beside Seonghwa before climbing back in, kneeling between his parted legs.

Seonghwa gasped as Hongjoong dove in, kissing his neck, making his way down to his chest where he mouthed and licked at his still-covered nipples, the friction of the now-damp fabric driving him insane. His top was gathered up by practiced hands, torso bared for further exploration. Hongjoong's breath was warm as he kissed down his happy trail before coming up long enough to peel his tiny shorts off, tossing them to the side before resuming his kisses, landing everywhere except for his painfully hard, leaking cock. 

“Mmh, look at you.” Hongjoong cooed, “You're so stunning, Seonghwa.” 

“Thank you.” Seonghwa gasped, his breath catching as Hongjoong's deft fingers found his plug once again, grasping the base and teasing it in and out with tiny movements that had Seonghwa’s back arching off the bed. 

“Oh fuck, please.” Seonghwa begged, writhing on the bed at the sensation. 

“Please, what, jagiya?” Hongjoong purred, obviously knowing exactly what he wanted, “Use your words, gorgeous.” 

“Please, need you to fuck me, sir.” 

Hongjoong took his time removing the plug, leaving Seonghwa clenching around nothing, feeling extremely empty. 

“Well. Since you're begging so nice.” Hongjoong rolled on the condom like it was second nature, following it with plenty of lube. 

Hongjoong grasped Seonghwa’s length in one hand, barely applying pressure, and teased everywhere except his eagerly awaiting ring of muscle with his own cock, guided by his other hand. 

Seonghwa was sweating now, desperate in his anticipation, letting out a soft whine. 

Hongjoong smiled knowingly down at him, “Shh, darling. I know. I don't mean to be cruel, you're just so lovely, all strung out for me. But I think you've earned this.” 

Seonghwa thought he might have ascended to a different astral plane at the stretch of Hongjoong pushing inside. It was delectable. He had never felt so precious, so worshipped by anyone before. He took Hongjoong easily, adoring how perfectly full he felt once the man was buried deep inside of him. 

“Fuck, baby. You feel amazing.” Hongjoong gasped, unable to help the movement of his hips as he began fucking Seonghwa in earnest. 

“God, yes, right there, Joong.” Seonghwa gasped as Hongjoong found his prostate. “Not gonna last long like this.” 

“Can you be a good boy and cum for me when I tell you to, baby?” Hongjoong asked, voice strained from the effort. 

“Yes, sir. Please. Fuck.” Seonghwa mewled. 

Hongjoong stroked him in time with his thrusts, his hips beginning to falter as he reached the edge of his own release, “Go ahead, darling. Show me how pretty you are when I make you cum.” 

Seonghwa obeyed, panting out Hongjoong's name as he came all over his hand and his own chest. 

“Fuck, yes. That's it, baby.” Hongjoong worked him through his aftershocks, before trying to pull out. 

“No!” Seonghwa gasped, definitely overstimulated, but needing Hongjoong to follow through on his promise, “Inside! Please. I can take it.”

Hongjoong didn't reply, but his eyebrow furrowed as he accepted Seonghwa’s plea, fucking into him hard and fast before finally reaching his own orgasm, spilling into the condom with a shaky breath. He took his time pulling out, falling to the bed beside Seonghwa, gathering him to his chest and stroking his hair while praising him sweetly, “Thank you, baby. You were so good for me. Took me so well. So, so good.” Hongjoong kissed his head, squeezing him tight to make sure he knew he was cared for and appreciated. 

Seonghwa felt tears escape, warm as they traveled down his cheeks, unable to hold them back. Hongjoong didn't even bat an eye, just coddled and comforted him, “Shh, jagi, it's okay. Let it out. You're okay. I've got you.” 

“Sorry.” Seonghwa sniffled, “I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you.” Hongjoong tilted his head up to meet his eyes, “Hey. Nothing is wrong with you, baby. You're perfect. It's normal to react like this after sex like that. Especially if it was your first time in a while. Okay? Nothing is wrong with you, Seonghwa.” He kissed the tears off of his cheeks, “Absolutely nothing.”

Seonghwa managed to compose himself and Hongjoong started to sit up, but Seonghwa panicked, “Wait, where are you going? Please don't leave!”

Hongjoong smiled, smoothing his hair, “I'm not going anywhere, angel. I just wanted to go start us a shower. Okay? I can stay here for a little longer, too, if you want.”

“Just a few more minutes? Sorry. I'm a mess.”

“No, sweetheart. You're not. I'll stay as long as you need.” 

A few minutes passed and Seonghwa finally convinced himself to let Hongjoong start the shower, soon returning to collect him from the bed. Hongjoong held him gently as he washed his body, fingers soft as they washed his hair. Seonghwa couldn’t help but feel sad, already mourning the fact that Hongjoong would be leaving in three months. What had once felt like an eternity now felt entirely too short. 

“Joong?” He asked as the other was putting down the hairdryer. 

“What's up?” 

“I'm scared.”

“Of what, honey?” Hongjoong’s eyebrow furrowed once again. 

“I'm scared I'll grow attached.” He took a shaky breath, “I'm scared I already have.”

Hongjoong smiled, a hint of sadness behind his eyes, “It's okay, Hwa. No one ever wants to keep me around for very long. I'm sure by the time I'm leaving you'll be glad for it.” 

“Why do you say that?” Seonghwa asked, suddenly concerned.

“It's just never not been true.” Hongjoong shrugged. 

“And what if I want to keep you?” Seonghwa asked timidly. 

“Then we'll talk about it when we get there. If we get there.” Hongjoong answered simply. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Seonghwa asked, reaching for the man’s hand, so delicate and pretty for someone so intense. 

“Of course I will, Hwa.” Hongjoong promised, “Anything you want.” 

Hongjoong fit so perfectly nestled in Seonghwa's arms that he knew as soon as the other fell asleep, he would never be able to bear letting him go. He couldn't stand the thought of him moving back to Australia. Unless he was going in his suitcase. It wasn't like he had a whole lot going on here. Was that crazy? Move halfway across the world to be with someone whom two days ago, he had sworn he would have no interest in sleeping with? He decided to let his subconscious mind work that one out, finally meeting the sweet embrace of sleep. 

“Slut.” Something hit Seonghwa’s face. “Whore.” Again. “Harlot.” Yunho's voice. “Promise breaker.” He was throwing Cheerios at the two of them, still curled up in bed together. “Jezebel.” 

“Fuck off, Yunho.” Seonghwa grumbled, seeking asylum under his comforter. 

“No! You're the Skanky McBetrayerface!” Yunho whined, obviously joking, but still being a nuisance, just because he could. 

“Yun.” Hongjoong sighed, “I told him you were scheming. Now please, fuck off. I'm trying to give your roommate some morning dick.” 

“Ew.” Yunho's voice held genuine disgust, “Fine. But hey, Seonghwa. Don't say I didn't warn you when he drives you crazy in a few weeks!” 

“Please fuck all the way off before I let your brother penetrate me in front of you!” Seonghwa called, already beginning to straddle Hongjoong from underneath the covers. 

“Okay fine. You guys are mean.” Yunho stomped off dramatically, playing the part of youngest sibling remarkably well. 

“Um actually, can I fuck you this time?” Seonghwa asked after removing his mouth from the pulse point under Hongjoong’s jaw. 

“Oh, fuck yeah, by all means.”

Hongjoong was bouncing on his dick and Seonghwa felt amazing but the two of them kept bursting into fits of giggles as they were trying desperately to be quiet for Yunho's sake. Eventually, Seonghwa had to pull out and take him from behind so they could finish, seeing as every time they made eye contact, it devolved into laughter immediately. 

It was proving quite handy for their bedrooms to share a bathroom. 

As the weeks went on though, they pretty much only stayed in Seonghwa’s bed. Hongjoong unpacked very slowly, almost like he thought at any point he would be asked to leave. 

The comment that both he and Yunho had made about getting sick of him kept rattling around in the back of his mind, making less and less sense as he got to know the man better. 

Sure, Hongjoong liked knowing his whereabouts. He could see maybe how some people might find that to be overbearing or controlling. But in all honesty, Seonghwa liked it. He liked that someone cared enough to keep tabs on him like that. Hongjoong liked to read. A lot. He read non-fiction. Historical non-fiction. And the newspaper. He was very serious about the crosswords. He didn’t go out a whole lot. And sure, he was bad about spending his money on clothes rather than saving it. Seonghwa saw what could have been perceived as flaws, but to him, they were endearing. He was growing so incredibly fond. And the sex had only gotten better as time went on. 

Hongjoong came by the bar for the first time on Halloween. He was picking Seonghwa up after work to go to the party his old friend from boarding school, Jongho, had invited him to. They were going dressed as sexy Lincoln and sexy John Wilkes Booth. It was stupid. But it was funny to them. 

“Is that the hot brother?” Wooyoung asked as he waited at the bar for Seonghwa to prepare the drinks for his table. 

“Who?” Seonghwa asked, not knowing Hongjoong was there yet, haven’t having had time to check his phone all night due to how busy they were.

“The Booth to your Lincoln over there at the end of the bar.”

Hongjoong was there looking handsome as ever, if not a little goofy, and nervous for some reason. 

“Oh, Yeah. That is definitely him!” Seonghwa answered, sighing at how adorable he found the man. 

“Okay, yeah. I get it. He’s hot.” Wooyoung leaned in, “Is he like crazy dominant in bed? Because he looks like he would cannibalize anyone who looked at you for too long.”

“I am not dignifying that with an answer.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes, “But. Um. Yeah. It’s kind of incredibly hot.”

“Oh, I get it. Yeosang is territorial, too. I think it’s probably not something everyone is into. Yeosang apologized for being that way a lot when we first started hooking up. But I kept reassuring him that I like it. It’s hot. It’s nice to feel wanted like that.” Wooyoung was staring off into space, obviously deep in thought about Yeosang. 

“Hm. Yeah. That’s exactly it. Maybe that’s what they meant…”

“What who meant?” Wooyoung asked, curious as ever.

“Hongjoong and Yunho. They both said something to the effect of knowing that I would eventually get sick of Hongjoong. I think they were talking about him being possessive. But you’re right. I think it’s very, very attractive.” Seonghwa was actually getting a little hot and bothered just at the thought of it. 

“Okay, ew. Stop drooling. Can you please leave now? I like watching Yeosang bartend and I can’t do that if you’re here. Plus you’ve already made beaucoup tips.” He shook their oversized tip jar. It was true. It was nearly brimming over with cash and he saw plenty of bigger bills in there. 

“Slut.” He fished the cash out, “Okay byeeee!” He called after pocketing his tips and closing out his drawer, collecting Hongjoong on his way out. 

Jongho’s place was super cool, modern and expensive, looking like somewhere a Bond villain might reside, and the man himself was a little cold at first but quickly warmed up to Seonghwa the longer they spent together. Everyone loved their outfits. One man, Jongho’s friend, San, really liked Abe Lincoln, apparently. He kept touching his costume and leaning in, clearly not one to hold his alcohol well. Seonghwa didn't think he was flirting, really, mostly because he had seen him interact with plenty of others the same way that night. He figured the man was just touchy and friendly. Hongjoong spotted them talking and came over to snake his arm around Seonghwa’s waist. “Hi, baby.” Hongjoong all but sneered at San as he spoke, “Making friends?” He asked before pulling Seonghwa in for a messy kiss. Once released, Seonghwa watched as the man’s cat-like features went through a series of emotions, from confusion to understanding to acceptance, walking away with a small wave. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I felt the need to do that.” Hongjoong said, shaking his head and stepping away from Seonghwa. 

“What? It doesn’t bother me, Joongie.” Seonghwa offered, reaching for him again.

