#what do you mean that wording is atrocious??

[bleaksqueak]

Insomnia is letting up off and on, but I'm still super jelly brained from it case in point, I want to continue back with posting WIPs for the aired pages, but I can't remember what page I left off on now lmao (guess I'll have to dig through my blog to check... eesh. at least it's decently organized by tags?) Not a result of goo brain, really, but equally "AUGH" is that I let my screen protector go for too long without replacing it and now it's slick as snot and I don't have a replacement handy to put on it. This isn't a resulting consequence of goo brain but it does mean I'm going to be trying to draw without any traction while I'm already loopy. Good times ahead!

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run

Pt 3

At some point, Soap and Gaz fall asleep on the couch, sprawled across one another. Ghost is laid back in one of the recliners, struggling to keep his eyes open as Price’s voice lulls him to sleep from the kitchen.

You're not sure how long the two of you have sat here. It took Price an hour to finally open his mouth. He has hardly met your eye since he’s started talking, hands clasped together on top of the table.

The ache you felt in your chest for these men worsened the longer Price spoke. Proud military men, tired of seeing the monsters they hunted get slaps on the wrist for atrocious crimes. Making plea deals with lawyers, getting one way tickets into luxury cells when they should be six feet underground.

You don’t realise Price has stopped talking till Soap snores, causing Dixon to shuffle at your feet, all four dogs scattered around the kitchen floor. You look him over, taking in the man now that all his bravado has been drained, leaving only the raw human underneath. Blue eyes darkened by years on the force and then years behind bars, forced into proximity with the very animals he and his team longed to put down. You’re looking at a man who fought for what was right and when justice wasn’t served in a way he deemed fit, he settled it.

Price is staring down at his hands, and you’re worried he’s going to hurt himself with how vigorously he rubs his hands together. You don’t think, reaching across the table and grasping one of his hands in yours, running your thumb across scarred knuckles. “Don’t do that.” You scold, and his head whips up to stare at you, eyes wide, hopeful but hesitant.

He looks down at your hand holding his, then back at you. “You’re not…?” He trails off, clearing his throat as he sits up straighter, letting your palm slip into his. You’re not sure what word he was going to use, but you shake your head.

“I’m… I’m sorry you all had to…” You don’t finish your sentence, letting it hang in the air between you. You’re shocked to see tears pool at the corner of his eyes but he’s quick to blink them away.

“You’re not horrified by us?” He asks, and you can tell he’s trying to fight his voice from shaking. You clear your throat, but gently squeeze his hand when his grip loosens.

“You have done… horrible things. Inhumane things.” You start, trying to pick your words carefully as you scoot your chair closer to his. He watches you warily, but there is no denying the growing hope in those eyes. “But I couldn’t imagine seeing what you saw everyday. Hearing the things you’ve heard, having to keep that all to yourself. Seeing… monsters you’ve spent years tracking get served the minimum sentence with a cozy cell waiting for them.” His hand starts to shake, and your heart breaks seeing how hard he’s fighting back the tears pooling in his eyes. “We never would have actually hurt you, I swear on my life. We just… Fuck we had been running for fucking hours through those god damn trees and-“ His voice cracks, and you gently run your thumb over the back of his hand. “Why are you being so nice?” He almost spits the word, but his grip on your hand tightens.

Grounding.

“You did as I asked. You told me the truth.” You mirror his words from the barn, and he barks out a wet sounding laugh before covering his face with his free hand. “And you’re happy with that truth?”

“I’m happy you decided you could trust me enough with it.” You admit softly, and he stares into your eyes, and you don’t feel the need to look away this time. “Anyone else would have gone running for the hills.” He whispers, and you can’t help but smile.

“Not many places to run to, and if I’m telling the honest truth, there are worse things than killing human filth.” You shrug, and he lets out a bewildered laugh. “You can’t mean-“

“I do though. There are people in this world that don’t deserve the freedom they have, that have ripped apart the lives of others and continue living like they didn’t single-handedly ruin someone’s entire foundation.” Your words are a little more forceful than you intended, raw. And Price catches it, sitting up a little straighter, tugging your hand closer.

“You have your own monster, don’t you pretty?” He asks seriously, and you swallow, lowering your gaze to your clasped hands.

“I think that’s a story for another night.” You whisper, and you see him nod, before realization hits, and his eyes widen.

“You’re going to let us-“

“You are going to have to show me that I am not making a mistake by letting four wanted men stay in my house.” You interrupt him, but there’s a smile on your face. The next seconds are a blur and you suddenly find this giant of a man at your feet, kneeling in front of you and holding both your hands in his. His shoulders are shaking, head bent but you hear the hitch in his breath.

“Price..” You murmur, a little nervous but you slip your hands free, slowly running your fingers through his hair, and you hear the sob that leaves him. He bunches up the loose fabric of your sweats in his fist, and you can feel his tears starting to soak through.

“You are a good person.” He chokes out, looking up at you and the look on his face has tears of your own threatening to spill. He looks exhausted, like every ounce of his energy has finally been drained, years of enduring visceral human indecency ingrained into every part of his being. And yet he is gazing at you like you are the first glimpse of the sun after week long rainstorms, constant flooding and devastation, the light breaking through the clouds to spread warmth on a new day.

“You’re still a good person too.”

Those words linger in the air.

You lose track of time as you sit there, running your fingers through his hair, this man who you’ve never met, who invited himself into your home, but has bared the darkest corners of his soul to you all in one night. Grimes had made his way over at some point, staring at Price with a concerned tilt of his head. He never did like when you cried, and you can tell he’s desperate to try and comfort this strange man in his home. He lays besides him, paws outstretched, inching forward ever so slowly.

“He doesn’t like that you’re upset.” You mumble, watching the way his eyes snap over to Grimes. “Even though I terribly upset his mama earlier?” He mutters, he and Grimes staring at one another.

“Grimes has always been a big softy. Dixon is the one who’s gonna hold a grudge.” An answering ‘boof’ comes from beside you, Dixon plopping his head back on his paws after making his stance known.

Grimes scoots forward until he can rest his big head on Price’s lap, nuzzling down and looking up at him expectantly, and Price gives you a hesitant look. You just nod, smiling gently. “You’re gonna be staying with four of them, better get yourselves acquainted.”

“What in the bloody fuck did I miss?” A drowsy voice mutters from the doorway, and Ghost stands there, taking in the sight of Price kneeling before you, still clutching your sweatpants, and you can see the downturn of his lips through his mask when he notices the dried tears on Price’s cheek.

You gently pull Price’s hands off your sweats, and he looks as though you just took away his favorite treat. “I’ll go grab some fresh blankets.” You hum, face warming when you can feel both of their gazes on your back as you walk up the stairs.

“Wait, does that mean-“ You hear Ghost start, and you’re shocked to hear it so soft, but their words are lost as you turn down the hallway. You slip into the bedroom at the end of the hall, making quick work of dusting off the dresser and small TV, gently stacking a pile of clean sheets and towels. This room already had two beds, you just hoped they were big enough for these giant oafs.

You just about scream when a pair of hands grip your waist, and you whirl around. “Price you have got to stop grabbing me now- Oh.”

It was Ghost, eyes unreadable as he stares you down, and you clear your throat, loosening your grasp just a bit but still attempting to push him off.

“You scared me, you need to stop-“

“Thank you.” He interrupts, and your eyes widen as he pulls you closer.

“I- Well you’re welcome, I couldn’t just-“

“Yes you could. You could send out right back outside, hell you could get a goddamn brigade of officers here and you would be justified for it.” He shrugs, but you frown, shaking your head.

“No. From… from what Price told me, you all made your own choices to help those the governments deem lesser than them. You helped people who have watched law officials let them down again and again.” You state firmly, wincing slightly as you feel Ghost dig his fingers into your hips. “Easy.” You scold, and he immediately eases up, but doesn’t let go of you, keeping you pressed to him and your heart skips.

“I’ll just finish-“

“Whoever divorces such a sweet little bird must have absolute shit for brains.” Ghost states, quite confidently, and you can’t stop the shocked giggle that slips past. “Absolute fuckin idiot.”

“You can’t win me over with flattery you know.” You huff, but he sees right through you, dark eyes taking in your flustered expression, and you feel heat burn your cheeks as you avoid meeting his eye.

“Mmm, we’ll see about that. Think it’ll get me pretty damn far.” He grins, and you smack his hands before pausing.

“Wait.” You mutter, prying his right hand off of you and lifting it up, inspecting.

Your teeth made a pretty gnarly imprint, already scabbing. “Ah don’t worry about that. I deserved it.”

“C’mon you big idiot, before you let that thing get infected.” You order, pushing him towards the bathroom and he lets out a loud laugh, the sound causing butterflies to seize your stomach.

“Yes ma’am.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part I

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you've been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month's time.

Ever since you were little, you found solace in poetry. Your mother highly encouraged your governess to have you read any and every poetry book that was ever made. The imagery and feelings it produced was something you never experienced before.

After your mother died, your father forbade you from reading poetry. He forbade you for ever mentioning your mother again. Their love was strong and true. As a result, it caused your father deep heartache. He became cold, heartless, and cruel. A drunkard and a gambler. Fortunately, his sister, your aunt, had moved in and became lady of the house. She became your mother figure, but she could only do so much.

She snuck you poetry books when she could. The words now being the only part of your mother you had to connect to.

Because of this love, you began to write poetry yourself. You only ever shared it to your aunt and friend, Kate Bridgerton nee Sharma, another lover of stories and poetry. Both having expressed their hopes of you publishing your writing some day.

"Maybe some day," you'd always say.

What they didn't know was that you did publish your poems. You went under a man's pseudonym, Arthur Talbot. His poetry books were becoming popular among the ton and it brought you joy and a sense of thrill whenever someone mentioned his name to you.

You'd recite your his poetry readings held at Lady Danbury's often. Everyone was always in awe of how the words poured out of you with intense and deep emotion.

But the one who was most taken with them and you, was none other than Benedict Bridgerton.

_______________________

The small group break out into applause and you curtsy. Lady Danbury walks up to you with a proud grin on her face, "Another splendid performance, Miss L/N. I can tell you deeply resonate with Talbot. "

You bow, "Thank you, Lady Danbury. His words mean a lot to me. It's as if he and I are one." You hold back a laugh as you express your gratitude to the hostess.

"Well, I think this calls for a break," the older woman turns to face her guests, "Everyone please enjoy some refreshments."

People begin to disperse, leaving the sitting room for other parts of the Danbury estate.

You're standing off to the side, watching those around you, when your dear friend, Benedict, approaches you. You smile wide at him, "Ben!"

"Another splendid performance, Miss L/N," he lifts his glass to you.

You chuckle, "Thank you. But I think Arthur Talbot deserves just as much praise. They're his words after all."

Benedict nods, "Yes, but you perform his words so beautifully."

You look away, feeling a heat crawl up your cheeks. Benedict clears his throat, "I take it you still have no marriage prospects since you haven't mentioned anyone courting you."

You look back up at him and snort, "Ben, this is my fourth year in society. I highly doubt I'll ever find a man willing to marry me at this point." You cast your eyes down to play with a thread on your skirt, "No one wants to be married to someone who has gambling drunkard father. Doesn't matter if he's a Lord or not."

"If my brother, Anthony, managed to find love and a wife, you will to, Y/N."

You scoff, "How dare you put me in the same category as Anthony."

"I agree," you turn to see said brother and Kate, approaching you, arm in arm, "You're much better than my husband," Kate says with a smirk.

"Still disgustingly in love, I see," you arch a playful look at your friend.

"Very much so, I'm afraid."

Anthony unhook his arm from Kate's and moves towards Benedict, "Come, brother. Let us let the ladies socialize." He takes Benedict's glass and downs it in a gulp.

The younger brother frowns, "I was drinking that."

"Then we shall grab another and drinks for the ladies," he pats his brother's shoulder and Benedict groans, following his brother out of the room.

You and Kate take a seat on the couch and catch up while the men grab drinks.

_____________________

"So, have you finally decided to court Miss L/N?" the eldest Bridgerton asks.

"We are friends, Anthony. Nothing more."

"So you don't love her anymore?" Anthony asks with a curious gaze, taking a sip of brandy.

"...I didn't say that. Besides, you originally didn't want me involved with her because of her father. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, well, we are the not the sins of our parents. Miss L/N is a lovely woman. She's smart, well-read, not to mention she laughs with you even when your jokes aren't funny."

Benedict's brows furrow, "I am funny!"

Anthony takes another sip of his drink and sighs, "What I mean to say is that I think you two would be a fine match. Besides, it's not like any other man is interested in her."

Benedict immediately clenches his jaw and takes a leering step towards his older brother, "Don't talk about her like that."

Stunned by the sudden change of his brother, Anthony takes a cautious step back, "I meant no harm, brother, but is it not true? It's been years since she's stepped into society and very few men have made an effort to court her."

Benedict lets out a deep breath and apologizes, "I'm sorry."

Anthony clears his throat, "All I'm saying is that you've had several chances to be with her. If you don't take the opportunity, you may lose her."

_________________________

"I apologize for missing another one of your recitals," Kate says, grabbing your hand and intertwining her fingers with yours. Ever since she married Anthony, you two have become acquainted due to your paths crossing whenever you came to see Benedict.

You shrug, "You've heard it all before, Kate. Just another one of Talbot's poems."

"You're quite smitten with this poet, it seems."

You laugh, "I can't help it! His words are as if he speaks to my soul!"

"Maybe I should write to this Talbot and see if he'd like to ever attend a Bridgerton ball."

You shake your head, "Oh no. Please, don't. People say never to meet your heroes, so I don't think I would want to meet him."

Kate shrugs, "As you wish."

Anthony and Benedict come back with drinks in hand. Anthony hands Kate a glass and Benedict hands you one.

"Thank you, Ben," you give him a grateful smile and he smiles back, "Of course."

He sits in the chair beside you and you two fall into discussion about the poem you recited, all the while Kate and Anthony give each other knowing looks.

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

more than i can handle

pairing: wonwoo x seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff, poly!au, non-idol!au - minors dni.

warnings: dirty talk, dildo play, heavy degradation (whore, slut etc), use of petnames (sunshine, princess, baby boy, pretty boy), dom!wonwoo, switch!reader, sub!seungcheol, kissing, makeout session, anal sex, oral sex (m rec), heavy mxm action, unprotected sex (pls stay safe), creampies, voyeurism, masturbation, hair pulling, sir kink, ass slapping, aftercare

word count: 5,517

summary: the abundance of snow outside won't stop you and wonwoo from restocking your fridge. and it certainly won't stop seungcheol from getting what he wants from his girlfriend and boyfriend - their undivided attention.

Disclaimer: Both Seungcheol and Wonwoo are depicted as bisexual in the fic, which is used only for the purposes of fanfiction and it is not an assumption of the members' sexual orientation in real life. If you're not comfortable with these themes, then this fic isn't for you.

Author's note: your favorite poly is back and better than ever hehe - big thanks to @wongyuseokie, @gyuwoncheol, @highvern, @ourdawnishotterthanourday and @wonuvs for beta reading this fic!

p.s.: if you read about snow and holidays pls ignore, it was in the works since december😭

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2024. No reposting allowed. No translations without permission allowed.

“...Thank you, Sir. I really appreciate the understanding. Have a nice day.”

Wonwoo ends the phone call with a satisfied hum and he slouches back on his chair, returning to his work at hand.

“So, what’s the verdict?” You ask him, sitting on your own chair.

“Work from home. There was absolutely no way I’d be able to move the car with so much snow outside.” Wonwoo replies.

“Does that mean we get to be with you all day long?” 

“That’s right, sunshine.” He smiles sweetly and you get up and hug him excitedly, pressing your lips on his cheek.

“What’s the plan for today? Aside from working, of course.” 

“I was thinking of just being cozy with the two of you, y’know? Like those cliché Pinterest aesthetic winter routines.”

“I thought you weren’t the hot cocoa type.” You raise your brow playfully as you go back to your laptop.

“Just because I’m a coffee addict doesn’t mean I hate everything else.” Wonwoo defends himself while fixing his glasses.

“Well you definitely hate my protein shakes!” Seungcheol butts into the conversation from afar.

“That’s because your protein shakes are atrocious.” Wonwoo deadpans, “No sane person puts chicken breast in a glass.”

“Ew, that does sound atrocious.” You grimace in disgust.

“This is why you’re still lanky and not buff, Jeon.” Seungcheol scoffs as he downs the rest of his shake. 

“Maybe not everyone wants to be a muscle monster like you, Choi.” The younger man sighs and goes back to his task at hand.

“Oh wow, thanks for paying so much attention to me.” 

“Don’t take it the wrong way, Cheollie. He has a lot of work to do, despite staying home.” You try to reassure your other boyfriend.

“Does that mean you’re willing to make up for lost attention?”

“I’m sorry, but I need to catch up with my assignments….” You rub the back of your head apologetically.

“In the middle of the holidays?!” Seungcheol looks at you baffled.

“But my exams start two weeks after the holiday break! There’s not a lot, I promise.” You cup his cheeks.

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes at you with a huff.

You watch him walk towards the bedroom with heavy steps and guilt settles in your gut.

“I think I was insensitive…” You plop down on the armchair.

“No, he’s being dramatic.” Wonwoo replies without breaking contact with his computer screen.

“But he got a leave from his job just to spend it with us and we’re ignoring him!” 

“Y/N, he’s doing it on purpose.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Wait a couple of minutes and you’ll see.” 

You look at Wonwoo with a puzzled expression and return to your laptop.

Shortly after, you notice Seungcheol coming into the living room, clad in nothing but a pair of shorts and a tight muscle tee. He’s sporting his earphones, as if he was going to the gym for his daily work out session.

Except he starts working out right in the middle of the room, without giving a single fuck.

He starts by stretching out his legs and arms and then proceeds to put music in his ears, switching into the more intense part of his workout. It doesn’t take long for him to start grunting and moaning as he does series after series of exercises, the sweat accumulated on his body staining the fabric of his muscle tee.

“Cheollie?” You peek your head from behind your laptop. “Do you need some water?”

“No worries, princess. I don’t want to distract you from your assignment.” He gives you a quick peck on the corner of your lips.

In true Choi Seungcheol fashion, he does his best to actually distract you from your work by taking off his muscle tee and continuing his work out shirtless.

Wonwoo turns around and takes a look at his boyfriend, mouthing a “told you so” when he turns his gaze to you.

It takes all of his willpower to not bodyslam Seungcheol on the floor and fuck the living daylights out of him with the grunts and moans he’s letting out. He swears there’s a tent forming in his black sweats and he’s quite certain there will be wet spots on the fabric pretty soon. He puts on his noise canceling headphones to focus on his work and get it done as soon as possible.

You, on the other hand, are the epitome of distractedness and all you’ve written in your essay is utter gibberish, rubbing your thighs together to provide some relief to your aching core. Right now, all you can think of is being underneath Seungcheol and getting fucked into next week.

You get up from the couch and walk over to the fridge to grab some ice cold water. As soon as you open it, your eyes widen in horror when you see the lack of basic groceries and dairy products.

“Um, guys? We have a problem.” You shout at them, but none of them lift their heads.

You get back to them and tap their shoulders to get their attention. 

“What’s up, princess?” Seungcheol removes his earbuds and pushes his hair back.

“Our fridge is empty. Like, the basics are missing.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He rubs his palms over his face.

“Are the stores even open right now?” Wonwoo asks.

“It has stopped snowing for now and there are probably tons of people who didn’t anticipate this weather. Some stores have to be open, even for emergency situations!” You rest your hands on your waist.

“Give me a second.” Wonwoo goes back to his laptop and with a few rapid clicks on his keyboard, he searches for nearby stores.

“There is one, about six hundred meters away from here.” He turns his screen to the both of you to see.

“It won’t be an ordeal to get there. All we need is sturdy shoes and warm clothes.” You shrug and move towards the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Seungcheol asks you.

“To get dressed and go get groceries. The fridge won’t get full on its own.”

“Hold on , I’m coming with you.”

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Wonwoo gets up.

“I thought you were really fucking busy with work?” The blond man asks with irony laced in his words.

