#didn’t expect to like the gold/silver into white card as much as i did but the textures are so nice!

[norfkid]

linoprint update! i’m pretty happy with these :]

#🛷 #didn’t expect to like the gold/silver into white card as much as i did but the textures are so nice! #onto* #uniposting #fish tag #my art

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

--

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

-

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

-

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

-

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

-

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

-

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

-

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[kkusuka]

hiii I was wondering if you could do a threesome w kuroo bokuto and y/n?? plsss💞

i can actually, that’s the fun part.

(I'm going to try to use gender-neutral pronouns, but the reader has female anatomy, I hope that’s ok!) 

I deadass just took this and ran with it oml. 

All 18+, public sex, circumstantial humiliation, slight voyeurism, orgasm denial, threesome M/F/M, they’re both kind mean but not really, slight degrading 

Synopsis: Your college chem class is kicking your ass so when your professor recommends you to Kuroo, who seems to come in a package deal with another owl-ish boy, you were more than thankful. 

4/25

You couldn't believe it, you were so sure you had done well on this test. You made flashcards and even scoured the web for as many quizlets on the subject as you possibly could. But one thing remained the same: Masahiro sensei’s chemistry class was kicking your ass. 

No matter how many times you looked at the reference tables and started at the elements you didn't understand a single word that came out of that man's mouth. What’s worse is that you seemed to be the only one who ever had trouble in his class, and he always made sure to let you know. 

Side glances during lectures, calling you out when he knows you have no clue what the answer could be, talking about how 'some people’ would do better if they tried harder. You just didn't know what else to do. 

So, in some twisted way, you were thankful when he requested to keep you a few minutes after class requesting to talk about some personal issues. Issues you wished would include a new grade and easier tests. 

But him telling you about a boy with exceptional grades who would be a perfect fit to help you out, was something you had expected, but did not want. You felt more embarrassed than you already were, couldn't he just give you a website where you could watch videos about ionic and binary compounds? 

Looking back to the phone number he had written for you on an index card, you relent. Sending a quick message to the number you shut your phone off and tried to get to your dorm, dropping onto your bed faster than you’d like to admit. 

Hey, this is y/n l/n, Masahiro-sensei gave me your number for possible tutoring, if you're up for it of course. Any time for me works. 12:56 pm 

Yeah, he let me know about a possible tutoring session, how about the library tomorrow at 4? 1:03 pm 

I'm Kuroo Tetsurou btw. 1:07 pm

And like that your day got 10x worse, you don't even know who this way. You at least hoped it was the boy with the fluffy hair in the first row. At least Masahio told him, you assume it may have gone worse, tomorrow at the library at 4. 

You could deal with that. 

-- 

Your first meeting had gone fairly well. You arrived that the library entrance five minutes early reaching for your phone to let the mysterious Kuroo Tetsurou know that you had arrived, but before you could get that far- 

“No need babe, I'm right here, L/n right?” 

He was tall, taller than you at least. Tall enough to be able to lock down at you. Looking at you with his narrow hazel eyes and his sleazy yet comforting cat-like smile. His hands were shoved into the pockets of a bright red- volleyball jacket? Nekoma volleyball club must be from high school. 

He led you to an isolated corner of the science section on the third floor, a place you had frequented during your mid-semester crying chemistry sessions-- hopefully your tears have dried up by now and you won't make a fool of yourself. 

He wasted no time asking exactly what you need help with and seemed more than surprised when you told him everything. He let out a laugh that made you want to get up and run away before letting you know that it was normal to be confused and that you would just start with the electron configurations. 

It was going great, he was an amazing teacher and knew exactly what to tell you to make you remember all the rules of the SPDF configurations and everything leading up to the oxidation states of the transition metals. It was just sad that he had to go over everything a second time just for you to get it in your mind. 

In the middle of explaining lead’s second oxidation state, Kuroos phone lit up with a notification a Bokuto was calling. Without a second glance, he declined the call and went right to the first state of silver. 

Three seconds in this same Bokuto called back after a few choice texts, letting out a sigh he apologized muting about a stupid owl not giving him a moment of rest no matter the time of day. 

He picked up and tried to walk away as quick as he could, the only thing you could gain from the conversion was a 

HEY HEY! you still at the library? Though you’d be done by now Kuroo!

To which Kuroo told whoever was on the end of the line, that he didn't mind and they should mind their own business. Then you were out of earshot. when he came back he looked as if the life was sucked from his soul. 

He plopped into the chair across from you and sat for a second before releasing a deep breath. He looked back at you connecting eyes--they looked impossibly cat-like under the lights of the library-- before shooting you a shifty smirk. 

“Babe you're doing great but I've gotta cut it off for today, and you don't mind if a friend joins us for the next few sessions? He isn't that bright.” 

It took you of all five seconds to think of your answer, another person who wasn't the brightest will make you look less stupid. Just the thought made you feel bad, you're sure that Bokuto was a wonderful person, hopefully, and did not deserve to be used to make you seem less hopeless. Yet still, 

“Yes! That’s totally fine, I'll see you in two days?” 

“Sounds great” 

--

“‘C'mon babe what's the dashed configuration of bromine?” 

You didn't know, or maybe you did. It's not like that would matter considering the two fingers curling into your sweet spot. You could only focus on the way he rubbed your throbbing nub that sent sparks straight beach into your core. 

“I-i I don’t- god, please, please, need to cum.” you were so close, Kuroo had already ripped two orgasms from you because you didn't know the answer, and you were going to scream if he did it again. “Please, wanna cum” 

“No can do baby Owl, that’s the deal no cumming until you get the question.” 

Bokuto. 

You would have forgotten he was there if it weren't for his piercing gaze on Kuroo’s fingers drenched in your slick. Not once has it wavered from you, your silt to you tits up to your lips. 

You had to try, he’ll stop. Somewhere in the back of your mind you know the answer, they know you know the answer. Somewhere else in your mind you think about how you got caught up in this in the first place. 

How Kuroo was frustrated and told you the if you got another wrong answer he would fuck the right one into you. Or bokuto purposely mocking him that sent him further until his hands were pulling your panties down your legs stuffing two fingers in your cunt, saying how he won't stop until you get all the answers right. 

“Two- e-eight- eight-teen- please please, si--six- NO seven, it’s seven. ‘M so close please” 

Kuroo seemed pleased with your answer, his hands moving quickly around your bud and curling further into your g-spot as Bokuto makes his way around the table to where the two of you are seated. 

Pulling the shirt above your head, Bokuto circles a nipple through the fabric of your bra commenting on how quickly it had pebbled, attaching his mouth to your other as Kuroo commanded you to cum around his relentless digits. 

Clenching around his fingers you hadn't noticed a head of white and black hair moving towards your center. Coming off the high of your orgasm you felt Bokuto’s tongue spread your lips as his nose circled your clit.  

“Oh, dude! You gotta taste ‘em! Like liquid gold, Man!” 

You flushed further, if possible, tethering a hand into Bokuto's hair. Understanding the compliment Kuroo swiped a finger along your slick-covered thighs and let a mockingly loud moan fall between his lips. 

As if you could be more embarrassed by the noises of Bokuto slurping whatever he could catch in his mouth, Kuroo’s coos of how red you look and how delicious you look, as the man under you eats as if it was his last meal. 

Two hands grabbed your waist and lifted you off Bokuto, placing you back on your feet. Turing you toward the wall of windows and hand on your back bent you over the table surrounded by all of your notes. 

“Look at that, she’s just gushing all over the place. All this over a chemistry lesson? Who knew I was teaching such a cockwhore this whole time.” a hand met your clit as Kuroo began to push into you, forcing you further into the table. 

You heard a gasping moan as he bottomed out, glancing over to where Bokuto sat hand around the base of his cock, standing as Kuroo waved him over to you. 

“I think you can fit two, right?”  and just like that bokuto was forcing his way into your clenching walls. There was discomfort until a soft pop to which both the boys let out a sigh. 

You feel so full. You didn't know who but one of them was brushing against your cervix. The first thrust came to you as a surprise,  following with a second's rest before the two of them created a steady rhythm.

The faster they went the more apparent it was, they were using you like a fleshlight. You couldn't even speak as a cock hit right at your g-spot. Back arching you let out a series of small “ahs” much to Kuroo’s enjoyment. 

“You fucking like this! Getting dicked where everyone can see. By two cocks no less!” he laughed pulling your head up from its place in your arms, making you have to look at your reflection in the glass. 

“No-no I-” a smack to your ass stopped you from trying to defend what little dignity you had left. There was no defending as Bokuto leaned towards your ear, never breaking rhythm. 

“No?,” he was practically snarling, “Then why the hell are you clenching our dicks so well, Baby Owl?”  

As if he flipped a switch your world went dark as you clenched further on the two men as you came. Riding out your orgasm neither of them let up the pace as they jackhammered into your poor pussy. 

Bokuto came first, with a loud groan of your name before he slumped into the chair he previously inhabited.  Settling to watch as Kuroo pulled your chest up to meet your back to his chest. Rutting into you as his orgasm rapidly approaches. 

If you weren't so sure this place was desolate you would be worried about someone hearing the slaps of your skin, or Kuroo’s final grunt as he filled you with his load, dropping you to lean on the table. 

At least your next chemistry test was graded with a 21/25, you’re sure the two of them will love to hear about that.

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto smut #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq #hq smut #hq x reader #my brain went brrrrrrr #this is kinda all over the place #kinda bad but whatever

[sehunniepotwrites]

when the ball drops, our hearts stop | mk.l

gif created by @nctsworld​ 

SYNOPSIS ☆ In which being dragged and ditched at a New Year’s Eve gala with your so-called enemy doesn’t end as badly as you thought it would. 

GENRE ☆ enemies-to-lovers!au, fluff, suggestive PAIRING ☆ mark lee x (f) reader WORD COUNT ☆ 2666 WARNINGS ☆ suggestive content ahead!! dirty dancing, neck kisses, alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating, cursing

PLAYLIST ☆ new year’s day - taylor swift

“What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?” had to be the number one question that was sent your way and unlike last year, you didn’t have an answer. Finding your lack of plans to celebrate the upcoming year with a bang, your best friend Wendy decided to drag you to the great outdoors. 

And by the great outdoors, she meant the biggest New Year’s Gala in the city. So there you were, in the grandest hotel in the heart of the city, downed in a glittery silver power suit that hugged your body in just the right way. A matching belt wrapped around to cinch your waist and the low cut of your blazer and lack of undershirt only accentuated the curves you usually preferred hiding. Hair curled up and face painted with the most flattering colors for your skin tone, you were rocking and ready to go.

The gala was packed with people your age and older with a mix of top forty music blaring from the loudspeakers. Everyone was dressed to the nines, wearing suits and dresses that went with the gold and silver theme. Bodies were pressed against each other on the dance floor and you were sure Wendy and her boyfriend Johnny were in that crowd as well. They were always the type to be caught up in all the fun— you, not so much, not since your breakup with your ex that occurred five months ago anyway.

You wanted to stray away from the party scene since it was your ex’s scene as well but fuck it, it was New Year’s Eve and you deserved to have fun. Your definition of fun included an obscene amount of alcohol, courtesy of Son Wendy and the credit card she slipped into the palm of your hand before making her way to the dance floor.

Of course, you promised that you would chat and get to know some people, maybe find someone to share a New Year’s kiss with but it was all a lie. You just wanted your free drinks and the loneliness haunting your mind to fade away.

Three Long Island Iced Teas and a bit way past tipsy into your night, a person pushed their way next to you at the bar, their body pressing against your side as they ordered a drink. You couldn’t see them, your hair creating a curtain and blocking them from view but you felt their eyes on you. It wasn’t until you leaned forward and took another sip of your drink that the person talked to you, immediately recognizing your face.

They called your name a bit cockily and you flinched at the sound, sober enough to pinpoint the exact person next to you but drunk enough to engage in a conversation with him. Swiveling your barstool to face him, you shot him a curt smile, lifting your drink up from the bar in greeting. “Mark,” you nodded as you drank him in. 

“Yo.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Mark Lee was handsome. His hair had been dyed a shade of blond and was styled in a way that made your heart unwillingly skip a beat. His grey velvet suit clung onto his body oh-so-well and the black tie that contrasted against the bright white of his shirt looked almost too tempting, the drunken state of your mind was urging you to pull it so he could step closer to you.