Hongjoong took another step away, “No. I need to stop. I’m sorry.” He turned on his heel and tried to walk away, but Seonghwa caught his arm.

“Hey, whoa. Can we go somewhere and talk about this, please?”

“I know we haven’t been here long but can we go home if we’re going to talk about it?” Hongjoong asked, looking up at Seonghwa apologetically. 

“Yeah, sure, of course. Of course we can, baby.” Seonghwa reassured him. 

Hongjoong stared out the window in the backseat of the Uber the whole drive back to their apartment. He let Seonghwa hold his hand, but that was about it. Seonghwa’s mind was racing the entire way there. When they finally got back, he suggested they get showered and changed and meet in the living room afterwards. Hongjoong nodded, still refusing to make eye contact. Seonghwa showered quickly and changed clothes before heading into the kitchen to put on some water to make tea. Two cups of lavender chamomile with honey. He didn’t know if Hongjoong liked tea, but the ritual of making it helped calm his nerves anyway. By the time he carried the tea cups over to the coffee table in the living room, Hongjoong was finally emerging, face pink from being scrubbed clean, hair still wet, wearing one of Seonghwa’s sweatshirts he had evidently left in his room, looking rather small and vulnerable in it, seeing as it was big on him. 

“Come here,” Seonghwa offered, patting the couch beside him, “I made tea, does that sound good?”

Hongjoong sat down beside him on the couch, not touching him, but nodding at the offer of a hot beverage. Seonghwa handed him the mug carefully, warning that it was hot, trying to study his face, but remaining patient. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong said after taking a sip, “This is nice. I don’t know why you’re being so kind to me.”

“Hongjoong, no offense, but what the fuck are you talking about?” Seonghwa asked, genuinely confused. 

“I…” Hongjoong finally met his eyes, looking completely distraught, “I don’t know where to start. I have some bad habits that I’m trying to break. But it’s hard. And I thought I was over them. Thought I could control them with you. Obviously I’m just as insane as I used to be.”

“First of all, you’re not insane. Second, can you elaborate? What habits?” Seonghwa dared to place a hand on the other’s knee to try to comfort him. 

Hongjoong took a deep breath, “I had a bad breakup, too. A few years ago. He cheated on me, made me think it was my fault, somehow. I stayed in it way too long trying to be ‘better’, be who he needed me to be to stay happy. But that was never going to happen. I should have known. There was no pleasing him. He swore up and down that he had stopped seeing the other guy but I knew he was lying and I ended up following him to prove myself right. I should have just fucking let it go. But then I confirmed it. After that, the harder I tried to cling on to him, the more distant he got. I wish I would have had enough self respect to just leave, but I was so stubborn. Ever since then, I have been kinda paranoid in relationships. It’s not that I can’t trust, it’s just that everything kind of feels like a threat, I guess. So I like knowing where my partner is. I like everyone else knowing they’re mine. That kind of behavior is typically a turn-off to people. That’s what I meant when I said I would scare you off. And when those feelings came up tonight after seeing you talking to San… I don’t even have any claim to you, Seonghwa. And I still couldn’t hold it together. I’m so fucking frustrated with myself.” Tears streaked down his face at the last part.

Seonghwa carefully removed the tea cup out of his hands, placed it on the coffee table, and pulled the man into his lap. It was his turn to comfort. 

“Oh, Joong. You’re okay, baby.” He stroked his hair, rubbed circles on his back, “Hey,” he leaned back slightly so he could look the other in the eye, “Look at me. No one I’ve ever been with has cared enough about me to ask my whereabouts. They parade me around because I’m a pretty object to be shown off. The possessiveness you’ve shown so far… I like it, Hongjoong. I was just talking to my co-worker about it at the bar when he saw you there, looking like you would happily murder anyone who dared to look at me for too long. Do I see how it could turn toxic? Sure, but I don’t think you’re toxic, Hongjoong. I think we both have some flaws. And I think we’re both adults who can work through them, if we want to. Personally, I want to. Have you balked at all any of the times I’ve been a hot mess after getting emotional? No. You’ve just helped me through it. And I would do the same for you, happily. As far as a ‘claim’ to me goes. Hongjoong. I want that. I know you thought you would scare me off but I knew after that first night, I want this with you. I know you have to go back to Australia and I honestly don’t know what it would look like, but I really, really want to try. I want to be yours, baby. Please. Let me.”

Hongjoong studied him for a moment like he thought he might burst out into laughter and yell ‘Sike!’ in his face or something. But of course, he didn’t. Seonghwa was dead serious. 

“You want me to claim you?” He asked, finally, eyes now dry and turning dark with desire. 

“Yes, baby. Please. Want everyone to know who I belong to.” Seonghwa felt heat stirring deep in his abdomen. 

“So I can mark you?”

“Yes. God, yes. Anywhere you want.” Seonghwa’s hands trailed down Hongjoong’s flank, desperate to touch him. 

“I’m going to make sure everyone knows who you belong to.” Hongjoong growled, pulling them both to their feet, abandoning their tea in favor of heading to Seonghwa’s bedroom. 

Hongjoong had left marks all over Seonghwa’s neck and down his thighs as he opened him up. 

“Are you clean? Can I take you raw? Please?” Seonghwa begged as Hongjoong reached for the condom. 

“I am. Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I said I wanted to be claimed. Want you to stuff me full, get me pregnant, baby. Wanna feel you leak out of me.” He was babbling, but he meant every word. 

“Christ, Hwa.” Hongjoong grunted as he applied lube before pulling Seonghwa into his lap, guiding him down carefully onto his cock, chest to chest as they made love, Seonghwa’s own dick pinned between their torsos. They caught their release simultaneously, foreheads pressed together, panting versions of each other’s names. 

They had to change the sheets after their shower. 

Later, in bed together, Seonghwa tried to confess his feelings. 

“Hongjoong?” He asked timidly from his spot on the man’s chest. 

“Hm?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” He said it so quietly he was afraid Hongjoong hadn’t heard.

“Baby… you’re just feeling good from the sex. Tell me again in the morning if you still feel that way, okay? I don’t want you to say something you don’t mean. You still barely know me.” 

“It doesn’t matter. I know how I feel.” He was feeling a little stubborn then, “I will tell you in the morning. Because I mean it.”

“Okay, darling. Get some sleep.” Hongjoong whispered, stroking his back in time with his breaths. 

“G’night.” Seonghwa replied, brain already foggy, half asleep.

“Goodnight, my little bunny.” Hongjoong kissed the crown of his head. 

Seonghwa woke up alone. He knew Hongjoong was gone. He could just feel it. The note on his bedside table only confirmed his fears. 

Seonghwa,

I’m sorry. You deserve better than what I can offer. I’m sure you will hate me for this, but I promise you, it’s for the best. You should be with someone who isn’t an obsessed, paranoid, possessive asshole. I hope you know I cherished every moment we spent together. You’re really something special. You will heal and move on and be glad that you didn’t tie yourself to me. Promise. Take care of yourself. 

-Hongjoong 

Seonghwa called into work that night. 

Then he called into work for the rest of the week, until Wooyoung became so concerned that he came by the apartment to make sure Seonghwa was alive. After explaining what happened, Wooyoung was uncharacteristically kind and attentive, nearly protective of him on their shifts together. It was nice. It made Seonghwa almost feel like a person again. 

November came and passed and he was completely numb to all of it. All he did was sleep, work, and play Animal Crossing. Yunho felt bad, like it was his fault somehow. Tried to make it up to him in little ways. Made sure he was fed and watered. It wasn’t until after Thanksgiving that he forced him out of the house. 

“We’re going to Mingi’s for a late Friendsgiving. Come on. Here,” Yunho tossed him a sweater and some jeans, “Boots and scarf, too, it’s going to snow. I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m serious, Hwa.” He stood in the doorway, ensuring Seonghwa actually got dressed. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but it was nice to be around people. Wooyoung and Yeosang were friends with Mingi, apparently, and although he saw them several times per week, it was nice seeing them outside of that context, curled up together on the couch, able to be openly together outside of the bar. Mingi had pulled him into a big bear hug despite them not being very close, and it almost made him cry. He was a good hugger. And it was the first physical affection he’d had in a month. He was sure he looked rough, haggard, face gaunt, dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t even been able to call it a breakup this time, but it felt like one. Worse than one. 

But being here, with people who cared for him, and good food, sparkling wine, he began feeling some semblance of normality again. They were half an hour into a game of Catan when the doorbell rang, Mingi's black labrador retriever, Chicken, barked at the noise until Mingi opened the door to reveal Jongho and San. How they all knew each other, Seonghwa had no idea. But the two were holding hands and he realized just how silly Hongjoong had been at the party. Jongho seemed just as surprised to see him.

“Oh, hey. Nice to see you again.” He offered, shaking Seonghwa’s hand. 

“You, too.” Seonghwa answered, not really knowing if it was truthful or not.

“You look almost as bad as Hongjoong has when he facetimes with me.” Jongho chuckled. 

“Oh. You’ve talked to him?” He didn’t know why he was surprised. They were friends, afterall. 

“I’ve definitely talked to him. Well, he does most of the talking. He’s being very stupid, though. I keep telling him he was wrong for what he did and he needs to get his shit together and apologize profusely. He has a job offer here, you know. He’s just getting in his own way. I get it, he’s scared. But I still stand by him being very, very stupid.” 

“He what?” Seonghwa was confused. 

“You didn’t know?” Jongho looked at him sympathetically, “Sorry. Yeah. My company offered him a job. It was part of the reason he came to town. He declined when he fled the scene, but they haven’t stopped pursuing him. He’s like prodogiously good at his job.” 

“What the fuck.” Seonghwa felt even more betrayed than ever. 

“Yeah. Like I said. Very stupid” Jongho patted his arm, trying to be comforting, but mostly failing. 

Seonghwa snuck outside while everyone was distracted by the newcomers and made a phone call. He didn’t know if Hongjoong had him blocked or not because he hadn’t bothered to try to reach out, but he tried anyway. It rang five times before there was an answer.

“Hello?” Hongjoong’s voice sounded groggy but Seonghwa didn’t care enough to think about the time difference then. Fat snowflakes were falling on his face. He let them melt there, not bothering to wipe them away. 

“Kim Hongjoong. You fucking coward. You have until New Years before I block you. I’m so fucking mad at you. Don’t make me fly to Sydney, you son of a bitch. Come home. Take the job. That’s a threat. Come home and beg me to take you back before I change my mind on giving you another chance. I want you, you stupid idiot. Grow up. Get it together. Hurry the fuck up and get here.” 

“Seonghwa? I-”

“I said hurry the fuck up.” Seonghwa hung up the phone, feeling a little smug as he walked back inside. 

It was a beautiful white Christmas morning. Clear and cold, almost two feet of snow on the ground. Seonghwa had spent the whole day before cleaning his depression nest, feeling very confident that Hongjoong would show up any day now. Seonghwa had laid in bed for a while that morning, reading, drinking coffee, and enjoying the sight of snow falling outside the window. There was a knock at his bedroom door. He padded over in his slippers and Christmas tree patterned flannel pajama set to open it. 

Hongjoong stood in the doorway, holding a beautifully wrapped gift in his hand, snow-flecked beanie still on his head, nose pink from the cold. 

“Oh, hi. Took you long enough.” Seonghwa tried to be stern but couldn't hold back his smile. 

“You're happy to see me? You're something else, Park Seonghwa. You should be trying to throttle me right now.” Hongjoong said, a little sheepishly. 

“I should, but I'd like to hear you out first. You're too pretty to die young.” Seonghwa moved out of the doorway so he could come inside. 