“I still am, but if you go out all sweaty, you’ll be bedridden for the rest of the holidays and none of us want that.”

“You’re not my mom, Wonwoo.”

“No, but I’m your boyfriend and I still care about your health. Now please go take a fucking shower, you’re all sweaty and gross.” He walks past the shirtless man, but Seungcheol stops him by putting his hand on Wonwoo’s chest.

“You better not think I haven’t noticed that little tent of yours, pretty boy. Two people can play a game.” 

“Too bad there’s three of us in this relationship. And I won’t be the outnumbered one.” Wonwoo bites back and pushes his arm away to join you in the bedroom.

Seungcheol scoffs and pokes his cheek with his tongue. 

Fine by me, he thinks, already thinking of the next step he’s gonna take.

A few minutes later, you and Wonwoo leave the apartment to go buy the much needed groceries and Seungcheol is left alone, an almost childish grin plastered all over his face.

He skips over to the bathroom, stripping himself naked and throwing the dirty clothes in the laundry basket. He jumps in the shower and lets the warm water run over his body, washing away the sweat from his work out session. He pours a generous amount of shower gel over his body and spreads it thoroughly over his skin, the cherry scent enveloping the small room. Even if the shower itself is relaxing, Seungcheol himself is way too worked up -  and it’s not just because of the post workout adrenaline. The blatant ignorance he experiences from you and Wonwoo annoys him and turns him on to the point of lunacy. 

He washes the suds from his hands and brings two fingers in his mouth, spitting on them and rubbing them over the rim of his ass experimentally.

He moans heavily when he pushes the fingers inside, cock twitching with need. He puts his free hand on the wall of the shower to support himself while stretching out his hole. He works his thick digits in and out of his ass, eyes scrunched shut and thighs flexing with each thrust. Every time he bites his bottom lip to suppress his moans, he fails miserably and moans even louder - he’s home alone, after all.

His cock is rock hard by now, the tip flushed an angry red and veins bulging over his shaft. He can almost feel the precum starting to build up and ready to leak all over, but he doesn’t want to cum yet and definitely not like this. He removes his fingers from his ass, satisfied with the stretch and washes away the rest of the suds, turning off the shower.

He fastens his bathrobe around his waist and goes into the bedroom, opening his side of the closet to search for his sex toy stash. He giggles when he finds the familiar box and opens it hastily, taking out his favorite knotted dildo. He grabs the lube from the nightstand drawer and looks around the bedroom to see where he’ll place the toy.

His gaze falls on the full bodied mirror next to the closet and an idea pops up in his head as he fiddles with the dildo in his hands. He removes his bathrobe and throws it on the bed, walking to the living room to get his phone. Once he returns to the bedroom, he kneels in front of the mirror and grabs his cock, slowly pumping it with his fist. He pulls up the phone camera and snaps a handful of pictures, flexing his biceps and thighs on purpose to make them look even more attractive.

“Damn, I don’t even have to filter them.” He checks them one by one, absolutely satisfied with the results.

He sends them to the group chat with a quick text, waiting for the two of you to open them and lose your minds. 

“Are we missing anything else?” Wonwoo asks you while pushing the shopping cart down the aisle.

“Maybe some bathroom supplies? Just to be sure, in case it snows again.” 

“I swear, if it weren’t for you, we would have died a long time ago.” Your boyfriend applauds you for your organizing skills.

Both of your phones go off at the same time and you fish your phone out of the pocket of your parka.

“What’s up?” He asks you while putting two ramen cups in the cart.

“Cheol texted the group chat.”

“He probably wants us to buy chicken breast for his godforsaken shakes.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

You open the messaging app and you let out a loud gasp, covering your mouth after being heard by other customers, instantly closing the screen of your phone.

“What happened, sunshine?” The tall man asks you with worry written all over his face.

“Um….How do I put this….” You scratch your heated cheek.

“Y/N, what did he send you?”

“See for yourself.” You point to his pocket and Wonwoo impatiently unlocks his phone

He clenches his jaw tight when he opens Seungcheol’s messages, the previous hard-on he was sporting now threatening to get bigger.

cheollie has sent three photos.

cheollie: it could be your hands but you’re working instead

“This motherfucker.” He pokes his cheek with his tongue and types back a quick reply. He puts his phone back in his pocket and pushes the cart towards the cashiers with quicker steps.

“Hey, what about the rest of the supplies?!” You tug at the sleeve of his parka.

“We’ll get them, sunshine. We just need to be quick about it.” He almost grits his teeth.

“You’re not the only one who’s hot and bothered because of Seungcheol.” You step in front of the cart.

“So you admit that you were having a hard time with your essay.”

“I never said I didn’t! Do you know how difficult it was to type on my laptop while he was groaning and moaning-”

“Like a bitch in heat?” Wonwoo completes your sentence with a lopsided smirk.

“Exactly! And he looks so beefy and thick and-”

“And unbearably hot, yeah I know. And God, it drives me insane.” He lets out a shaky breath.

“Wonu?” You ask him with a lowered voice.

“Yes?”

“Can we get out of here? Like, real soon?”

“I thought you wanted to shop some more stuff?” Wonwoo chuckles at your sudden burst of impatience.

“I still do, but I also have a hot boyfriend at home who could be doing God knows what.” 

“Your other boyfriend is still here with you, though.” He pushes his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“My other boyfriend wants to fuck the boyfriend at home too.” You grin and pull on the other end of the cart. “Come on, time is of the essence.”

As soon as you step foot into the apartment, you are greeted by absolute silence. You opt to call out Seungcheol’s name, but Wonwoo covers your mouth with his hand. He tells you to keep quiet by mouthing the words. He nods towards the fridge and you take off your shoes, tiptoeing your way to the kitchen and place the bags on the counter as stealthily as possible. He takes off his shoes and parka, taking careful steps towards the bedroom.

The closer he gets, the louder he can hear noises coming from the secluded space. He notices the door being cracked open just enough to get a good view of what is happening inside and he takes the initiative of pushing it wide open to rest his body on the door frame and watch the show in front of him.

Seungcheol is bouncing his ass on the knotted dildo like his life depends on it, the muscles on his thighs and back rippling with every motion. His moans are airy, almost whiny and it makes Wonwoo’s cock drip in his boxers, his self control starting to run thin. 

A small creaking noise on the doorframe alerts Seungcheol and he turns his head around, scanning his boyfriend up and down.

“Oh, don’t mind me, you can keep going.” Wonwoo waves his hand in dismissal.

“I wasn’t planning on stopping for your sake.” Seungcheol scoffs and keeps fucking himself on the toy, as if the younger man doesn’t exist in the room.

“If you want to grab my attention for real, you can try taking the knot in your ass and stay there.” 

“Are you challenging me?”

“You’re the one who said your ass can handle a lot.”

“Hmph. Whatever.” Seungcheol scoffs as lifts himself off the dildo to grab the lube and pour some more over the toy, climbing back on it again to ease himself on the bulbous knot. 

The initial stretch is always intimidating, but as soon as the knot disappears inside him, his body shudders and his nails scratch the wooden floor, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

He wants to move so bad, so fucking bad-

“Don’t you dare move.” Wonwoo’s voice is rough and demanding.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” The blond man bites back and raises his hips ever so slightly, never breaking eye contact with his boyfriend.

“I don’t think you want to do this. Am I right, baby boy?”

Seungcheol freezes in his spot, thighs going weak at the pet name. His mouth quivers, the knot stretching him open and he struggles to keep himself in check.

Wonwoo walks with slow steps towards his boyfriend, kneeling next to him. 

“What’s wrong? You went pretty docile just now, didn’t you?” He smirks.

“Fuck you.” Seungcheol grits his teeth.

“What did you say?” Wonwoo grips his jaw tight.

“I said fuck you, pretty boy.” Seungcheol sports a shit-eating grin and it earns him a harsh slap on the ass, making him whine pathetically.

“I prefer it when you make pretty sounds like the one you made just now.” Wonwoo runs his thumb over the pretty pink bottom lip and the naked man sucks the digit.

“That thing where you two start without me is getting annoying.” You shake your head in disapproval, stepping into the bedroom impatiently.

“Sorry sunshine, but baby boy is being a little impatient slut today.” 

“Yeah, I noticed. I bet he thought of walking around the apartment completely naked just to get our attention.” You take off your clothes in a hurry, remaining only in your underwear set. 

“Ooh, she has the lace on.” Wonwoo whistles in a flirty way as he takes his thumb away.

“I always like to be prepared for any case.”

“Could you please p-pay some attention to me?” Seungcheol asks through gritted teeth, struggling with the toy inside him.

“Hm? What was that, Cheollie?” You kneel right next to him, “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Please pay some attention to me.” He repeats his sentence a bit louder.

“We are right here, baby boy.” Wonwoo cups his neck lovingly, “Just tell us what you want and we’ll give it to you.”

“I need you, both, please.” The blond man exhales shakily.

Wonwoo and you look at each other, sharing impish glances, as if your brains thought of the same thing at the same time. He then gets up and takes off his long sleeved shirt and sweats, dropping the clothes right in front of Seungcheol. He then sits on the bed, patting his lap for you to join him.

You climb on the bed and in your boyfriend’s lap, leaving your other boyfriend shocked and visibly upset.

“You- I hate you both.” He grumbles while clenching his fists on the floor.

“If you want to join, then don’t cum.” Wonwoo looks him straight in the eyes while groping your ass. “Perhaps then we’ll consider it.”

“Wonu? I am right here, baby.” You get his attention by putting your hands on his broad shoulders and you rub yourself on his boxers to rile him up. And it works like a fucking charm, because he’s shoving his tongue down your throat like a man who hasn’t kissed someone in an entire lifetime. 

His kisses are usually softer and more calculated, but not today - Wonwoo is far too riled up to care about details and the only thing he wants is to ravish you. He pushes you on the mattress and climbs over you, ruthlessly attacking your lips and neck with his mouth. He uses both teeth and tongue to abuse your skin, deliberately targeting your weak spots to elicit sweet noises from you.

He steals a few side glances towards Seungcheol, who is on the brink of tears from being edged for so long, droplets of sweat running down his flushed skin. The irrational, needy part of his brain wants to jump on the bed and kick Wonwoo outside, while keeping you all to himself. But he knows better than disobeying a pissed off Wonwoo.

Wonwoo pulls you by the arms and makes you sit on your knees facing Seungcheol, while he sits behind you, chest touching your back.

“Let’s give our baby boy a show, shall we?” He whispers in your ear and you nod, biting your bottom lip.

Wonwoo caresses your body with his hands, over your stomach and reaches your covered breasts. He hooks his fingers in the lace of your bra, tugging it harshly to let your mounds bounce out of the undergarment, a small ripping sound reaching your ears. 

“Ease off the lace!” You whine, but he grabs your chin with his hand, the other glued on your chest.

“Act up and I’ll make sure you won’t cum at all, sunshine. Am I clear?”

“...yes Sir.” You sigh, 

“Good girl.” Wonwoo kisses your cheek and relaxes his grip on your chin. “Good girls always get rewarded.” He murmurs in your ear, his hand descending lower and lower.

You let out a small moan when your boyfriend’s hand palms over your clothed pussy, slowly rubbing the lace hiding your clit.

“I can already tell you’re excited about this, sunshine. Soaking through your underwear like the needy little thing you are.” Wonwoo’s lips are glued on your ear.

“Please touch me more, Sir.” You whine, looking right into Seungcheol’s eyes.

“I didn’t hear you well, darling.” The dark haired man chuckles.

“Just touch her, you asshole.” Seungcheol groans, his cock twitching like crazy again.

“You don’t get to speak a damn word.” Wonwoo grits his teeth.

“Wonu, please!” You cry out, “I need you so bad, I’m gonna lose it!”

“You goddamn little shits.” He pushes you on the bed and gets up, standing next to Seungcheol.

“You want to get fucked? Now’s your chance.” He grips the blond man’s hair and lifts him off the knotted toy, practically throwing him on the bed like a ragdoll.

“Ouch, that hurt, you fucker!” Seungcheol snarls at Wonwoo, but the younger man pins him down on the mattress, despite being less muscular.

“Playtime’s over, baby boy. My turn now.” He discards his boxers, cock slapping against his stomach, bright red and leaking.

“Funny how you’re trying to act all dominant yet you’re leaking more than a broken faucet.” Seungcheol snickers, spreading his legs apart.

Wonwoo glances at you and offers you his hand to help you get up. You take it with a smirk and he positions you right between Seungcheol’s legs.

“You know what to do. And remember - don’t let him have his way with you.”

“Gotcha.” You grin devilishly.

“Princess, do you seriously think you can dom me? Please be real now.” Seungcheol laughs, but his laughter is cut short when he sees Wonwoo hovering right above his face.

“No. But we can dom you.”

You put your hands under Seungcheol’s knees and push his thighs apart to make room for yourself, putting him in a mating press instead of the opposite that usually happens in the bedroom. You position yourself right over his tip and slowly slide your pussy down his length, until it has completely disappeared inside you.

“O-Oh….Fuck, Princess, didn’t see that coming.” The blond man’s mouth goes slack from the novel sensation.

“God, no wonder you like this position so much.” You moan and start moving your hips the same way one of your boyfriends usually fuck you stupid.

Seungcheol throws his head back and grins when he sees Wonwoo pumping his cock with his hand, the tip dangerously close to his cheek.

“What are you waiting for, Wonu?” The older man snickers and moves his hand to touch his boyfriend’s shaft, but Wonwoo pins his wrists down and lets his cock rub the plush lips.

“For the right moment to shut you up.”

Wonwoo slides his cock inside and starts fucking Seungcheol’s throat harshly, finally letting out his pent up frustrations. 

“Don’t be so h-harsh on him, Wonu, he might choke.” You point out the gagging, sloppy noises coming from above.

“Don’t worry, he can take it. Isn’t that right, baby boy?” Wonwoo takes off his cock for a few seconds.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol coughs a bit, but regains his breath like a pro, “Just make sure to fuck me like you both mean it, you weaklings.”

The comment makes you and Wonwoo’s blood boil like molten lava and you climb over Seungcheol’s body to push his thighs further apart and fuck him like a bitch in heat.

“That’s it, sunshine. Fuck him like the whore he is.” Wonwoo grunts as he facefucks your (and his) boyfriend, putting one hand on his throat to squeeze it ever so slightly.

“Shit, this feels so damn great,” you moan out loud as you ride his cock, “I can feel him twitching inside me, he’s close.”

“Of course he is,” Wonwoo leans closer and gives you a quick kiss, “Nobody could ever resist your beautiful pussy, sunshine. Especially us.”

Seungcheol starts moaning around the shaft bullying his mouth and he wraps his thick thighs around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Oof- God, he’s so damn desperate to cum.” You chuckle and run your hands over his torso to rile him up even further.

“Don’t stop until you are fully satisfied, Y/N. Baby boy is here to take whatever we’re going to give him.”  

Your pussy stays glued on Seungcheol’s cock, rubbing it like a tight fleshlight until it starts milking him dry, sucking globs after globs of cum. The muscles of his thighs twitch behind your waist and his fists clench on the mattress, the shocks of his orgasm torturing his body.

Wonwoo detaches his hips away from Seungcheol’s mouth, letting the man breathe and spew a string of moans and curses.

“Princess, please, s-slow down! You’re- ah, fuck!” He whines loudly, tears stinging his eyes.

“She won’t stop until she has had her fill, baby boy.” Wonwoo digs his nails in Seungcheol’s wrists, “And don’t even try to stop her. Am I clear?”

“Shit- Yes, Sir.”

You rhythmically bounce your hips on top of his dick, your inner thighs beginning to burn from exhaustion and a thick, milky ring forms around your entrance. You can feel your own climax inch closer and closer, the pattern of your movements growing sloppier by the second.

“S-Sir I’m gonna cum, God I’m so close!” You cry out and plant your palms on the toned pair of pecs underneath you.

“Go on, sunshine. You earned this orgasm all on your own, you and your capable pussy.” Wonwoo stares at you with hungry eyes, watching you fall apart on the blond man’s cock.

Your eyes nearly roll in the back of your skull when you finally cum and you would be lying if you said it isn’t one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. You’re certain your brain has stopped working and you probably look like a lust-crazed animal.

“That’s it, sunshine. Ride it all out.” The dark haired man presses a kiss on the column of your neck, while Seungcheol is writhing and shaking under the two of you.

“I’m so….full.” You sigh in satisfaction and you feel the meaty legs around your lower back relaxing around you and plopping down on the bed. You carefully lift yourself off his lap and let out a long drawn moan when a sticky trail of cum runs down your thigh.

“God, I’m so spent.” Seungcheol groans, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Already? That’s too bad.” Wonwoo scoffs and flips his boyfriend face down on the sheets. “Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”

“And I thought you had completely forgotten.” Seungcheol grins and bumps his ass directly on Wonwoo’s hardened dick. “Come on, don’t you want to fuck my ass already?”

You sit back on the headboard, your fingers ghosting over your chest and clit, your gaze entirely focused on your boyfriends.

“We even have an audience, pretty boy. I think you should hurry up and stick it in.”

Wonwoo chuckles as he lines up his cock and slowly pushes in, until he’s balls deep.

“Enjoy the show, sunshine.”

The tall man grips Seungcheol’s waist and begins thrusting slowly inside him, grunting at the tight sensation around his cock. 

“How are you still tight after sitting on that monstrosity for so long?”

“Can’t betray my secrets like that.” The blond man sends a wink towards you.

“Wonu, go faster.” You say with a demanding tone, your fingers working circles on your clit.

“You heard the princess - Put your back into it, pretty boy.” 

“Damn you both, fucking brats.” Wonwoo uses one hand to fist Seungcheol’s hair and keep his head down, now towering over him. He pistons his hips against his boyfriend’s ass hard enough to make it bounce repeatedly, smacking noises filling the room.

“Fuck - That’s what I’m t-talking about.” Seungcheol grips the sheets, lips parted open and moans spilling freely.

Your whines match your boyfriend’s moans, your hands working out your pussy at the same speed Wonwoo is thrusting. Two of your digits are covered in the cum left inside you from previously riding Seungcheol, acting as the perfect lube.

“Ass made in Heaven, damnit,” Wonwoo catches his bottom lip with his teeth, “Made to be railed by none other than me.”

“My toys would like to disagree.” Seungcheol half moans and the snarky comment earns him a slap on the ass, forcing him to whimper.

“The only noises I want to hear from you are whimpers and moans, you whore.” 

Wonwoo gets rougher with his thrusts, his hand pulling Seungcheol’s hair by the roots, lifting his head to make him face you. “Now, I want you to look at her while I’m fucking you stupid and give her the most cunt-watering expression you have.”

“Y-Yes, Sir.” Seungcheol breathes out, a fresh layer of sweat adorning his body.

Wonwoo delivers full-bodied thrusts, pulling and pushing his cock until the tip is barely inside and then fully sheathed again, knocking the air out of Seungcheol’s lungs. Salty tears cascade his cheeks, his body jerking forward with each movement.

“W-Wonu, you’re being too r-rough with him.” You comment shakily, two of your fingers rapidly plunging into your weeping cunt

“Rough, you say? Do you want me to slow down, baby boy?” Wonwoo asks his boyfriend, halting his hips.

“N-No, please don’t, please don’t stop, fuck!” Seungcheol pushes his ass back, chasing the stimulation.

“See, sunshine? Baby boy likes it rough and sloppy - and so do you.”

“I-”

“Keep your beautiful pussy stuffed until we’re done, will you?”

“Yes, yes Sir.” You nod furiously as you try to push back your orgasm.

“W-Won’t be too long until then,” Wonwoo groans loudly, “I’m almost there, fuck.”

“Please do it inside, please!” Seungcheol begs loudly, his body nearly giving out.

“Fuck, take it all, slut, all yours.” Wonwoo curses in his ear and finally topples over the edge, dumping a part of his load in his boyfriend’s hole. He takes out his cock, giving it a few more pumps to splatter the remnants of his climax all over Seungcheol’s ass. 