What did people say? Drunken thoughts, sober words? Yeah, fuck that.

“Johnny invited you?” you questioned as you sucked on the straw of your drink. You watched as his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips for a fraction of a second, his lips curving into the smirk you wanted to punch off his face. Or kiss. 

“Yeah, should’ve figured I would see you when John invited me. You and Wendy are like a packaged deal, you know?” he replied as the bartender dropped off his drink. This time, your gaze was glued to his mouth as he took a swig of his drink, eyes slightly widening as his tongue peeked out before he downed the liquid courage. 

Coughing out of embarrassment, you looked away before Mark could catch you eyeing his seemingly delectable mouth. 

“You look like the mirrorball that’s about to drop,” he commented on your fit of the night. Glancing down at your suit, you frowned. It didn’t look that bad, did it?

When you shifted in your seat yet again, it sent your head spinning for a second, leaving you to grasp against Mark’s toned arm for balance. “I feel like one too,” you threw back. “Is the room spinning?”

“Shit, dude, how much did you drink?” His voice dropped lower in slight concern.

You hold up three fingers before blinking. No, it was four. You raised another finger. 

“All of them iced teas?” 

“Yup!”

He cursed “Where’s your asshole of a boyfriend? Don’t see him around anywhere— doesn’t he know it’s not safe to leave their girl alone at the bar?” Mark pushed, suddenly worried about your safety. He asked if anyone had hit on you yet and let out a sigh of relief when you reiterated that no one had bothered you. Despite the insult thrown your ex’s way, you remembered how considerate the guy was. The only real reason you hated Mark was due to the rivalry he held with your ex-boyfriend.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, shoulders raising and the material of your blazer shifting. Mark coughed, eyes quickly darting away so they wouldn’t land on the deep cut into your cleavage. “Probably sucking face with the bitch he left me for.”

Another long swig of your iced tea and suddenly, the drink was gone with only ice in the glass. You pointed a finger at his face, “Don’t cheat, folks. It’ll wreck a person.”

“Fuck,” Mark muttered under his breath, now fuming with anger that someone would cheat on a girl like you. It only grew when he realized your best friends had left you at the bar alone. He was going to rip their heads off later— how irresponsible of them. 

“Maybe that’s enough drinking for you today,” he told you, wanting to cut you off so you could sober up. He waved a hand in the air to call the bartender over to request two glasses of water, which was immediately prepared for you.

“Drink up,” Mark commanded, holding the straw to your lips. 

You thanked him with a lazy smile before drinking away, sighing at the refreshing feeling of the cold water running down your throat. He held the drink for you in his hands as you continued to work on the glass, only setting it down after you finished it. 

“Thanks,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his shoulder. He felt comfortable and you didn’t want to move as you breathed in the addicting scent of his cologne. You always preferred Mark’s fresh cologne over your ex’s overwhelmingly woody scent. It was consoling and safe and nice and—

“Hey, why don’t we move you to a booth? You’ll be more comfortable there,” Mark softly suggested.

“But what if I want to dance for once?” you whined.

“Let’s get you to sober up a bit more and then I can take you dancing, how ‘bout that?” His breath hit your ear and you laughed at the cold sensation before nodding. A flush that had nothing to do with the alcohol you consumed took over your face as the man you said you hated wrapped a supporting arm around your waist.

An hour later, your drunken state was fading as was the loneliness you were dreading. Mark Lee made an excellent company; he wasn’t at all what your ex painted him out to be. He was kind, caring, and endearingly sweet with the prettiest pair of eyes to match. The way his body wiggled to match his overflowing giggles brought the brightest smile to your lips, something you hadn’t experienced in quite some time. 

The time spent with him in the small booth rekindled the crush you harbored for him before you met your sad excuse of an ex, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Hey,” he leaned over the table, his face so close to yours. “You wanna move closer to the screen so we can see the ball drop clearly? It’s forty to midnight. We can dance, too.”

Your eyes curled up in excitement as you agreed, easily slipping your hand in his like you had done it a million times before. The feeling of his larger hand wrapped around yours sent you into a high that you couldn’t really describe. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to let go and thank god he didn’t.

Mark only held you tighter as you arrived on the dance floor with a clear view of the screen. The bass thumped as he tentatively quirked a brow, silently asking you to dance. You replied by draping your arms over the slopes of his shoulder, your fingertips playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Tugging you closer at the waist, Mark shot you another look to see if you were okay. The tightening grip around his neck was enough of an answer for him. 

You shivered as his hands ran up and down the sides of your body, his touch almost burning through your glittered suit. When Mark least expected it, you turned around in his hold, pressing your backside against his front. A groan slipped out of his lips before his head dropped against your shoulder, his moist lips ghosting against the exposed skin of your neck. You reached back to hold his head in place as your body grinded into his.

The hand holding your waist tightened at your ministrations, squeezing you in a way that drove you crazy and the pair of lips that left a cautious kiss drove you crazier. The moan you let out and the way your free hand depressed against the one placed on your side was all the confirmation Mark needed to continue the trail of kisses he planned on leaving over the expanse of your neck. You enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your skin so much, your head rolled back and your eyes fluttered to a pleasured close as he nipped at your skin. 

The next half hour was spent with you encaged in Mark’s hold and you weren’t ashamed to say that you enjoyed every minute of it. When catching eyes with Wendy and Johnny across the dance floor, you laughed as your best friend wiggled her brows at you and shot a thumbs up your way. It was then, you realized, that it was their plan to get you two together all along.

Your friends had always mentioned you would get along great, the only thing stopping you was the blasted and unnecessary rivalry that blossomed between Mark and your ex. Now that the terrible excuse of a person was out of your life, there was room for a new man and you found yourself not hating the idea of Mark being the next keeper of your heart.

Five minutes to midnight, you turned around in his hold and smiled up at him. He returned the look with a soft grin of his own. 

“You’re not as bad as I thought you were, Mark Lee.”

“Took you long enough to notice,” he chuckled lowly, the sound sending a warm feeling to the pit of your stomach. “I never thought of you as bad, you know?”

“Is that so?” you countered, your hand freely running through his blond tresses. 

“Yeah, I always thought you were great.”

“Just great?” you teased, leaning a bit forward.

He groaned, “Ugh, dude, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do, dude,” you pushed further, leaving him to touch his head against your shoulder again. You were starting to think that he loved to do it. 

“I always thought you were pretty special,” he whispered into your skin. 

Placing a kiss on the top of his head, you answered back, “I never wanted to admit it but I thought you were pretty special, too.”

“Glad to finally see that the feeling’s mutual,” he laughed before he returned the favor with a kiss to your jaw.

When the countdown from twenty began, Mark shifted both your bodies to face the screen as the people around you started to shout the numbers at the top of their lungs. Wendy and Johnny fought their way through the crowd to get to you and you briefly squeezed your best friend’s hand in greeting. Ready to leave the current year behind and welcome in the new one, you pressed your side into Mark’s before joining in on the countdown. 

You were shining, Mark noticed, like the mirrorball that was projected on the screen. It wasn’t like he mentioned earlier— it had nothing to do with the silver of the suit. It was just you and the way you shined so brightly as your voice blended with the others in the room. You were lost in the feeling and he loved the way you looked under the dim lights. 

He hoped he could see you in more nights to come, for more opportunities to hold you the way he did on the dance floor.

Mark Lee, who was in love with you longer than he could even remember, wanted your midnights and more. He wanted to hold on to the memories of keeping you close and to create new ones if you would let him. 

Hold onto the memories and they’ll hold onto you or so they said.

His eyes were stuck on you like glue as the crowd reached number ten.

Nine!

Mark’s hand wriggled around the ends of your blazer.

Eight!

His fingertips were hot against your bare skin.

Seven!

Mark tugged you closer to him, making you lose your grip on Wendy’s hand.

Six!

He found your hand reaching for his, fingers tangling together like the red string of fate.

Five!

His heart was beating a mile a minute at the feeling of your thumb rubbing against his skin.

Four!

You jerk your head towards him with glistening eyes and the widest smile. His eyes darted down to your colored lips before shifting back to meet your gaze.

“You wanna kiss me so bad,” you teased as your eyes followed his actions and ended up watching his tongue peek out to moisten his now dry lips.

Three!

“And what if I do?”

Two!

“Well, I’m not going to stop you,” came your flirty reply.

One! 

And when the ball dropped from the sky, your hearts stopped for a brief moment.

Cheers for the new year came from all around but Mark Lee didn’t care— all he cared about was your lips fiercely crashing against his. He spun your body round so it slotted so perfectly against his, much like two pieces of a puzzle coming together as a whole. 

The sensation of finally kissing your lips after secretly longing for you was more than satisfactory; it was addictive, more addictive than the drinks he consumed or any other tempting substance that existed in the world. Mark Lee was enthusiastically devoted to kissing you and the idea of ceasing never crossed his mind.

The only reason he did was for you to catch a breath. His eagerness never faltered, his lips running down to your jaw and the sides of your neck. He pecked your temple and forehead as you giggled at his over-the-top display of affection and it was music to his ears.

Pulling you flush into his chest, he whispered a late greeting into your ear, “Happy New Year.”

With your hands resting against his pecs, you glanced up at him with a charming smile, making his heart drop for the second time in the new year. 

“A happy new year indeed.”

author’s note ☆ surprise! happy new year, everyone! (and happy 500+ followers to me!) i coughed this out in like five hours so it’s unedited and not my best work, but i wanted to release something in time for the new year! wishing you the best 2021!! 

this was originally a request and i finally filled it!! ✨

#dreamwritersnet #cznnet #neowritingsnet #mark lee #nct mark lee #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct smut #mark scenario #mark imagines #mark fanfic #mark fluff #mark lee x reader #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct 127

[shoutogepi]

Midnight Masquerade

Todoroki Shouto & Shinsou Hitoshi

word count : 8.6k

[  ✘ (nsfw 18+) ] 

themes : DUBCON, YANDERE. MFM threesome, vampire!todoroki, vampire!shinsou, spanking, praise kink??... double penetration, blood play (hello they’re vampires)

bio : You attend a masquerade ball in hopes of finding a bachelor on Halloween night… only to get much more than you originally bargained for. 

author’s note : This fic was inspired by one of my fav movies when I was younger! Van Helsing with Hugh Jackman (2004), in which Dracula hosts an exquisite masquerade ball, full of masked vampires.  

side note : Happy Halloween!! I didn’t have time to edit/beta this fic, so it may be a little choppy/rough.. but I’m about to leave for my Halloween party and I wanted to get this out on time so!! please try to enjoy, and I apologize if this is not up to my usual standards. <3

 ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅈ou received an invitation to a Halloween party… and that was about all the information you had to go off of. What awaited you at this gathering, you had absolutely no idea. The envelope had simply arrived on your doorstep at the beginning of the month, no messenger in sight.

This invitation, scrawled in perfect calligraphy and sealed with the kiss of a stamp upon wax, proved to be even more puzzling when you attempted to uncover its origin. And while you had asked around to anyone you could possibly think of— your friends, family, neighbors, hell, even your mailman— you found no one who could give you any answers. It seemed that you, for some reason, had been issued this invitation, when no one in your primary social network else had.

What was even more peculiar, was that a gown and a pair of heels had arrived two weeks later, in all senses more luxurious than you had ever seen, and tailored to your exact size and measurements. Just from lifting it out of the box, you could tell it was expensive. And as if that hadn’t been enough of a gift, a necklace and earrings that dazzled nearly enough to blind you arrived just a few days following the dress. Finally a last package arrived a few days before the party, containing an intricately-painted mask that tied the whole outfit together. Each of the gifts had a card laid across the top of the tissue-enfolded contents, signed off from your inviter and now confirmed “secret admirer, S.H.”

The enigma of it all perplexed you. You liked to tell yourself that a smart girl like you would never go to such an event, considering you had no clue who had sent you the invitation, let alone such extravagant gifts. You told yourself that you had no obligation to go, that it would be ill-advised to show up without any further information than the address, date, and time.

But someone had clearly gone to great lengths to impress you, and you couldn’t just ignore that. Curiosity burned bright inside you when raked your brain for potential inviters, and as you came to more and more dead ends, your intrigue grew with every second the event stayed on your mind.