“I, um. Made you something.” Hongjoong handed him the box as they sat side by side on Seonghwa’s bed, “It's not much. But I kinda learned how to crochet while I was gone.”

Seonghwa peeled the tape carefully, not wanting to waste the pretty paper. Inside was a box, which he opened to reveal a crocheted hat. It was soft and pink with floppy bunny ears on top. He loved it. 

“For my bunny.” Hongjoong said, giggling as Seonghwa tried it on. It fit perfectly. 

“Thank you, I love it, Hongjoong. But I hope you don't think this makes up for things.” 

“No, no, no. God no. Definitely not.” Hongjoong was practically tripping over his words. 

“Well. You're here. I'm all ears,” Seonghwa reached up to the bunny ears on his head, “Quite literally.” 

Hongjoong took a steadying breath, “Seonghwa. I'm so fucking sorry. I thought I knew what was best for you. For us. I panicked. I know that you said we could work through it. But I got this notion that I needed to protect you from myself. I don't think I would have been so scared had I not liked you so much. Then you said you were in love with me and I started to spiral.” He reached for Seonghwa's hands, eyes pleading as he continued, “But Seonghwa. You were right. I'm such a coward. I never ever should have run away like that. The fact that you had to be the one to call me and snap me out of it makes me sick. I honestly can't believe you'd even consider giving me another chance. But I had to try. My time here was the highlight of my year. I'm-” His hand reached up to caress Seonghwa's cheek. Seonghwa let him, and he continued, “I'm in love with you. If you'll give me another chance, I intend to prove to you every single day just how true that is. I'll call right now and accept the job. I just want to treat you right. How you deserve. And you deserve the absolute best. I can't promise you that I'll be perfect, but I will promise to always do my best. If you need time to think about it-” 

Seonghwa cut him off by kissing him. He didn't need to hear any more. He pulled back before it could get any more intense. 

“Sorry. You made me wait almost two whole months to do that.” Seonghwa scolded him, mostly joking, “I don't need time, baby. I want you right now. I'm still so mad at you, but I know you'll make it right. I'm willing to trust you, Hongjoong. Because I'm very much in love with you, too. I want to hear about your stupid history books. I want to help you with your crosswords. I want you to keep tabs on me and I want everyone to know that I belong to you. And I want you to call and accept that job, but first I want to take you right here on this bed until you forget you ever left in the first place.” 

“Get over here then.” Hongjoong instructed. 

It was just like their first time, Seonghwa underneath Hongjoong, crying out as he neared his release, back arching off the bed as Hongjoong nailed his prostate over and over. He had insisted on keeping the bunny hat on. 

“Come on, baby, go ahead. Let go for me, gorgeous.” Hongjoong instructed. 

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa cried out as he came.

Hongjoong worked him through it, following quickly behind, “Yes, there we go. Fuck. Seonghwa-” He finished inside, Seonghwa loving the feeling of the warmth spreading uncontained deep in his abdomen.

They lay panting together on Seonghwa’s bed, Hongjoong tracing patterns on his back as they recovered. 

“What's with the bunny thing, anyway? I mean, I like it, I think it's really cute, actually, but it seems a little random.” Seonghwa inquired. 

Hongjoong sat up slightly, “You don't remember?” 

Seonghwa shook his head. 

“It was the only time you and Yunho convinced me to go to the playground with you on winter break.” He chuckled as he recalled the memory, “I took one hit and was a giggling mess. You guys made fun of me relentlessly. Then we saw a squirrel chase a bunny off, away from his acorns, chattering at it aggressively. I looked at you and said ‘I'm the squirrel.’ You nodded and said, ‘I'm the bunny.’ And then this big golden retriever had gotten loose from his leash and chased them both off and we cracked up, agreeing that that was Yunho.” 

“Oh my god, I do remember that! I can't believe I forgot!” Seonghwa sat up to kiss Hongjoong on the nose, “I also can't believe you remembered.” 

“I've thought of you as a bunny ever since then.” Hongjoong admitted.

“That's stupid.” Seonghwa squeezed him closer, “And adorable. I love you.”

“I love you, my little bunny.” 

New Years Eve was spent at Hongjoong’s new apartment, sort of a combined housewarming party. To everyone's surprise, Yunho and Mingi kissed as the clock struck twelve, far too passionately to just be friendly. 

“Are you guys-?” Hongjoong asked them when they finally came up for air. 

“Us?” Mingi asked, “Oh! Yeah. For a while now. We just weren't loud about it because of what you and Seonghwa were going through.”

“Huh.” Seonghwa and Hongjoong said in unison. 

“Well, um, congrats!” Seonghwa raised his champagne glass. 

“Cheers!” Yunho called, “To happy endings and new beginnings.”

“Cheers!” They echoed him. 

Later that night, after exploring every viable surface from which to have sex upon in Hongjoong’s new apartment, they lay in bed together, both too excited to sleep yet.

“What do you think about adopting?” Seonghwa asked as he stroked Hongjoong’s back, who was curled into his chest. 

“Like… a child?”

Seonghwa snickered at the obvious high pitched inflection his voice had taken as he asked the question, “No, silly. I was thinking a cat. Or maybe a rabbit.” 

Hongjoong kissed his chest where he could reach, “A bunny for my bunny. I think that's a great idea.” 

They adopted one the next day. Named her Squirrel because they were so funny. Funny, and very, very much in love.

[artificial-transmutations]

Minimum Wage

"And finally, it is worth to consider that the majority of those low-end jobs are being held by foreigners. Foreigners who took those jobs from our own people! Foreigners our country does more than enough for already. Any raise in minimum wage will just be spent on alcohol and cigarettes and condoms for their gay sex! Ladies and gentlemen, raising the minimum wage should be out of the question! We should think about lowering it instead!" Thomas finished his speech before the parliament and was content. Great speech, he thought. There was applause from one side of the room and angry shouting from the other side, just as usual.

One of those pesky left-wing women was especially outraged. Her head was as red as her unkempt hair, and he could hear her agitated shouts even without her using a microphone. Something about having no idea about the reality of those minimum wage workers and that he should try experiencing such a life for himself. His microphone was still on, so he added: "And my suggestion to Miss Motley is to find a broomstick to fly away on instead of shouting nonsense." Laughter from his fraction, angry faces from the other side of the room. Great job, Thomas concluded and left the lectern.

That woman was being ridiculous. Even comparing himself to such a low-life was out of the question. He would never lower himself to something like that. That's why he had been working hard all these years, studying politics and economics in order to get into the government. It did help a bit that his family was wealthy, but that was clearly because they have lived in this country forever and weren't some immigrant scum or sexual deviants. Thomas thought for a moment while adjusting his expensive suit and looked at his smartphone. He didn't care too much for the rest of the parliamentary day. There would be some speeches from opposing fractions and then there would be a vote where the majority would vote in favor of the raised minimum wage. Fools. Thomas shook his head and decided to go home early today.

He gathered his things and phoned his driver on the way out. Thomas scowled when he heard the man say that his car was still in maintenance since he didn't expect to be needed before the end of the session. It was really hard to find good staff these days. It was too far to walk, so he would have to take a cab. While he was walking to the cab stand, he messaged his secretary to fire his driver and find him a new one.

"What do you mean 'on a strike?'" He asked, incredulously. There had been no cabs at the stand and when he phoned the company, they just told him the cab drivers were on a strike today for higher wages. Angrily, he hung up. Just great! He would have to take the bus now. The bus. A public transport system for the poor. He hated them with every fiber of his being. They stank like hell, they were full of criminals and immigrants who couldn't even speak the language properly, and worst of all, they were overcrowded.

Fuming, he made his way to the bus stop and entered the vehicle. It was full, but he managed to secure him one of the last seats. It would take quite a while going by bus, so the first minutes, Thomas was busy swiping on his phone. It was really full and warm in here, with the smell of sweat and unwashed people assaulting his nose. He felt really uncomfortable and shifted around in his seat. He wanted to get back to using his phone, when he noticed that there was dirt under his fingernails. No wonder in this dirty environment. When he tried to clean it, he noticed that the nails on his other hand didn't look better. In fact, his whole hand looked dirty and rough, like he had tried to dig a hole in the garden. He frowned and inspected it closer. The skin seemed different and not only that, it was darker. He looked down at his designer shoes and saw that they were covered in mud.

"What the..." He muttered to himself. This wasn't possible. He was wearing his best clothes, which cost more than most people earned in a year. He looked down at his hands again and realized that his rings were gone as well. What the hell? Where are my rings? He took off his jacket and checked inside the pockets but found nothing. His cellphone was missing too.

Thomas began to panic. Had someone stolen his stuff? That was impossible. He just used his phone seconds ago! And that wasn't his jacket either, even though he just took it off. This was a high-vis vest made out of cheap reflective fabric, not the expensive jacket he was sure to have put on this morning.

"What the fuck is happening?" He said aloud, but nobody answered. All he got was an annoyed glance from a woman behind him. She gave him a dirty look and turned her attention back to her phone, ignoring him completely. Thomas looked at his hands again. There was something wrong with them. It was like looking at a strangers hands. The back of his hands looked dirty and hairy, with more dirt under his nails. The skin was darker than he used to. If he just saw these hands, he would think they belonged to someone used to working outside.

He checked his feet again, like this was all a bad dream. Still covered in mud. But these were not his shoes, either. He was wearing sturdy work boots all of a sudden. With steel toe caps. The leather was torn in places, too. He could feel that the soles were worn thin, and the heels weren't exactly comfortable to wear for long periods of time. Just as he was watching, his expensive dress pants changed next. Over the course of a few seconds, they shifted to a pair of worn work pants. His shirt and tie followed suit, but instead of changing into something else, they just disappeared into thin air, leaving him shirtless. A large leather toolbelt formed around his waist. Thomas couldn't believe his eyes. He was dressed like a filthy construction worker! He felt angry and helpless. He should call the police or something, but what would he tell them? That somehow his clothes just magically turned into some cheap worker attire?

Something else caught his eye. His work pants were pretty lose. If he were to stand up now, they would probably slide down his legs. However, as Thomas began to tighten his toolbelt, he watched in awe as his midsection began to expand. It was not that he was growing a gut; on the contrary, his belly even started to shrink. No, his hips started to widen with a broader build and fill in with muscles. At the same time, some coarse dark hairs started to appear on his abs. Not many, just a few. The changes quickly spread upwards, with his chest filling up with strong pectoral muscles. At the same time, he felt his upper legs touch his pants legs more tightly, as they filled with muscles, too.

Thomas's mind was reeling. He knew that there must be a logical explanation for this situation. It couldn't just happen by itself like this! So why did it happened? He thought about it hard and fast but came up empty. Generally speaking, thinking became more and more difficult for Thomas. It felt as if years of precious education that his parents paid for just evaporated from his mind.

As Thomas continued to stare at his body, he realized that the changes were far from over. His arms grew larger and stronger, and his shoulders broadened with each passing second. At the same time, his lower legs and feet thickened, filling out the pants and boots now much better than before. Even his face changed, becoming more masculine and rugged. His cheekbones stood out more clearly and his nose widened. His mind was getting more and more foggy during all of this, and as the changes reached his cock, his intellect was reduced to a way more simple, practical version of himself.

He had lost most knowledge of his once native language, but another language grew in to replace that. With some horror, Thomas realized he wasn't just becoming a dumb construction worker, but also an immigrant! He tried to hold on to his ethnic background, but it was like trying to catch sand. Before long, Tomasz knew he had lost the battle.

It might not be for the worst, he mused. After all, his genetics gifted him with some boons, like the enormous cock whose bulge was now prominently visible between his wide spread legs. He would have liked to man-spread even wider, but sadly, the confines of the bus didn't allow for that. Perhaps, if he worked hard, someday he would earn enough money to be able to afford a car.