The sight before you makes your head spin with more arousal and your walls clench around your fingers, your own orgasm washing over you and sending you to cloud nine.

For a good few minutes, mixed heavy breaths are all the three of you can hear. It’s clear as daylight that all three of you are beyond tired and barely able to move.

“My body hurts everywhere.” Seungcheol whines in defeat.

“Mine too.” You agree.

“I’m afraid both of you need to get up,” Wonwoo stretches his back, “We need to change the sheets, they’re fucked.”

“So are we, dumbass.” The blond man grimaces in pain.

“I am fully aware,” Wonwoo tries to lift Seungcheol up and you right after, “Now get up, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“You haven’t even prepared a bath!” You pout your lips in protest.

“Really going through the princess act, don’t you?” He lifts you in bridal style and carries you to the bathroom, gently placing you on the edge of the tub. 

“As if you don’t like treating me like one.” You grin playfully.

“I would say this is Cheol’s duty, but I love you a little too much to not treat you like a princess.” He presses a kiss on your cheek and lets the water run. “Mind checking the water until I’m back with him?”

“Not at all.” You reply with a smile and he leaves the bathroom to return to the crime scene.

To his surprise, Wonwoo finds Seungcheol standing up and removing the dirty sheets, the skin on his ass and thighs stained from cum streaks.

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t let you do all the work now.” The blond man picks up the sheets and the used toy from the floor. As soon as he takes a couple more steps towards the door, he can feel his legs screaming in pain.

“Ow fuck!”

“Whoa, careful!” Wonwoo sweeps at the right moment and catches him before falling, “Can you please not be so fucking stubborn?”

“But-”

“No buts.” He throws Seungcheol’s arm over his shoulder, “I need to get your ass to the bathroom.”

“What are you doing? The bath is ready!” You yell from the corridor.

“Coming!” Wonwoo yells back.

“Well, at least now we’re even, right?” Seungcheol gives a silly wink towards the dark haired man.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Wonwoo snorts as he helps the older man out of the bedroom.

“After being fucked like this? Definitely.”

“Stupid and incorrigible.”

“And hot and rich and-”

Wonwoo cuts him off with a quick kiss on the lips, catching him off guard.

“Can you please shut the fuck up?”

Seungcheol flashes a toothy grin and runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Yes, Sir.”

[izurou]

“say ‘i’m the man!’”

eren’s voice carries down the hall, boisterous and loud as it easily reaches every corner of your small one bedroom apartment.

you furrow your brows and glance in the general direction of the sound, but decide to ignore it and continue on with breakfast—gathering a dollop of strawberry jam on your knife before spreading it onto a piece of toast.

you’d rather not know what the two of them are up to, eren and your two year old son that is. he’s supposed to be getting the kid ready for the day, but whether or not that’s actually happening is a different story.

“i’m da man!” his little voice repeats the sentence—not quite as powerful as his dad, but still loud enough to find your ears.

“louder!” eren shouts, and you immediately drop what you’re doing to head towards them.

your slippers scuff against the floor as you shuffle down the hall, following the source of sound until it leads you just outside the bathroom door. you nudge it with your foot, causing it to creep open and reveal the duo—your son, who’s standing on the counter, and eren, who—at the very least, is holding onto him.

“hi,” eren grins, prompting his mini me to do the same. you note the atrocious man bun, well, little man bun your son is sporting—hair haphazardly pulled together at the back of his head.

eren gestures to him, pride flooding his features as he mumbles, “he’s the man.”

“oh yeah?” a smile tugs at your own lips—every ounce of authority you waltzed over here with threatening to vanish into thin air as you look at your little family. nevertheless, someone has to enforce the rules around here. “well, tell the man that if he doesn’t keep it down, he’s not getting any chocolate milk with his breakfast.”

the two of them exchange a glance, an identical look of concern—real and genuine from your son, dramatic and over the top from your fiancé.

“should we go eat?” eren whispers to him, naively expecting him to follow in his footsteps again.

“yeah!” your son yells, excitement filling his eyes at the mention of his all time favourite beverage. he sets a new record every time he chugs a glass, and always gets a kick out of the little moustache he gets afterwards—loving that he looks like dad.

“buddy,” eren laughs as he lightly cups a hand over the toddler’s mouth. “shhh, quiet okay? you heard the boss, no chocolate milk if you yell.”

your son puts his hand over his own mouth and nods his head, prompting eren to lift him onto the floor and send him scurrying off into the kitchen—little feet padding against the hardwood.

“what the hell?” you say, keeping your voice low to ensure your baby doesn’t hear. “it’s 8 o’clock in the morning, why are you shouting?”

“hey, i’m instilling confidence in him,” he pouts, having heard you mention something along those lines once or twice—about how important it is for him to be proud of who he is.

“eren,” you sigh, because you know he means well—he wants nothing but the absolute best for your son too, which is why he more or less lets him do as he pleases.

he encourages him to jump around and dance to his favourite songs, and doesn’t care that he gets marker all over his face when he colours. he’ll give him bear paws before dinner, and hold his hand as the two of them run and giggle down the halls of your apartment building, because they’re just so happy to come home and see you after a trip to the grocery store.

eren lets your kid be a kid, and while that might put a scowl on the face of those around you, all that matters is that your son is always smiling.

“i know, just,” you pause, searching for the right words—the ones that won’t paint you as the bad cop you feel you’re being. though, you look into eren’s eyes, and see nothing but the purest love and adoration overflowing from his pupils, and you know—he thinks you’re doing perfect. “just, wait until after ten at least, okay? that old couple next door already has us on their shit list.”

“course, ‘m sorry baby,” he hums—cupping your cheek with a grin that’s a little too smug and out of place to be there right now. “but you know, you got us on that list, not him.”

“me?” you tilt your head, racking your brain for a time in which you might’ve pissed them off. did you forget to hold the door open? shit.

“mhmm,” he hums, moving his hand to the back of your head to hold you flush against him, and you look adorable—in the reflection of the mirror, with your little thinking face on and your cheek squished against him. he almost feels guilty.

“what did i—”

“nghhh eren, that feels soooo good,” he moans, quiet and sultry—changing the pitch of his voice slightly in an attempt to mimic your own.

“eren!” you gasp, planting your palms flat on his chest to push him away. “shut up, you’re the only reason i sound like that.”

“damn right,” he grins, pulling you right back in for a messy kiss—hands sneaking underneath your shirt and travelling up your—

crash.

“oh no,” you mumble, peeling yourself away from him once more. your son—who’s been alone and suspiciously quiet for the last five minutes, is now doing god knows what in the kitchen. “go check on your satan spawn, would you?”

“hey,” he frowns, swiftly backing out of the room and towards the noise, but not without putting on a quick smile to clarify, “our satan spawn.”

you roll your eyes, but still feel the corners of your lips tug upwards. eren is far from perfect, but he’s pretty good at keeping a smile on your face too.

[disneyprincemuke]

bother figures * fem!driver

being the designated baby sister of the grid by default is never as easy as you think it would be

pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver

warnings: ugh annoying men

notes: this is hardly funny but like i've had to take inspiration from my bother-less life rn so i'm like rly going through it rn LMFAO and it's almost 5am here but as far as i'm concerned, it is night time somewhere so teCHNICALLY i'm not late to an update!

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

in the almost empty room, she sits in the corner seat as she taps away on her phone a message to reply to her siblings' group chat. she had arrived early for the driver's briefing and decided to take solace in the corner with a cup of hot chocolate.

she was enjoying the peace and serenity with the soft chatter in the background as she tried to lock herself in for the race weekend. that was until she felt a presence looming behind her with an aura she couldn't possibly ignore.

she slowly lifts her head up with a mean glare. she turns her head and meets max's blue eyes and sly grin. "what'cha doin'?"

she puts her phone on her lap as a scowl replaces her dead expression. "what do you want?"

"what are you doing?"

"does it hurt you when you see me and like... not do anything to annoy me?"

"yes, actually. i like talking to you."

"i just wanted to talk to ciara."

"now you can talk to me."

"but i don't really feel like doing that."

"why not? i'm here in front of you and not behind a phone screen. where's ciara?" he looks around, then at her with a beaming smile. "oh, would you look at that? not here."

"because she isn't an f1 driver."

"still not here to talk to you and provide you the joys of interacting with somebody face to face."

"max."

"(y/n)."

"times like these i remember you've got a younger sister."

"what's that got to do with anything?"

"you've mastered the practice of being annoying growing up, obviously. you're such a pro at it."

"how can you say that?" max cries, hand on his chest to feign hurt over her words. "i'm not annoying. please take that back!"

"you realise you made me stop my conversation with my lovely sisters because you saw me sitting alone."

max reaches out and pinches her cheek, grinning when blood rushes to her cheeks. "you were just looking a little lonely. just wanted to make you feel a little accommodated to, that's all."

she stares at him, lips pressed together. "okay, that's actually pretty sweet. i kinda feel bad now.”

“and you should!” max frowns, folding his arms over his chest. he leans back into his seat and rests one leg over the other. “you’re mean, you know?”

“i’m an oldest sister.”

“i’m an oldest brother.”

“i have three younger siblings that made me wanna shave my head bald.”

“that’s kinda crazy.”

“i know,” she sighs tiredly. but she smiles slightly. “but it’s kinda nice. with oscar and logan taking over those responsibilities growing up, we never had a moment of boredom at home.”

“cute!” max smiles. “if i lived with you growing up, you might’ve actually run away for good.”

“i could run away for good now if you’d like.”

“seb wouldn’t like that.”

“you’d have to deal with it. i’ll leave a note on my team’s fridge with your name on it.”

“you need to put the reason underneath. if not, your team will think you’re just naming the most handsomest driver on the grid,” max shakes his head in disappointment. “don’t wanna give off the wrong idea, you know?”

“if you say ‘handsomest’, it doesn’t need a ‘most’ before it,” she says, lips parted slightly at the atrocious grammar. if there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s most definitely the reigning world champion making simply grammar mistakes. “you should get more sleep.”

“i do! i slept like 10 hours last night!”

“somehow i find that hard to believe with the bags under your eyes.”

“what are you two bickering about?” a hand lands itself on the back of her chair. carlos stands next to her with one hand on his hip. “i could hear you from the hallways.”

“damn, you should really keep it down, max,” she chuckles, sending him a shocked look before she clasps her hands together and rests it on her stomach. “you’re too loud.”

“i’m sure he meant you. you like… swallowed a mic as a kid,” max scoffs. he looks up at carlos. “tell me she was louder than me.”

carlos sighs. “you were loud on the same level, i believe.”

"see? i told you."

"you're moving in with logan?" alex's jaw drops, the tiktok video no his phone left to play on repeat as the younger girl dropped the news that logan's moving into her apartment. "mate, what?"

she looks up at him with a confused stare. "what?"

"i thought you said you didn't want people talking about you like that?" alex asks, raising an eyebrow. "people will definitely talk if you move in with a man."

she presses her lips together. "you've got a point, i suppose. but logan's my best friend. we've been talking about moving in together forever! since i was 15!"

"i'm just looking out for you, kid. you should really think this through," alex sighs as he slumps his shoulders. of course, he knows just how close she and logan are on a day-to-day basis. but people tend to be quite ruthless with women and he just can't see this going any other way. "you know how people are."

she sighs, shaking her head. "i don't know. i just don't think people would pay attention to that aspect of my life. i still deserve to make decisions that wouldn't be at risk of scrutiny, right?"

she takes a step forward towards alex. she hadn't exactly thought of the public implications that this would cause her. all she knew was that they'd talked about this for years and were ecstatic when logan shyly brought up their conversation from years ago.

"that's the basic that we all hope for," alex frowns. "but you know how people are. you've seen how they treat you just being here. imagine the chaos."

"maybe i'll just keep it under wraps and hope for the best," she suggests with a small smile on her face. "that could work, right? i don't wanna have to put down something i spent forever talking about."

"if you can keep it under wraps, i applaud you," alex smiles, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "and i thought you've had enough of men - why are you still moving in with one?"

"to save money, really," she smiles. "and with kidnapper and stubby at home... i think living with another person is best."

"but doesn't logan like dogs more?"

"yeah, but kidnapper's taken a very weird liking to him. he doesn't wanna admit, but i know logan really likes kidnapper a lot."

"typical logan, really."

"you'd be surprised how much feelings that loser's holding in."

"oh?" alex smiles mischievously. "tell me more?"

"nice try," she scoffs with an eye roll. "i'm not spilling the beans about logan's love life. that's lore you've got to unlock the longer you race with him. just hope he's feeling friendly enough to share, yes?"

"so true," alex frowns. "but what if he's not friendly enough? means you are my only source for material to piss him off with. so, 'fess up!"

"can't betray my best friend like that, i fear," she frowns. though, her smile grows slowly. "but i can be bribed."

a scowl carves her face as she stares at the roll-in whiteboard with pictures held up against it with sesame street magnets. she sinks into the plastic chair she's given and tilts her head at the men gathered around her.

"and that's why i think you should get the same car as me," lando says simply, recapping the marker in his hands. he turns to her with a proud smile after his presentation.

her lips part. "so that we can matchy and..."

"and fuel rumours," lando repeats. "i'm involved in too little drama this year. it's always 'no wins' this, and 'no podiums' that... i want more."

"that's not a very good argument," she answers slowly, confusion contorting her face that almost makes alex laugh. "i said that i want an easy car, not a supercar. i've made that clear to almost everyone on the grid, yes?"

"yeah, but like," lando whines, throwing his head back as he stomps a foot into the ground. "seriously? you can't do this one thing for me? i'm asking you a favour!"

"to spend big money on a supercar i have to drive like it's made of glass!" she laughs dryly, hands thrown in the air in disbelief. she looks around at the men that have forcefully pulled her out of her garage and put her in this private room, in this plastic chair when she could've been taking a power nap. "is this what i'm here for? you lot are trying to convince me to finally purchase a car?"

"as per logan's request," alex shrugs, sipping on his juice box. "he said you've been putting it off all year. the season's about to end."

"and you listened to that nonce?" she cries, pinching the bridge of her nose. "you guys are absolutely unbelievable. i can't believe i'm wasting my time here!"

george, sitting next to her with a picture in hand, points at the whiteboard timidly. "i really put in a lot of thought about a car you should get," he says softly, looking slightly disappointed that she's caught on a lot faster than they predicted. "can i at least show it to you? i don't have to present."

"aw, george," she sighs, shaking her head. "it's not another supercar, is it?"

"it's not, i promise!" he perks up with a small smile on his face. he turns to lando with a small scowl. "only lando did this presentation with his best interests in mind. alex and i took the task seriously - just hear us out!"

she looks between george and alex, contemplating if the brit is telling the truth. instead of getting up like she had initially planned, she leans back into her seat. "fine. if it's anything like lando's, i'm leaving immediately. i don't care who has yet to present."

"but this ferrari looks so pretty," charles frowns, turning the picture in his hand to show it to her. "it's matte black and all. i thought we could match."

"that is also a supercar."

"he's presenting last, so i really don't care what he says," george mutters, shoving lando away from the whiteboard. he picks up a big bird magnet and pastes his picture between lando and max's proposal. "so, i think you should get this super cute toyota car."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts

[infamous-if]

I must say this first. Having your heart broke does not excuse mental abuse. What Seven is doing to mc is atrocious, I do not understand the community fans love for Seven. Deliberately using words, actions, lyrics to inflict pain because they are hurting is cruel an inexcusable. It also feels like they use Alina as a tool.

G is an alcoholic egotistical rockstar. B is an asshole pure and simple. E and S feel like background characters and kind of dull and lifeless. O is okay but still not interesting enough to pursue to me. V is not my preference. Oh, and A. Forgot A because sadly they seem forgettable. I can hope for single route maybe?

Interesting story, fun and entertaining, but I mean no offense or attack to you but you write better friends and side characters than love interests.

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER: The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

CHAPTER ONE:

The lights somehow made you glow in Kento Nanmi's eyes. Or maybe it was just you, and your effortless ability to draw everyone's eyes on you. You stood atop a table dancing with Satoru wildly, arms flailing and your body rolling along to the rhythmic pounding of the bass. Pink and blue lights stuck to you and everyone in the nightclub's eyes.

"Stare any harder, Kento; lasers might shoot from your eyes," Suguru smirked as he spoke.

"I don't know what you mean, Suguru," Kento said curtly before taking a swig of his drink.

"Don't worry, I won't tell."

"There is nothing to tell."

"Do you want me to schedule a date with you and Yuki?" 

"Yuki?" Kento coughed a drop of his drink catching in his throat.

"Your eyes have been locked on her since she got on the table with her friend." The blonde man almost laughed in his face from pure shock.

"Who wouldn't stare with her atrocious dancing, almost like a headless chicken. Either way, stop trying to set me up; I've sworn off dating, remember?"

"How could we ever forget." Satoru chimed in, sliding next to Suguru, sweat making his blue work shirt cling to his body tightly, "One bad kiss in University and suddenly, any romantic opportunity was thrown out the window with you."

That was the washed-down version of what happened to Kento, but his work colleagues didn't need to know about how he basically got verbally beaten by a girl cause he wasn't ready to lose his V-Card in a one-night stand.

"Oh, all he needs to do is put himself out there more," Yuki said, forcing herself into this embarrassingly uncomfortable conversation. "You are gonna die a virgin if you keep this up."

"Better to die a virgin than known as a whore."

"Hey! I am not a whore." Satoru exclaimed. 

"Yet somehow you knew Kento was talking about you." Yuki quipped back.

"Where is…" Suguru’s voice trailed off when he realized he had forgotten your name.

“Y/N?” Kento helped Suguru find the name.

"Yes," the long-haired man snapped his fingers, "Where is Y/N? She is going to miss the cake."

"Cake?" Kento grumbled. "You didn't say there was going to be cake, Satoru. You promised there wouldn't be cake."

"Okay, I lied." Satoru tried to conceal a smile

Kento raised to his feet, ready to leave before the birthday parade showed up with cake, probably with something stupid on its icing, and a club screaming happy birthday drunkenly. "But think of it like a welcome cake, too. For Y/N, Yuki wanted her to get to know all of us before her first day in the department on Monday. And you two haven't spoken to her since she first introduced herself." Satoru pointed at Suguru and Kento.

"You are the one who stole her away to do the “Six Devil Shots” and then to the dance floor," Suguru said.

"Or you too could have come and danced with us." You cut in, a cake and candles in hand. "I stole this out of the kitchen."

"You said you were going to the bathroom." Yuki laughed.

"I did, and then I stole the cake."

"Unbelievable," Satoru said. "It was supposed to be a big thing for Nanami." Satoru pouted slightly at the prospects of not being able to embarrass his coworker. 

"Well, Mr. Nanami doesn't seem like the type to enjoy drunk people sing-screaming at him, much less their attention solely on him." You slid your way onto Nanami's side, placing the cake in front of him and the three and five candles in its center. "You have a lighter, right?" You whispered into Kento's ear. He only nodded, letting out a nervous breath before pulling it out and handing it to you.

The group sang Happy Birthday as loudly as they could over the blasting music that played behind them. Giving up after the first verse, Kento blew out his candles.

Thirty-five years old as of today, and he was no better than a teenage boy, semi-hard because you whispered in his ear and stole a cake so he could avoid attention. Sometimes, Nanami felt he was missing out on what Yuki, Satoru, and Suguru had. Some imaginary certificate to adulthood, the type that could only be won through cashing in his V-Card, but then again, would losing it to a stranger make him catch up with others his age? He knew he wasn’t the only virgin at his age, but in situations where a pretty girl flirts with him, and he wants to flirt back, something always manages to catch his tongue. The voice in the back of his head probably reminds him that she wants something from him that Kento knows he won’t be able to give her. So he doesn’t flirt anymore. And as fast as the hard-on came, it was gone, along with any idea of ever entertaining the idea that you would ever want him.

Just because a woman is nice to you doesn't mean you get hard. Kento reprimanded himself in his head.

"Okay, enjoy the cake; I'm heading home now," Kento shouted over the music. "I have to catch the last train."

Yuki and Gojo booed them loudly while Geto threw him a look that screamed, "You are going to leave me with these idiots?"