You spent every day leading up to the party thinking about it, flipping back and forth as to if you were going to attend or not. Even on the night of, you spent a ridiculous amount of time switching between deciding on going or staying home, taking short bursts of either frantically getting yourself ready, or sitting down and scrutinizing the situation.

You ended up arriving at the address scrawled at the bottom of the mysterious invitation an hour late.

Although you had planned to just hail a cab thanks to your indecision, you were surprised to find a sleek, black Rolls Royce waiting for you at the entrance to your building. The driver, donned in a crisp black and white tux, sported an elegant mask across his face, and wordlessly opened the door for you, bowing and gesturing for you to enter. After a moment of hesitance, you decided it would probably be best to just get into the car— whoever had requested your presence had already gone to such lengths as to cloth and bejewel you— it only made sense for you to arrive in a vehicle that screamed as much wealth as did your outfit.

What you had not expected was to find the location of the event to be a rather estately manor at the border of the city. The driveway twisted through an ominous wood to reach the massive home, and rather nastily-spiked wrought-iron fences guarded the border of the property, looming metal casting eerie shadows against the overcast evening sky. You found yourself wondering briefly what exact purpose the metal lattice served— both sides adorned with rough silver spikes. Traditionally gates were meant to keep things from getting in… it was peculiar to you that they were double-sided.

It was certainly curious, but your eyes were quickly torn from the gates as the car ventured closer to the maleficent abode, your heartbeat beginning to pick up as you came nearer to the grand entrance. There was a gorgeous fountain laid between two sets of curved stone staircases, both leading up to the tall, mahogany doors at the dead center of the manor. The car came to a stop just before the fountain, and you spent the small moment your driver took crossing over to your side and opening your door in breathless anticipation.

The cool, dry October air felt heavenly against your exposed shoulders, the tops of your breasts just peeking out of the neck of the beautiful, sleek gown you’d been sent. The autumn chill did wonders to calm the thumping of your nervous heart, and as you climbed the stairs, your fingers trailing along the cold balustrade, you took a deep breath. When you chanced a look back toward the car, you found it had already disappeared, and a pang of uncertainty rang through you once more. Yes, this was definitely uncharastically brash of you— you still had no idea who could possibly be the one to invite you to such a prestigious soiree— and yet, you found your nerves crackling with excitement, barely able to contain your jittery disposition.

Two more men, also hidden beneath tuxedos and blank masks, bowed as they pulled the heavy wooden doors apart, revealing the bustling affair that lay inside. You were shocked to find so many bodies within just the first glance of the interior— it was a magnificent foyer that was ten times larger than the tiny apartment you had become so accustomed to, a sea of masked party-goers that ebbed and flowed with the live, string-quartet on the stage in the far corner of the room. Countless couples waltzed and spun across the middle of the room underneath humongous crystal chandeliers, all glittering and shining with the low lighting of a thousand candles, by far more fire hazards than you’d ever seen. It was quite a culture shock to you— you had never before been invited into the fruits of such luxury, this level of wealth as mysterious to you as the cryptic sender of your invitation, S.H.

And though this was your first time indulging in the pleasures of such extravagance, you looked like you belonged. You were sure that the outfit this mystery persona had given you to wear tonight was worth far more than the rent you constantly worried about making, and so you fit in quite seamlessly with the crowd of silk-enveloped, gem-encrusted faces, perhaps even going so far as to stand out. The soft silk of your pashmina tickled against your arms as it sat snug around your lower back, curled around your elbows and seams brushing against your hips. The thick necklace— more of a collar, really— sat heavy against your chest, each diamond shining brightly, leading to a large teardrop-shaped pendant of brilliant amethyst that hung perfectly in the middle of your chest. The ornate mask you’d been given concealed the top half of your face, bright ruby gems adorning along your eyes and matching your dress’ deep rouge to an impossibly perfect degree. Initially upon receiving such gifts you were suspicious of their authenticity, but standing now before such a display of affluence, you were certain they were real. The jewels and fine linens gave you a false sense of confidence, and after a moment of absorbing your astounding surroundings, you tentatively began to make your way into the party.

For a while you wandered around by your lonesome, but you didn’t really mind the solitude. It was a refreshing change of pace, and you admired each symbol of wealth you came across. The grand room was decorated with no expenses in mind— rich velvet curtains hung across the walls, tied back with gold corded tassels to allow the cold moon’s luminescence to shine down into the hall. Massive oil portraits lined the walls, each frame depicting a different person of undoubtable esteem, each in their own respect poised yet handsome as the last.

Your eyes wandered to the last two photos on the wall, both of them shockingly attractive in their own ways. One had wild, violet locks and a sultry smirk, the others’ hair split down the middle with tousled red and white, mouth set in an indifferent line. What stood out most to you was the emotion conveyed in both their eyes— it was cold and callous, sending shivers down your spine.

As you turned away from the portraits, you were met with a server, who offered you the silver platter he was carrying as he bowed. Tiny steak tartares, garnished with a red wine sauce and a sprig of herbs; the sight made your mouth water and you thanked him as you took one with the classy little fork he handed to you. Just as you turned your attention back to the portraits before you, you jumped at the discovery of a figure standing beside you.

He was tall, your head coming just above his shoulder, even in your four inch heels. He donned a crisp tuxedo of his own, but his bowtie was left undone, strips of fabric hanging loosely around his neck. Though there was a mask covering his face as well, you instantly recognized the purple flumes of hair, your surprise evident as you let out a small gasp. He didn’t seem to notice you, his eyes set on the frames above your line of sight, but he then began to speak, his deliciously deep voice taking you again by surprise. “Rather rare,” he spoke, quiet yet clear, eyes still scrutinizing the art before the pair of you.

“E-Excuse me?” you asked for clarity, wondering when exactly this man had appeared, and why you had not noticed such a captivating presence by your side.

At the sound of your voice, he turned his gaze to you, lazy violet eyes inspecting your figure without much attempt at concealing his blatant inspection. You bristled at his audacity, but soon found yourself relaxing as your own eyes wandered the length of his lithe, cut figure. It wasn’t your fault, you reasoned— you had just been admiring this man in his photo and now he appeared before you, looking even more delectable in person.

“The hors d'oeuvres,” he explained, eyes dropping to the forgotten disc of tender meat perched at the end of your fork. He let his gaze wander across your chest before he met your stare again, that same smirk coming to rest on his supple lips. “And such beauty as yours, of course. It’s unparalleled, Miss…?” he trailed off, angling his head to the side as he awaited your response.

You thanked him and told him your name, watching as his smirk only seemed to grow, something mischievous shimmering in those enticing amethyst orbs of his. He leaned forward and ducked into a slight bow, long fingers taking your free hand hostage as he brushed his lips against your knuckles.

“Shinsou will do, for now. Delighted to be acquainted,” he murmured as he pulled back, letting your hand drop and a brief silence fall on the pair of you.

Your eyes wandered to the portrait, then back to your new acquaintance. “That’s you, right?” You inquired, looking up at him through your mask. His bored eyes pierced yours as you met his gaze, and you felt heat accumulate in your cheeks. “What incredible artwork, I don’t think I’ve met anyone that’s posed for an oil painting— was it hard to sit still while it was being made?”

“Not at all,” he replied, taking a sip of the hammered-metal chalice in his large, gloved hand. “The fruits of life sweeten with patience, anyway.”

You wondered briefly if it was his first time posing for this kind of painting. Never had you met anyone who would want— or could afford, really— to commission such a painstakingly realistic portrait of themselves. How much it cost, you could not fathom, and did not care to discover. “So this is your party, then?” You continued after he made no further attempt at conversation.

He nodded, that smirk curling the corner of his mouth again. “You’re an observant little thing, aren’t you?” He remarked, sipping again from his cup. His words were rather rude, and you frowned before you shrugged them off, dismissing them in an instant. You weren’t really surprised by his smug comment, though your displeasure must have been visible because he immediately steered the conversation in another direction. “Are you enjoying yourself? May I get you a drink, my honored guest?”

It was a little off to you how his demeanor changed just like that, a flip of the switch, really— but you were thirsty, and you were curious to see what kind of expensive refreshments were available, so you found yourself nodding with a small smile of gratitude on your lips. He mirrored your smile before he mumbled something about returning soon, his figure swallowed up in the sea of masked faces.

Finding yourself alone once again, you went back to inspecting the portraits, happily humming to yourself as you enjoyed your hors d'oeuvre. You looked around the party, searching for that same waiter, wanting to grab a few more of those delicious bites while you had the chance.

It was then that you met a distinct set of eyes across the room, a white mask with delicate swirls decorating his handsome face. However much the mask concealed his face, there was no doubting that he was the other man from the portrait behind you— his hair was a stark giveaway— half of it scarlet and hanging loosely atop his brow, the other half a shocking shade of white, pushed back to give him a devilishly intimidating aura. Your throat tightened up as he began to make his way toward you, slowly but surely closing the distance between the two of you.

You couldn’t help but wonder if either of these men were the one who sent you your invitation— if one of them was to thank for showering you with such extravagance, for allowing you to dip your toes in the enticing pool of luxury. But you were not allowed to ponder the thought, for in no time at all the man in question stepped before you.

Without even a single thought, your body automatically shifted into a curtsey, and you blinked in surprise as he bowed his greeting in return. He didn’t give you a second to question it, lithe, gloved fingers taking hold of your hand and bringing it to his mouth. His lips were cold to the touch, and your hand trembled slightly as he let go.

“Todoroki Shouto,” he introduced himself, his smooth, deep voice resonating through your body. Something about him made you feel incredibly hot, yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. It was strange how much he seemed to affect you— almost supernatural. At your stunned silence, he smirked ever so slightly, shifting his head to look down at your shorter figure. “Your name, love? It would be rude of me to refer to you as the most alluring woman in the room the whole night, no?”

Flustered you were caught off guard, you quickly told him your name, adding on it was a pleasure to meet him.

“Y/N, hm? A beautiful name. It suits a woman as breathtaking as you.” He continued, and you could see how satisfied he was by your bashful reaction. “I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

You smiled hesitantly at the man before you, unsure how to respond to his blatant flirting. With the momentary lull in your conversation, you looked over your shoulder to eye the painting once again. Todoroki watched your curious gaze like a hawk, unbeknownst to you. When you looked back to him, you smiled as you pointed your thumb over your shoulder. “Is that—”

“Would you like to dance?” He interrupted, folding your smaller hand in his and taking a step backwards into the dancefloor.

Panic coursed through you— you didn’t know how to dance, or at least, you didn’t think your ballroom skills would be nearly as good as his and everyone else’s here. Yet somehow when you opened your mouth to politely decline, instead came out, “I would be honored.”

With wide eyes you were guided into the center of the room, his other gloved hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist. Your hands found their own way into position, one on his shoulder, and the other wrapped tight around his as he began to steer you around the room. You were shocked to find yourself matching each of his steps, your feet moving in perfect harmony with his. But when you looked into his eyes, a trickle of horror ran down your spine.

He was looking directly at you, two-toned eyes boring into yours with unbridled desire, and some other emotion mixing in to create a frightful end result that could only be described as hunger. Yes, there was no mistaking it— that was hunger in his eyes— for what, you did not know, but somehow your body was aware that whatever it was, you were in for quite the night.

“The dress looks simply appetizing on you, love,” he whispered in your ear, chilling the blood in your veins just like that. “Were you surprised to find it fit like a glove? You look so angelic when you sleep… I hated to disturb you, but it was gratifying to know how much you enjoyed my touch...” His lips brushed against your dangling earrings, and a shiver ran through your body as he inhaled across the skin of your neck.

“Y-You—” you stuttered, eyes widening with realization. Had he— had he taken your measurements? He’d snuck into your bedroom? When? Why? You didn’t even know this man— why would he have taken such an interest in you, how did he know where you lived,  and why— why was your heart beating out of your chest at the thought of him seeing you in your sluttly little pyjamas? You knew there was something off about this, but never could you imagine this would be the turn of events tonight. You were terrified, and yet ashamedly, a small part of you was pleased to know a handsome and powerful man as himself had gone to such lengths to woo you. There was no denying it… even though your stomach was tied into knots and fear sat like a stone in your belly, a white-hot, irrefutable desire had sparked to life between your legs.