Well, speaking of work, his stop came up next. He would have to walk have a mile after that to get to his current construction site, but that's life. Tomasz smirked, as his dick grew hard thinking about his colleagues. Perhaps a few of the other men would be up to releasing some steam in the break, after a smoke and a beer perhaps. It slowly became a regular thing between them to pound each other’s asses, and he loved it more every day. If only he had enough money for condoms.

[dancingontheblades]

Did My Heart Love 'Till Now Chapter 3

The visa drama

Summary:

While Yuuri keeps practising in Japan, Viktor is pulling out all the stops to have his Yuuri by his side again. But the bureaucracy of his home country proves to be a greater challenge than becoming the five-time world champion.

The new chapter of my YOI sequel is live! I'd be happy if you checked it out 💜💙

Excerpt below the read more tag

Cover illustration done by the talented @cosmiclion

Excerpt

Viktor’s home in the heart of Petrogradsky Island was as spacious as it was luxurious, and so was his wardrobe. In those nine months which he had been away, he had grown used to selecting from a smaller variety of clothes. But even then, he still frequently struggled to pick the pieces he really wanted to wear and either ended up feeling uncomfortable in something he hated or wearing his favourite clothes for days.

“I don’t remember owning so many clothes,” he muttered to himself as he stared at the orderly stacked T-shirts, long sleeves, sweaters, jeans, and chinos as well as the shirts, suits, and coats on hangers. Not to mention the two drawers of all sorts of shoes, starting at sandals and sneakers and ending at fine leather shoes and snow boots. “But apparently, I do.”

When he had moved to Japan, he had taken only his favourite clothes with him—and these had still forced him to declare extra cargo. His gaze wandered over Gucci suits, Hugo Boss shirts, and Armani shoes. He had not missed the things he had left behind.

“What do you think, Makkachin?” he asked his dog. “Shall I give a some of my clothes away or shall I buy a second wardrobe for Yuuri?”

On his bed, Makkachin opened a weary eye as if he wanted to say “what do I care for what kind of fake fur you wear as long as you smell like you?”

“You’re not helping,” Viktor said. “In one week, Yuuri will be here and he needs space for his clothes.” He stroked his chin. “Unless…”

He hurried to the rack with his suits and pulled out one he had received as a gift when he had endorsed Armani. “Makkachin! Do you think Yuuri would like this? It might be a bit too big, but even a mediocre tailor could fix this.”

Makkachin whined.

“No? Makkachin, you disappoint me. I think Yuuri would look hot in it. I…” He checked his phone. “Well, why don’t we just ask him? It’s almost time to call him anyway.” He opened Skype, swiped to Yuuri’s avatar and pressed call. “Let’s hope he’s awake.”

It took forty-seven seconds until Yuuri answered the call. “Viktor!” he panted. “You’re early.” His messy hair was in total chaos as if he had slept on it. Viktor found him exceptionally cute.

“Hi, Yuuri!” he said and waved at the camera. “I have a question and so I thought ‘why not call earlier?’”

“I was fighting with the printer and hit my head.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Does it hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Excellent. I was searching my wardrobe for clothes that I could donate and found a few that would look cute on you.”

“Viktor!” Yuuri protested.

 Viktor held up the hanger with the Armani suit. “It’s a timeless piece and the seams are all French in case you are sensitive about such things. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“That’s a designer suit!” Yuuri breathed.

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“Yes. But no! I don’t want it!”

Most people that Viktor knew would rejoice at the opportunity to get an Armani suit for free. As this was Yuuri-the-pillow-thief, who had insisted that Viktor wore his coat during the Grand Prix Final short programme so that his scent would be all over it and who had scented his own bed with their lovemaking, Viktor had not expected him to turn such an offer down. “Why?” he asked. “Most of these clothes are basically new. I wore them once or twice at most.”

“I’m not the type for this kind of clothes.” There was a pale blur as Yuuri waved his hands. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture. I just don’t want to wear such expensive clothes. I’m not a charity cause!”

[n4giism]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ romanticist by yves tumor ࿐ྂ

reo mikage x fem!reader

content: you fell sick and reo spoils you with acts of service, helping you with every little thing - feeding you, cooking for you, etc. mentions of nagi a bit cause what is reo without nagi and vice versa :3

ari's note: plsplspls man's so in love w u that he wants nothing but ur comfort and safety. he prioritises you over anyone, himself included :( he's so cute omd i love him sm

waking up from your slumber, you felt feverish. your body feeling hot but cold at the same time. shuffling around your bed, you reached for your phone on your bedside table, it was already 11am.

that explains the hundreds of messages from your beloved boyfriend, reo mikage.

"y/n??? whr r u?? r u ok?? not coming to school?" were some of his texts.

you were so sick, that you didn't even wake up for school despite the hundreds of alarms you had set the night before. groaning in pain, you sat up and texted back.

"sick, i overslept. not coming to school :,) sorry reo ily"

you hit send and used all your strength to get up and go to the kitchen to find a thermometer and medicine. the floor was cold, the sun was shining in through your windows. as you were searching the kitchen cabinets, your phone pinged multiple times. they were all texts from reo.

"omg ok :( i miss u alr im pretty sure nagi misses u too lolol i'll come over after school to look after u mkay" he texted.

after a few hours of loneliness and quiet, there was a knock on your door. you were cuddled up alone on your couch, watching a movie. medicine, water and other snacks were on the coffee table in front of you within your reach. you didn't move much, only getting up throughout the day to go to the bathroom or to get more snacks from the kitchen.

keys jingled and your door opened, revealing your lovely purple-haired boyfriend. with him was some plastic bags full of food and other items he deemed necessary for your recovery.

"helloooo, my looove! i missed you so much! how are you feeling?" he asked, cheering as he kicked his shoes off and placed them neatly on the shoe rack. he made his way over to you, dropping the bags on the floor and cupping your face, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your nose - to which you scrunched your nose at.

reo loved to kiss your nose, he thinks it's so cute and intimate.

you leaned into his touch, happy that he's finally here to pamper you.

"i missed you too, reo. i'm still a little sick, but i already ate some medicine so the fever is dying down. i've just been resting here."

he let go of your face and grabbed the plastic bags he had dropped earlier, then proceeding to sit beside you on the couch, "i brought you your favourites! and some of my old clothes for you to wear since i know you love to wear my clothes. you even choose to wear my clothes over expensive designer clothes!"

it was true, reo loved to buy you expensive clothes, perfumes, shoes, bags, and whatnot. he loved to spoil you. and you were beyond thankful for it, but you ultimately loved his clothes because, well, they were his, and they smelled like him.

your eyes brightened at the snacks he brought. but more importantly, you were happy your boyfriend was so caring.

reo's eyes directed to the ramen cup noodles in front of you on the coffee table. his eyes widened in horror.

"have you only been eating ramen noodles since you woke up?" he glanced at the clock, "it's already 6pm. you've been eating noodles for the past 6 hours?!" he gasped.

you giggled at his dramatic reaction.

"no, this won't do. i'll cook something for you, okay? what do you feel like eating?" he asked urgently. he was truly like a mother.

"hmm, ramen." you teased and he pouted, "noooo, my love. you need food, not instant noodles."

"i'll cook you some curry and rice. i saw a recipe online recently, i can try making it for you.” he pondered to himself.

reo gave you a kiss on the nose again before getting up to cook the curry in your kitchen. he practically lived here, he knew where all the ingredients are and where the pots and pans are. he lived in an expensive home with his parents, a lovely house that many people dreamed of living in - but at the end of the day, to him, home is wherever you are.

and right now, he felt so domestic, cooking for his sick girlfriend and doing her chores like washing dishes. the tv show you were watching was blaring in the background as reo cooked in your open theme kitchen which was conveniently placed next to the living room where you were. the layout of the room allowed him to keep an eye on you as he cooked.

soon, the aroma of curry filled the house and you perked up from your seat on the couch, seeing reo’s back facing you as he washed the pots and spoons he used.

he looked so manly. his shoulders were broad, and he was very tall. his hair was tied back into a bun, and the black shirt he wore was almost a size too small for his toned body. his clothes and demeanour completely opposed the silly pink apron he had tied around his waist. you found yourself staring in awe at his back. your heart fluttered.

you found yourself unconsciously getting up from your seat on the couch. the blanket that wrapped your body long discarded. you made your way over to where he was standing in the kitchen and slowly wrapped your hands around his waist. he jolted in surprise.

“woah, you scared me. you okay?” he asked after realising it was you. he resumed washing the dishes and continued to let you embrace him.

“i’m okay. i just wanted your warmth.” you mumbled against his back. reo’s breath hitched a little at the sudden confession, but he secretly liked it - he liked everything that’s going on right now. you hugging him, inhaling his scent, arms wrapped around his waist. having you so close to him where he can practically hear how loud your heart was beating from this intimacy you shared.

the two of you stayed like that until reo was done with washing the dishes. he dried his hands on a dry cloth and turned around to face you.

your hands were still locked around his waist. he looked down at you, with a dreamy look on his face. you looked up, chin resting against his chest and he couldn’t help but giggle at how cute you looked right now in his eyes.

“eat, okay? while the curry is still warm.” he flashed a smile at you and your heart fluttered.

reo is so handsome, you thought.

he instructed you to sit on the couch while he prepared you a portion of the food he had cooked. soon, he walked to you with one bowl in hand and took a seat on the couch.

“here. aaaaahhh,” he said as he took a spoonful of rice and curry, bringing it to your lips.

“reo? what are you doing? i can feed myself.” you giggled, leaning away from his hand. he raised an eyebrow, as if what he was doing is obvious. like you should know what he’s doing.

“what else am i doing? i’m feeding my lovely beautiful girlfriend who’s sick and needs my attention, of course!” he answered, “now c’mon! open up!” he insisted raising the spook to your lips again.

you chuckled and let him feed you. it wasn’t rare for reo to feed you - even when you’re in the pink of health, he always insisted on feeding you.

“at least let me feed you the first bite, then you can eat on your own.” he would say everytime he cooked for you.

now, you were focused on the present moment, treasuring this time when he fed you, cooing at you like you’re a baby - his baby. he just loved taking care of you.

after you had finished your meal, he put the bowl in the sink and cleared up the table in front of you - even sweeping the floor and taking out the trash.

“alright, my love. it’s 9pm, time to go to sleep.” he mumbled, seeing you nod off to sleep on the couch.

he picked you up bridal style and carried you to your bedroom, where he gently placed you down. he kissed your forehead and your nose, whispering “good night” and was about to leave the room to clean the kitchen some more until he felt you tug on the hem of his shirt.

“reo… please stay..” you muttered, half asleep but still wary of your surroundings.

“love, i need to clean the kitchen and wash up. i’ll join you when i’m done, ‘kay?” he replied softly, to which you whined at.

“hm, if you really insist,” he said, trying to act nonchalant - but it was no secret he enjoyed being needed by you, it was evident by the blush on his face. but of course, you didn’t need to know that. it’s not like you’ll know anyway, the room was dark. the only source of light was from the hallway that creeped into your room through the gap, and from the moonlight that seeped in through the window. you weren’t even conscious enough to notice the red on his cheeks and ears.

reo found himself tangled in bed with you, feeling you curl up against him. he found himself patting your back rhythmically, almost like patting a baby to sleep. well, you were his baby either way. he felt so ecstatic now, cherishing this moment with you. the soft snores that escaped your lips, the sound of your breathing, your hair that tickled his face and neck, everything about you, he absolutely cherished and loved.

in the comfort of the night, reo couldn’t help but fall asleep with you. you are his home, after all.

reo felt so incredibly lucky to have the honours of taking care of you. but the truth is, you felt even luckier to have a caring and kind boyfriend like him.

end.