"So do I." You said, "Mind walking with me?" you said, realizing what time it was.

Kento wanted so badly to say, "Yes, I mind. The whole reason I am taking the train and not a taxi later is to avoid you." but he didn't. He only shook his head and grabbed his coat.

"I'll send you the money for my bill when I get home, Satoru," you said, grabbing your coat. 

"Don't worry about it," Kento said as he placed down a wad of cash before putting a hand over your shoulder, hovering slightly, "You ready?"

You only nodded, ignoring the head in your voice that swooned a little at the simple act of covering your bill. You were tipsy; that's why your delusions ran a little wild.

You made a mental note to never do shots with Satoru again as you slowly made your way through the dancing crowd and out of the nightclub, Kento's hand still on your shoulder.

***

The night air was surprisingly calm for the summer, making you shiver a little as you turned into Kento, keeping his body close to yours under the stars and in a quiet street.

“How was your birthday?” You asked, wanting to break the silence that seemed to fall upon the two of you.

“It was good.” He said curtly, “I don’t really have experience with celebrations to do with me.”

“You don’t celebrate your birthday?” You asked, even though it wasn’t all that surprising.

“What counts as celebrating?” 

“Hmmm, something fun, I guess.” You shrugged.

“Well, it’s my first time going to a nightclub to celebrate.” A small smile decorated his face, “I usually cook a nice dinner for myself or go to a fancy restaurant that I have been saving up on.”

“What about everyone else?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you are telling me this is the first time Satoru has dragged you out for your birthday?”

“The first time since University, yes.” Kento didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t pry, letting a comfortable silence fall upon you two. As you turned the corner, you guys made your way to the train tracks, empty and void of any life other than the three people on the other side of the tracks. 

Just like before, the train ride was quiet. A few people were on the train, but you managed to snag seats together. You don’t know when it happened, but you let yourself drift to sleep, leaving Kento alone to his thoughts.

Each lurch of the cart when the train stopped and started made you curl into the man even more until your body leaned against him completely. 

It was only when his stop approached that Kento realized he didn’t know where you lived or whether you missed your stop. A slight panic filled him, and he shook a fully asleep you back to consciousness. 

“Y/N. Y/N.” He half whispered into your ear. Only to be met with soft groans. He shook you a little harder this time, and that’s when your eyes fluttered open. Still half asleep, though, you barely comprehend what he was saying, mindlessly grabbing his hand and following him as he stepped off the train.

Alcohol was still dancing in your brain; you nodded your head in agreement and followed him to his apartment…

Preview...

Nanami knew he wouldn’t last long, but as he sunk into you, the idea of even holding in the waves of pleasure that drowned him was impossible.

TAG LIST: @marikuchanxo @sukunasstomachtongue @getosgirlfailure @allysunny @tojicvmslut @typefeisu @aiyaaayei @villsophie @sillysillygoofygoose @jinleft @rivversin @haikioo @destinyblue-jjk @ramonathinks @actuallysaiyan @actuallysaiyan @melisuh123

CHAPTER TWO UPLOADED

[teenytinyecho]

Yandere! Cheerleader and Football Player Headcanons

Pairing: F! OC x GN! Reader x M! OC

Warnings: violence, weird behaviors in general

A/N: hello all! This is a more in depth headcanons about my yandere couple, Lana and Jake! I will open request and asks about them after posting this so please send anything you want for me to answer :)

Lana Seymour

BACKGROUND

‌Lana came from a rich and powerful family, they're considered new money. Her father's tech business started to gain momentum when she's only five years old. Because of this she rarely sees her father home.

‌Her mother was a stay at home mom before the business went successful. But after that, she got busy with charities and being a socialite—essentially helping to widen her father's connection.

‌Lana was already a spoiled child from the beginning, usually dictating around the house on what others should do if her parents aren't home. She dislikes slow people, and even worse those who deny her things that she wanted. With one phone call to her parents she could fire anyone working in the house. Why would Lana even lie to her parents about the maid stealing her jewelries anyway?

‌With her parents becoming more absent and only trusting her words, Lana learns to be more cunning and only striking when she really needs too. Although sometimes setbacks like her impatience and ego can ruin her plan.

‌The first time she met you was when she got grouped in with a bunch of nobodies for a group project. Others try to get her attention by flattering her. And you did too! But you only complemented her hair once and that's it. You continued to try to get work done while others were busy kissing her ass, and she likes that just a little bit.

‌You were nice but cordial, never really getting to close to her and keeping a distance. Lana doesn't know why because you're so boring and bland! You're literally wearing an atrocious outfit choice that could make her gag if her friends are wearing it. But she doesn't really mind it on you, really she thinks it suits you.

‌The project in Lana's mind went well (only because she offered to help since only you and her were the ones she thinks are capable of doing it) and after you all present your work, you actually thanked her! By giving her...a small, ugly keychain.

‌Really, Lana sometimes can't help control her faces and she did make a disgusted one seeing the ugly clay dog in her hand. But when you said that you made it yourself and only for her? That made Lana go crazy to say the least.

‌Never in her life did she received something handmade. Only the luxurious and high-end items gifted from her friends and family. And when you gave her this? Her heart skipped a beat, her hands turned sweaty, and her cheeks started to get warm. That's when she knew that you were something special to her.

PERSONALITY

‌Like I've said before, Lana is more or less like Regina George from Mean Girls. I would say that the difference between Lana and Regina is Lana I would say is more of a social butterfly. Sure she's only talking to the people she thinks are worthy of her time but she likes to keep them close if she ever needs them. Only a few people actually had a bad time with her and that's because she fiercely wants to keep her perfect reputation.

‌A bit of a control freak. Everything needs to fit her standards. She already has lots of control since she was young and no one ever denied her of anything so she needs to control every aspects of her life. And maye yours.

‌She's very hardworking for her passion. She lead her cheerleading team to many wins and trophies. She's also very serious about school and is already set up to enter one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Of course, you're coming with her if you even show her an ounce of interest to her or Jake.

‌She's very aware that people are only trying to use her (except for you and Jake) and that's why she sometimes tends to think other people are not that serious for her. Sure, she'll be friendly towards one girl but Lana honestly doesn't really care enough to know anything besides her name. Any information will be thrown out of her mind after the girl goes away anyway.

TENDENCIES

‌She's very nice and touchy with you, but not to the point of discomfort. She might touch your face or hair a bit longer than usual but she'll back away if she notices any suspicion on your face.

‌Already knows all of your information. Where you live, your phone number, your phone password, likes and dislikes—everything she needs to know for the future where the three of you lives happy together.

‌She will always keep an eye for you. Especially pesky people she deems not worthy of your time. Her work's is slightly cut when she realized you never really had a best friend in school, so that made her really happy.

‌When you're closer, Lana will try to get to sleepover at your place. She'll whine and pout cutely and tries to even offer you to stay at her house on the weekends. She's just trying to expand her collection of trinkets from you. So far, the most precious thing she owns is your favorite shirt that you forgot when you're changing from gym class. She likes to wear it with a smile on her face when she's at home, working on her homework.

‌Overall this girl is in love and obsessed with you, but she is trying to be respectful while removing any harm from you from a distance.

Jake Savile

BACKGROUND

‌Jake's family is old money. They own many hotel chains that existed before his mother was even alive. His family dynamics is not perfect, he knows his mother and father only married for business so he doesn't really expects them to love him like a normal parent does.

‌That doesn't make him to act spoiled though. He's trained to hold the family's reputation since he was young, never acting up or humiliating his family name. He's a blank doll that only smiles politely when meeting other esteemed families.

‌He does like watching interesting things. Observing his parents fighting, his cousins bullying a maid, anything that catches his attention he will watch with a hard stare.

‌He's basically a freak that likes to observe things that catch his interest, and when someone catches him in the act—he'll only smile and walk away like nothing happened. Who's going to believe that Mrs. Savile's youngest son was only watching when his cousin pushed someone off the stairs?

‌Once he got into high school, he felt a little free than he is at home. He likes to do sports so he joined the football team. Although his parents were apprehensive at first, that quickly changed when he started to get more wins for the school and people in town started to talk more about him.

‌He started to notice you after he dated Lana in freshmen year. She'll tell him stories about you that might freak any normal person, but he'll only nod and listen with an interested gaze. He's curios to say the least the more Lana talks about you and the chance came when he's faced with you when you're interviewing him for the school newspapers.

‌He was...disappointed to say the least. You were the one Lana's been boasting about? You, who look so boring that you might blend with a crowd seamlessly. He hides his disappointment with a polite smile as you asked him questions about the state championship that the school won.

‌You were nice and that's about it. Nothing really made him interested in you. But he had to admit he saw a few things that perked up his attention every now and then.

‌He really thought you're only acting nice to Lana because you wanted to use her. But that quickly changed when he saw you confronting one of the members of your club about asking inappropriate questions to Lana.

‌Jake had a joint interview with Lana so you had a plus one to help record the interview and also ask questions. He lets out a small scoff when he saw who's sitting besides you, he knows the boy had issues with Lana so he's not surprised when he started asking inappropriate questions not even about the competition that they've won.

‌He noticed your laid back nature turned more tense the more he asked questions. And after the interview was done, Jake was grabbing his bag from the locker room when he stumbled upon the two of you in a heated argument.

‌He's surprised at how you defended Lana strongly. He thought you're only tolerating her to be honest, but he quickly changed his mind when he saw you snap at the boy and slamming your locker shut. With one last glare, he saw you walking away with muttered curses.

‌He might stay with you for a while. Maybe Lana did have a point about you being special. But Jake's going to take this slow and he'll be sure to observe you all the time to make up his mind.

PERSONALITY

‌Jake is actually a nice to everyone. He's basically Lana without the mindset of everyone is beneath them. He's trained to keep his family's reputation so he's learned to be polite and play nice to everyone.

‌More calm and controlled than Lana is, but he can get angry or annoyed by people who are kissing his ass. He knows straight away if people are trying to get close to him to use him, but sometimes he'll let them go on for a while to see if something interesting happens.

‌Very caring and protective about the people he loves. Lana is currently number one in his list (you're slowly getting on top though) but he knows Lana can handle problems by herself so he's usually hanging around in the background as support.

‌Has a more nastier side than Lana is. He's from old money with family members backstabbing anyone to get ahead of each other. He's learned this from his parents and siblings, watching from the side and taking notes on how he can do it better. If he has any pesky problems, especially people, he has connections and the money to make it all disappear.

TENDENCIES

‌He'll always know what's going on in your life. You'd never see him for three days straight and then he's asking your trip to the mall. And when you asked how'd he know about it, he'll just shrug and smile before giving you a lie.

‌Likes to help you with a lot of things. He'll offer you to carry your bag after school when you're hanging out, maybe even sneak a peek on what's inside the bag. He's curious and likes to admire the trinkets on your bag like keychains and pins. Maybe he'll even buy the three of you something to match together.

‌Very motherly? He likes to take care of you and make sure you're staying healthy. Buys you snacks and drinks, maybe even carrying extra medicines for you. He will glare at you and poke your sides when you skip a meal.

‌No one will know he's obsessed with you because he's really good at pretending. But the mask will crack every now and then, especially when you're getting too close to someone. He knows you don't have any friends, so why are you being touchy with someone he's never seen you interact with?

‌Rest assured he will try to intimidate anyone. He'll never get his own hands dirty on his first try though. Like I've said he has connections and he will use it first, and when that's not working? That's when he takes off his goody two shoes mask and just go wild.

[jellyfishsthings]

WARNINGS: sorry this is quite small , so they do have a reunion but I have kind of left their relationship as it was. Angry reader, lovestruck Five. Reader can read minds and direct thoughts...

part 1, part 3

He was laying in stacks of hay. His mind was spinning and a memory resurfaced behind his eyes.

Soft fingers trailed his arms. Deep watchful eyes stared back at him and their foreheads touched. The only thing that covered them was a light gray sheet. His arms were tightly wound around her, his hands either buried in her hair or trailing the arch of her back. They were talking about everything and nothing. She could talk his ears off and he wouldn't care. The sun rays warmed their skins and Five watched as the sunlight adored his wife.

The memory was gone as fast as it appeared to him. The happiness that flowed through his veins left a sour taste in his body. He could hear his siblings arguing around him. He could feel the blood staining his hands hours later after he fled the commission… again. Only this time he took the board with him.

Hoards of assassins appeared in front of the small shed they hid, trying to form some kind of plan. Was she out there?

His hands shook as he tried to keep up his cold uninterested facade. Trying to seem distant when in reality he was frightened to his core. The Handler was standing opposite of him. Sporting that creepy, horrible smile that put him on edge. Next to her is standing Lila, Diego's crazy friend from the asylum. And on the other side, a young woman sat kneeling on the ground. Her hair was cut short just above her shoulders, not in their usual length. Her cheeks were hollow and her eyes red, hunted in a faraway look. His wife, his beautiful, strong wife, sat with her hands shackled barely sparing him a glance.

“I believe that you remember her, Five.”

Diego looked at him dazzled, trying to place the pieces of the puzzle together. But Five only had eyes for her.

“She hasn't been of any use to us.”

Her words barely registered to him. She looked broken and yet strong. She held her head high, proudly showing the bruises that adorned her beautiful face. He could feel his heart shatter in his chest because somewhere deep down he knew that he was the reason for the bruises, of the broken look in her eyes. He wanted to destroy the Handler and anyone else who dared to lay a finger on her. Don't.

Her soft voice echoed in his head. She had read his thoughts and probably anyone else's thoughts in the vicinity. Her plan formed into his head and they fell into their familiar rhythm. But something was different. Nothing would be the same. Because even if by law she was his and him hers…. he had lost her, simply as that. Rather was when Vanya showed she was glowing all around and everyone was stunned. But not her, she took the opportunity and struck the Handler behind the neck while rushing towards him and his brother. He worked quickly on her bindings, setting her free. She smiled at him and the breath was cleaned out of him.

That was when she slapped him.

“What the hell?”

She quickly grabbed rocks close to her and started throwing them at him.

“Would you stop? I swear to God-”

“You pretentious fuck. How could you? You, hypocrite. Why must you always plague me?”

“I'm sorry. Please just-”

“He is sorry, he says. Do you ever mean what comes out of your atrocious mouth?”

“Please, sweetheart. Can you -”

“What was that? Huh? You have the audacity to talk to me? After everything you have done?”

Five felt a weird mix of love and irritation. He had missed her. And her yelling at him was a familiar scene. There was something comforting to it, besides the rocks that he dogged. He could hear the faint sound of his brother laughing somewhere behind him as he watched the presumable love of Five's life, giving him an earful.

Suddenly, everything was put to a stop as a scream sounded, and they ran towards the barn, where Lila was fighting with his siblings. And just as he was about to put an end to it, she grabbed the black lathered briefcase, their one way out of this hellhole, and disappeared into a vibrant bright blue light. He quickly grabbed hold of each of his family, and while they argued around him, he drew on his powers, reading himself and the others along him into another time jump. He looked at his wife's face and her eyes and found the remaining strength he needed to gather. Her terrified look was the last thing he saw as blinding light engulfed them. Everything could go wrong, but as long as he was by his side, he felt invincible.

words: 700 - something

[lowkeyremi]

"Dada fart!" Your daughter, Miu, who happens to be a three year old that thinks anything with farts or butts is funny, giggles while pinching her little nose with her index finger and thumb.

"Rintaro that smells atrocious! Go to the bathroom!!" Within a few seconds Mui parrrots, "Dada troshus!"

There's a cat-like grin gracing his sharp face. Leave it to him to be devious and handsome at the same time.

"What are you guys talking about? I don't smell anything." It physically pains you how childish he is. Both you and Mui smell that rancid smell, he can't seriously be saying he doesn't smell anything.

"Rintaro. Don't pretend like you don't smell that." It takes extreme patience for you not to curse right now. Mui doesn't need to be taught language like that, especially not while she's only lived three little years on this earth.

"Dada smell like a stunk!" You really do wish you could find this whole thing funny like Mui does, but it smells absolutely awful.

"You mean a skunk?" She nods rapidly.

Rintaro being ever the childish man he is, runs right past you and sprays something on your clothes.

Fart. Spray. He was pranking you, and now he just sprayed you with fucking fart spray.

"RINTARO YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SH- SHIITAKE." If you thought the smell was bad from afar it's even worse up close. You curse whoever has made that horrible stuff, hoping they get a first class ticket to hell.

"Mama fart!" Since Mui hadn't noticed the fart spray she just thinks you "farted" along with her father.

"No- I mean- Dada has a spray that smells like farts." A mischievous sparkle glistens in her eyes, just like it does when Rintaro has a bad idea.

"If little kids use it though, it might burn." You make up completely on the spot. Hey if it works it works.

"I no wanna get burnded." The way she pronounces burned is absolutely adorable.

"Sorry babe." Rintaro's right behind you. He's sincere but that crooked smile on his face pisses you off. Before he can even grasp what happens you snatch the spray from his hand and start spraying like crazy.

"HOLY SHIT- that ugh- DAMN THAT SMELLS LIKE A BAG OF ASS!" His eyes widen, as do yours, once he realizes what he just said in front of his daughter.

"Bag of ass????" Sweet little Mui repeats.

"That's a no no word, Honey." She too widens her eyes. Rintaro instantly groans knowing what that means.

"Dada give Mui three paper moneys for bad words." The man in question sighs as he pulls out his wallet.

[khuzena]

Waiting room

Pairing: Dr ratio, Aventurine, Sunday x g/n!reader

Summary: You can love, get on your knees and wait on a miracle. There are things that are for you and aren't for you, you should know. It's for the better.

Cw. Heavy angst, no comfort, 1% fluff, manipulative men, toxic relationships, insecurities, death?, unrequited love, breakups, them neglecting you cos…, no closure, what is love?

A/n: hi, time to make you cry. I'm getting writer's block as I'm making a new novel!! It has the ‘your guardian angel’ fics plot but w my characters. 🥳

Dr ratio

He's a simple man, really.

Drown yourself in endless textbooks, advanced literature and neglect every other thing.

Like his thirst for knowledge; love is endless, affection is abundant.

Is what you initially thought.

It has been the 4th time this week that he turned down your requests, “Dear, you know I have no time for that.”

He does not try to sugarcoat his words, he does not try to make his tone less harsh, “I don't have time for dates, such a waste of time.'' He says it like it is, he says it like it's true.

Your eyebrows creased, annoyed at his flippant attitude, “What do you mean waste of time?”

Veritas takes one glance at you, then back to his nonsense book. To him, it was useless wasting his breath on arguing with you.

“Veritas, you said we'll go, you promised.”

He is cruel, his words flinty. “I do not recall making any atrocious promises to you, are you perhaps going insane?”

Insane?

“Insane? Last week, you promised me.”

“I did not.”

“Yes you did.”

He scoffs, as if offended, “If I did, then I was not thinking straight. I have a thesis due tomorrow. A date can wait.”

Veritas is a man with priorities and out of all of them, it seems, you were not one of them. He'd rather his books kept him company, not you. It's obvious, his pursuit of knowledge was greater than loving you.

He lit his lamp, taking his pen and highlighting some paragraphs, what was so important with them? You could not help but come closer, skimming through the contents, it was just some theory some genius society member wrote.

“You're miserable,” it might've accidentally slipped out, but it was true; he is, in fact, the most miserable of all men.

Veritas rolled his eyes, pushing his reading glasses and annotating whatever statement was written. The candle light flickered when his heavy breaths fanned over it, not paying mind to whatever you say.

Your patience was thinning, how long was he planning to play this damned game?

“Veritas.”

You call out once.

“Veritas!”

Again, in anger.

“Veritas”

The last time, desperately.

He does not respond, he does not care. Yet your voice was ringing in his ears in an unpleasant way, “Is this about the date?”

You were taken aback by his curt reply, it wasn't just about the date. “Is that all? Do you think that's the only reason?”

“Hypothetically speaking, yes.”

“Cut the bullshit, veritas.”

Veritas glares at you, as if making a statement; a bullshit one at that. He does not have time for mindless topics, he's overworked, he's tired, he's unsatisfied.