“Not just me...” he murmured, the tip of his nose dragging against your temple before he dipped you down towards the tiled floor right in tune with the crescendo of the music, your back bending in his grip. Now upside-down, your heart skipped a beat as you recognized Shinsou staring the pair of you down from across the room, that same smirk on his lips as he raised his chalice in contempt. “You’ve met Hitoshi, correct?”

You were only spared a moment to piece it all together, that tight feeling in your stomach only twisting further. S.H… it wasn’t the name of one suitor, but two— Shouto and Hitoshi. Two rich and powerful men that both tricked you into coming to their home, and you had fallen for it— practically serving yourself to them on a silver platter. You were no better than a damn steak tartare! You wanted to face-palm, to smack yourself for being so naive, but you found that your body was not your own; you couldn’t control yourself, couldn’t even speak, and all you could do was continue to dance with the horribly attractive man whose trap you had strolled right into.

Had they drugged you? Was it that accursed steak tartare? But then, wouldn’t you have passed out, or your limbs stopped working? How were you not missing a single step with Todoroki right now, spinning when he led you to spin, and willingly stepping into him when he pulled you back into his embrace.

“What… What are you going to do to me?” Your voice was shaking, even though your body moved more confidently than ever as the pair of you strode across the marble floor. “How is this happening?” You added, feeling quite small as the target of not one, but two predatory gazes.

Todoroki took his time to answer you, wordlessly twirling you in his arms as the music then came to a stop, a new melody beginning just as the previous one faded out. “Whatever we want, I suppose,” he answered, his gloved fingers traveling up your back to grasp your chin, forcing you to look into his chilling gaze. “But don’t worry, love… I don’t think you’re going to hate it all that much.”

— - — - — - — - — - — - — - —

It was only an hour later that you were being led to the other side of the mansion— away from the music and festivities, and away from the false sense of protection the crowd provided. Todoroki walked in front of you, and Shinsou’s hand rested casually on your hip as he walked beside you. Your palms were lined in a thin coating of sweat, your growing fear causing your pulse to skyrocket. You knew that you were about to understand why they had fooled you into coming here, and though you had pondered what terrible fate they had chosen for you for the past hour, your mind was completely blank. You could only watch as your feet moved one in front of the other, your body once again under their spell.

Whatever it was that they were doing, they somehow had complete control over you, and they had forced your body to dance with the both of them for the entire time you’d been there so far. It had created some fake relief as whatever it was they had planned was pushed off for the time being, but you couldn’t indulge such relief, and your nerves were more heightened than ever. You reached your breaking point when you entered a dimly-lit bedroom, and the door closed behind you, lock clicking into place.

“Please,” you pleaded, your body moving to stand in the middle of the room, right before the four-poster, canopy-laden bed. “Just tell me what’s happening, I can’t move a single muscle…”

Shinsou frowned, gloved hand coming up to discard his mask. Your breath caught in your throat— God, even if he was your captor, you couldn’t deny he was handsome. He slowly approached you, fingertips tracing along your jaw before removing your mask as well. He sucked in a small breath of air, violet eyes dark with a foreign sentiment. “Relax, baby… We’re just gonna make you feel good. We’ve wanted to make you feel good for so long now…” His eyes dropped to analyze your lips, entranced by their color and plushness.

“But… Why can’t I move?” you reiterated, and your eyes widened as Todoroki’s presence noticeably pressed up against your behind. The feeling of his body against yours sent your heart hammering, and you swallowed as you considered your options here— there was really only one means of escape and that had to start with you tricking them into freeing you from their spell. Licking your dry lips, you meekly added, “What if I… wanted to make you feel good, too?”

“Fucking Christ,” said Shinsou, who took a step backward, his palm coming to run across his face momentarily. He seemed on edge, anticipation distinctly painted across his rugged features.

Meanwhile Todoroki took his time to answer, considering your choice of words thoughtfully. “We have a lot planned for you… but we need to re-energize before we can do anything, love,” he replied simply, his voice low in your ear. He pulled off his gloves, cold fingers catching on your jaw as he turned your face to meet his. You whimpered as he leaned into you, and before you could make a single word, his lips claimed yours, cutting off any chance at a rebuttal.

You didn’t want to admit how good his mouth felt on yours, but you couldn’t ignore the butterflies that burst into your stomach as he kissed you— they were not the result of any foreign spell. Shinsou groaned as he watched Todoroki’s tongue slip into your mouth, actions getting more fervent as the dual-colored man’s fingers slipped around your head, cradling your face against his. His lips attacked yours, slotting against them and tongue wandering between the gaps. You gasped when something sharp pricked your bottom lip, automatically pulling back, your hand coming up to touch your lip.

Bright red stained your fingertip, and you looked between the evidence of your injury and the cause of the wound, eyes widening as you took in how dark Todoroki’s eyes had become, canines elongating into sharp fangs. Bewildered, you stayed frozen to the spot, unable to do anything yet again as his hand swiftly wrapped around your wrist, yanking your hand to his mouth and wrapping his lips around your finger. The feeling of his tongue swirling around the digit made heat flare in your core, even as terror began to pump through your veins. His other hand gripped your hip roughly, pulling your body flush unto his.

The desire to scream out in fear came quickly, but you found no sound came out of you when your mouth opened. Your head still turned to Todoroki, you didn’t anticipate Shinsou coming up in front of you, only noticing the other man when his tongue stroked across the tender skin on your neck. Your body stiffened as the wet muscle slid along your throat, your eyes wide and petrified.

“There you go, just relax...” Todoroki groaned, leaning in to suck on your broken lip, his tongue petting over the fresh wound gently. It stung, but at the same time it felt very intimate— something you had never done before that had that heat building in the pit of your stomach.

A set of fangs pricked your neck, Shinsou’s lips fluttering up toward your jaw. You loathed how soft they felt, a distinct contrast to the sharpened enamels that suddenly descended into your flesh. You cried out, unprepared for the searing pain that shot through your body. Your skin felt like it was throbbing, sizzling from the unwelcome heat and pain mixing together.

“Shhh, love,” Todoroki cooed, laying a gentle kiss on your open mouth. “It won’t hurt for long…” He continued to suckle on your lip, beautiful eyes staring deeply into yours as he cradled your face. The thin ring of iris around his blown pupils shone brightly in the low light of the flickering candles, brilliant aqua and stormy gray contrasting, mesmerizing you and momentarily taking you away from the pain of the fangs lodged in your throat.

Shinsou was moaning against your neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took his fill from your bloodstream. His hands were gripping your waist tightly, fingers wandering up your back to curl your body closer to his embrace. You were so out of it, so lost in the taller man’s gaze, that you almost didn’t register the growing hardness pressing into your inner thigh. Shinsou was gently rutting against your leg, pressing his crotch onto you as he held your limp body with surprising care.

The sharp pain of his fangs in your neck had transformed into a dull throb, your body slowly numbing to his bite. It wasn’t long before Shinsou drew back, tongue roving over the flesh puncture marks that laid on your throat. His tongue hurt at first, but the second and third swipe of the strong, wet muscle felt increasingly good, and you hated how your thighs twitched together at the feeling. Apparently the two of them knew you would be experiencing this effect, for they both started to move you backwards, wandering closer to the bed.

You could hear Todoroki get onto the mattress before the pair of them maneuvered your body to join his, lifting you up and setting you down onto the plush comforter before him. His hands slid to your front, down your stomach and perched on your hips, pushing them back so your ass met his crotch. Your eyes went wide as you felt Todoroki’s erection poke into your ass, and Shinsou chuckled darkly as he, too, crawled onto the bed.

Although you opened your mouth to speak, no words came out, and the purple-haired vampire before you winked as the smirk on his lips only grew. There was still a trickle of your blood tainting the skin on his chin, and his fangs poked out as he grinned at you.

“You missed some,” Todoroki stated, voice a bit rougher than it had been downstairs. Your head turned to look at him, but you found his gaze was not focused on you— he was looking straight at Shinsou, eyes darkening and teeth elongating into points.

“Saved it for you, have a taste,” Shinsou replied nonchalantly, scooting closer to you. The space between the two men’s mouths closed and you gasped as you watched their lips collide, a moan tumbling out of the man supporting your back. That horrible heat burst between your legs, your mouth watering as you saw Todoroki’s tongue slips into Shinsou’s mouth, their fangs clicking as they brushed together.

Shinsou chuckled as he pulled back, Todoroki’s tongue wandering down to trace the line of your blood that streaked down his chin. Shinsou looked at you as he grinned, clearly happy that their kiss had such an effect on you. “You taste so good, baby,” he complimented, and you whimpered as heat burst in your cheeks.

It was shameful how much this was turning you on— a monster straight out of a fairytale was here in front of you, feeding off of you, able to end your life he re really wanted to in probably just one swift bite— and yet your pussy was drooling all over your panties for him, an uncomfortable dampness collecting between your thighs. You couldn’t stop your hips from wiggling, but as you moved back from Shinsou, you pressed up against Todoroki, who let out a throaty groan. The swell of your backside pushed against his hard cock just right, and you gasped as his hands suddenly jumped to the hem of your dress, pulling it to rest at the tops of your thighs. Your pussy twitched as the cool air rushed across your sticky panties, and you mewled as one hand drifted up to squeeze your breast, the other slapping gently over your panty-covered clit.

Shinsou’s hands glided down your waist, large palms running over your hips before he grabbed your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the mattress as he fell to his knees. Kneeling between your legs, he chucked again as he inspected the wet patch on darkening the front of your underwear. His thumb met your slit and he traced it up and down a few times, grin splitting his smirk as you unintentionally let out a moan.

It was then that Todoroki’s fangs sliced into the unmarked flesh on the other side of your neck. You cried out, the pain just as stringing and intense as Shinsou’s bite had delivered. But you weren’t left to focus on it long— Shinsou pulled your underwear to the side and dipped a thumb into your soaking folds, rubbing up the length of your slit once again. The direct contact made your toes curl, your slick folds parting with ease as the ample evidence of your arousal allowed his finger to glide through without catch. He hummed as he rubbed his thumb against your clit a few times, violet eyes flicking up to see your eyelashes fluttering across your cheeks, Todoroki’s lips latched to your throat as he took his fill from your sweet bloodstream.

Todoroki’s fingers curled into the top of your dress, and he pulled it down to reveal your tits to the cool air, your nipples instantly perking up and standing at attention. The red and white haired man moaned as he sucked on your throat, his forefinger and thumbs capturing each nipple and twisting the sensitive buds.

“Fuck!” you whined, immediately embarrassed that you hadn’t been able to hold the expletive in. But neither of the men seemed to share your sentiment, the pair of them moaning softly in response to your noise of pleasure as if encouraging you to let out even more.

Shinsou smiled as he pinched the sides of your panties, yanking the material down your thighs and off your ankles before separating your legs and inserting himself between them. He gave you no warning as his tongue suddenly licked a flat stripe up your slit, rolling around your clit perfectly at the end of his journey. Your legs tensed as they closed around his head, a hot puff of air escaping you as Todoroki finally pulled off of your neck with a broken gasp. His breathing was ragged as his tongue lashed over the fresh marks, the repeated action having the same, dizzying sensation that Shinsou had elicited. Then Shinsou’s tongue was wiggling across your clit, alternating between sucking on the sensitive pearl and lavishing it in vicious swipes of his strong, wet tongue.

Meanwhile Todoroki was ripping off his clothes, revealing his broad, sturdy chest in all its glory before he yanked at the zipper on your spine, sliding your dress over your shoulders and tossing it onto the floor. Your bra was next, leaving you in just your sparkly heels and your glimmering gems.

You could feel both pairs of eyes inspecting your naked body, Todorki’s hands returning to tweak at your nipples while Shinsou thrusted his tongue inside your quivering hole. He moaned as his tongue probed at your insides, sending vibrations through your core and causing your legs to tighten around his head. Pleasure was coursing through you, overwhelming the urge to scream and run that had been all you could focus on just minutes ago. But your pussy was dripping for the both of them, and Shinsou was savoring every drop as he animatedly lapped at you— never before had anyone so enthusiastically eaten your cunt like this, and his zeal only made you leak onto his mouth even more.