[diedraechin]

I suppose I could share a bit of the next chapter...

Sometimes I stare at chapters for ages and can never make that one scene work, but other times I open the file and know exactly what was missing. Like magic.

And other times I was trying to add in something that wasn't really needed and could just be scrapped. The next chapter was a little of everything.

I know everyone wants to see what Viktor is up to, but there is still a whole day of competition at 4CC left and a banquet... Do you really want to miss all that?

“When are they supposed to arrive?” Takeshi shifted from foot to foot. He didn’t know what he should do with his hands. Should he just put one in his pocket like Yuuri was? No. He’d look foolish if he did that. He didn’t have that look of affected boredom that models like Yuuri could sport at the drop of a hat which made the whole 'hand in pocket, casually standing around' thing work.

He crossed his arms instead, but then felt like he probably looked like a hockey player out of place in a fancy suit, so dropped his arms to his side and looked at Yuuri again who was looking at his phone and not paying any attention to Takeshi’s dilemma. “They should be here already, right?”

Yuuri looked over at him, frowning as Takeshi shoved his hand into his pocket and then pulled it out again. “They just got here and are heading to the elevator.” Yuuri paused. “What are you doing?”

Takeshi huffed. “I don’t know what to do with my hands.” He held one out to Yuuri. “See this hand? It usually has Yuuko’s hand in it at these things, but she’s not here because your friends stole her!”

Laughing, Yuuri nodded. “That is correct. She’s been kidnapped, held against her will as my friends offer their designer cast-offs to her and Keiko.” He bit down on his lip. “Let Yuuko have this, Takeshi. Let her go and enjoy getting ready for a fancy party with a bunch of other women around her age. She’s getting her hair and makeup done by professionals, they’re going to dress her up in expensive clothing, and let her wear shoes that I’m sure that I don’t want to know the cost of. It might all seem overkill to you, but for LOVE-ly this is just another function where they’re expected to present themselves at a certain level. So yes, Yuuko could have just worn the same dress that she wore to the last banquet she attended and get ready in the room with you, doing her hair up the same way she’s done a million times, but why not let her be spoiled? Why begrudge her this?”

Nishigori shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the elevator doors. He didn’t begrudge his wife anything, especially not this. He just worried that she’d think he was too boring or something after living the high life.

From the corner of his eye, Nishigori saw Yuuri nod and then look back at his phone, pulling his hand out of his pocket and typing something on it with his thumbs. The elevator door opened and a bunch of skaters, none of them his wife, poured out. The gold medalists in ice dance, the Americans Matt and Caro, paused and stared at Yuuri.

“It’s a new suit,” Matt whispered.

His partner smiled at them. “It is!” Caro dropped her hand from the crook of Matt’s arm and took a step forward until she was standing in front of Yuuri, forcing Yuuri to look up from his phone. “Hi, Yuuri.”

“Hi, Carolyn…san. Can I help you with something?” He blinked at her.

She hummed. “Just Caro. I swear we already had this conversation. Call me Caro.” She smiled. “Nice suit, is it new?”

Yuuri nodded. “Yes, well, sort of. I got it after nationals for a New Years thing.” 

“We should take a picture!” she stepped into the space next to him, and looped her arm through his, turning to look at Matt. Yuuri's eyes went wide and panicked. So maybe there was something of the awkward kid left in his friend. “Say cheese!”

“No! No pictures on Scythecapades!” Yuuri groused as Paul walked between the pair and where Matt was standing with his phone camera pointed at them.

Matt laughed. “Not even this one?” He walked over to Yuuri and showed him the photo.

Yuuri blinked, staring down at the picture, the corner of his lips eventually twitching up. “All right. You can share that one, if you absolutely have to.”

“Share what?” Yuuko’s voice came from next to Takeshi and he whipped around to look at his wife.

He opened his mouth to say something, but forgot what words were.

“You look lovely, Nishigori-san!” Matt stepped forward and quickly lifted Yuuko’s hand to press a kiss to the air just above it.

“Arigatou, Smith-san,” Yuuko beamed. 

Her chestnut hair had been curled into loose waves, and some of her bangs brushed to the side, held in place with a flower clip that matched the multitude of flowers that covered the dress she was wearing. The neckline of the dress was no different than most of the higher necklines that Yuuko preferred, but the entire top was made of a sheer mesh that disappeared under the flowers that made up the rest of the dress, but not before showing just a little cleavage. The flowers were mostly bright pinks and corals with sparse accents of spring greens and ice blues, made all the brighter against the black fabric. The dress itself came in tight at her waist and then poofed out in layers of fine black tulle covered in even more flowers, some just visible in the topmost underlayers too. Takeshi thought his wife had rarely looked more beautiful, and the times he did, she was unlikely to agree with him, their wedding being the sole exception.

Yuuri brushed past him and smiled down at Yuuko. “ゆうちゃん、きれい！そのドレス似合ってる。(Yu-chan is beautiful! That dress looks good on you.)”

His wife giggled. Giggled! “Yuu-kun, arigatou.” And then she turned expectant eyes on Takeshi and he didn’t know what to do. Yuuri had literally stolen his line. The one that Yuuko had taught them both when they were still kids and had told Mari that she looked weird when she’d gotten all done up that one time. 

Kanon came up next to her and leaned in to whisper something into Yuuko’s ear that made Yuuko blush. What did she say?

“Kanon-chan!” Yuuko turned to look at her with eyes wide. “I couldn’t! I promise to be careful.”

“Are you already causing trouble?” Yuuri asked the idol.

“I just told her that I was always going to let her keep the dress, but that if her husband ruined it, I definitely didn’t want it back!” She winked at Takeshi. “Go on, tell her how cute she looks.”

“Kawaii.” It sounded like a frog had taken up residence in his throat, and Takeshi started coughing. 

[theroyalsims]

ROYAL SISTERS ANSWER CALLS FOR CHARITY DURING JOINT OUTING; FACE BACKLASH DESPITE 'GOOD DEED'

Their Royal Highnesses The Crown Princess and Princess Ingrid had a very busy morning! The two royal sisters had a lovely joint engagement to the headquarters of 1-800-Women-for-Women, a local helpline launched late last year by the Queen and Their Royal Highnesses, in cooperation with the Brindleton's Women Centre (BWC).

The unannounced visit was a massive surprise for volunteers of the charity who were thrilled to be joined by Their Royal Highnesses. The charity, who focuses on giving support to women, by women, is proudly "volunteer fuelled," and the feedback has been largely positive. BWC President, Dr. Lucille Berthall, reports that since the centre was launched last year, it has logged well over a million calls.

Their Royal Highnesses spoke with some of the volunteers as well as the head of operations during the visit. The Crown Princess was especially moved during a conversation with one of the volunteers who was among the first callers of the hotline.

"Marie" (not her real name), shared to The Crown Princess that her decision to call the hotline was a last resort and a literal cry for help:

"The past few years have been particularly difficult. I had a horrible break-up that left me in tatters. I had to move to a new place. I was embarrassed to speak to my family. I felt that my friends hated me. It was a very dark time. I was so lonely, so afraid, so isolated. I saw a flyer for the hotline and I thought, what do I have left to lose? It was a cry for help, an act of desperation. So I called, and it literally changed my life. It became a daily thing for me. I sought professional help. I found new friends. I started trusting myself again. Now, I'm in a much better place, and I wanted to volunteer, you know, to pay it forward. Sometimes, just having someone to talk to makes a world of difference."

Anya and Ingrid also took on the phone lines and answered calls, much to their callers' surprise!

The Crown Princess and Princess Ingrid were reportedly "incredibly proud" of the project, and both hope to visit again, and perhaps even volunteer, soon.

Although the outing seemed lighthearted and uplifting, the Princesses still faced some criticism online, mostly for their choice of outfits. The Crown Princess, especially, received ire online for wearing a §5,200 designer dress to the outing.

"Anya going out to 'help women' in a §5000 dress is disgusting."

"Not only did these two visit the charity A FULL DAMN YEAR after they launched it, they have the audacity to show up in designer garb. Ingrid's shoes alone could pay a month's worth of utilities. Don't even get me started on Anya's dress. That could easily feed a family of four."

"Ah, yes. Nothing like talking to the poor, suffering peasants on the phone for 10 minutes while wearing tens of thousands worth of designer clothes and accessories. What a hard days' work. Someone tell these two dimwits that we see right through them. Anya in that expensive dress is literally revolting. The hypocrisy is sickening."

Looks like our favourite royal sisters can't catch a break! To be fair, they ARE royalty. What did you expect them to wear? Potato sacks?

But then again, Brindleton is currently experiencing incredibly high unemployment rates and is in the middle of a housing crisis. Maybe next time, Your Royal Highnesses can shop off the rack like the rest of us?

[aelinschild]

THREE

Holding Me Like Water In Your Hands

Main Masterlist | HMLWIYH Masterlist

And I'm back with chapter three! Apologies for the long absence, I was away without my computer, and when I got back I got very sick. But I'm pushing through. Any who, enjoy, and please let me know what you think! I really appreciate feedback.

SYNOPSIS:A cross continental move forces Aelin Galathynius to open her eyes wider than before, and at the doors of Terrasen's most exclusive and expensive private high school, she realizes her life is flowing through her. And if she wants to make the most of her life, she needs to grab onto something. Or maybe someone. WORDCOUNT: 1.8K GENERAL WARNINGS: Language, Drug use, Alcohol, Allusion to sex/intimacy, Brief descriptions of sexual assault, Domestic violence, Very severe angst, Messy Divorces (More to be added)

The sun woke me up. Lazily climbing up in the sky, beckoning me to get something done on my last free weekend before high school would begin. 

On the drive up from Rifthold, Mom spent at least twenty minutes going over every detail of my newest ‘adventure’. 

Orynth Rise High School.

An extensive campus harboring some of Orynths brightest, and most wealthy, students. Large enough to be a university campus, with buildings stretching all over the acres of land situated right on the outskirts of the city. Apparently, the school has frequent renovations to update the already luxurious conditions. Spacious classrooms, lounge areas designated for different years, and all the newest tech. 

What really piqued my interest was the Orynth Grand Library, also on campus. 

Shortly after I woke, Mom appeared at my door with a peace offering. Black coffee. The tension between us was palpable, and in true Galathynius fashion, rather than facing that, she presented me with what looked like a body bag and a thick, but sturdy book. She instructed me that I should get started on the book, and familiarize myself with the suspicious body bag, before she walked away, again. 

I've curled myself up in the chair at my antique desk, and I flip through the hundreds of pages of Orynth Rise High School’s Code Of Conduct. I flip back to the uniform section - pages 34 to 57 - and read through the bulleted lists of do’s and don’ts. 

“...under no circumstance should a student ever find themselves in anything but the accepted ORHS uniform… should weather hinder standard protocol… leisure days are prohibited and behaviour that disobeys dress code will be…”

“How fun,” I murmur, still flipping through pages of dress code regulations. There are entire pages dedicated to washing instruction. 

My eyes drift over to where said uniforms are laid out on my bed. I've been provided with two dark green blazers, lined with gold stitching and gold buttons, and emblazoned with a sweeping arc of fire, soaring hawk, and ORHS stitching over the left breast. There are two black skirts, a pair of black pressed trousers, and a black uniform dress. Plus three starched, collared white shirts. And according to the ‘Code Of Conduct’ handbook, I'll need some sort of black-heeled or flat shoe. 