For a moment, you have the urge to yell at him. This shallow bastard has done nothing but fool you with aureate words, he writes poetry about you and shows you off.

He loves you because you are all he has. He may be an asshole but he loves you the way he knows how to love you.

Tonight, however, you are done with his bullshit. You do not argue further, he is confused. When you leave this room with no more qualms, when you do not scream at him, he is bewildered.

“Where are you going?” It's strange that he noticed you for the first time. Only when you get dressed up and when he hears the keys jingle, does he notice every single detail.

You adjusted the cuffs of your blouser, “I'm staying at a friend's”

“Which one?”

“None of your business.”

Stunned, he drops his pen. Why are you acting so off? You're driving him insane.

“What do you mean none of my business? Stop acting so childish.”

That was your last straw, childish? Childish? The fucking audacity.

“You are more childish.”

“How so?”

“You— do I even have to explain it?”

Nothing could quell your frustration other than being away from him for the meantime, “Yes,” he loves you, he wants to know. But even if he does, he never learns; so much for a genius.

“You neglect me, you prioritise this,” it was tempting to crumple his papers, “—over me.” So you did.

He is indifferent. He does not understand how and why it hurts you. So he tries to understand it from a logical standpoint, “So you want to really go on that date?”

“I'm tired of asking”

Tired of begging him to treat you right, to love you like you want him to love you.

He stays quiet.

“I'm tired of begging for something so small.”

“You didn't have to destroy my goddamn book,” he seethed and pulled the book from your hands, too absorbed in the damage of the book he does not notice how much he has damaged you. Veritas is too blind to see you holding back tears despite wearing his glasses.

The force surprised you, “Is that thing much more important?”

“What?”

“Answer me Veritas Ratio.”

It was merely just a book, but it was precious. It was a rare one, it annoyed him to immeasurable depths when you crumpled it so recklessly.

He does not answer.

“I'm leaving,” he's not sure if leaving meant temporarily, he hopes it is. He hopes you come back again tomorrow night.

So he waits. Tomorrow came, but you did not come home.

Aventurine

He loves you, he really does.

His idea of love is adorning you with jewels, showering you with riches.

Too much that you suffocate, it hurts. You can't breathe, soulless eyes stare into yours.

It's when you realise, he's trapping you. Does he think you're stupid? What does he take you for?

“Darling! I got you a gift!”

The 22nd one this week… Aventurine makes haste and runs behind you, wearing the necklace on you, it looks… okay.

You look like a doll, his doll.

But you are not a doll, you are human.

And like all humans, we all wish to be loved and cherished as an equal.

“Do you like it?” It would be rude to say no, but it does not fit you. Sure it accentuates your neck, but it's too much.

“I…” you traced your finger over the gem, “I do.”

“Great! I'll get you another tomorrow!” It is tiring. As much as planets worth of gold and extravagant jewels excite you, you would rather be in his presence.

You do not recall the last day he's ever taken you out on a proper date, you do not recall any time where he's been open to you about his past because you know damn well his name could never just be ‘Aventurine’.

You were sitting on the couch, sipping tea with your eyes glued to your book. Before you knew it, soft lips grazed on your cheek.

“You're back earlier than expected,” he smiles as he pressed another kiss onto you, “I ditched the meeting, for you.”

Oh how you hate it when he does things in your name just to make you indebted to him. Aventurine loves you, but love is transactional.

“Is that so?” He nods, wrapping his arms around you. “I'll buy you something again, we have another business trip in Penacony.”

It makes you wonder, does he think gifts are the only thing that'll make you stay?

He could see the reluctance in your eyes, “Is something on your mind?”

You bit your lip, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

A deafening silence fills the room before he chuckles, he is everything but stupid. He knows, he knows you want to spend time with him, he knows you’d incinerate those gifts in a heartbeat just to trade even an hour spending time with him.

“Dear, I promise, next time,” he pressed light kisses on your exposed shoulder, but it isn’t enough: what truly is enough?

You want to push him away, with how ruthless he is with making empty promises so easily, “You said ‘next time’ last time.”

”I promise, I do.” Even he sounds unsure. You pick up on the hint of hesitation laced in his promises, he regrets it, but he thinks; he’s doing it for you, for the both of you.

“You said that too last month,” you scoff.

He tried to intertwine your fingers together yet to no avail, you rejected him, “Why are you acting up again?”

There’s only so many gifts can buy but he can never purchase the time lost that could’ve been spent in lazy mornings together yet he traded it all for credits. The second attempt, he forces a smile and even pulls a tiny ring for you, that gem you loved so much engraved in the centre. Words cannot express how much you despise these gifts because it was just a pathetic compensation for the neglect.

”Please, next month.” He took your hand in his and put the ring on your ring finger. “Okay?”

You cling to that possibility, to that sliver of hope when he is done with Penacony, he is relieved of his duties and he is finally free. That he no longer has to overcompensate for his absence and shower you with the time he’s lost.

You know next month won’t come, yet you are no different from a fool.

”Okay”

You wait upon endless tomorrows, two months have passed and none of his coworkers have any good news about his well-being. They’re sure he’s dead, but you still wait for that tomorrow where he is home to come.

Sunday

Love, what truly is love?

Is it when you praise your lover with endless ‘I love you’s?

Is it when you hold their hand and protect them for the impending doom to come?

or rather, is love just a fallacy built on a string of lies?

Sunday believes that he knows what’s best for you.

Before Sunday, you were allowed to make your own decisions.

Before Sunday, you actually had freedom.

The halovian swears he knows what’s best for you.

He makes sure everything you want or need, you get.

Sunday will kiss your tears away, even if he is the sole reason for them. ”It’s for your own good.” he says.

To strip you of freedom, to shackle you to him like a bird in a cage. His sweet kisses, his love, his everything; they’re all fucking poison. He does not hesitate to drown you in his poison if it means protecting you.

You cry out, “Sunday.” In desperate pleas.

But he will not listen, he’ll pretend he doesn’t hear anything.

He believes that if he gives you the taste of freedom, you’ll find a way to fly away from his grasp– he will not allow it. So he does what he’s best at, keeping you stuck to him.

”What do you want, dear?” He smiles at you like he’s never sinned.

You throw away the pathetic gifts he adorned you with, gold, diamonds and stones you could not name but they are not what you want, “I want to see my friends.”

”They’re no good, trust me.” Your friends once told you that you should go, that he’s toxic, but you were a fool to drown in him.

“What do you know about my friends?” He’s done everything to kill that flame inside of you, that hope that maybe one day you’d escape him and be free once again, you’re a fool, he thinks.

He clicks his tongue as he puts down his newspaper at the coffee table, ”They tried to take you away from me.”

”They did not, you know I would never leave you.” A blatant lie but it's stupid that you take him for a fool that’ll believe your words.

He only chuckles, your attempts to get away from him are futile, it’s pathetic it makes him laugh. “I admire your confidence, but you’re staying here tonight.”

Death has never been more alluring under his influence, but you can not die.

“Please,” you beg again, but he only presses his finger to your lips, “Shh…”

”One day you’ll thank me for taking such good care of you.” He gets down on his knees to kiss the back of your hand, “You’re safe here.”

He gets up to sit right next to you, he doesn’t flinch when you slap his face away when he tries to kiss you. The man only grabs your wrist when you try to push him away again. He kisses you with passion, in love but is it truly love when there is no trust?

There’s no use questioning his intentions, “This is for your own good.”

What good is there when there is no freedom? He thinks beautiful birds should be protected. Even if it meant being trapped in a cage, stripped of any sense of freedom, as long as you're safe, as long as you're here with him, he is content. "Dont give me that look."

Your eyes train on the way he rolls his eyes at your defiance, "Just let me go."

Sunday glares at you, his grip on your wrist tight, you're sure he's about to tear it off. "No."

When will you stop acting like a child?

The halovian is too far down the rabbit hole of self righteousness and his obsession with you that he if he needs to tear you limb by limb to keep you close to him, to keep you from rubbing away, he will do it.

His phone rings, it must be business calls again, Penacony sure is in a state of chaos when it's crumbling down. He lets go off you to take his phone.

"Yes yes... Sunday speaking."

You dont understand what they're murmuring about. All you could register is it's something about his sister.

His facial expression turned grim the more time he spent on the phone. The phone call ends and he puts it down, the life from his face drained but when he sees you, he is relieved.

You are still here with him.

He intertwined your hands together, you can feel anger and despair that he's exuding as he stares at you like a deer in the headlights. "Please, promise me."

"You'll never leave me too."

It doesn't sound like a question, it sounds like a statement.

You'll truly never know what freedom is, for that is only a privilege that you can never have. In his arms you cannot cry, because he'll drown you in his lies again and again.

On the bright side, you are never alone. You will always have Sunday, whether you like it or not.

Note: bye i got extreme writer's block at Sunday's part I had to take almost a 2 week break bc i rlly have no idea what to write for him oh my god. I absolutely did not give them justice 😥

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡ 

[hinatiny]

crazy ੈ✩‧₊˚ akaashi keiji

in which akaashi is so crazy for you, he barely knows how to cope with it. getting you flustered is one way though.

w.c: 0.6k

akaashi loves you. so much, so dearly, that he’s convinced he’ll die if you ever slip away from his fingers. he’s convinced heaven and all that is holy is wherever you are, and that he’ll be denied access if he ever does something atrocious enough for you to leave him.

akaashi loves you. so much, so deeply, that it hurts, as if loving you equals diving into a vast ocean of emotions where every wave carries the sweetest currents of affection.

akaashi loves you. so much, so intensely, that he feels like he could cry.

of course, he doesn’t. at least not while you’re sitting in a study room - doing anything and everything but studying. he knows that if he were to suddenly tear up and sniffle and sob out of nowhere, it would only worry you, and what is he supposed to say when you question it? “i just love you so much and it sometimes scares me that i’m able to love someone to this extent, i genuinely can’t see a future where you’re not part of it and if there is one like that i don’t want it because maybe we’re just some goofy college students right now but i can’t wait to move in with you in our new apartment next month because there’s nothing i want more than to spend the rest of my life with you and all of this is so overwhelming but i wouldn’t change that for the world.” is that how he feels? most definitely. will he express that? nah, not really.

akaashi doesn’t say much, for now content with listening to you ramble on about your day, your yesterday, your tomorrow, your new plastic plants you’d bought for your apartment, your storage of gossip newly stocked from some of your classmates, and everything between heaven and earth as you munch on pocky every now and then. he doesn’t say much, but you can tell he’s still attentive to every word you say by the way he nods, hums, occasionally comments something or asks for further details. more than anything though, you know he’s listening by the fondness in his eyes and the small but true smile that lingers on his lips.

“so i’m not crazy for wanting to clock her that day, am i? i mean, obviously i didn’t do it or i would probably get expelled but with her attitude i clearly wasn’t in the wrong for at least considering it, right?”

now, akaashi doesn’t condone violence, and he would stop you had you ever decided to act on that option, but he nods in the palm of his hand, puffs an airy chuckle before expressing that you weren’t in the wrong. if that’s enough to make you laugh at him for even agreeing, he’ll make such exceptions any day of the week.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t agree like that,” you grin.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t consider clocking a classmate for something like that.” akaashi raises a playfully judgemental eyebrow at you.

“well, guess i must be crazy then.” you giggle at the sigh he lets out, following up with how you have to stop saying such things so proudly, although his smile widens the slightest bit. you tuck a chocolate-coated stick between your lips, speaking past it, “but you still love me.”

he blinks at you, once, twice but soon gets up his feet, hardly rushed but fast enough for you to not properly process how his palm shortly after goes from his chin to fall flat on the table; the one of his other hand finds your jaw, holding your cheeks so gently, just barely squeezing them between his fingertips. 

akaashi does love you, so so so much, he doesn’t doubt for a second that he might be the luckiest man on earth. he doesn’t express that either though, and instead hides his overflowing emotions behind a sly smirk as he tucks the other end of the stick between his own lips. “guess i’m even crazier then.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 5

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

Benedict's eyes scan the words across the page. After your confession, he proceeded to buy one of Talbot's your poetry books.

'Tis in your eyes I seek comfort.

Your arms I find solace.

In your lips I find love.

'Tis in you that I find the whole world

Standing before in great beauty

But at an arm's length is where I stay.

The second eldest Bridgerton is in awe. Your words carry such deep meaning, a sense of longing. Is this how you feel? Had someone captured your heart and he was none the wiser?

So many questions have risen since he's learned of your secret identity. Your poetry carries a deep sense of love, desire, passion. He never expected such feelings to come from you. This is a completely different side of you he is now seeing.

In the past, when you shared your poetry with him, they had a light, romantic touch. A sense of naivety and fairy tale outlook on love and life. But as Talbot, it was different.

"Helloooo?" Eloise waves her hand in front of Benedict, breaking his concentration.

He slaps her hand away, "What?"

Eloise snorts, "I have never seen you so deep in a book before, brother."

"A few ladies mentioned Arthur Talbot's work and I figured I see what the fuss was all about."

His sister rolls her eyes, "Women fawning over men waxing romantic poetics. Typical."

"I cannot wait for the day you fall in love, sister, and make an absolute fool of yourself." Benedict stands from his place at the table in the drawing room. He steps out to see Anthony and Kate escorting you to the door. His eyes brighten, "Y/N, I wasn't aware you were here."

You nod to him, "Apologies, Mister Bridgerton. I was simply here to discuss...business with Lord Bridgerton," you gesture to Anthony.

Benedict frowns, "Why such formality with us? We've been friends for years."

"Aunt Eliza advises me that I should be formal with you. She said that there may be men who envy the idea that I am close with you. So it is best we remain more...formal."

Benedict's shoulders sag, "Very well. We mustn't deter any...future prospects."

You nod, "Thank you for understanding," you face Anthony again and curtsey, "My Lord, thank you again for the list." You then face Kate, "I shall see you later, my Lady."

"Of course. I look forward to spending more time with you."

You proceed to take your leave, Benedict's eyes following you as you exit the Bridgertons' home.

"Excuse me," Benedict murmurs, heading straight to the study and pouring himself a drink.

Anthony clears his throat as he enters the room, "Will you be okay, brother? Truly."

"I have to be. There are much better men out there that will be able to provide the life and freedom she deserves. I need to accept that." Anthony, approaches his brother and gives him a reassuring pat on his shoulders, "I commend you for doing this. It won't be easy, but with time, I'm sure you'll be alright."

"Yes...time."

_____________________________

"Tell me about yourself, Miss L/N," Lord Belmont says as he turns you about the ballroom among the other couples.

You have to admit that the man is handsome, "Well I love poetry and to read. I am a fair player of the pianoforte as well as the harp. I know Latin and Greek. I adore animals."

Lord Belmont hums, "How do you fare in the outdoors?"

"I enjoy my time riding and walking amongst nature."

The lord scrunches up his face and distaste, "Oh no. If you are to be my wife, you shall be inside at all times being lady of the house."

You look at him in disbelief, "Am I not allowed to step outside at all, my Lord?"

"Of course, but only when we need to attend balls or important festivities."

Thankfully, the dance ends and you quickly and politely excuse yourself. You head straight to the refreshment table. You grab a lemonade and gulp half the glass down.

"Are you well? You practically ran from Lord Belmont," Kate asks as she approaches you at the drinks table.

You hum, "While Lord Belmont is a handsome man, I do not think he would allow the...freedom, that I desire."

Kate nods in understanding, "I see. Well, onto the next then?" She hooks her arm around yours and guides you to the the corner of the room where Anthony, Benedict, Daphne, and a man you haven't seen before stands with them.

"Apologies, I bumped into Miss L/N at the refreshment table. She needed a break from dancing."

Daphne's eyes light up, "Wonderful! Miss L/N, this is the Duke's friend, Lord Montclair, a marquess" she gestures to the dark skinned man dressed in a navy blue velvet suit.

You curtsy, "Good evening, Lord Montclair."

He nods to you, "A pleasure, Miss L/N," he gives you a kind smile.

"Montclair, you have French heritage?"

His smile grows wider, "I do. My father is French. Have you been?"

You nod, "My family and I would travel there for the summer," your smile weakens, "Unfortunately, I have not visited for years now."

"I understand. It has been some time since I have visited as well."

You and the Marquess continue to look each other with kind eyes. Benedict hides his clenched fists behind his back. Kate watches her brother-in-law with careful eyes.

Daphne is beaming as she speaks, "Lord Montclair, Miss Y/N is well-versed in poetry."

"Really?"

You shy from his gaze, "Yes, um, my mother would read poetry all the time. I fell in love with it. I love how much emotion one can convey through few lines."

"She writes poetry, as well," Benedict speaks and you look at him in surprise, "The way her words can make you feel so much in small amounts of verses...it's a beautiful feeling."

You give him a grateful smile and turn back to Lord Montclair, "Mister Bridgerton flatters me, but I am a novice when it comes to poetry writing."

"I do hope I get to read some of your writing in the future, Miss L/N."

You giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up as Lord Montclair gives his attention to you, "Perhaps sooner than expected, my Lord."

Lord Montclair steps closer to you, "I know you are taking a moment from dancing, but perhaps you have space on your dance card for me?"

"Of course, my Lord," you offer him your dance card and watch as he scribbles his name in the next space, which happens to be for the next dance coming up.

"Oh, it seems our dance is here," he holds out his hand, waiting for you with a smile.

You place your gloved hand in his and follow him as he escorts you to the floor. You glance back at the Bridgertons, who all watch you with eager, careful eyes.

As they all watch you waltz with the Marquess, Benedict asks his sister, "Do you vouch for the Marcquess?"

She nods, "Yes. He is very kind. He enjoys reading and archery-"

"Brother, Y/N excels in archery, correct?"

Benedict clenches his jaw, "She does." His eyes never waver from you as you smile while dancing with the marquess.

"Looks like there may be some things they have in common," Kate says, eyeing her brother-in-law.

"How wonderful for them," Benedict murmurs as he walks away from his siblings.

Meanwhile, you and the marquess move along the ballroom floor with the other participants.

"The duchess tells me that you are looking for a husband this season," Lord Montclair says with curiosity in his tone.

You sigh, "Yes, and I shall admit that the search hasn't been very fruitful." Montclair snorts and you immediately apologize, "Excuse my forwardness, my Lord-"

He shakes his head, "No no. Please, continue. I can admire a woman who freely speaks her mind."

You nod, "I just look for a man who can give me certain freedoms. A husband that will allow me to pursue passions of mine, not expect me to sit there to be seen and not heard."

The marquess hums, "It just so happens that I am in the search for a wife."

You arch a brow at him, "Oh?"

"Yes. To be transparent, I have been grieving for the past two years at the loss of my wife. I loved her dearly, but I miss the companionship."

"I am sorry for your loss, my Lord. I also understand the yearning for companionship."

"Thank you. No one could ever replace, Maria, but I would like someone to be at my side as I continue on with life."

"Tell me about her," you kindly request.

You watch as a smile grows on the man's face. He goes on to share stories about Maria and you share things about yourself. You see the sadness in him but the willingness to put himself out there again. It's admirable.

________________________

You spend a large portion of your night conversing with Lord Montclair. The man was intelligent, charming, funny, and kind. He was the perfect man you see yourself marrying and yet...your eyes still wander towards Benedict. He spoke with some lords, danced with a few women. You knew you initiated the distance between you and Benedict, but that didn't mean it doesn't hurt you.

That man has held your heart for several years and it seems he will never reciprocate the feelings you have for him. So it's best to start the process of moving on, hopefully, with Lord Montclair.

And Lord Montclair did not disappoint when he called upon you the next morning.

He sat across from you in the sitting room, Aunt Eliza nearby going over some paperwork.

You look down at the bouquet of flowers, your favorite, the very ones you mentioned last night during your dance with Lord Montclair.

"Have you read any new poems today?" You shake your head and Montclair pulls out a book you are very familiar with, "Have you read Arthur Talbot's work? He's fairly new yet quite popular already."

You bite your lip to prevent you from bursting into a fit of giggles, "I adore his work. He has an impressive way of words."