You had been so focused on the man in between your legs that you only recognized Todoroki had fully unclothed himself when he moved backward, easing your head back so you lay flat on the mattress. Your pussy twitched violently on Shinsou’s tongue when you caught sight of Todoroki’s cock standing long and thick, tall against his carved abdomen, his expression dark as he shuffled forward.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he instructed and you obeyed immediately, as if you couldn’t follow his instruction any faster. Your eagerness made him smirk, and you made sure to keep eye contact as he rubbed the tip of his heavy cock against your sealed lips. But suddenly Shinsou started to attack your clit with new fervor, tongue flicking across the bundle of nerves repeatedly.

You couldn’t stop the moan that flew out of you, and as soon as your mouth was open, Todoroki pushed forward, shoving his cock deep into your mouth. You choked at the sudden intrusion, but he only grabbed your throat with one hand and thrust into your mouth even rougher than before. He didn’t seem to care much about your comfort, your heartbeat skyrocketing as the need for oxygen started burning in your lungs.

Todoroki pulled his cock out just in time for you to gasp in a few breaths before he rammed his cock back inside, powerful thighs pinning your head to the mattress as he leaned forward with hands on either side of your waist and head hung while he uttered a quiet moan. “That’s right, love. Go ahead and suck my cock… I want to hear you choke on me, naughty little thing.”

A wanton moan slipped out of you, his cock filling your throat to the max, and his rough, determined thrusts causing your pussy to flood even more. Shinsou was still licking at your cunt purposefully, tongue sliding around your folds and over your clit as he sucked and flicked it to your liking. You started to become more vocal as pressure began to build in your stomach, your hips writhing wildly underneath his pinning grip as Todoroki used your mouth to his liking. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your high approaching, unaware of Shinsou slowly but steadily undressing himself while he suckled at your puffy folds.

Todoroki’s thrusts became slower but deeper suddenly, and you swirled your tongue around his swollen tip when his hips receded. You were caught off guard when Shinsou’s lips left your cunt and instead his teeth sunk into the soft skin on your thigh, taking another sampling from your veins. This time, the initial pain was much duller, and it quickly faded into something concerningly pleasurable. There must have been some higher-level effect at play here— there was no way that such gleaming fangs stabbing into you and feeding from you should feel that good. Yet it undoubtedly made your toes curl, bliss spreading through your body like wildfire through dry grass. It only increased when a long finger slipped inside of you, a second entering with ease as they began rubbing inside of you gently. You could feel Shinsou moan into your pillowy thigh, the noise only making your cunt itch for his attention again.

You let out a desolate whine when both of the men suddenly pulled away from you, your pussy hotter and wetter than ever, and your cheeks dribbling with your saliva as a result of Todoroki’s face-fucking. It was then that you realized Shinsou was naked, too, your mouth watering at his visage; his cock stood thicker and shorter than Todoroki’s, but both of them were punching well above average, muc to your delight.

Todoroki slipped off the mattress and Shinsou walked around the edge of the bed, the pair switching and settling in reverse positions. Shinsou stroked your cheek sweetly, capturing your attention as he smiled down at you. You craned your neck to press a kiss to the leaking tip of him, your tongue poking out to swipe the salty bead of pre-cum that lay there. Your eyes went wide when you felt the telltale smoothness of Todoroki’s cock splitting your slick-drenched folds, his hands settling on your hips before he grabbed them, rutting his own forward and causing his cock to push halfway into your tight hole. The stretch made the both of you gasp, your wet, little hole hugging his large cock snug as he began to move his hips.

Shinsou had enjoyed the intimate moment but found himself getting impatient, slapping his thick, oozing cockhead over your lips to grab your attention once again. You looked up at him with wide, starry eyes, your mouth opening for him to glide his cock into your mouth. “Good girl,” he murmured, eyes fixating on the way your lips wrapped around his girth, the way his thick veins looked rolling against your tongue. Your cheeks hollowed in attempt to satiate him, but you instantly cried out when Todoroki’s hips slapped flush against yours, shoving his cock inside of your cunt entirely.

The impossible fullness that bloomed in your stomach was delectable, and Todoroki began to thrust into your slippery cunt at a reliable, hard pace. He let out a guttural groan as he watched his cock disappear into your slick folds, the heat of your pussy overwhelming him. He lifted both your legs over his shoulders, making sure to grab one of your ankles and pulling it upright so your leg was fully extended. Then, his fangs broke the smooth skin on your calf and you whimpered at the feeling. It felt so good to have him suck on your skin— to feel your blood flowing out of your body and into his eager mouth. It was sick, but you couldn’t think about it at the moment— couldn’t find any fault with the two monsters that were taking you to cloud nine.

“Fuck, just like that,” Shinsou mumbled, eyes flicking up to watch a rivulet of your blood strike down your outstretched leg. When he looked back down towards you, your eyes were closed and your brow scrunched, an indication of the pleasure that was ebbing through your body thanks to the cadenced swing of Todoroki’s hips. “You’re such a good fucking girl,” Shinsou praised as he threw back his head, his fingers carding through your hair and tugging gently at your roots.

Just as the three of you seemed to find a rhythm, Todoroki pulled out abruptly, making your mouth part in a whine, Shinsou’s thick member springing out of your wet cavern and into the cool, still air. The purple-haired man hissed in annoyance, gritting his teeth as he looked to the other man to scold him, but quickly his irritation melted as he watched Todoroki flip you so your stomach lay flat on the sheets. Then, he hiked your ass into the air, your body moving along with him with such cooperation that the pair of them shared a look, haughty smirks stretching on both their lips. It was their secret that they had stopped using their mind control on you, and it seemed you were the only one that continued, blissfully unaware. Perhaps you didn’t even realize… perhaps you didn’t care.

It didn’t matter, really— Todoroki lined himself up with your dripping cunt, taking no pause this time as his cock speared inside you once again. You moaned as you reeled forward, your fingers gripping into the duvet harshly as your body tightened up from the delicious intrusion. His long, thick cock felt like magic inside of you, each thrust brushing a soft spot nestled deep inside of you and stimulating you further.

Shinsou jerked himself off lazily as he watched your facial expressions, trapping his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he registered the erotic ecstasy painted across your beautiful features. After a minute of allowing you to focus his accomplice’s hard cock, he pressed the tip of his own to your lips. You immediately opened your mouth, taking the flushed member between your lips with restless reception, tongue rolling around the swollen head. Shinsou sighed, half-lidded lavender irises watching you begin to eagerly bob up and down his length. He thumbed over a drop of blood that had rolled down your throat, catching Todoroki’s eye and offering his finger to the other man, who happily took the digit into his mouth and sucked, tongue soaking up your life essence as his hand wrapped around Shinsou’s wrist to steady himself. They both chuckled as you moaned loudly, Todoroki’s free hand clapping across your ass cheek and causing your cunt to clench down on his cock.

“You like that?” he teased, grabbing your flesh and shaking it, watching your ass jiggle before striking you again, a few smacks in succession. You could only gag and moan in reply, Shinsou’s cock thrusting into the back of your throat. The purple-eyed vampire gripped your chin with his calloused, cold hand, keeping your head in place as he began to fuck your face. Suddenly Todoroki spat onto your behind, his saliva wetting your puckered hole before he shoved his thumb inside of your ass, the unexpected stretch sending fresh bliss through your body as his cock dragged against it through your walls. Tears were beading on your lashes, the combination of the lack of oxygen, the attack of your g-spot from Todoroki’s cock, and the sharp pain of his hand across your ass all sending you hurtling towards your high.

With a shriek you came on his cock, your cunt wringing snug around the heavy member that just kept pistoning into you, angling your hips so the head pounding into that sensitive, spongy spot again and again. Todoroki groaned, taking his finger out and both his hands now squeezing at your hips as he continued to fuck you, offering a few more slaps to your ass as you trembled in ecstasy. While your head was still filled with the euphoric fog of your climax, Shinsou pulled out of your mouth, nodding to Todoroki, who wordlessly understood. The mismatched vampire hooked his arms around your knees, heaving you up against his chest and spreading your legs far apart enough for Shinsou to slide between them.

You were still catching your breath as Shinsou reached for Todoroki’s cock, slotting his thighs between the other man’s and positioning his length so that his slick-covered head rested right at your asshole. You gasped, your arm bending to dig your nails into Todoroki’s shoulder as you looked behind at him, catching his lustful gaze down at you. Shinsou then began to sloppily kiss your throat, his cock rubbing against your glazed, ravaged opening as his hands ran across the curve of your ass, landing on Todoroki’s waist behind your hips. The both of them entered you at the same time, your vision dotting with white spots as the stretch from both sides took your breath away. They both managed to slip inside, fully seating you onto their laps as you trembled, your stiff nipples brushing against Shinsou’s toned chest.

Todoroki nibbled at your ear as he began to pump his cock inside of you, filling your ass with each thrust and stimulating you as he rubbed himself against Shinsou’s cock through your walls. “So tight, love…,” he murmured in your ear, the prick of his sharp fangs on your cartilage sending shivers down your spine. His tongue wandered out and he traced the tip of it against the column of your throat, brushing over the leaking puncture wounds that laid there. “So sweet… can’t help myself,” his words turned into a savage moan as he sunk his fangs into your skin, the pain washing away abruptly as Shinsou, too, started to push his hips into yours.

Shinsou groaned, one hand coming to caress your chin as he claimed your lips with his own. His tongue entered your mouth and wrestled with yours as his tempo began to pick up, his cock stretching your cunt wide and sending waves of pleasure through your core. When he pulled back, you were both panting, your breasts heaving with the rapid rise and fall of your chest. It was then that Todoroki pulled away from your neck, gasping in a breath of air as his fangs glistened scarlet. Shinsou took one look at him and crushed his mouth to his, your holes clenching around their lengths as you watched your blood be exchanged between their ravenous tongues. The pair of them were moaning, and so were you— unable to keep the noises of pure pleasure inside as you watched them make out.

Your blood was dripping down Todoroki’s chin, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over and grabbing his jaw, ripping his lips away from Shinsou’s and instead placing your mouth on his. He growled in approval against your lips, his tongue battling yours as he sought to dominate you, the distinct flavor of iron filling your mouth as you tasted your own blood. Shinsou took the opportunity to sink his cuspids into the other side of your throat again, and your jaw fell in response, Todoroki’s tongue seizing control of yours immediately as he grasped the upper hand. Both of them were full-on fucking you now, your holes warm and wet, quivering around their thick cocks as the brought you closer and closer to your high yet again.

Only the sound of your heavy breathing and the slapping of your skins filled the air in the room, the music of the party drowned and far away as the three of you were otherwise occupied. Before you knew it, you were clenching on them again, your body seizing as your orgasm ripped through you, all the air in your lungs vacuumed out of you and your toes curling into the air. Your fingers fisted Shinsou’s wild violet locks, your nails digging into Todoroki’s jaw as you tumbled through the throes of your climax, euphoria rushing through your bloodstream and straight into Shinsou’s awaiting mouth.

The sweet taste of your oxytocin, your drug-like ecstasy, sent him straight into his own orgasm, his hips pushing flush against yours as he roared and his cock spurted thick white ribbons deep into your womb, his seed pouring into you and filling you to the brim. His chiseled body trembled as he emptied himself inside of you, his fingers bruising your skin while he gasped and moaned. Your holes clenched as you milked his cock, and suddenly Todoroki, too, groaned loudly behind you. His hands squeezed your flesh as his cock spurted hot cum inside of you, his abdomen flush against your ass as he crushed your body to his front.

The three of you sat there on the bed, your bodies covered in sweat and remnants of your blood, breathless and still as you came back down to earth. Shinsou’s lips trailed along your neck, Todoroki’s fingertips sliding across your skin with gentle care as they pulled out of you. Their seed dribbled down your thighs as they maneuvered your boneless body back onto the pillows, your eyes fluttering closed from the pure exhaustion and the lack of blood in your veins. Each of them laid back on either side of you, their cold hands wandering over your skin and causing goosebumps to rise, their eyes roaming your body in pure adoration.

“You did so well, baby,” Shinsou murmured into your hair, pressing his face close to yours as he sighed and inhaled the sweet scent lingering from the blood on your skin.

“So well-behaved for us,” Todoroki added, wrapping an arm around your middle as he, too, nestled closer to your limp body. “Go to sleep, love… you deserve some rest.”