My gaze sweeps over the clothes. It really could be worse. The greens not terrible, and the gold is certainly unique. The hawk is definitely something, but I'm picking different battles. 

Riftholds Private Elementary School had basic uniforms, so this isn't a foreign notion, but younger me thought high school meant more freedom, like the freedom to wear jeans or something along those lines. 

The ticking of my brass clock punctuates the silence of my room, and I can hear the front door of the house open, then close. I shift off the desk chair and move to the bay window, where I have a clear view of Evalin Galathynius speed-walking towards the Audi parked in our driveway to the three-car garage. Her phone is between her shoulder and ear as she gets into the car, then promptly reverses and speeds off. 

And suddenly the day is feeling a lot more optimistic. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see two teenage-looking boys tossing around a basketball. They're out playing on the driveway of the house across the street two doors down. There's a blond and a brunette, with identical deep skin tones. They toss the ball back and forth, run circles around each other, or simply push each other over. I crack a smile when the blond tosses the ball directly at the brunette's head and it bounces off, nearly going into the net. 

Both boys look like they're around my age, and I wonder if they attend ORHS. I continue to watch them until my staring borders on stalking, and I make my move to freshen up before I explore this new house. 

-

I was born in Orynth. My Dad’s family was from here. But Rhoe and Evalin packed up and skipped town when I was three, and so I was whisked away from full evergreen trees and fresh mountain air to compact townhouses and to the heavy heat of a packed city. 

Why we moved away, I never really understood. But I also didn't know that I wasn't Ardalanian until I was nine. So while the wind coming through the window I cracked open in the kitchen smells like home, and settles onto me in a way I've never felt, I can't help but feel anxious with the lack of noise. Rifthold was loud, the city never slept. And living practically in the business center of the city meant that honking taxis and frustrated drivers were the constant background noise. 

Orynth is quiet. The mountains I can see from said kitchen window give me the impression of a sleeping giant. And capped in snow, I feel exceptionally out of my element. 

From scrounging around in the new kitchen, I find crackers and some licorice I bought at the gas station. A truly balanced breakfast. The dry crackers stick to the roof of my mouth, and the licorice tastes like plastic. I couldn't find plates, so my glorious meal is spread out on the butcher block countertop. 

The kitchen is nice, similar to the rest of the house. A navy blue theme carries throughout, decorating the large sectional couch, cabinets, and various pieces of unremarkable art. 

I feel like a weird stain upon this picture-perfect house, and to distract myself from the panic that's slowly creeping in, I pull my fancy phone out. Another Rhoe apology gift, the newest model I believe. 

I have fourteen unread messages from Dorian, some emails about promotional things I will never read, and a missed call from an unknown number. My phone tells me it's spam. 

>For the love of gods, answer your fucking phone

Dorian can be aggressively loving. 

<Yes?

>Finally

> I've been waiting for hours

>You have no idea the torture it has been

<You’re going to have to work on your separation issues riri

The typing bubble appears and disappears three times before I get a response. 

>Why did you leave linny?

I sigh, Isn't that the most popular question. I don't have an answer for my best friend because I don't even have an answer for myself. 

<Mom got a new job, i guess

And with that, I turn my phone off.

Lying to Dorian pains me. And he knows I'm full of shit, he can read me better than the books he practical consumes. But telling him that I have a suspicion that Dad’s cheating and Mom’s losing her mind probably is not the right way to go. 

After I choke down my meal, I rap my knuckles on the counter, bored. I push the barstool out and begin the trek to the front door, where I turn back around and face the house anew. Time for a tour. 

-

My new home is probably the exact same as three other houses on the block, and I take my time observing everything. From the front door, you emerge into the cozy living room. With the aforementioned navy blue sectional facing the limescaled brick fireplace. A powder room is to the right, and down the hall, you make it into the kitchen. The matte black light fixtures fall down from the high ceilings, where the staircase wraps around the opposite end of the room. To the right, is what I assume to be Mom's master bedroom, and to the left is the dining room. Which leads into a full glass wall with a wonderful view of the fences that surround the backyard. 

My hand glides along the staircase railing, and when I reach the landing, rather than going to the right, back towards my bedroom, I turn left. Three rooms line this side of the house, and when I open the first door I’m met with a study. The far wall is windows, and a large desk sits in the middle of the room. I spot some of the boxes from the Audi in the corner of the room. So this will be Mom’s study. The next door is another washroom. Which makes four in this house already, if both my and my mother’s rooms have ensuites. 

When my hand reaches the handle of the final door, it doesn't move. I jiggle it around, maybe it's stuck? The door doesn't budge. 

More secrets. 

Just then I heard the front door open and my mother's heels on the hardwood floors. 

“Aelin! You better be up!” She calls out. 

I mentally groan, there goes my day. 

-

Where Mom disappeared remains a mystery, but she returned with an overflowing need to go grocery shopping. 

Currently I am commandeering the shopping cart while she browses the organic cereals in the aisle. She's been perusing the brightly coloured boxes for a few minutes now, and I'm picking at my nails. I've peeled off a few layers surrounding, and the nail is bitten down. A symptom of my recent anxieties. 

"Aelin, love, do you want the strawberry granola or the blueberry? Both have all the macronutrients you need to be eating…" she trailed off. 

"Strawberry," I answer. 

She nodded and grabbed two boxes, setting them into the cart alongside our multitude of organic produce and lean meats. 

She grabbed the list out of the back pocket of her sleek trousers and scanned the remaining groceries needed. When she trotted off, I follow her. 

I was certainly not a picture of grace in this moment, body slumped over the handle of the cart, practically dragging my feet. And I felt slightly out of place here too. The grocery store we are in was one of the largest in the city, and the primary one as well. The people here looked different from those from rifthold. Hardened. Like the mountain air cooled their urgency, and they were living more for the moment. 

Which was a shocking comparison to the people of Rifthold, whose urgency permeated their very cores, and oozed out over everyone else. You couldn't walk down the streets in Rifthold without careening into someone rushing somewhere else. 

As we made our way over to the nutmilks, I snagged a bag of chocolates off the shelf. 

A teenage boy in red coveralls is browsing the dairy milks beside us. 

He's pretty, with blonde hair so light it looks silver. Tall too, and lanky. I stare at him while mom opens the door to grab vanilla almond milk. She catches my eye when she turns around to place the milk in the cart. Looking in the same direction as me, we both briefly watch as the boy places his carton of milk in a basket and backs away. 

She looks back at me, and I see a smile when she realises I was staring. 

"Don't start," I say, rolling my eyes. 

Her little smile doesn't fall, and when we turn to go, piercing green eyes catch my own, and the boy smiles at me too. 

[capyphoenix]

Is it normal for them to spend so much time apart? It's a bit weird that she does the baby shower now while he started working again and why on the other side of the world? And why not in Brazil?//

I wouldn't be shocked if her next big purchase with his money is an obnoxiously expensive and flashy apartment in Miami for them. She's addicted to spending huge amounts of his money at this point and she's run out of expensive stuff in Monaco to buy so now she's going to Miami to use his money to insert herself into wealthy society over there. Like they literally have a new jet, a new yacht, a rumoured new apartment in the past 6 months alone. It's all giving socially insecure and socially insecure always means her because he couldn't give a shit about that stuff. It also means that if they marry and divorce there are more tangible assets. He can hide cash money in various places but property, yachts and jets are more concrete assets that can be divided easier and are harder to hide.

The main thing I noticed about that pic of her and Daniil in the background of that Sainz pic is that she's head to toe in high street clothes, normal handbag, normal shoes. The last two or three years she has really accelerated how much she spends. Now she's head to toe Chanel and other designer stuff, Hermes bags etc. For me the timing kind of aligns with the 'get your shit and get out' phone call. She must have something on him because she's spending his money like a crackhead at a casino ever since. I think there's still a little hope for him because I'm sure the thing she wants to spend his money on most is a huge blow out wedding that will get featured in Vogue and he's still holding out on that for now.

Unhappy people spend money to fill a hole in their souls. She needs to know she'll never be able to fill the hole inside her with all the money in the world.

To be fair Max ordered all of this in 2022 when he signed a new big ass contract after he became world champion. Weeks after he said "can we do this another 10-15 years" on the cool down lap in Abu Dhabi. Retirement talk started after when bitchies biological clock kept ticking.

[starkslawyer]

"I like a good challenge," Oliver said with a little smirk as he looked at her. She was very pretty. He always had an eye for pretty brunettes. But he didn't want to assume just because she was talking to him that it was anything more. Still his flirtatious nature was bound to slip out at some point.

He couldn't help but laugh when she said that she was having a hard time picturing his fancy watch in the Break Bar. "Well, I'll wear my less expensive fancy watch, then." All of Oliver's clothes, shoes, and accessories were designer and luxury. He made good money so he like to keep up his appearance to match. When she asked about when they could meet, he opened the calendar on his phone and began to skim through the dates. Most were blacked out with deadlines and work engagements but he did find one where he had nothing going on. He had been looking forward to staying in that night and cooking himself a good meal but he wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to go out with a pretty girl. "I don't have anything going on this Saturday night. Would that work for you?" He asked and then looked back down at his calendar. "Or I can do next Thursday after 7pm." He wanted to give her a couple of options just in case one didn't work out.

They got to talking about their heritage and he found out that she was Irish and German. When she asked about if he had ever traveled to where his parents were from he nodded. "My father and mother were born overseas and both ended up in Boston when they were kids. They met in college, married...had kids...divorced." He chuckled. His parents split up when he was eighteen but at least he had been an adult then with his own career and life ahead of him. "I've been to Ireland a few times in my life but Italy a lot more. Still have aunts and cousins and grandparents over there. I like to try and go every two years or so. What about you? Do you like to travel?"

He laughed when she told him how she became to be an author. "Oh, that's not embarrassing. Well, perhaps the fan-fiction part is." He knew exactly what he was doing when he left here. Looking up some of her books and having a flip through them. Obviously, romance was not his thing to read but he was curious how she treated relationships and wondered if there were any steamy sex scenes in them. He was just curious ...."Being an author is something to be proud of. I'm sure not everyone can write a book get it published. Do you do book signings and all that, too?"

When she asked what made him become a lawyer, he shrugged. "Kinda born into it, I guess. My father owns the largest law firm in Boston. Kinda grew up in that environment. My father was also one of those that took their work home with them so I've always been surrounded by it. But it's a good thing. Even if I hadn't been around it I think I would've ended up in law anyway." He paused a moment to check his phone when it vibrated. Tony 'Fuckin' Stark. He slid it to silent and then turned his phone upside down and looked back at Aven.

"Have you lived in the city all your life or are you a transplant?"

"Nothing wrong with having standards on either side, I guess." It wasn't a crime, wanting a job done well, or refusing to do one. Given that she was rather enjoying this conversation with Oliver and his boss wasn't here to defend himself, she'd have to side with him though.

"Is that the best part about the job? Finding your way around a difficult problem?" She liked the way he talked about it, the dedication and the cleverness it would take to do something like that. It was obvious he was well-suited for the job, and she'd always been impressed by people who were good at things she'd never be good at.

It was heads or tails on whether Aven actually meant that as a date. She still wasn't clear on his relationship status, given the topic had never come up, but mostly she was doing what she always did and rolling with the vibe. She wouldn't turn down the possibility of something more, but even as a platonic friendship thing, she still would have offered. He seemed like he needed something to take the edge off, and somehow over the course of the conversation she'd become invested. "I have a hard time picturing your fancy watch there, but I think we could make it work. Since you're the one on a deadline, you can pick a night that works for you."