He opens the book to a dog-eared page. He clears his throat and begins to recite,

To love you is to bathe in your light

To sway to your laughter,

With its melody and rhythm

To swell with pride when your eyes gaze on mine.

For that, I am whole

And you are forever my muse.

You felt a little...odd. Considering that not only is Lord Montclair reciting a poem that you wrote, but it's also about a man you are trying to get over. Not what you expected when you received your first caller.

"I believe that was one of Talbot's earlier works, yes?"

Montclair nods, "Yes, but I still believe the feeling of what he was trying to convey is very much still there, don't you agree?"

"Very much so, my Lord."

After some lengthy discussion about Talbot's work, you two move to the piano so you can teach him how to play.

"I never did have much of an ear for music. My mother was quite disappointed in me when I was unable to play any instrument she placed in my hands."

You chuckle, "We shall start with something easy." You show him how to place his fingers on the keys, giggling as you move each finger to the right location.

You continue to laugh with each other as you teach him the simplest of songs, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

As you laugh when he gets the wrong note, a footman enters the room, "Miss L/N, you have another caller."

Daphne enters the room and you immediately stand, "Your Grace!"

The duchess' smile grows at the sight of you and Lord Montclair, "I do hope I haven't upset you with my intrusion, but it is nearing lunch and Lord Montclair hadn't return. But I see why now." she gives you a teasing look.

"I apologize for keeping Lord Montclair for so long, your Grace."

"Nonsense, Y/N. I was just checking that our dear marquess is alright."

Lord Montclair chuckles as he, too, stands from the piano bench, "As you can see, I am quite alright, but I suppose I have overstayed my welcome."

You shake your head, "Of course not, my Lord. It was a pleasure seeing you. I hope to see you again soon."

He faces you, "I hope to see you as well," he gently grabs your gloved hand and places a kiss atop it.

He then bows to your aunt, "Miss Y/N, good day."

"You as well, my Lord," your aunt responds with a wave.

You curtsy to Daphne, and she and the marquess both leave your home.

[setsugekka]

❥5 weeks (m)

↳ In which a freelancing stylist gig puts you between a rock and a hard place.

The rock being ‘never slept with a client before and not looking to start now,’ and the hard place being a younger than you and much too daring for his own good, Jung Wooyoung.

jung wooyoung x older stylist fem!reader — coworkers to lovers, mutual pining, porn with plot, explicit sexual content. [12.1k wc] cws: unspecified age gap!! they’re both down atrocious but he is the one making all the moves, mutual masturbation, a metric fuckton of dirty talking, praise, humiliation, pet names including ‘mommy,’ and the use of ‘noona’ but really it’s his kink and not hers (a drop of ‘daddy’ too but it’s more for comedic purposes than anything), drop of a breeding kink (also kinda comedic), oral sex (m+f), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, wooyoung has a Big Dick and is wildly kinky and confident.

“Oh, give me a break!”

Shoulder sling of your bag dropping from you in exasperation and barely caught by your hand as to not allow your belongings to fall to the floor, you roll your eyes briefly towards the man informing you of the terrible news of the day. Of the month.

“Are you kidding me? This isn't what my contract said.”

“It sort of is,” the man reluctantly replies, avoiding eye contact that he knows will not help make the situation any better for either of you. “Blah blah blah 'in the event of a personnel shift then we have the freedom to place you wherever we need you.”

You knew, you were lying in hopes of being able to get out of it.

Unfortunately, when you took the job and signed the contract, you did know that this would be a likely outcome. Freelance stylists were able to choose three groups of which they had preference in working for throughout the show — bigger groups come with their own stylists and full slots majority of the time, but occasionally need additional hands on, which is where you come in. Smaller groups have less on board staff and require more freelance help on set — also where you come in, although, not ideally.

Of the six groups on broadcast, you had worked with four. three you enjoyed, they went on the list of preferences.

The one that you didn't enjoy working with, along with the other that you hadn't become acquainted with, were left off. Nothing against them, just better to play it safe with what you're familiar with.

And now you have to find out which group you got assigned for the next five weeks.

Slinging your bag back onto your shoulder with a huff, you thank the man for his time even in spite of not really being all that thankful, and make your way down the white walled hallway, the names of groups you're familiar with passing you by — slowing down as you pass the ones you had wished to work with and happily waving towards the members as you carry on — it's a brief relief, you'll still get to see them and have fun with them, just not as much as you would have given alternate circumstances.

And then you reach the room number, 3B.

ATEEZ.

Squinting slightly, you recall that you're actually not completely unfamiliar with them, and happily, they're not the group you didn't enjoy working with. You already know the names of everyone in the group, and you think you remember doing some behind the scenes broadcast work when they were still in their first year, albeit, not much.

It could have been worse.

Walking into the room, you first introduce yourself to the entire lot of people, then focus towards managers and the other stylists — all very welcoming and happy to receive the help, it seems.

Then, the members.

All of them gathered around, clamoring to accommodate you in such an overwhelming way that you can't hardly make out a single word being said one way or another, Hongjoong finally shushes the rest to get a word in edgewise and calmly welcomes you on board, along with apologizing in advance for whatever it is that may take place as a result of working with the lot.

You don't know what he means by it exactly, but you're familiar with working with boy groups — some things are pretty standard across the board. The dirty jokes, the messiness, the crudeness — if you're lucky, it mostly ends there, immature young men just trying to fit in having a good time in the midst of their otherwise busy schedules — you're used to giving it a pass.

But you sift through your mental rolodex of stories that you've heard about groups through the grapevine — water cooler among stylists type talk — and fail to land on anything in particular about them.

When it comes to this sort of stuff, no news is good news.

The boys scatter back to where they had come after the warm welcomes, and you dart your head around in an attempt to find a place to put your personal belongings. Truthfully, the room is small for the amount of people in it, and you're seemingly the last to join the crew. You wish not to place your purse down on the floor next to the door, but without another option at hand, you resign yourself to the fact that this will have to make due. Phone and wallet sticking out of the top, you kneel down to scoot the items against the wall when a strong hand comes from the side, taking you by the wrist. It's gentle even in it's abruptness, and takes you by surprise all the same.

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you,” he says, quickly letting go of you but remaining in his knelt position next to you. “Don't put it there, I got a place.”

Eyebrows furrowing at the words, and the implications, you cock your head to the side before responding to him. “Problem with thieves? I mean, I know it's a pirate concept—“

“Oh, very funny!” he says, matching your playfully mocking tone with wide eyes. “No, but the door has loose hinges and if someone comes through that thing fast enough it's going to destroy everything you've got in there.”

Come to think of it, you had noticed that upon entry. Not as funny as what you had said, though.

The both of you stand, your items in hand again, and he leads the way towards a small area of the room that he appears to have made out for himself. It's simple: two folding chairs, one for sitting, and one to serve as a table, with his food already set out on it — the man points towards under the table-chair. “Put it there.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you know my name?” he asks, no discernible tone to it, but you can't recall an idol ever asking you the question outright — especially knowing that you're a freelancer.

You watch him only break eye contact with you long enough to seat himself back down, taking his lunch into his hands and nodding towards the makeshift platform, communicating to you that he wishes for you to use the chair for its intended purpose now.

“Is this a test? Or some kind of, I don't know—“ you pause, leaning back comfortably. “Am I like, supposed to?”

And he laughs in response, a sudden chuckle as if not having expected the retort at all. You watch him wipe his mouth with a napkin and take a sip of his drink before settling in to respond to the comment. “No, I was just curious because I wouldn't introduce myself again if you already had. I'm Woo—“

“Wooyoung, I know who you are.”

“Wow, all of that just for you to already know who I am?” he questions, wide eyed again — you can tell that he's enjoying the banter between the two of you. You'd be lying if you had said you weren't doing the same. “Enjoy playing games, is it?” he asks.

Typically, you would say no. But right now?

There had been a handful of idols that you had worked with over the years where the two of you hit it off naturally, comfortably. A welcomed lack of professionalism in an area of work that didn't normally allow for any room for it, being able to meet people that truly allowed for you to simply be yourself — it made going to the job everyday just that much easier.

“So,” you begin, not wanting to allow the conversation to die down as the man with the two-toned hair in front of you continues his meal with all eyes on you as you speak. “Who has the problem head in this group?”

“Problem head? “ Wooyoung exclaims, having never heard the verbiage before.

“Yeah, like who is going to be the biggest issue. Who doesn't wash their hair like a normal person or never brushes it or whatever.”

“Oh!” he yells, finally having caught on, and wipes his mouth with the napkin again before pointing across the room and loudly calling out towards another member. “It's Seonghwa! It's 100% Seonghwa! Never seen that man brush his hair in my life!”

Laughing, you turn to look behind you at Seonghwa seated in front of a mirror, another stylist going to work on his hair — roughly, at that — and as you make eye contact with a Seonghwa who is shaking his head, you move your eyes up and towards the stylist behind, solemnly nodding in accordance to Wooyoung's claims.

You turn back, Wooyoung shoving more food into his mouth. “Told you,” he mumbles between chews. “You got a boyfriend?”

You had let the conversation die down, and just as quickly, Wooyoung sparks it up again, still gnawing on the chicken in his mouth as he gets the words out.

“No,” you carefully reply, question lacing your tone that the man is sure to pick up on, but he only grins, swallowing, wiping and leaning forward towards you so that he doesn't have to carry his voice in more than a whisper.

“Good.”

By the end of the first week, you had a good idea that you might have sex with this guy.

On a surface level, you weren't too thrilled with the prospect, though. In all of your years working in the industry, you had never crossed that line. You knew colleagues who had, and worked with idols that regularly did, but despite not being morally or fundamentally opposed to the idea, it seemed better for everyone to just not. It was easy enough, usually. You had met some people that you had hit it off with and sure, the thought had crossed your mind occasionally — the sneaking 'what if' of a fling with someone, but it never felt especially in grasp. You weren't going to go out of your way to make it happen, and as far as you could tell, no one else had on their end, either.

Until now.

An entire week of friendly banter and heavy flirting that only came on stronger and stronger with each day, it's the first friday when you have Wooyoung in your chair and hair in your hands that the glances shared felt especially loaded.

Pulling on his hair slightly at a particularly tricky knot, you apologize, watching him wince vaguely in the reflection — only for him to glance up from his phone with a half grin and a wicked pointedness to his eyes.

“It's fine, I like it.”

And you want to be able to ignore it. Ignore the implications of the words. Feeling foreign eyes on you, your vision quickly darts over to make contact with Hongjoong's — seated next to the two of you and being dealt with on his own. He chuckles under his breath, having overheard the comment, and you pull on Wooyoung's hair again, this time on purpose.

A silent insistence for him to behave.

“How old are you, noona?” Hongjoong suddenly asks from beside you, eyes glued back down to his phone screen, and you're not sure why he's asking.

You have your suspicions, though.

“Older, old enough,” you respond. It pulls another chuckle from the leader of the group.

“Makes sense,” he says, finally receiving the go ahead to get up from the chair after having been finished with. “He likes that. Good luck with this one.”

Feeling heat rush to your face, and not particularly enjoying the fact that everyone in the room seems to be in on the situation at hand, you look back at Wooyoung in the reflection: still grinning with not a care in the world related to the topic.

'Play it cool,' you tell yourself with a deep inhale. “You do this often? Flirt with your stylists?”

“I wouldn't say often,” he responds plainly. “It's not unheard of, though.”

“You run off a lot of stylists?” you laugh, playfully pulling at his hair again.

“No,” he says, a certain cuteness taking his tone before leaning his head back against the headrest and looking up at you directly. “They don't run off.”

You want to be better. Stronger. Able to ignore it. Not to be like them, you don't flirt with idols you work with and you certainly don't sleep with them, either.

But you're guessing Wooyoung has plans for that, as well.

On the next Wednesday when filming runs late, with the majority of the staff having left, Wooyoung, Yunho and Yeosang are kept behind to refilm some shots. For only three members needing attention, and the normal staff for the group having to accompany the rest to their other schedules, you're left in charge of the three — along with their managers.

Which is simple enough: Yeosang, as off the wall nutty as he is, is relatively easy to work with, and Yunho being so kind and willing to do whatever it takes to make your job easier, you're only left with the one problem-child, as it were.

When filming for the three finally wraps at a quarter past one in the morning, you thank everyone for their time and willingness to accommodate you as they all head out to meet up with the rest of the members...until a PD comes in last minute once again and requests for another shoot for Wooyoung.

“It's fine, I'll catch up with you guys later,” he tells the rest, including his manager — tired and worn no doubt from a hectic schedule of, well, managing Wooyoung.

“How are you going to get home?” you ask him, confused about his dismissal of his handler as he hurriedly shakes his black and blonde hair free of the half ponytail it had been put into as they were leaving.

“I know how to get home, I'm an adult,” he laughs in response.

“I mean with the fans.”

“Oh,” he pauses, slipping on the shoes from wardrobe that they had had him in prior. “That's easy to deal with, honestly. Already scoped out the escape!”

For some reason, you don't even question that to be the truth. It sounds like something he would have already had planned.

“Are you leaving now?” he asks, rushing out towards the hallway, only lingering in the doorway long enough to catch your response.

And you know that deep down, you should — that the best way to avoid trouble, and subsequently Wooyoung, is to leave while he's caught up, with no chance of roping you into some nonsense that you wish you didn't want to be roped into.

But at the same time...what could it hurt?

What's a little adventure?

And the way that his lips curl at the response is devilish — has you second-guessing your choice already. Evidently, a man with an extremely devious plan that he has every intention of putting into action with the older stylist that he barely knows anything about.

Suddenly, you recall Hongjoong's words just a few days prior. A warning. 'Good luck.'

“Be back soon!” Wooyoung chimes, “and then we can get out of here.”

As if the 'we' wasn't bad enough, it's the way his bottom lip catches on his teeth as he exits the room, eyes locked with your own before disappearing into the madness of idol life once again.

You had sort of hoped that something would have come up that barred this scenario that you had originally agreed to. Now darting and weaving through dark, empty hallways of the entertainment building — quite possibly the last people in there that night besides overnight security, when Wooyoung finally brings you to the VIP entrance that he had briefly mentioned before, dual hearts sink at the sight just beyond the large, glass doors.

Pouring rain — unable to be heard from inside of the massive concrete building, but now plain as day in front of you, Wooyoung huffs at the sight, scanning the scattered construction equipment also littering the outdoors — not taken into account, but now definitely hurting the escape plan that had already been set into action.

“I guess we just make a run for it,” Wooyoung sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. “This wasn't really part of the plan, you know.”

“I gathered, but—“ you pause, bringing his attention down to the three bags of your heavy and also quite expensive belongings that you would rather not get soaking wet. “I'm not running anywhere, not well, at least.”

He huffs again, looking up again to stare back out of the window pane. “Well, we can't stay here, don't think we have much of a choice.”

You had already accepted the fact, but hearing the words only causes a pleading sigh to drop from you. “Yeah...where are we running towards, anyways? What's the plan?”

Bringing a hand up, Wooyoung points out towards what appears to be just large equipment for moving and storing concrete and other such things, before elaborating further.

“Across the parking lot and then across the street there's a small, 24-hour convenience store where we can wait and call a cab.”

“How is that safe?” you question, dumbfounded. “How is it safe for you to be seen running around in convenience stores in the middle of the night with a random woman?”

“No one is going to see us, first of all, the weather is terrible and no one knows about this exit,” he begins, “second of all, my friend owns the place, so we'll hang out in the employee lounge until it's time to go.”

You visibly frown at the plan, still worried about your work items, but Wooyoung catches it — gently placing his hand on your wrist just as he had the first time the both of you met.

“We'll...figure it out, okay? Trust me. But we gotta get out of here before security calls security.”

Darting through the doors, Wooyoung holds your hand tightly into his as the two of you slosh through the downpour of the great outdoors — cold and windier than you both had anticipated, when the wind catches you and the bulkiness of your belongings just right, Wooyoung tightens his grip even more as he feels you veer off of the trail. You call out to him once, pulling your things against you as best as you can and he only calls back, “I know!” before finding some sort of shelter where you can hide for the time being.

And once inside, you realize how cramped it is.

It's a totally spur of the moment decision obviously, and not much else to work with, you know this — crammed face to face between two metal sheets in an otherwise packed construction shed — but you're able to shrug your bags off of your shoulder and push them to the side with your foot to grant you a bit more space as you attempt to wring out your hair, dress, and cardigan.

Eventually, when Wooyoung comes back to mind, you look up at him — thin, wet, t-shirt clinging to every curve and dip of the muscle in his chest, hair windswept and just as wet as everything else — and you try not to take notice, or allow your eyes the freedom to trail down, because you remember that he left in sweatpants, and that's plenty good enough to go off of.

But with not much space between you and the hastiness in which you arrived, Wooyoung's thigh ends up not so gently crammed just between your legs.

You notice. You can't help but to notice, you can only hope that he doesn't.

However unlikely that may be.

The first violent shiver of the cold air taking the wetness of your body, you insist that Wooyoung ignores, and he does, at your request — but by the second, he's not so willing to listen to orders.

Taking you by the wrist, the man pulls you forward and against him, your hands only able to catch yourself on his shoulders to keep from falling completely flat against his body, and you have no choice but to force down the sound that being pulled up and along his leg threatens to elicit.

'Bite it back, bitch,' you tell yourself in thought.

“Don't be difficult, it's freezing out here,” Wooyoung finally says, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you pressed into him. “Keeping you from catching pneumonia isn't really my go-to move.”

You chuckle, the only thing you can do at the ridiculousness of the situation. Turning to look outside as the rain beats loudly against the shed that the both of you take shelter in, Wooyoung shifts again, causing the top of his thigh to press upwards and harder against you. Eyes screwing shut, you try to steady your breathing — it's so dumb, you think as the situation unfolds, feeling like a teenager who can't keep it in her pants but in a situation where it otherwise wouldn't be an issue if it weren't for the fact that the hot guy that you work with — who almost definitely wants to fuck you — is currently lodged against your pussy with either not a clue and therefore doesn't have the knowledge to keep still, or very much aware and no interest in keeping still.

You didn't even really want to know which one it was, you just had to wait for the rain to lighten up.

“Hey.”

You turn your head to match Wooyoung's gaze, air finally drying out his hair a bit to leave it more air dried than soaking wet. He looks good, you hate that.

“You ever hook up with anyone you worked with?”

Mind reader? Gross.

You choose to ignore the implications, answering in a way that doesn't satiate the curiosity that he's hoping for. “Yeah, I used to date a guy who worked for the same company I did before I went freelance.”

“That's not what I mean,” Wooyoung frowns. Of course he wouldn't let you get away with it. “I mean an idol. The talent.”

Clearing your throat, you find that your proximity to Wooyoung that once offered a comforting warmth was now emitting far more of a scalding heat, and with your palms pressed to his shoulders, you manage to free yourself from him slightly, back against the metal sheet behind you and creating space between you and the nosy man just in front of you.

“No, I have not.”

“Why not?”

“I don't know!” you snap, not angry but unsure of what it is that he's fishing for. “Just...never been in a situation where that was a realistic thing that could happen, I guess. It's not really something that I seek out. I'm there to work.”

“You've never wanted to?” Wooyoung then says, tone dropping slightly and a small shift of his leg. It's enough that you can ignore it, but with your face fully visible to him now, you're not sure how much you can fake it if he starts to catch on and get braver. “Never desired someone?”

He's extremely perceptive.

“And what about you?” you ask back, table turned to grant you some proverbial breathing room. “Hongjoong sure made it seem like this was the sort of thing you do often.”

“Hongjoong is terrible at keeping his mouth shut, that much is for sure,” Wooyoung chuckles, then reaching forward with one hand and finding the hem of your dress — pressed up the length of your thigh only slightly due to his own having your legs agape. “But he is right, I do like older women.”

“So you just hit on every stylist that comes into contact with you?” you laugh, trying to ignore the burning sensation of his fingers playing with the cloth on your thigh, or the way that his eyes are smoldering and locked onto you.

“No, of course not, I'd have had a reputation that you'd have heard of by now if that were the case.”

That was true.

“So no, hitting on the stylist isn't a first for me, if you must know,” he adds coyly, hand now slowly sliding up and against your bare skin. You freeze against his touch. Is this really happening? Here? Now?