You hummed at their praise, tired butterflies flapping their wings in the pit of your stomach. Your head was fuzzier than ever, bliss weighing heavy in your bones as your breathing steadied. Filled with post-orgasmic content, the idea of fleeing that seemed so wonderful just an hour ago now sounded distasteful, your body comfortable lying on the silken sheets, pressed between your two lovers. As you faded into a blissful sleep, you could hear the pair talking lowly, making plans to keep you here with them in hushed voices.

 ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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so sorry if that was rushed at the end!! hope you enjoyed, and Happy Halloween!! be safe out there <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#todoroki shouto smut #todoroki shoto smut #shinsou hitoshi smut #shinso hitoshi smut #todoroki shouto fic #todoroki shoto fic #shinsou hitoshi fic #shinso hitoshi fic #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #tw: dubcon #tw: yandere #my fics

[wiypt-writes]

Honey Haloed Weakness

A Bucky Barnes One Shot

Summary: Sometimes second chances come when you least expect them.

Warnings: Bad language, fluff, feels, some sad stuff…character death…mentions of smut but nothing explicit. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader. (Nicknamed Honey). Reader appearance bar eyes is deliberately not described. Moodboard is just for aesthetic purposes

Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson

A/N: This was originally written for a writing challenge last year, and I meant to revamp/repost it for Bucky’s birthday a few days back but never did. Then the rumours of the title for the first ep of FATWS hit my feed and…well, it reminded me of this.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Main Masterlist

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

One bullet. One pull of the trigger. That was all it took. As you watched, the shot flew clean through the shoulder of one hostile, ricocheted off Sam’s shield and then hit a second straight in the hand causing him to drop the knife he had been slashing at Sam with. The three of you stooped, Falcon, The Winter Soldier and you, Silver Shadow. Shield, guns and sparking hands all lowered as you glanced around, the last noises of your fight dying in the air.

“Man did you just shoot two guys with one bullet?” Sam turned to Bucky, his tone laced with shock and awe. “Did it look cool?” Bucky quipped back, an air of nonchalance in his voice, despite the level of surprise he himself felt.  James Buchanan Barnes knew he was a good shot. But that…that was something else.

And something that had been down to chance more than anything. Even if he had tried to make that shot, there’s no way of predicting the trajectory of the bullet once it emerged from the guys shoulder or controlling the angle it exited at… 

Unless… He turned to look at you. Your hair, splattered with blood and gore from the battle, hung like curtains of scarlet drenched silk round your face, from behind which warm eyes glanced back at him. Your features remained passive, adorned with the same expression you had worn when he had first seen one another in your rundown apartment in Bucharest when Steve had come looking for him post the Vienna bombings. 

Sam turned away muttering something about retrieving the Intel they had come for off the hard drives in the main office, and once his back was turned, you caught Bucky’s eyes with your own and blinked as Bucky swallowed. After using your powers, your irises were always ringed with a bright gold, a honey halo. And, as Bucky allowed himself just a second to indulge in the warmth they exuded over him, one slipped onto a sly wink. And then he knew for certain.

“You did it.” He looked at you and you merely stared back remaining passive. He was right, you had. You’d controlled the shot, directing it exactly where it needed to go. And Bucky wasn’t sure whether he felt turned on or slightly emasculated. “Don’t worry.” You said gently as you made your way back to the jet. “I won’t tell Sam, on one condition?” “Yeah? What’s that?” Bucky asked, turning to look at you. “You ask me out for that drink Steve’s been telling me you want to take me for.” And with that you left him standing there, slack jawed as he watched you head up the ramp. **** “So, in a word, you’re still a punk.” Bucky finished recapping the tale later the next morning, leaning back in the comfy chair by the bed Steve lay in. The old man laughed and shook his head. “She’s a devil, I’ll give her that. Mind you, she always was good at playing the cards she was dealt.” A fond smile spread across Steve’s face at the thought of you, his other best friend, the girl he had pulled from that shitty HYDRA base in 2014 when they had been chasing the Sceptre. No one had any idea who you were, what you could do, where you had come from…and that included you. You hadn’t spoken for three days other than to thank him or Natasha for the food and clothes you were given, and Tony for his kindness. And then, on the fourth day, Steve found you in the kitchen at the base, trying to decide on what to make you for lunch, and he won you over with an expertly made grilled cheese. “What’s your name?” He asked softly as you sat chewing.

“I…I don’t know.” You shrugged, your eyes wide as you looked down at your plate.  Steve gently reached out, his hand taking yours softly as you looked at him, your eyes flashing that sparkling gold colour.

 "Honey, you’re safe now, you know that right?

“Honey…” You said wistfully, “I like that.” 

And so it stuck. Where your ability to manipulate metal came from, no one knew. A mutation? Maybe. Human enhancement experiment? Possibly. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact you embraced the responsibility that came with that power. You wanted to help people and, as such, you agreed to stay with the Avengers and they were better for having Silver Shadow as their teammate, and Honey as their friend. Allowing himself another few moments of nostalgia, Steve eventually shook himself free of his memories and, with a sly look turned his head to face Bucky. “In my eyes it’s normally correct to buy a dame a drink before you bump uglies on an African Plain. Yeah, I know exactly what went down between you two that night in Wakanda.” Bucky blinked before he snorted, shaking his head. “Of course she told you…” When the dust settled after the show down in Leipzig, Bucky didn’t see you for almost a year until you came to Wakanda with Steve to be there when they brought him out of Stasis. You were different then, but so was Steve. A year on the run in the shadows had hardened you both. Those warm eyes still flashed gold, yet they carried a darkness that hadn’t been there before.

But they still exuded all the power and warmth of the sun. And Bucky was on fire.

“Can’t sleep either?” He asked as he emerged from the comfortable farmers hut he had been given to live in. You shrugged. “My mind gets a bit busy sometimes. I find the stars help.” He sat down beside you, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Ever wonder what it’s like just to be normal?” You sighed and he snorted, his head turning slowly to look at you as you gazed up at the sky. “What’s normal?” You laughed softly and looked at him, your eyes flashing in the moonlight, turning this time a deep amber speckled with brown. There was a moment, another blink and then your lips were crashing together, tongues fighting for dominance, hands grabbing at whatever they could reach. Under the moonlight, sultry cries and gentle whimpers were shared. Skin slid on skin, hands wandered and explored as together you reclaimed your grasp on humanity, what it was to feel something other than fear and death and anger. And then you had to leave and it was another twelve months since Bucky saw you again, this time on a battle field in Wakanda…with those creatures. Now your eyes were fierce and laced with a reddish gilt, as you tore metal armour limb from limb, wrenched weapons from hands, made sure shots hit their targets, your daggers flying and returning to your hands.

But there was no beating Thanos. 

“I can’t control his gauntlet.” Your voice was laced with the desperation you felt, broken as you realised your powers were of no use.

And then Bucky had been snapped.

“Those five years were long.” Steve shook Bucky from his reminiscing. “For all of us. Trying to forgive ourselves for our failure. And it was that inability to do so that saw us figure it out, a way to bring everyone back.”

Bucky looked down. He knew all about that. Seeking redemption, wiping your leger clean. “Don’t keep her waiting another five years.” Steve locked his eyes onto Bucky’s. A plea, a beg.

So he didn’t.

Later that night, Bucky asked you for that drink. And he dated you, bought you flowers, made love to you some nights, fucked you into the mattress on others. You ran missions side by side with Sam, walked and danced in the rain.

A diamond ring was bought, a yes was said

And one bright April day a year later, his honey haloed weakness became his wife.

***** “Where are my keys?” Bucky asked, frowning as he gently closed the drawer to the sideboard. ���You know, Honey, I wish you’d stop moving my stuff.” No sooner had he finished, he felt a vibration in his pocket and a moment later he heard the keys in question jangling. He turned with a soft sigh to see them hovering about a foot away from him in the air. You stood at the other side of the room, hand raised lightly as you wriggled her fingers causing them to move higher as you arched an eyebrow. “You owe me an apology, Buckaroo.” “So what’s new?” He chuckled and you smiled as you shrugged on your jacket and walked towards him, whilst he checked you had everything your needed. Even for a simple trip down the road it seemed like you were prepping for a mission, but then again, maybe you were… You made your way out of the Brownstone into the glorious September sun, your hand curled around Bucky’s arm, nestling comfortably in the crook of his elbow, the shiny platinum and diamond of your rings sparkling as they caught the light. Bucky had a knack for steering and making sure everyone moved out of the way, which was why you were happy to let him take the lead. After a short walk, you reached your destination and made your way down the familiar narrow gravel path towards what you were aiming for. Your pace slowed a little here, it was always harder on gravel, you felt like you were sinking almost.

Together you stopped in front of a beautiful headstone made out of white marble upon which a simple inscription was etched in deep, gold writing.

‘Steven Grant Rogers. Much loved husband, father and friend.’ Below the wording sat Steve’s symbol. His shield, the star surrounded by rings, along with a simple phrase to remind everyone exactly who the stone commemorated. ‘Captain America is hope, he’s freedom, he’s just a kid from Brooklyn’ Bucky’s metal hand gently ran across the top of the headstone and you smiled softly at him, before a noise drew your attention back to exactly why you had come here today specifically. Smiling at one another, Bucky turned and gently lifted his four day old baby boy from sling around your chest as you watched, reaching up to smooth a finger down the baby’s soft, rosy cheek. Steve had been so excited when you had both told him you were pregnant. But you had all known deep down that Steve’s time was coming to an end. The serum wasn’t repairing what was happening to him anymore, and hadn’t been for a while. Steve had noticed its effects had been dwindling for almost thirty years by that point and he was ready to go, to be with Peggy who had left him some ten years previously. All of you had hoped he would live long enough to meet Baby Barnes, but things never do work out the way you want them to, and Steve had passed quietly surrounded by his friends and family some six weeks before your baby boy bad been born. Bucky had made a vow, a promise to himself that his son would understand exactly who his Uncle Stevie was. Not Captain America, but that little kid from Brooklyn who was always too dumb to run away from a fight. “Had to bring him to meet you one way or another.” Bucky said gently, looking from his son’s face to the stone with a soft smile before he crouched down in front of it. He took a moment, the words he was trying to form sticking in his throat as pure emotion washed over him. He felt grief, he felt loss, but also joy at the fact he was a new father and an overwhelming sense of gratitude and serenity that he had found his salvation, his second chance.

And it was draining to feel it all at once. You stepped forward, softly squeezing his shoulder before you crouched by his side, gently wiping the tears from your own face as Bucky finally found his voice again. “Yeah, it was a him, so I got to pick the name.” Besides him you chuckled. “I can still see your face, Stevie, when we told you about that deal. Girl I picked, boy he picked.” Watery blue eyes that still had that sparkle widened as Steve looked at you both, horror on his face as he shook his head on disbelief. “What? You can’t do that…I mean it needs to be a joint decision, no matter what the gender…surely?” In the end, Steve had been right. Whilst Bucky had suggested the first name for your little boy, he had struggled with a middle one and it had been you who had quietly suggested one as Bucky stood in the hospital room, gently rocking his new-born baby in his arms. Both of you had welled up with tears at the simplicity and the poignancy, and the utter love you both felt that your son would help keep the memory of your friend, your brother, your Captain, alive. “Punk,” Bucky gently shifted the baby in his arms so he was facing the stone. “Say hello to Steven Roger Barnes” His son. His beautiful son. A life created because two people fell in love. 

 Because James Buchanan Barnes had a Honey haloed weakness.

#honey haloed weakness #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #sam wilson

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ~

Part I

© sailorhyunjinz 2021; Rights Reserved

All picture rights to their respective owners.

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥: Photographer!hyunjin, fem!model!reader, manager!Bangchan, stylist!Jisung, agedup!straykids, SMUT IN LATER PARTS, fluff, character driven story, strangers to lovers, summer au, mentions of insecurity, love at first sight.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 3,5 k  

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: I have never written a series before so please understand if it’s lacking heh... and yes the title does relate to the kooks song with the same title so do give it a listen because it’s really good and fits the story c: 

also this starts slowly LMAO MORE FUN THINGS ARE COMING UP I SWEAR <33

If you have any feedback I’m more than happy to receive it! <3

Taking pictures of you - MASTERLIST

ONE｜TWO｜THREE

Working as a model was not easy. The complaining managers and the expectations by others was too much to handle. Heck, even getting to the shooting locations was a hastle most of the time. 

You tilted your head against the window in the backseat of the taxi. It was a calm august wednesday. The late summer breeze made it’s way into the cab thorugh the window that was opened on the drivers side. Your phone screen lit up, multiple notification from Instagram. 