There was something satisfying about catching him off guard not once but twice in the same conversation. No, she was absolutely not keeping count. That would be weird. She was relieved he hadn't taken offense. Not unlike her brother, sometimes her mouth got ahead of her brain. Unlike Theo, she could usually smooth things over with a sweet smile instead of getting punched. "As long as you're happy?" It was both an agreement and a question, since it hadn't escaped her notice that he hadn't actually put it in those words. He was busy, he enjoyed it, and his bank account was happy. It wasn't quite the same thing.

"Kind of walked into that one, didn't I? Thank you," she laughed softly, not usually one to brush off a compliment from a handsome man, even one she'd accidentally set up herself. It was still flattering from someone who claimed to be grumpy and turned out to be sort of charming. "A couple generations ago on my mother's side. German on my father's. Have you been there? Ireland or Italy." He'd mentioned the occasional vacation, so she was curious. Her brother traveled all the time for work, but hers mostly kept her in the continental US.

"That's an embarrassing origin story, but okay. I actually started out writing fanfiction in high school. I liked the classics. Romeo and Juliet, Lancelot and Guinevere, that sort of thing. Give the women more agency and a happy ending, and it turns out you've got a novel-- and an audience. I wasn't really expecting to turn it into a career, but it just sort of evolved from there. What made you want to be a lawyer?"

[getosscorpio]

Forever Mine

Part 5: Stay with me tonight

CW: Nanami x reader, MINORS DNI, 18+smut, fem! reader, detailed smut, vaginal sex, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, missionary, dom/sub, size kink, praise kink, voice kink, dom! nanami, soft dom! nanami, pet names, Nanami and reader's first sex

Wc: 3,8 k

I was still lying in bed, too lazy to wake up. I opened my eyes and saw the empty bed beside me. He had probably left and had slept in the living room. I tried to stand up and I immediately realized that I was already feeling much better. The pain was away, and the wound didn’t hurt anymore. I walked towards the mirror and raised my t-shirt to see the scar. It was a tiny red scar under my left breast. Hopefully it was gonna fade away, I thought to myself. After washing my face, I came back to do the bed that my eyes caught the little note on the nightstand. 

“Good morning! I will be away for a few hours. Feel free and at home. If you need anything, just call me or Ijichi. Take care, Nanami.” 

How sweet of him to leave this note. I left the bedroom, and I was faced with the fascinating design of his house. The living room was decorated with dark furniture and the big windows made everything look much more gorgeous. On one side of the room there was a little bar with an expensive whiskey collection. After looking at the amazing details I finally went into the kitchen. It was connected to the living room and was separated through a dining open. I picked a sandwich from the refrigerator and sat on one of the couches. It was obvious how rich he’d become. Everything was amazingly neat and eye-catching.  

After enjoying my sandwich with the morning view of Tokyo, I decided to take a shower but then I realized that I had no clothes to wear. My T-shirt was obviously Nanami’s, and my own clothes were probably torn or dirty enough to be thrown away. So, I went back into his room to find something else to wear. There was a walk-in closet connected to his bedroom. It was filled with shoes, suits, shirts and a bunch of ties. I looked in his drawers and picked one of his white T-shirts. I found my bag on the drawer and looked for my in-case panties. There was finally that one time that I used it. I took a shower and changed into clean clothes. I was combing my hair when I heard a notification from my phone. I picked it up and saw 2 missed calls from an unkown number. It was strange, cause since I was back in Tokyo, the only ones that had my number were Gojo, Nanami and Shoko. So, I just ignored it and didn’t actually think about it. 

I spent the rest of the day sleeping and cooking Pasta for dinner. I thought it would be nice to thank him with a meal. It was already 8 pm and Nanami wasn’t still home. First, I wanted to call him but then I realized that he may’ve had a mission. 

I was just about to go back to the bedroom as I heard the door getting open. It was him. Tired and probably frustrated. He left his keys on the sideboard and walked towards the couch.  

“Hey, you got home.” 

He noticed me as he sat down and glanced over to me, standing by the kitchen. 

“Hey. Yeah, sorry it took long.” he took off his coat and loosened his tie. “How are you feeling? Did it hurt today?” He rested his head on the couch and stretched his legs. I walked toward him and sat on the couch infront of him. 

“Well, yeah much better. It’s actually fading away. I think it’s thanks to Shoko.” I smiled but he had his eyes shot, facing thr ceiling. 

“Yeah, she’s pretty good...” 

“You want some dinner? I cooked Pasta for both of us.” my voice was too excited, damn it. 

“Thanks. But you shouldn’t have cooked. You still gotta rest your body. "I’m actually not hungry anymore...” he opened the first two buttons of his shirt, eyes still shot. 

I didn’t want to ask him, but I knew that something had happened. I wanted to calm him down, but I wasn’t sure if he’d talk to me about it. 

“Alright then, take a rest. I think I'll go to sleep too.” I stood up and was passing him as he held my wrist with his left hand. 

“Y/N, would you mind staying here?” 

I was confused but then I took a seat next to him. I waited for him to talk. He laid forward and rested his elbows on his knees.  

“I’ve never complained about being a sorcerer. Even when we were younger, I always appreciated my place. It’s an honor to be able to eliminate suffering. But then, there are days like this, when I realize that we’re all in a circle of killing...” he tilted his head to look at me.  

“I’m not sure if I can take care of you. I’m not sure if I'm strong enough to hold all this misery away...” his eyes were full of emotion, yet unreadable as ever. 

“You guys don’t have to take care of me Nanami. I’ll be starting my exercises again and be back at Jujutsu Tech. I don’t want you to-” 

“I don’t give a fuck about the others. I don’t even want them to care. I’m talking about you and nothing more.” He stole his eyes and faced the window in front of us.  

“Well, I'm not a child, you know?”  

“Why don’t you understand? Isn’t it clear enough for you?” he clenched his jaw and looked back at me. 

“W-What are you talking about?” 

“I care, cause I fucking love you. Cause I've been waiting for you since the day you left. It’s been 8 years. I don’t wanna lose you again. How should I show it more?” I was confused and couldn’t believe what I was hearing. For a moment, it felt like I was frozen. So, he’s been loving me since then? Then why did he never show it to me? It all felt so surreal... 

“But Nanami-” 

“Kento, not Nanami anymore...” he turned his body to me and held my hands in his. 

“I-I don’t even know what to say... it’s just-” 

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t have the same feelings for me and I won’t be pushing you into something like this.” he let go of my hands, but I held his again. 

“It’s not like that...” he looked into my eyes with a questioning look. 

“I want you too, Kento. I- I love you...” I stole my eyes from him and tried to look anywhere else but into his. 

He moved forward and cupped my face with his hands. 

“You know this was the first time I loved hearing my own voice?” he moved much closer, so our noses were brushing against each other. “You don’t have to tell me this right now. Take your time, think about it. I’m fine with that, cause I don’t wanna fool around. I want you to be mine, to stay, you know?” his voice was so low that it was hard to hear it. My heart was racing, and he could surely see how nervous I was. After all, this was the first time someone had expressed his love for me after so many years.  

I was still looking at his legs that were between us.  

“You’re not forcing me into anything. It’s just... it’s just that I'm scared about the future.” 

“There’s no need to worry. Tell me that you’ll stay and leave the rest to me. I won’t let any soul get in our way.” he kissed my forehead and rested his on mine.  

“I love you.” I murmured the words but still loud enough for him to hear them. 

That was enough for him to do what he had been waiting for for 10 years. He gently put his lips on mine and started kissing them softly. My whole body was heating up and I couldn’t fight the urge to put my fingers in his soft hair. I kissed him back and as he felt my fingers in his hair, he pressed his lips more on mine. The kiss was almost turning into a make out session that he pulled away and whispered, “I’ve been waiting for this since the day I met you. But you weren’t mine, darling. How could I live without you for so many years?” his words were giving me butterflies, but they were full of pain. I could hear it in his voice. 

“I’m not gonna go this time. I promise.” I hugged him tightly and put my head in the crotch of his neck. His scent was so addicting that I put small kisses on his neck. He tightened his grip on my waist whispered, “You know you’re already driving me crazy?” I chuckled softly and Lord, I could stay in his arms forever... 

He brought me back to the bedroom and put me on the bed.  

“Kento” 

He was standing by the bed, watching me with adored eyes. 

“Yes baby?” 

“You’re not gonna stay with me?” 

He sat on the edge of the bed and caressed my hair carefully. 

“We don’t have to be this quick with everything. I want you to decide...” he said in a soft tone. “I’ll be in the living room, tell me if you need anything.” 

I was duzzled by how gentle he was. He was literally holding himself back from touching me. But I knew that he wanted it more than I did. 

“Good night, baby!” He kissed the back of my hand and left the room. 

I felt kinda hurt but I knew he was doing this for me. My heart was screaming his name, but I couldn’t want more. He didn’t even use his own room since I was staying with him.  

I tried to fall asleep and ignore the fact that Kento was so near to me, yet not by my side. I finally decided to do it already, cause I wanted him more than I could believe. He was sitting on the couch with his shirt off. His back muscles were shining in the dim light of the room. His glass of whisky was on the table, and he was scrolling through his phone.  

“Kento” I said quietly to not scare him. 

He turned his back and looked at me worriedly. 

“What’s wrong? You okay?” 

“I couldn’t fall asleep...” he waited for me to finish. 

“...could you stay with me?” he smiled at me and stood up. 

“Sure, I can!”  

I wanted him to feel comfortable, but Kento was way too gentle to go that far. He went into his closet room and changed into black sweatpants and a white T-shirt. It was the first time I had seen him wearing casual clothes. 

“So you took one of my tiny shirts, huh?” he said teasingly as he walked back to get on the bed. 

“Oh yeah! It still looks huge on me.” I watched him turning off the ceiling lights and switching on the lamps on the nightstands.  

“Come here.” he opened his arms for me and I crawled into them. He was caressing my back and I had my head on his chest. His heartbeat was calm and steady. I put my hand on his waist, but I suddenly touched his skin beneath his shirt. He gasped quietly and waited for me to remove my hand. Instead, I started brushing my fingertips over his skin. 

He held my jaw and tilted up my face to face him. He put his lips over mine again and this time the kiss was much more heated. I gave him access to my mouth and he pushed his tongue in. I was feeling the hot core building up inside me. His hands moved down my body and he put them on my waist.  

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” he said between the kisses. 

“Yeah Kento. I want you.” 

“Shhh baby. If I go too far, tell me to stop, okay?” he said with his lips brushing over mine. I hummed in response and tugged on the hem of his shirt. He raised his upper body and took his shirt off for me. The sight of his abs made my pussy throbbing.  

He hovered over me and kept on kissing my jaw down to my neck. His wet kisses were making my back arch and I wanted more of them. My hands were playing with his soft hair. He put his mouth next to my ear and whispered, “I wanna hear your voice baby. Don’t hold anything back from me.” his words made me whimper into his touch and he responded me with a soft grunt.  

“Kento...” I moaned his name while he was still putting kisses on my collarbone. 

“Hmm baby, tell me what you want.” 

“I want you more...” I managed to build a sentence between my incredibly loud moans. 

“More, yeah?” he pushed one of his knees between my legs to open them more. He pulled back and raised my t-shirt to take it off of me. I arched my back to let him take it off. He gently helped me and put the t-shirt aside. I was still too shy and put my hands over my breasts immediately. 

“Baby” he lowered his face, “don’t be shy with me princess. Don’t you see what you’ve already done to me?” His hot breathing made my panties grow wetter for him. He slowly moved my hands away and his eyes were shining more each second.  

“God, look at you. So perfect. So perfect for me.” he was panting by now and tried not to scream at his praises. He put soft kisses on my breasts and removed the strands of my bra off my shoulders and put his face between my breasts. “Aahhh... Kento...” I felt him smile against my skin and it made me moan even louder for him.  