“I play with a lot of them for fun, and they play with me, but rarely does it leave the fitting room.”

You swallow hard, and when he shifts again suddenly you aren't prepared — his words, his touch, it's all too distracting for when the press against you comes — breath hitching in your throat for a split second before biting your lip in an attempt to pull the involuntary reaction back.

Too late, though.

Wooyoung looks down, seeing the positioning of his leg between your own and finally makes the connection with a devilish grin — looking up at you from through eyelashes, he hums in response, hand that had once begun a journey up your leg now stilled at the outer side, fingers playfully dipping into the elastic of your panties as if having a plan in mind all along.

“Oh, I see,” he sing-songs at you, deliberately pushing up and into you for the first time, and it certainly makes the difference — your head falling back against the steel lightly. “You know it's funny, I genuinely did not mean to do that.”

“Don't laugh,” you sigh out, now on your last leg of having the composure to not give in to him, and to yourself. “I'm not going to have sex with you, I don't have sex with clientele.”

Humming again, the man begins a steady, slow pace of flexing his thigh up and against you, hand coming around to feel what he can of you that isn't taken up by the space of his leg, and with his fingertip only finding slick wetness that water doesn't have, he smiles again.

“Fine,” he responds with a tone that's only just above a whisper. “But I can still make you come.”

“Shut up,” you whimper out, knowing that your resolve is falling away with every second that you're near him and even faster with every word that he says. You say that you won't fuck him, but truth be told: you're not completely convinced of it yourself. “I—, I—“ you attempt to say, always cut off by the way he feels against you, and even distracted by the lone finger that gently rubs at you from the side as best as he can.

You open your eyes, an attempt to come back down to earth from how quickly you're giving yourself up to this man, but your eyes immediately drop to catch the protrusion in his sweatpants — still wet and fabric clinging to the girth, you swallow hard and bring your eyes back up fast.

That knowledge was the last thing you needed if you were to make any sort of strong attempt not to have sex with him.

“Like what you see?” Wooyoung says playfully, a nod to the silly line often heard in comedies or pornography.

Unfortunately, you do.

You feel him shifting again, having to mull up the braves to allow your eyes to fall back down that way to find out what it was he was up to, and once the courage is mustered, you grant it to yourself.

It was a mistake.

“God,” is all you whisper out at the sight — Wooyoung's beautiful hand wrapped loosely around himself, lazily stroking in time with the ministrations of his leg up and against you, and it's all just a little bit too much.

“Watch,” he says, this time no jest in his voice and the pace of his thigh picking up just slightly. “You don't want to watch me?”

In the moment, you think that you would literally not ever want to watch anything other than that ever again.

Eyes coming back down, first to meet his own — half-lidded and mouth slightly parted, a beautiful sight before you, the visual of him palming over himself for your viewing pleasure — getting off on nothing else but the sight of you riding his leg.

The visual serves to be more stimulating than you'd have liked to admit, feeling the familiar bubbling in your abdomen, you try to find something that you can brace your hands on to give yourself more leverage — since the both of you are now resigned to letting this moment play out — and Wooyoung catches on quickly, choking out a “use me,” between steady, rhythmic pumps of his fist along himself.

You lean forward, hands on his shoulders again — now able to feel him work himself beneath you as you rut against his leg and if you weren't already so worked up, you might have been embarrassed about how quickly your orgasm approaches you.

“W—Wooyoung, I—“

“Good, good girl,” he groans, rhythm of his arm beginning to give out at the implications of your orgasm fast approaching, but it's the next words that truly wreck you. More than you may have ever anticipated outside of that singular moment in time.

“Use me.”

And it breaks you. Orgasm washing over you — it's not particularly hard or overwhelming, the circumstances not exactly granting themselves to having an earth shattering sexual experience, but Wooyoung follows you shortly after — high pitched whine escaping him as his eyes screw shut, ropes of cum painting his fisted fingers as he gently finishes himself just next to you.

Taking his messy hand from himself and into your own, you bring it up and to your lips, the man before you catching on quickly despite a hazy come down and shortened breath; two of his fingers part your lips and press inside shallowly at first, then slightly deeper as he feels the way that your tongue wraps around him to clean his cum from them.

All the while with unbroken eye contact, when Wooyoung finishes imagining the way that your mouth would feel around his cock, he snorts, pulling his hand from you and grinning.

“Nah,” he begins, gently attempting to dislodge himself from between your legs. “You're definitely going to fuck me.”

With two weeks down after that late night stuck in the rain, without so much as a single sly comment about the goings on of that evening, you resign yourself to the understanding that he had gotten the interest out of his system.

And you suppose now, with the imminent danger of potentially going where you've never gone before and crossing that line, you can admit to yourself that deep down, you're a little disappointed in that fact. He had made quite the compelling case, after all.

And a beautiful cock, at that.

You do, however, find it charming that his behavior never really changes towards you. Even in spite of the bizarre intimacy that comes with watching the other come without having ever so much as shared a kiss, Wooyoung plops himself into your stylist chair just as he always has — hair a mess and tank top a bit too loose for your liking given your coming to terms with not ever having sex with him, you allow yourself one good look across the expanse of skin he's happy to show, and even with knowing that he sit in the reflection watching your eyes rake over him with a slight curl of his lip, you still can't help yourself.

Besides, what's one more good look? It's not the only part of him you've seen.

Tapping on his phone as you begin brushing into his hair from behind, Wooyoung asks you how you are today, just as normal. No suspicious tone, seemingly no ulterior motive.

“The same as always, how are you?” you respond, still tugging at the strands.

“Better now that I get to see my work wife,” he quickly responds, as if the entire premise of the conversation had simply been a set up for him to lay this one on you.

And if his intent was to trip you up, you were ashamed at how well it worked, freezing up instantly just before shaking it loose and carrying on. “Work wife? Is it okay that you joke like that?”

“Why not?” Wooyoung chuckles, looking up at you through the reflection of the mirror in front. “Also, your legs look crazy in those jeans.”

Heat rushing to your face, not wanting to look to either side at whether or not another stylist or member is listening in on the conversation, you lean down toward him and rush to a whisper. “Okay you definitely can't say that!”

“Of course not,” Wooyoung whispers back, turning his head just an inch to nearly meet your skin with his mouth. “Let me see you.”

Instantaneously, you pull back from him — back into working position and fight back the embarrassment of what's taking place. Wooyoung only grins again, looking back down to his phone and not pushing the topic any further.

When the guys begin exiting the room one by one to begin shooting, Wooyoung exits last, but not before stuffing his hand into the back pocket of your pants and maintaining a knowing eye contact with you for far too long.

You want to think that he left something in your pocket, but knowing him, just wanting to touch your ass isn't a possibility you can completely write off.

When the rest of the staff leave besides the other stylists, you manage to pull away just enough to check your pocket, feeling the presence of a small slip of paper — clearly what Wooyoung had intended on you finding, with a phone number scribbled on it. Nothing else.

Sure, you wish to be stronger than to give into the allure of the sexy, younger guy that you work with, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said that you weren't delighted at the prospect that he had not, in fact, lost interest just yet.

>you: hey, it's me.

It's all you send. Playing it cool and not at all desperate being paramount in this exchange now in order to maintain your dignity.

After all, you said you wouldn't have sex with him and now here you are, texting him knowing fully well that that is precisely what he's after. Perhaps you just needed a push in the right direction, but not without being able to feign a lack of interest, first.

It's only fifteen minutes later that he responds, and given you know they're recording, you expected it to be longer.

>big trouble: who is this? who is me?

You roll your eyes, but immediately move to reply.

>you: you know who, the woman whose ass you just groped so that I would contact you.

The signal of his typing pops up just as quickly.

>big trouble: you'll have to be more specific :p

He begins typing again.

>big trouble: kidding, what do you have me saved as in your phone? don't use my name!!

>you: oh darn I actually had it saved as group name plus full name and flashed it around when you replied, is that going to be a problem?

You become hyper aware of how you're smiling at your phone in the presence of other people, you try to bite it back as to not raise any awareness, but relatively unsuccessful in doing so.

He is so fucking charming, and fuck if you didn't enjoy his company.

A few more minutes pass before he begins typing again, close to ten when a response finally comes through.

>big trouble: sorry replies are gonna be spotty until we get out of here. let me see you.

You realize now, upon him saying it to you again — that you're not even entirely sure of what he means by that. See you: naked? Date? Outside of here? Too many options to just assume, but you also hate to ask — stomach bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of what it could mean, you realize that even you have to figure out just what, exactly, your intentions are with this guy.

But if you want to know something, all you can do is ask.

>you: what do you mean “see me”

Immediate typing again.

>big trouble: not at work, preferably with your legs over my shoulders and my face buried in your pussy.

Locking your phone you immediately press it face down and into the couch cushion next to you. Inhaling deeply, you close your eyes for a second to recollect yourself; steady breathing, and desperately trying to ignore the ache growing between your legs from just a single line of text.

You feel your phone vibrate again and can't even be sure you're ready to read whatever insane thing he's sent next, but suppose you can't just leave him on read. Not on that note.

Not when you're particularly interested in the proposition yourself.

Slowly picking your cell back up, carefully looking around to make sure no one can spy in — now not necessarily about it being who you're texting but generally speaking sexting is frowned upon in professional settings — you illuminate the screen to confirm that the incoming message is indeed, from him.

You open it.

>big trouble: i'm flexible though, actually hope you are too <3

Sick with how you can hear his tongue in cheek tone even through text, you get it together enough to finally begin typing out a response — not entirely sure what to say, given you don't necessarily want to agree to doing anything with the man just yet, and especially not like this.

>you: is that a good idea?

With some time having passed since his reply, you know that he's probably off working again — setting your phone down you exhale heavily, leaning your head back against the couch.

But all you can think about is Wooyoung's sandwiched between your thighs.

The buzzing from your phone brings you back, and you open it in more of a hurry than maybe you would have liked — much too eager to find the next insane thing that the man has to say to you.

>big trouble: oh no it definitely isn't

>big trouble: that's kind of the fun of it though

>big trouble: get into a little trouble with me, but i'll make it worth your time if you let me

You don't doubt him for even a second. Another text comes in.

>big trouble: I think you want to play with me, like a little bit

In the moment, the only thing that you can offer in response is that you'll think about it, still not completely willing to give yourself up to the desire of having him, or letting him have you — an obvious conquest of sorts on his end, of which he seemingly stacks up notches on his bed post — but you need time to decide if you're willing to make peace with being just that in exchange for getting what it is that you want from him, anyways.

Mutually beneficial? Absolutely. You just have to decide if the juice is worth the squeeze.

Two days out from wrapping filming, backstage is hectic — corridors lined with people running back and forth, darting in and out of rooms and racks of clothing and shoes serving as a make shift obstacle course everywhere you go, it's nothing you're not used to, and despite working for ATEEZ as a group, in ways you found yourself assuming the position as Wooyoung's handler in particular — occasionally Hongjoong's as well, enjoying his quips and stories as sort of an old soul in the body of a young man who took comfort in placing himself in otherwise awkward scenarios between you and the man you were almost definitely going to have sex with — you could only assume that Hongjoong had caught wind, and not because Wooyoung told him, but because he was quick on the uptake.

And he found it humorous.

Winding through the halls pushing the both of them out and ahead of you towards where they need to go, it's Hongjoong first who greets the senior idol exiting their dressing room to the left, then Wooyoung, and then you.

But you know them already.

One of the idols of the groups that you already get on with quite well, it's a friendly greeting, and you certainly can feel Wooyoung watching it all too intently — as if trying to poke a hole in a story once told to him in fabrication.

Saying your goodbyes, the three of you push forward again, not long before reaching just back stage and to your destination. You pull Hongjoong first, doing some last minute touches on his hair and eye makeup before sending him on his way, then Wooyoung — pouting like a baby as you press fingers into the sides of his hair that had fallen and now needed retouching.

“Oh geez, what?” you huff out quietly, thankful for the goings on around you that no one would hear you even if any one had time to stop and eavesdrop on the conversation.

“You two were cozy, huh?” he says — playfully, but you think it might be a ruse.

Wiping excess hair wax from his temple and shoving a clip into your mouth due to lack of hands, you look him dead in the eyes. “Wooyoung, I haven't slept with him, oh my God—“ you exasperate, slicking more product into his head, “and even if I had, none of your business.”

You watch as his eyes narrow, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth at your bitter words and begins to curl his lips into a smile just before telling him that he's finished and to go do his job.

“I know,” he says under his breath, leaning forward momentarily. “Was just hoping to hear the story if there was one.”

It's sinister in tone, like he's already getting off a little on the prospect of hearing about you getting fucked by another man, and the more you think of it in that split second, the less you would even be surprised if that had been the case. But Wooyoung continues to look at you as he steps backwards and towards where it is he needs to go — a display of power, in ways.

You're not sure you could run this guy off if you tried.

Hours later into the evening and close to midnight, you just about finish packing up your things, placing bags by the door next to all of the other stylists and managers items also eager and ready to head off and get rest before the last day of filming before you catch from the corner of your eye — phone laid out on the table and face up, illuminated in the dim lighting of a room soon to no longer be occupied for the day. Stretching your arm out and reaching towards it, almost immediately you recognize the length of name on the screen that alerts you of who it is that's contacting you.

You glance around yourself, just to be sure.

>big trouble: let me see you tonight.

Stomach jumping into your chest, to say yes to him is a big step. You're aware that at any point in time you can rescind said yes, but all the same — even just the logistics of getting him into your place to begin with comes with it's own set of worries and challenges and truth be told; you hadn't put any thought into such a plan.

But you still kind of wanted to.

>you: how?

He begins typing just as quickly as your response sends.

>big trouble: i'll take my managers car, just say yes if it's yes don't worry about the rest.

Realistically you know that it's him on the line. Sure, it wouldn't look great for you as a freelancer if it started getting around that you take home men from work, but not nearly the same career expectations are in place. You take a second to mull it over before attempting to respond. He sends another text through in the meantime.

>big trouble: please if I have to see you in those jeans again and not suffocate in your cunt I think i'll fucking die.

You appreciate his eagerness, as does the throb between your legs in anticipation. He sure knows how to talk to a lady.

And despite the reluctance, you give in, sending over your address in the next text, along with the demand that if he not be there by 12:30am to not bother showing up at all, it's a long work day the next one, after all.

An immediate reply again, you pull your bags onto your arms and head out of the doorway before reading his response.

>big trouble: I have every intention of putting you to sleep.

When 12:18am ticks on the oven clock in your kitchen, one glass of wine down in anticipation and an attempt to calm your nerves, you start to assume that he's not coming. Perhaps he had come to his senses, or got held up and wasn't able to make it.

But just as suddenly as the thought comes to you, a buzzing on your door sounds, and your heart drops to your stomach — bubbling in anxiety and the possibility of what's going to happen now. Now that the both of you will be properly alone. Now that...he's here, and with hours to spare.

Setting the glass down onto the table, you clear your throat and make your way towards the door, checking the peep hole despite knowing precisely who it is that you will find — it's charming, in a way: Wooyoung standing there in baseball cap and mask, heavily bundled in an attempt to not be found out on his naughty little rendezvous. He's brave, you gotta give it to him.

Opening the door slowly, Wooyoung slips in, pulling both adornments from his head before you're even able to close the door completely, then moving to kick his shoes off. He looks at you, shrugging his jacket off and placing it onto the rack just next to him.

“I can't believe you're still wearing those fucking jeans.”

And as taken aback as you are by it being the first words to leave his mouth upon entering your apartment, more than that, you're taken by being immediately pushed back and towards the couch — his eyes flat and narrow and completely darkened by lust as your behind eventually finds the cushion and Wooyoung immediately falls to his knees between your legs.

Pulling himself up and beginning to grapple with the button and zipper of your jeans, he leans up and finally kisses you — for the first time, you're reminded again — plush, hot lips messily pressing into your own, it's evident just in that contact alone how much he's been wanting this moment, greedy and quick and not at all making a point of taking his time before pulling away to loosen the fabric from your legs and toss it elsewhere on the floor beside him.

Wooyoung comes back up, kissing you again and just as hungrily as before — feeling his fingers dip into the elastic hip of your panties, before once again pulling back to release those of you as well.

He breaks the cycle then, bringing up the flat of his fingers against your pussy to feel the heat radiating off of your skin before looking up at you and resuming said cycle — pressing his mouth hard against yours again, trailing down the corner and along your jaw — teeth grazing lightly against the skin as the tip of his middle finger gently dips between your folds to tease at you. Breath hitching in your throat at the contact, you feel him grin into your skin.

“W—Wooyoung,” you choke out, intensity of the situation all consuming and somehow more heavy set than you had even expected.

“What?”

But you forget what it was you were even planning on saying once his finger makes proper contact with your clit — perhaps it was nothing, just an airy exasperation of his name altogether, but just as quickly as everything else the man between your legs pulls from you and pulls you down by the legs, ass edging on the side of the sofa and propping your legs up on his shoulders just as he had said he would — wasting no time thereafter going to work on you.

And you didn't expect him to be lying about what he would or wouldn't do if given the opportunity, but his eagerness right then and there — tongue pressing hard circles into your clit just before applying ample suction against you with his lips, not unwilling to make a mess of himself in the process and, from what you can tell, all the more delighted in doing so as his face glistens with each time that he pulls away to reposition — with eyes screwed shut and one arm tossed over your face in an attempt to stay grounded, the other reaches down, finding its way along the top of his head, fingers curling into hair that only hours earlier you were neatly decorating and clipping into place — hair now entangled and tightly gripped as Wooyoung makes alarmingly quick work of your body from your living room floor.

Bringing a hand up, he delicately presses one finger in, finding little resistance, and adds a second upon his following drive into you. Hand pumping into you at a slow, almost excruciating pace, Wooyoung focuses all of the attention on sucking you harder, faster with the way that your breaths pick up and become weaker, whines higher pitched than before — and if you weren't close before, the additional stimulation gets you climbing that peak all that much faster, gripping hard into his hair as you whimper out his name again, this time far more broken than the time previously.

But like a good man, he doesn't stop — bringing his eyes up to watch as you fall apart above him, you open your eyes only briefly to take in the sight, his eyes smiling back at you with the pretty little adornment of the beauty mark just beneath one.

You cuss, grinding hard down and against his mouth, and come undone against him just like that. Wooyoung sucks you through your orgasm, shallowly pressing fingers into you before removing them altogether as your high dissipates. Chest heaving, you lie in the afterglow of your peak, eyes still closed from exhaustion in the aftermath.

Wooyoung chuckles from between your legs. Cracking open your eyes, you find him settled back and on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks at you with unbridled satisfaction.

“I've been dying to do that,” he finally says, leaning forward and snaking the palms of his hands up your bare thighs, thumbs catching on the hem of your shirt and pressing upwards with insistence that you allow him to remove it. You grant him the access, pulling your back off of the couch long enough for him to pull the fabric up and over your head and watching as he happily tosses it elsewhere before leaning down and pressing his mouth against your own again.

The kiss is brief though, before a man on a mission makes his way back down from where he came but with stops along the journey — nimble hands reaching around the back of you and working to remove your bra — before you even have a moment to settle, plump, warm lips and tongue press into your now exposed flesh and the feeling of him; so encompassing and overwhelming has you squirming in desire beneath him as if you hadn't just come already.

“I need you,” he whispers into your skin, tongue circling your nipple between commentary. “Please, I need to feel you so bad, you drive me crazy.”

You're not sure what it is, the unabashed neediness or just the fact that it's him or maybe even the combination of the two — a man so young and famous and sexy that he could have anyone he desired and yet right now, in this moment, he makes you feel as though the only person or thing he's ever desired so badly in his life...is you.

It's as if the burning throb of arousal never even left you.

“Noona, please.”

It wasn't typically something that did it for you, and in fact, you never understood why it really 'did it' for anyone — but you had to be honest, it was working for you now.

Needy whining, begging, spilling from Wooyoung as his mouth lingers across the expanse of exposed skin. You ask him to take his shirt off and he follows through immediately, only to come back up to pick up where he had left off, but the feeling of his own hot skin against your own only serving to light you up even further.