“omg! slay bbygrl”

“her face is crazy pretty”

“beautiful”

You’ve heard these words too many times. If you’re told the same thing over and over again they eventually mean nothing. You scrolled through the other comments on your latest instagram post, a photo from your last photoshoot. A picture of you lying in a bed of white flowers, your skin glowing and your body covered by a white sheer dress that accentuated your neck. It’s not a bad photo but was I really worth the attention? “There are a thousands of other girls way prettier than me.” you though and with a sulken expression you watched life run by outside the window. 

15 minutes later you arrived at your agency. You smiled your model smile at the taxi driver to which he smiled back and responded: “My pleasure, miss y/n”.

A big shadow was cast from the building in which the modeling agency was. The beige renaissance building was surrounded by green bushes and a black fence. The big oak entryway had golden lion knockers and an ingraved golden sign. “Eccellente Modeling Agency” it said with bold black letters, contrasting nicely with the gold plate. You rang the doorbell next to the sign and in a matter of seconds the oak gates opened with a loud creak.

“Y/n!! You look stunning as always!” said your manager Bangchan as he hugged you. The smell of his aftershave violated your olfactory sense as usual, making you scrunch your nose. He was always dressed business casual, his white polo shirt and light brown dress pants being a good example but today his poloshirt had a great amount of buttons unbuttoned. 

The both of you made your way into his office. A room with a high ceiling and a chandelier worth more than your career. You sat down in the leather couch across the desk, Bangchan sitting on the other side of it. 

“Give me a moment.... Just pulling up some files for the new photoshoot I’ve planned! I promise, you’re not gonna be disappointed.” he says smiling, the desktop screen reflecting in his brown eyes.

He turns his computer screen towards you. Your eyes scan the pictures that pop up. 

“May I present to you the profile of Hwang Hyunjin. One of the most renowned photographers of this age”. Bangchan looks at you, reading your expression. 

The pictures are truly beautiful. Everything, from the outfits to the lightning was perfect.

“Bangchan, you’re insane” you say, smiling widely as you made eye contact with the dark haired manager. “These pictures are so stunning!” you squeal. “How did you even get in contact with him?”

“Nothing for you to worry about y/n, I have my contacts. I’m a manager after all”. He scoffs whilst scrolling through the profile. The next picture getting better than the previous one.

“So... when is the shoot and what concept have you planned?” you say whilst your eyes are glued to the computer screen. 

“Mr, Hwang works for a multitude of companies but Styliz needed a model for their new pastel collection which I immedietly snatched onto. We all know how beautiful you look in pastels y/n” he said attentively to which you smiled, adoring the interest he has for his work. 

“Oh.. I also cheked your schedule and you seem free tomorrow so how about then?” he added. 

“Yes! I’d love too” you said with a small nod.

“Not that you have much choice, Mr Hwang’s time is worth gold y/n” he laughed and reached for something in his cabinet drawers.

“Here, take this” he said while sliding over a light grey business card.

‘Hwang Hyunjin, Photographer’ was written in dark grey letters. A black border decorating the edges of the card.

♡

The morning sun shined thorugh the curtains blinding you temporarily. You felt after your phone on the nightstand with you hand, your eyes still closed. ‘8:05 am’ the screen showed against the background picture of your family.

You missed them, moving to a different city across the country at the young age of 18 was scary. You’ve aged, that’s for sure but you still missed them dearly. Dragging your lifeless body to the shower you hope for a day with happiness whilst the warm water hits your bare skin. It was a big day after all. A photoshoot with photographer Hwang Hyunjin. “Me... on Hyunjins work? It must be a dream...” you thought, grabbing the towel hanging on the cold, silver rack.

You dryed off your thick hair with a light pink towel with one hand whilst the other hand held your phone. “I have to look at his photos again” you thought, tapping on the Instagram icon and typing “Hwang Hyunjin” in the search bar, hoping and praying that his work was published on the social media platform.

“@ photographerHwang” was the first result to pop up and you tapped it instantly being just as surprised as you were yesterday of the beauty that his photos carried. Bumping into the table on your way to the kitchen you noticed a different photo on his feed. It didn’t look like any of the other photos because it was a selfie. You dropped your towel on the floor. No... it can’t be him... or could it?

His face looked like a work of art. Not only was the photo nicely edited with warm light emitting from your screen but the person was even more eyecatching. “It’s probably one of his models” you though as you placed your phone on the kitchen counter and grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge.

But what if it’s really him?

♡

You threw on a grey hoodie and biker shorts before you flew out to the taxi waiting for you outside the apartment. 

“Sorry for keeping you waiting sir! Here!” you said while panting, quickly pulling up a text message you got from Bangchan sharing the location of the photoshoot. 

“Please, Miss y/n! No need to apologize” laughed the middle aged taxi driver softly. You were now on your way to the shoot. 

Your brain was scattered. One part of you hoped that Mr Hwang really was the boy you saw on his instagram. His long, blond locks slightly covering his sharp jaw. His skin clear as day and rosy lips plump like two rose petals. The other part shut everything down, convinced that it’s one of his models that happened to be to your liking. 

You opened his instagram page again. 

“He must be famous for his perfect features...” you said under your breath, staring at his lips.

The whole taxi ride was filled with thoughts of him, whoever he was. 

“Soon there miss y/n” the taxi driver said after 10 minutes of driving. The taxi slowed down and looking outside the window you saw Bangchan standing infront of a building that looked similar to the agency building. You waved slightly and he waved back at you.

You turned around to the driver and said; “Thank you so much sir”, giving him a generous tip and exiting the vehicle. A warm breeze latches on to you, making your hair flutter in the motions of the wind.

“Y/n! Perfectly on time” Bangchan said and hugged you.

You hugged him back, asking him about his day so far to which he responded;

“Good but going to be even better after this legendary photoshoot is done and we have the most perfect photos taken by the most influential photographer!” he sounded like a little child in a candy shop.

Your ears heated up due to his words and you smiled slightly.

“Let’s go to the second floor and get your outfit and makeup ready. A introduction with Styliz manager won’t be needed since he already knows your delightful personality” he laughed at his corny remarks and you did the same.

“You seem even more excited than me” you remarked, pressing the elevator button.

“When you see the end result you will be floored” Bangchan said and winked at you. 

The elevator clanged. “Second floor”. The metal doors slided open. The eyes of a dozen stylists and makeup artists caught onto you. A slightly potbellied man in a navy colored suit approached you.

“Y/n! I’m so happy to see work with you again.” His voice was hoarse due to his age but his personality being the total opposite. You knew him well since Styliz’s chief was one of the first to offer you a modeling job in a foreign city, you only being a teenager with a big dreams at the time.

“Mr. Styliz! It’s lovely to meet you again” you smiled and sat down in a makeup chair, a girl with blond hair and big hoop earrings starting to brush powder across your nose. You saw Bangchans figure leave behind a door in the reflection of the mirror. 

“Mr. Styliz, might I ask you a question?” You regretted the words as soon as the came out of your mouth. You didn’t need more information about the mysterious boy you saw on Hwang’s instagram page but you simply had to know who is was. 

“Well of course y/n” said Mr. Styliz, his warm breath touched your cheek as he stood right by your side, smelling of morning coffee and looking at you through the mirror. 

“Could I please get more information about Mr.Hwang?” you said, making eye contact with the old man. 

“y/n, you’ll meet him soon! Then you can ask him how much you would like about his life but I must warn you... He is quite the secretive type”. The coffee breath was accentuated as he laughed.

You tried to play along, laughing a fake laugh as the hair designer started to brush out your locks. A wave of embarrassment washed through you. 

The lights of the makeup mirror were getting hot, tiny sweat drops beading on your forehead which the makeup artist wiped off. 

“We are done, Miss y/n” said the makeup artist, her earrings reflecting the light in the studio. You thanked her and saw Bangchan standing at the door where the cameras were. 

“y/n, not much time left. Please go down the hallway and into the second door on your left, the stylist is in there fixing your outfit”. One reason as to why you loved Bangchan as your manager was his calm temper. Even in a time crunch, he always made sure to talk to you in a serene tone. After years in the modeling industry you still couldn’t get used to the ill-tempered staff. Too many times you had been forcefully dragged down corridors and streets whilst they muttered swear words at you. Even thinking about it sends shivers down your spine. 

Your shoes tapped the white linoleum as you made your way down the narrow hallway, knocking on the second door to your left just as Bangchan said. 

A familiar voice said; “Come in!” to which you turned the golden doorknob on  the white wooden door. The tall figure was rummaging in a big plastic container filled with clothes but upon your arrival the figure greeted you with warm eyes. 

“No way!! It’s y/n!” screeched Jisung. He pulled you in to a hug, his belt buckle hit your stomach through the grey hoodie. 

Jisung was a stylist and worked closely with Mr. Styliz therefore you’d gotten close to him. Not only did you like him for his exquisite fashion sense which had a whole different concept each time you saw him but also for his friendliness, always being polite. 

“I’ve missed you so much Jisungie” you said with a pout. 

“I though it was onesided but I guess not haha”

“Don’t be silly! How could I not miss that smile of your Sungie?” you hit him playfully on the arm to which he blushed. 

“Go behind that  and I’ll throw some clothes for you.” he pointed at the wooden divider standing in the corner of the white room filled with clothes racks and colorful clothing. 

You started undressing behind the divider and suddenly a pile of clothing was thrown on your head over the divider. You heard Jisung snicker at the yelp that came out of your mouth as you drowned in the clothes

“Jisung, you are so dead when I’m done” you said whilst putting on the last details to the outfit.

“I’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry” he said pleadingly while laughing hysterically. 

You stood on the podium infront of the full lenght mirrors in the room as Jisung observed you and pinned the clothes slightly. 

“Not gonna lie, it’s looks really good on you. The pastels matches perfectly with your skintone.” Jisung looked on the pleaded white skirt you had on. 

You looked in the mirror and shook your head in agreement. The pastel purple sweater with the white collar poking out made you look youthful and innocent. You had on patent mary jane shoes in the same purple color as your sweater. The white kneesocks were slipping down as you moved slightly, almost looking like a school girl as you bend down to lift the socks up. 

“Do you like it?” Jisung looked at you through the reflection on the mirror, standing on the floor making him a head shorter than you. 

“Yea! You’ve never given me a bad outfit Sungie, they’re always adorable. My favorite stylist but don’t tell that to Bangchan” you smirked to which Jisung laughed.

♡

“y/n, Jisung did a great job! You fit the concept to a tee” Bangchan stood infront of two wide dark green doors which led to the photostudio. He smiled shyly and pushed the doors open, a bright white light blinding you as you stepped in.

You squinted and held your hand infront of your eyes as you entered the studio, the air stuffy from all the white boxlights that have been working for a while.

“Miss y/n is here now, Mr. Hwang” Bangchan announced.

Your eyes felt blurry and the lights created a bokeh effect, your vision feeling like a filter. The first thing you saw was him. Hwang Hyunjin.

The shock froze your feet in one position. It was him. The selfie was Hyunjin. And he was hotter in real life.

A tall, slender figure stood on one foot, the other one behind his leg with the tip of the shoe pointing towards the floor. 

“Are you ready, miss y/l/n?”.

His voice was sweeter than honeysuckle, you melted upon hearing him speak. Bangchan looked at you confused when you didn’t move, just observing the presence of the blonde boy infront of you. 

“y/n?” Bangchan had a worried expression on his face as your face broke out in a massive blush. 

“yeah..uh-mm..yes” you only managed to get that out before you were infront of the camera. 

His willowy fingers wrapped around the black Canon camera, it fit perfectly in his hands as if it was made for him. You gulped upon seeing the veins that ran up his exposed arms, the white shirt bunched up by his elbows. 

“Everything good miss? You seem distant” he said in that raspy but sweet voice. 

“Uhm...yeah totally..” you looked awkward with your hands by your side as you saw Bangchan observing you with a confused gaze. 

“Please tilt your head to the right and stand broad with your feet” Hyunjin commanded to which you complied. The flash of the big studio lights didn’t effect you as much anymore since you were used to this but what did effect you was how concentrated Hyunjin looked. Like a true photographer. It was obvious that he enjoyed his job by the way his eyes shined when he looked at the monitor and corrected every detail. Luckily you could stare at his figure all that you wanted since it looked like you were keeping eye contact with the camera and not him. Glancing over to the left of the photographer you saw Bangchan smiling his bright smile, signaling that he’s proud over you. 