He unclasped my bra and removed it softly. As he saw my bare nipples, he growled under his breath and started sucking on my left nipple. I drowned my hands in his hair and pushed his head even more. His tongue was playing with my nipple and his other hand with the other one. I arched my back from the good feeling of his mouth and felt his hard cocked brushing against my clothed pussy. Even through his sweatpants, I could feel how hard he’d become. 

He continued by sucking on both nipples and as he heard my moans and pleas and moved lower and placed wet kisses all over my stomach.  

“It’s so good... aaahh” he brushed his finger over my wet panties. 

“You’re so wet for me, huh?” his voice was raspy and full of lust. He kept on playing with my clothed pussy and placing kisses on my thighs. 

“I love you so much” he pressed his finger on my slit, “love you more than anything, more than anyone.” 

“Kento” I whimpered his name. “I need more... more” 

He smiled gently and kept his eyes on mine. Slowly, he pressed a little kiss on my cunt over my panties and pulled them down. He removed them from my legs and opened them for him to get in between my legs.  

My pussy was throbbing so fast for him. He rose and without touching me, he kissed my lips with his addictive ones. I cupped his face and pulled him down quickly. He put both his hands next to head and pressed his clothed cock between my legs. I moaned into the kiss which made him grunt and tilt his head to have more access into my mouth.  

I moved my hand to touch him on his pants, but he held my wrist halfway and whispered, “let me take care of it sweetheart.” he kissed my hand and moved down between my legs. 

I could feel my pussy dripping and I was kinda ashamed of it. He made himself comfortable and put his hands under my thighs to put them over his broad shoulders. The sight of him being between my bare legs was driving me madly crazy.  

He groaned as he saw my dripping cunt.  

“Fuck baby, you’re so perfect. Just lay back for me.”  

He started by circling little motions on my clit. It made me squirm and hold tight on the sheets underneath me. The whole time he was holding eye contact with me through his half-lidded eyes. I shot my eyes as he placed a small kiss on my pussy. Then he went on with small kitty laps. His tongue was so soft and warm that it could make me cum right away. 

“You taste so good baby, you’re the only thing I want to taste for the rest of my life.” he sped up and was making out with my pussy. My back was arching but he put a hand on my stomach to hold me still for himself.  

“Kentoo.. D-Don't stop... aahhh” I squirmed and put one of my hands on his head to push him more into my pussy. 

His nose was brushing over my clit and his tongue was abusing my whole. I was a total mess of moaning and squirming. He got back to my clit and played it between his lips and his tongue.  

“I-I’m getting c-close... Kentooo, please...” 

He sped up his pace and put his tongue into my hole. “Let go for me angel, cum for Kento.” he couraged me before playing with my clit with his digits. His words and his tongue were doing so perfectly, it didn’t take long until I came on his face between my thighs. He didn’t stop and kept on laping at my whole.  

“...Too much...F-fuck it’s too much...” I arched my back and tried to pull his head away from my pussy. He waited for my cunt to drip out all my juices and he lapped them all off my whole. It took a few seconds untill I regained my senses.  

He hovered over me and kissed my lips softly. I could taste my own juices on his lips. I put my hands over his neck and whispered to him, “Kento... I want you.” he smirked and pulled back. He made quick work of his pants and his boxers, sighing as his cock springs free.  

It made me moan as I saw the red tip of his cock, pre-cum already dripping from it. His cock was perfectly shaped with big veins around it. He stroked himself as he placed himself between my legs again.  

“I’m right here, not going anywhere. Just wanna make sure my angel still feels good about this.” he murmured as he continued stroking on his cock. 

“Yeah Ken... just need you.” I whimpered, my pussy throbbing for his cock. 

He lined himself up and brushed his tip over my clit. I panted from the hot touch of his cock. I couldn’t wait no longer, and my moans were showing him how bad I wanted him in my pussy.  

He placed his cock at my hole as he hovered over me. Slowly pressing it in, but his brutal size wasn’t that easy to fit in my whole. I whimpered slowly and tears were already building up in my eyes.  

“Shhhh babyy... I'm right here.” he kissed my tears and pulled out his cock to press it over my clit. He stroked himself a few more times before putting his cock at my hole again.  

“Just relax for me. I got you babygirl.” he pressed his lips on mine and kissed me gently. With little pressure, he pushed himself in. I had my hands over his waist and held tight on to him.  

“F-Fuck... you’re so tight Y/N.” he groaned as he slowly stuffed me with his hard cock. He rested his cock in me for a few seconds before pulling back. 

“You squeeze me so tight baby.” he grunted and thrusted back slowly. His large hands found their place on my hips. There weren’t any words left to say between the two of us, just soft moans showing our desire for each other. 

His thrusts got steady, and he was murmuring praises to my ear. 

“You feel so good baby, I wanna fuck you just like this until morning.  Your soft walls squeezing my cock so tightly...” his groans and whimpers were addicting to my ears.  

I put my head in the crook of his neck as his pace sped up. I could feel the heat building in my lower abdomen turn hot. I held him tightly and he realized it. 

“So close for me, huh baby?” he mumbled, the vibrations of his deep and raspy voice shot all the way down my spine and made me arch my back to meet his thrusts with my hips. “Go on then sweetheart. Cum on my cock, let me have it all, hm?”  

His speed only increased and soon after I came for a second time. I was writhing beneath him, mewling and grasping at his shoulders, my nails digging in his back, and he groaned as he felt the start of his own orgasm. 

“Fuck Y/N I'm gonna cum.” he said, when he felt my walls quivering around him. 

He fucked me through my orgasm and chased his own high. His thrusts got sloppy. He groaned deep as he came with a deep grunt and shudder. I felt his cock twitch inside me as he emptied his load, his warm spurts of cum painting my insides. 

We were both rendered a sweating, panting mess. My chest was still heaving, trying to catch my breath. 

Slowly he pulled out and I immediately felt a dribble of cum leak. He kissed my forehead and laid himself next to me. He pulled me close to his chest and patted my hair. “Was that, okay?” he asked in his soft tone. 

I snuggled my body into him, he felt so warm.  

“It was more than okay. It was perfect.” I said softly as I caressed his chest softly. I felt his chest vibrate as he let out a chuckle. 

“I'm happy!” he tilted his head and looked down at me. 

“Now let me clean you up angel.” 

rbs are appreciated <3

Part 6

[x-reader-theater]

SPENCE WITH A SUGAR DADDY BREATHE IF YOU AGREE

Spence starts showing up to work with more expensive clothes like designer shoes and meaby even designer wool vests and the team is kinda worried that Spencer has picked up another addiction, gambling. (Except of course Spence is a genius and winns all the time but an addiction is an addiction) But Spency is all like 'nah i just gotta crazy ass rich boyfriend' and the boyfriend (reader) is like a brain surgeon and crazy rich because of that. So obviously the team wants to meet the reader over at dinner in the readers huge ass mansion so Rossi and the reader bond over being rich or something and the team is happy that Reid finally found someone nice

--💿

Sorry I didn't get to everything. I hope this is still good :) Edited by @mystic-writes

Warnings: Light Cursing and me knowing way too much about fashion for no reason other than it was a hyperfixation for me at one point. Also no Gucci because it has become less Haute Couture and more everyday couture because of how big it's moved away from runways and how ugly their shit is. It's not artistic. I could go on for hours but I won't bore you.

Gif by @reidgifs

Spencer walks into the office, adjusting his new glasses on his face. The round frames are new, and not something he's quite used to yet, but the thin metal of the eyeglasses isn't in his vision as much, and he isn't bumping into as many things as before.

"Whoah," Derek says as Spencer sits down. "You got new glasses, Pretty Boy?"

Spencer nods. "My contacts dried up last night, so I decided to wear my glasses. My boyfriend's been pushing me to wear them ever since he got them for me for my birthday," he explains, pushing them up his nose.

"Your boyfriend, huh?" Emily asks, sitting down at her own desk. "Probably why you're wearing something you wouldn't normally wear. I mean, you're the epitome of nerd. You usually don't wear anything but square glasses."

Spencer rolls his eyes and takes his glasses off, putting them on the desk. He's not going to wear them if they're going to make fun of him.

Derek plucks them off the desk and takes a closer look, making sure not to touch the lenses, but he tries to see what kind of glasses they are. "Dior?"

Emily looks up at that, holding her hand out to grab the glasses. Derek hands them over and she inspects them as well, gasping. "Your boyfriend got you *Dior* glasses? These must have been expensive!"

Spencer shrugs. "He never tells me how much things are. Says I can look it up if I'm curious."

"Okay, well, I'm curious," Emily says as she sets down the glasses, and Derek rushes over to her computer, looking over her shoulder.

Spencer puts his glasses back on and takes an awkward picture of himself before sending it to you.

"Holy shit…" Derek says, leaning into the screen more.

"Spencer, those glasses are worth almost three hundred dollars," Emily explains.

Spencer just ignores her as you text him back, "*Wow. You look amazing. I'm so glad I got those for you.*"

He grins at his phone before putting it away. Emily and Derek are still gawking at him when JJ walks by and stops, before saying, "I like your glasses, Spence. They really suit you."

He grins again and replies, "Thanks."

–

Spencer walks up to the jet, new go-bag in hand, and when he walks on, all eyes are on him. He places the go bag overhead, before sitting down. He crosses his legs so one of his ankles is resting on his knee, showing off his new shoes as well.

"So…" Derek says, trailing off, obviously not wanting to be the first one to speak. "Where'd you get that new go-bag?"

"My boyfriend," Spencer says casually, reaching into his messenger bag and pulling out a book.

"And he just so happened to buy you a limited edition Louis Vuitton duffle?" Rossi asks.

Spencer shrugs as Emily says. "His shoes. They're Prada too. Expensive. Probably a thousand or more. They're from the newest collection."

"How the hell does your boyfriend have money like this?" Derek asks.

"He's a brain surgeon. And I always chip in a little for the things he gets me," Spencer says casually, as if this isn't a big deal. "Besides. You should see his closet. It's full of things right off the runway. He took me to Milan last year and bought a bunch of Haute Couture with, and for, me."

Everyone just stares there, gawking at Spencer, before Hotch cuts in, saying, "Focus. We have work to do. We're leaving in 15."

–

You grin at Spencer, who's wearing his matching, light brown coloured, wool, Yves Saint Laurent suit with his Versace, black shirt with the gold pattern on the collar, and he's even wearing the glasses and Prada shoes you bought him. You yourself are clothed head to toe in a classic, houndstooth Channel original from one of their 2006 runways.

"You look incredible," you say, holding a hand out on the table.

Spencer blushes as he grabs it. "You say that all the time."

"Well, I guess you look amazing all the time," you say with a shrug and a smirk. "I love when you wear the things I buy for you."

"People at work are starting to notice how expensive it is," Spencer says, almost ashamed to be saying this.

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand. "Please. It doesn't matter what they think. As long as you like it," you say. "And besides, I'm going to get it if I can afford it. It goes back to the designers and helps them make more."

You shrug as you say this. "I know… and I feel good in it…"

"Then what's the problem?" you ask, kissing his knuckles.

"I guess I'm just embarrassed," he says.

You shake your head. "Don't be. They should be embarrassed for not looking nearly as good as you." Spencer blushes but grins and you kiss his hand one more time before letting go and looking at the menu for the upscale, French, expensive restaurant you're sitting in. "I heard from a friend at this fashion school that this atelier is going to finish out his four years at the school with a new and intriguing runway. I was going to go to it. If you're not busy, maybe you'd want to come with me?"

Spencer just smiles and picks up his own menu. "If I'm not busy, I would love to."