“Switch places,” you whisper to him, and he follows order without question, pulling up quickly and allowing you space between his legs. Palms grazing over the top of his thighs, you smile up at him at the sight before you. “Same sweats as that one night?”

“Coincidence,” he answers, voice already slightly broken at the implications of what's to come, so you waste no time gripping into the waistband of his pants and pulling down his legs, freeing him and finally becoming more acquainted with what it was that had your interest really piqued since that night only a couple of weeks prior.

“Don't seem so tough now, you know,” you mock, taking his length into your hand and lazily pumping him, his eyes glued to the way you make contact on him.

“Wait until I get you in the bedroom,” he answers, tone lower and less broken now — as if snapping back to reality to assert some form of dominance that had never really had a place in the interaction prior.

You inch forward, taking him into your mouth shallowly, tongue wrapping circles along the tip as he melts into your mouth — both hands coming forward to hold onto your hair. He's not rough, and not assuming the pace, but with every press down of your mouth along him you take him deeper and deeper, his mouth dropping open just that much more at the feeling of your warmth along his shaft.

“Feel so good, you feel so good,” he chants under his breath as you bob along him — a steady rhythm but not so fast with intent to get him there, Wooyoung's head falls back to take in the feeling. “That's it baby, you take it so well.”

The praise has your pussy throbbing all over again, pace on his cock quickening unbeknownst to you just at the prospect of what other filthy things will fall from those beautiful lips.

So, you play along.

Pulling off of him briefly and replacing the sensation with your hand, you look up at him, quickly fisting him and occasionally licking a circle around the tip. “Yeah? That why you like older women? Like the experience?”

Wooyoung groans at the words as if you accidentally stumbled upon some kink that he hadn't made you all that privy to to begin with, hips bucking up into your hand as his eyebrows furrow, “Yeah, know your way around a cock, don't you?”

“I do,” you answer, stuffing him back into your mouth without warning and taking him down a few times just to listen to him groan deeply at the sight and sensation before pulling back up. “Hoping I fucked that guy back there just so you could be sure?”

“Little bit,” he chuckles through a whine as you continue to jerk him off along side the conversation. “Kinda like hearing about it, too.”

“Nasty boy,” you tease in reply, licking a stripe up his shaft before circling around the head of his cock again and watching the way his eyes roll back.

But just as suddenly, Wooyoung snaps forward, pulling your hand off of him and standing up to pull you with him towards the bedroom. “This one?” he asks, simultaneously shoving you inside of it as if the answer you provided wouldn't have matter to begin with, but you assure him that it is, in fact, the correct room as he continues pulling you towards the bed — turning to lie himself on it first before reaching for your wrist and pulling you down to straddle his hips.

You assume the position, grinding gently against his length as he brings you into a sloppy kiss again, you pull off of him not long thereafter, hands flat against his chest as you slide against him.

“All this talk just so I can ride you, eh? Lazy boy,” you say with the same teasing voice as before.

But Wooyoung shakes his head, hands quickly making their way up the length of your thighs and settling on your waist as you hover above his aching cock.

“I just have to see you ride my cock, please, I'll fuck you stupid afterwards, I'll have you begging for it, baby—“ he pleads, one hand slipping down between the two of you to align himself with your entrance, other hand gently pulling you down onto his shaft as he continues on. “—Wanted me to fill you up that night, but I'll do it tonight instead.”

It's an unfortunate giveaway the way his words have such an affect on you, already nearly fully seated on him when the nasty implications of the plans he has for you that evening drop from his sinful lips — walls clenching hard around him, so much so that he groans at the feeling as you sink down to fully take him in. Wooyoung's fingers dig into the skin of your hips as you gently begin to rock against him, thick girth of him tugging at you in all of the ways that you knew it would when you saw it — so full and stretched that even the slightest movement pulls at your clit as you ride him ever so delicately. You whimper shortly thereafter at the feeling he provides you, your nails now digging into the skin of his chest as he watches the space between the both of your hips — watching how your cunt struggles to accommodate his size and yet does so regardless, he allows his head to fall back against the mattress, taking in the feeling of the moment as you bite back your pathetic, flustered, sounds.

“Feel so good, baby,” he finally says, rubbing your thighs as you attempt to ride him to any useful degree. “Is it what you wanted? When you thought about it, is it better?” he adds, pressing his hips up ever so slightly to meet your own as you drop down onto him, a louder hiss dropping from you at the added friction.

“Awww,” he coos teasingly as he watches the way you struggle on top of him. “Mommy's good at talking but not so good at taking it, huh?”

You're not proud of the way that sentence goes straight to your pooling arousal.

And just as quickly, Wooyoung pulls you off of him to switch you places, pressing your back to the mattress as he adjusts himself between your legs.

“I can come in you?” he asks suddenly, and it feels almost random, as if breaking scene in a film. So sudden that you almost don't catch it, but coming back to reality, you nod.

“Uh, y—yeah.”

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” he replies, leaning back down and pressing his chest into your own to kiss you — head of his cock teasingly dangling just against your pussy and occasionally grazing your sensitive clit, you press your hips up and into him in an attempt to make the contact that you want, Wooyoung chuckling devilishly against the skin of your chin and neck as you struggle to achieve what you set out for.

“Not as good at taking my cock as I thought you'd be,” he playfully pouts, lips attaching into the skin just at the juncture of your neck and shoulder to suck red and purple blotches into it. “But mommy, you were supposed to be so good.”

The tone in which the words drop from his lips, quite evidently mocking, playful, toying with you and the idea of the age play of it all. You knew that this was part of it for him, you had been warned.

But you didn't know it was going to do it for you, in addition.

“Guess we have to try again,” he whispers, lips trailing up a bit higher and just under your ear. “Probably better off if I'm in control, huh?”

With that, Wooyoung begins his slow drive into you once again — for a man that talks so much about your inability to take him, and being in control, you find his attention to your comfort almost surprising — not taking it quickly and giving you ample time to adjust to the intrusion even in spite of it not being the first time that night that you had taken him, once bottomed out, he settles for a few moments; kissing and sucking along your neck, along with babbling words of affirmation and encouragement all the while before pulling his hips back and slowly pressing forward once again.

The fullness of him is almost stifling, though — and paired with the fact that he won't shut the fuck up through it.

Five or six more delicate drives into you and Wooyoung begins to settle into a more fluid pace, rocking his hips against your own with hard impact but not entirely quick, every push of his cock into you more brutal than the last as he hovers above you and watches the way your face contorts with glee.

“Look at you, so good,” he groans in between snaps of his hips, hands flat against the mattress and on either side of your head to watch the way your cunt takes him. “Aww, I was wrong, you take my cock so well, I knew you would.”

Clenching hard around him with praise, your hands clasp around his arms, nails digging into the tan, hot skin with every drive of himself against you — the sound of wet skin against skin reverberating through your bedroom, and more than that, the sight of Wooyoung's bottom lip sucked up and between his teeth — arms and chest flexing with every movement of his hips.

The familiar feeling of your impending orgasm felt building once again at a particularly hard thrust from him, you cry out, catching his attention. Wooyoung slows, not entirely sure of how to take the sound, but is just as quickly met with your babbling and begging of him not to stop, to which he grins and resumes his rough pace into you.

Leaning down and wrapping an arm up and under your shoulder for more leverage to pull your body down and against him, chest to chest like this, Wooyoung continues his previous ministrations on your skin with his mouth, nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck, collar bones, jaw and mouth as he fucks hard into you — harder now with the positioning, you cry out again and louder even, much to his delight.

“Fuck, Wooyoung—“ you whisper against his mouth, feeling your orgasm threatening in the not so distant future.

“Yeah baby?” he coos back, so gentle in tone and completely opposing the brutality of the way he's fucking you. “Gonna come? Gonna come for me? Just from my cock, nothing else?”

You nod wildly, the way he's talking to you bringing you to the edge even faster — muscles tightening in your abdomen and losing the ability to verbally communicate to much extent at all.

“Good, good, you're so good,” he babbles into your skin, grip on your shoulder tightening even more. “Love it when you say my name, God you're so perfect.”

You whine, pulling forward to press your mouth into his shoulder just in front of you.

“Want me to come inside of you now? Make you mine? You know I want to so bad, want to fill you up so bad.”

Your insides twist at the way he's nearly begging to, despite already having been given the go ahead to do so. All a part of the game, you figure.

It's working, though.

You nod again, but Wooyoung brings his free hand over and to your clit, taking it between his fingers and thumb to force you into eye contact with him.

“Gotta say it, noona, can you say it for me?”

Your fingers dig into him harder, you're reaching inevitability much faster than you had originally intended with the way that he's talking to you, and the anticipation of just what it is he'll say next.

You knew he was gonna be a wild ride, but you didn't anticipate him to be this much of a freak.

“God, noona, please say it, please noona say you want me to come in you, I want to so bad.”

“Wooyoung, Jesus, I'm gonna—“

But he stills, cock buried deep inside of you as you whine at the loss of your incoming peak, shocked at the fact that he would do it.

You're not proud of your next step, either.

“Wooyoung, please, please, don't stop—“ you beg, trying to fuck yourself onto him in an attempt to reach your orgasm, and he does start a drive into you again, albeit much more delicate and less hearty than previous.

“Wow, so whiny,” he chides against your ear, shallowly thrusting into your soaking wet cunt with no intention behind it at all. “I'll give you what you want noona — thick, young, cock to come around, yeah?” he whispers, the words sending chills down your spine paired with the way that the tip of his length dips in and out of you teasingly.

“That what you want?” he whispers again.

“Yes,” you whine in response.

“Want me to come in you too, don't you?” he adds, nose nuzzling into the side of your face as he begins a proper push of his length back inside of you. “Fill you up? Pump a nice, hot load into your tight little cunt?”

It's the first time in the night that his dirty talk had been so lewd, so filthy. Slow drive of his cock back into you and even with the tiniest friction that it provides, just the words alone have you building back up to that place that only moments ago he had stripped from you just as quickly.

You'll do and say anything, now.

“Yes, Wooyoung, please,” you whisper, his hips snapping into you two, three times at the words. “Please daddy—“

The both of you stop as a point of both shock and confusion, neither expecting the word dropping out so suddenly, and not one typically on your repertoire, but Wooyoung seems to take it happily and in stride with an accompanying small giggle, quickly falling into the role that is required of him and driving hard against your hips at the pace once lost all over again — teeth baring against your cheek as he does so.

“Daddy? Well I wasn't planning on it but if you want it so bad,” Wooyoung grits out, reaching down with one hand and pulling one of your legs up and out. “I can fuck a baby into you, too. That why you want me to fill you up so bad? Want me to give you one?”

“Oh my God, Wooyoung, I—“ you groan, nails digging so hard into his skin that you fear you may actually hurt him, muscles in your abdomen tightening so suddenly, so hardly that it takes you by surprise — thick cock still pounding hard into you at an even better angle now, and Wooyoung begins kissing against your skin again.

“Feel so good around me, God, noona, come for me baby, milk me dry, wanna feel you come around my dick.”

muscles locking up, sound catching in your throat, your orgasm rips through your body with little more warning and nearly silently — stilling beneath the man as he continues to fuck you through your high, chasing his own and praising you through it as you do.

“Gonna come baby,” he groans at the impending orgasm of his own. Pulling up and off of you slightly he looks back down between the two of you before meeting your fucked out gaze again and screwing his own eyes shut. “Fuck, noona, fuck you full of me, God I'll ruin this pussy, yeah?”

Two, three more drives into you, Wooyoung buries his cock deep before stilling, head dropping as he growls through his release into you — gentle, shallow thrusts accompanying him as he begins to pull himself out of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ he whispers as he finally expels his body from yours completely at the feeling of the overstimulation on his dick, flopping over onto the side of you and clenching his eyes shut for a moment as he attempts to steady his breathing in the aftermath.

Even having had more time to settle than him, you're not that much better off.

Silence takes the room beyond heavy breathing, you look over to take in the sight of the light sheen of sweat adorning the man's beautiful body, unsure if you'll ever even get the chance to enjoy this again — if you were to want to, that is. Wooyoung cards his fingers through black and gold hair, pulling most off of his slick forehead before turning to you to meet your gaze. Somewhat embarrassed upon having been caught looking at him, he only smiles gently, as if to tell you that it's okay. That the two of you are past such silly formalities, as it were.

“Hey,” you whisper, searching for his stray hand among the crumpled sheets beneath you.

“Yeah?”

“You're kind of a sicko, you know that?”

Wooyoung laughs, so much so and with such a dry throat that it sends him into a coughing fit as a result. You reach for a bottled water that you have on your nightstand and hand it to him for him to lubricate with, clearing his throat and handing the bottle back to you before attempting to respond to such accusations.

“Maybe so,” he finally says. “But you sure liked it. What's that say about you?”

“Who knows,” you reply, staring at the ceiling as if soul searching for the answers to such questions. “Maybe we're just particularly, disgustingly matched.”

“Maybe so.” Wooyoung nods, adjusting comfortably into the bed beneath him.

On the last day of filming, everything carries on as normal.

You're not entirely sure what story Wooyoung told the others as to why he never came home last night — having slept the rest of the night with you and the two of you having to devise quite the plan to leave from the same place and arrive to the same place without anyone being in on the pick up, but you figure that you manage with no bizarre or questioning looks upon your entry — and Wooyoung already seated and waiting, ready for you to begin to get to work on him.

As he ticks away on his phone, you lean down towards his head questioningly.

“Did you use my shampoo?”

“What was I supposed to use?”

“Probably not the thing that smells like me?”

You watch in the reflection as he stops for a moment to mull the concept over, quite evidently having not thought about it prior to this moment, only to shrug and go back to typing on his phone.

After shooting wraps and everyone is saying their goodbyes, you thank the members and their staff for the warm welcoming and all of their help to make sure that the work environment was comfortable and smooth for you. For Hongjoong and Wooyoung especially — who you worked with most closely — the two hug you, sending you on your way, but not before Hongjoong makes some snide comment about finally being able to escape Wooyoung.

It was true, that you would finally escape the grip of that man, however, wanting to escape? You weren't so sure.

Gently tossing your belongings into the back of a taxi, you climb in and pull your seatbelt over you, reaching towards your purse and pulling out your phone to see what your next schedule would be for the upcoming weeks, only to find a text on your phone that had come in hours prior.

>big trouble: let me see you again (not just sex way)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ hope you enjoyed! please check out my navigation for more (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

[sescoups]

surprise - lee jihoon

masterlist

summary: your boyfriend needs to know how pretty he is, and you can only think of one way to show him

word count: 1.2k

a/n: i blacked out again. idk what happened but i am in love with this man so ig that explains it.

18+, MDNI!! warnings under the cut <3

warnings: oral (m. rec.), deep throating, mentions of penetrative sex, reader is so down bad but so is jihoon so it's doubly gross tbh, lmk if i forgot something!

You’re distracted, to say the least. The worst part is that he isn’t even doing anything particularly seductive, you’re just down atrocious. To you, there’s something about the way Jihoon’s fingers move over the keys as he works on a melody on his midi keyboard, something about the way he taps the drum pads, and when he stretches in his chair you can barely stop yourself from melting into a puddle.

He’s just too pretty, and you can’t let him live without knowing just how much you appreciate his mere existence.

When your knees hit the floor next to his chair, he jumps in his seat. He hadn’t heard you move, and almost forgot you were there. Not really, because how could he - you’re his favorite human to ever walk the earth - but you had definitely not been at the forefront of his mind right then. Your eyes meet his, and he just knows he’s about to be absolutely ruined forever. Again.

With the help of the arm rest, you turn his chair in your direction until you’re settled between his knees. You rest your head on his knee, staring up at him with wide eyes. His beauty will never stop baffling you, you think.

The position you’re in reminds Jihoon of too many similar occasions for him to be able to stop his dick from getting hard, but he suspects that was your plan anyway. Your eyes glisten at him the way they always do when the tip of his cock is kissing the back of your throat, and suddenly, his mouth is dry and his head is empty. Your hand trails up his thigh and he has to shut his eyes to escape the sight of you for a second; otherwise, he fears he may combust.

Your hand comes into contact with the bulge straining against the front of his basketball shorts, and a hum leaves your throat. You don’t mean for it to happen, it just does. Maybe it’s because you can’t help but think of how he can ruin you with it, or maybe you just sincerely feel like his pleasure is yours, too. It doesn’t really matter. As the nails on your left hand scratch against the skin of his right thigh, your right hand is teasing at the waistband of his shorts. You blink up at him, waiting for any indication (other than his erection) that he wants this and you’re allowed to keep going. Consent is sexy.

“Please,” he breathes, and who are you to deny him?

You lower his shorts as well as you can while he’s sitting in his desk chair, and he lifts his hips to help you out. His boxers come off with them, and you come face to face with one of your favorite parts of your boyfriend’s body. He takes his shirt off, too, because wearing only that is weird to him. You couldn’t care less, distracted as you are.

While yes, your underwear is absolutely ruined at this point, you’re not after stimulation for yourself. Your only goal is to swallow Jihoon’s dick whole and swallow every drop he gives you so he can get back to work. You don’t even think about teasing him and simply grip him with one hand, stroking a few times while you watch his face slacken in pleasure.

Once his hips start lifting of their own volition you can’t hold back any longer, so you put his tip in your mouth and suck gently. A punched out breath leaves him from above you, and you meet his eyes briefly before his roll to the back of his skull. Your lips twitch around his shaft before you sink deeper, starting a slow bob up and down.

Some days, he prefers for you to go fast; others, he just wants to feel your every movement, the drag of your lips against his skin driving him insane. Today, he’s torn. He wants to cum so bad, your sweatpants and messy bun combo wreaking havoc in his mind, but the sensation of your tongue against his shaft is too good to pass up. His skin feels like it’s burning, and while he can’t see the flush spreading down his neck and onto his chest, you sure can.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me, darlin’,” he mutters out, his thighs trembling from the pleasure. You swallow around him in response, and his hips force him deeper into your throat.

Where he isn’t the longest, he’s thick. Your lips are straining around him, as is your throat. You think it must be the best feeling in the world to be choking on his fat dick, jaw aching and drool spilling out through the corners of your mouth. Jihoon appreciates the view just as much. Too much, maybe.

“Baby, baby, I can’t, I need to- I’m- please,” he ends up wheezing.

You hum around him and sink down the rest of the way, letting your nose get buried in his pubic hair. You stay still for a moment and swallow again, and then he’s gripping his chair for dear life as he spills himself directly down your throat. He’s convinced that he’s going to grip your hair so hard it will hurt you if he doesn’t keep his grip on the chair, but he wants to touch you so bad, wants to let you know that you bring him more pleasure than he’s ever felt in his life.

As soon as he’s finished, you’re pulling back to suck in a deep breath. His body has gone limp against the chair, a thin layer of sweat having materialized on his skin mere minutes after you started. His chest is rising and falling fast, and that glorious flush is still gracing his neck and chest. He looks so pretty you can’t help but lean in and suckle gently on his tip again, only to be swiftly rebuffed.

“If you think I have anything left to give you right now, you’re insane.”

You laugh and wipe around your mouth, licking your lips. Your boyfriend is still reeling, convinced he’s dreaming or hallucinating or something, because there is no way this is real. The constant white noise that occupies his head is quiet, and in its place is you. He’s still not sure if he should just take you home, fuck you like you deserve and then fall asleep or write you a song, because he’s honestly extremely inspired right now.

While he’s zoned out, you stand up and move back to the couch. Your knees crack as you go, but you don’t even wince; you have no complaints about what just happened, and you will gladly wait a few more hours to go home with your lover. You’re pulled away from your phone before you’ve even properly unlocked it and pulled into a slow, passionate kiss by the man of your dreams. You hum against his lips, and he groans at the taste of his own release tainting your lips and mouth.

“I think,” he mumbles, hand carding through your hair and gripping it tightly, “that we need to go home. Right now.”

Once again, who are you to deny him?

a/n: if you liked this post, please remember to like and reblog! thank you <3