Flash

Flash

And another flash before Hyunjin looked at the monitor displaying the photos he just took, a smirk crept onto his face. 

“Good job y/l/n. Could you please grab that chair over there and sit on the edge of it?” he said whilst pointing towards a small wooden stool. Reacting instantly to his soft voice and gestures you pulled the stool towards the x on the ground, making sure you were in frame. 

“One leg over the other” Hyunjin said without even looking towards you, his pale veiny hands were now twisting and turning some buttons on both the camera and monitor. You shook your head up and down slightly in agreement before doing as told and as Hyunjin turned back his chocolatey brown eyes landed on yours. Now it was impossible to hide your burning cheeks, Hyunjin noticed since he laughed stiffly before grabbing the camera off the camera stand and going down on one knee to capture an angle from below. Numerous amounts of sparks from the big box lights were emitted and after every spark Hyunjin turned around to the screen which displayed your figure. Staring at him you smiled slowly, feeling your heart beat faster. Why do I feel like this by just looking at him? Your head was clouded with millions of other thoughts. Just as you started tuning out the room Hyunjin clapped his hands hard, the sound ringing in your ears. You jumped slightly which made Bangchan laugh.

“All done! Nice work everybody” Hyunjin announced loudly before bowing down to the other staff members in the room and to you as well. You returned his gesture by a slight bow of the head and quickly scurried of to Bangchan, your face hot.

“Are you sure you’re not ill?” Bangchan said softly before putting the back of his hand towards your forehead. Shaking your head from side to side you pushed his hand away. 

“No, I’m fine... just so hot with the box lights you know?” you laughed fumblingly, not knowing where to rest your gaze. 

You felt someone tap you on your left shoulder and you almost fainted when you turned around. Hyunjin was standing three footsteps from you, the scent of his cologne making you swoon. He smiled as he saw your shy expression and sparkling eyes.

“I though that it must have been hot, here have this”

He casually held out a waterbottle which you received with both hands as a gesture of thankfulness. 

“y/n, I’m just gonna head off to Jisung to discuss something. Meet me at the changing rooms in about 10, ok?” Bangchan said, slightly leaning towards your ear. 

“Yeah, see you in 10!” you said while the managers back disappeared through the broad doors of the studio. Turning back to Hyunjin his blond locks were draped infront of his eyes and as he spoke he tucked those light pieces behind his ear, revealing his small silver hoop earrings.

“I’m gonna pack up the cords now but it was a pleasure to work with you, miss y/l/n” 

The corners of your mouth went upwards at his formality.

“Please, call me y/n” you said quietly, being too shy to look him in the eyes.

“Sure, see you around y/n” Hyunjin said as he lifted up his hand to shake yours. His lanky fingers were filled with bold rings, many of which were designer. A slight panic rushed through your mind as you didn’t want to scare him away with your clammy hands. The sweaty hands and the churning of your stomach was all due to Hyunjin nearness. Hesitantly you streched the tips of your fingers against the blond haired boy and his hand emitted warmth when being met with your fingertips. He smiled before turning back, his eyes forming into half moons as charming dimples errupted on his lean cheeks.

You bowed to the other staff members on your way out of the building on your way to meet Bangchan and Jisung in the changing room. The waterbottle in your hand almost slipped as you took another clunck of the fresh water and that’s when you noticed something. Stopping in the hallway where the stylists room was located you inspected the waterbottle and saw a black marker scribble on the wrapper around the bottle. Upon removing it your heart stopped. Your knees could give up at any moment from the sheer shock. Am I losing my mind? A number was loosely doodled on the white plastic wrapper and underneath it there was a message. 

Call me 

// Hyunjin

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@vogueinnie @that-anxious-bisexual @putmetogetheragain13 @hyunsluvv @lawleighette @meow-minho @minaamhh @ohmysparkle @hwangi @rindomo​ @fleeingreality @nycol-ie @jisungsplatforms

#straykidssmut #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids reactions #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #straykidsxreader #stray kids series #skz series #skzseries #skzsmut #skz smut #skz fanfic #skz x y/n #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #kpop smut #kpop series #Taking pictures of you - The series

[thirsting-over-demons]

The Lingerie Game

{An Obey Me Fic} – F!MC

Synopsis: A game is happening at the House of Lamentation— anyone who sees MC not fully clothed will get the opportunity to spend 12 hours time alone with her wearing lingerie of their choice.

<<CH2

Chapter Three: A Game of Strip Poker

warnings: mildly n.s.f.t, sexual themes, poker

Mammon cashes in on his 12-hour reward. He's decided to teach MC the ins and outs of poker, but with a twist. However, the game can't last forever.

Word Count: 5610

Sitting in wait for MC is a package carefully positioned in front of her bedroom door. A gold ribbon wraps around the box, contrasting with the plain brown paper that covers it. Attached is a note that reads:

My room! Saturday night!

…

Wear this underneath your normal clothes.

 “Wow. His handwriting is worse than mine,” MC comments as she reads the note. She also remarks on the lack of signature. It’s a good thing that it’s obvious who sent this. No one else but Mammon could be so confident yet convey such bashfulness through writing.

As soon as she finishes reading, she takes the package into her room, eager to see the lingerie Mammon has picked out. Upon opening, she initially notices the color scheme—black and gold. As if she could expect anything else. She goes on to pull out the first piece, holding it in front of her to get a better look. In her hands is a short, black chemise with a sheer body. An outline of lace separates the see-through fabric from an opaque bikini. What’s more, golden dagger-shaped shards hang off the brassiere while metallic specks can be seen throughout the flowing fabric.

He expects me to be able to wear this underneath my regular clothes? The frown on her face as she thought this is replaced by an affectionate smile as she continues to stare at the chemise. She then sets it aside and lets out a sentimental breath as she does so. Reaching into the box again she pulls out a pair of black boyshorts studded with silver white diamonds on the sides. Attached to the shorts are garter straps with gold-colored clasps at the end. Stockings, however, did not come with the set.

“I wonder if that was on purpose,” she mutters to herself. “Oh well, guess we’ll find out Saturday night.” She stares at the lingerie laid out on her bed, and for a moment, thinks about all the potential activities Mammon has planned.

Whatever it is, I’m looking forward to it.

 Saturday has finally arrived and after a long day of making up missed school, Mammon and MC could use some winding down.

“Why did we have to spend a whole day at school for just a couple of lousy hours?!” Mammon complains as the two walk home.

“Because he’s a sadist,” MC replies. There’s no denying that ‘he' refers to Lucifer. She’s truly contemplating whether it was, indeed, worth it after having lost eight hours of her day off to forced independent study. “At least there’s tonight.”

Mammon chuckles shyly and agrees. His confidence picks up speed as he states, “Ya know it’s gonna be fun cause The Great Mammon planned it!” A grin plasters his face while he says this.

In response, she comments on how it sounds like she’ll have to take some time to relax beforehand.

He agrees rather begrudgingly, his disappointment shining through despite having just spent the first half of the day together already.

The two eventually reach home and part ways, having agreed to meet in Mammon’s room after dinner. MC has no idea what the evening plans could be, but knowing him, she’s going to need energy. With this is mind, she decides to nap in the time before dinner, and makes her way up to her room. Once there, she manages to only take her shirt off before flopping onto bed and falling asleep. The cool fabric is refreshing compared to the hot air outside, perfect for afternoon dozing.

A knock on the door disrupts her slumber. With it, a lazy acknowledgement escapes from MC, prompting the knocker to enter the room.

“Dinner's ready, MC,” Satan calls out. In response, all he hears is mumbles coming from the body half-under the covers. Satan sighs as he steps further into the room. “It’s not good to sleep so early in the day.” He immediately goes from lecturing to tempting as he adds, “Besides, I made your favorite.”

This sparks some energy in MC. Satan’s cooking is always delicious and better yet he says it’s one of her favorites. She quickly pushes herself up and the blanket that was covering her falls to the side. Still in bed, she turns to face him and with resolve, tells him she will be right there.

He decisively ignores what she said to instead ask, “Are you not wearing a shirt?”

MC looks down to confirm that she is, in fact, shirtless. Upon realizing what this means, she looks up, stares ahead at the wall in front of her, and says flatly, “No. I am not.” She can’t believe how quick that was.

“A win-win for us both, it seems,” Satan is obviously pleased with what just happened. “I’ll let you get dressed.” He then takes his leave, closing the door behind him.

MC remains sitting in bed, her eyes lingering blankly at the space Satan just left through. That was almost embarrassingly too fast. It’s only been less than a week since the game first started and already two prizes are being rewarded. Let’s just focus on tonight, she thinks as she pushes the encounter out of her mind. But, first, food.

Dinner passes without much incident. To their displeasure, the brothers know Mammon will be getting uninterrupted time with MC tonight. But the punishment from last time is still fresh in their minds, so they tended to steer away from that topic. Only the rogue complaint here and there made it out their mouths. Not that any questions would be answered anyway; MC is unaware of the activities for the night and there’s no way Mammon would tell his brothers what he has prepared.

Upon finishing her meal, MC heads upstairs to get ready for the night. First, a shower is in order. Can’t feel her best without one. She makes sure to use the scents she thinks Mammon would like best. He always seems to try to stand close to me when I use the strawberry-scented stuff.

After washing, she tosses on some throw-away clothes for the walk back to her room. She’s too wet to immediately put on the lingerie and she’s certainly not walking back in a towel. There can’t be two winners in a day.

She's eventually able to wear the lingerie and walks over to the mirror hanging on her door. Moment of truth. She looks over her reflection, quite pleased with how she looks. “Who knew Mammon could pick out something that looks so good?” Her thoughts instantly leave her mouth. “Well, I guess modeling helps.”

Still, there’s the matter of trying to wear it under her everyday clothes. It definitely wasn’t designed to do that. A larger, loose-fitting shirt will work, but the bottoms might be a bit trickier. Jeans definitely won’t work, in fact any type of pants won’t. She’ll have to go with a skirt. The two tops can easily be tucked in with that too, making it slightly more manageable.

The completed ensemble is a bit uncomfortable, but it’ll do. He can’t be planning on never seeing the lingerie. Eventually she can take off the other clothes…right? Well, either way, it’s time to head to Mammon’s room.

She announces her arrival with three sharp knocks. In return, she hears a startled Mammon telling her to come in. When she enters the room, she sees him sitting on the couch, his back to the door. She also notes the trashcan filled to the top with crumpled up paper. Seems like it took him a couple times to find the right words for the note earlier.

“You ready?” she asks.

“I’ve been ready,” he replies a little impatiently while turning to face her. His tone quickly changes, though, as he attempts to hide this anxious eagerness. “Not that I’ve just been sitting here waiting!” He swiftly decides to change the subject to avoid any further hole digging. Instead, he comments on what MC is wearing. On how little it is, in fact.

“What? You told me to wear my everyday clothes,” she says, genuinely confused by his line of reasoning. “The skirt isn’t even short. It’s mid-length.” MC lifts the ends while she states this, as if to prove the point.

This causes Mammon to look away. It takes him a slight moment to regain himself before he says, “I guess it can’t be helped.” He gets up from the couch and walks over to MC. Draping his jacket across her shoulders, he tells her, “Wear this.”

She’s completely baffled at this point. More clothes? A couple seconds are spent in wonder until she slips her arms through. She doesn’t completely mind. As the jacket settles, a scent drifts over her.

It smells like him.

MC hesitates to ask for an explanation, but the curiosity is pressing. “So, what’s the deal with the clothes, anyway?”

“Huh?” Mammon acts as though she knows what they’re going to do. “Well, with what you had on, you’d only have to lose twice.” This does nothing to clear up mystery, and its only when he sees MC's puzzled expression does he realize that. He finally reveals what the two will be doing, “I’m gonna teach ya poker!”

Of course. He has wanted to play countless times before, but MC didn’t know how nor was any interested in learning. But now she has too. On top of that, it seems like it’s going to be strip poker. How apropos.

“I see.” Good thing she took that nap. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have the mental energy to be taught anything else that day. “Alright, let’s get to it.”

Mammon gives a hum of agreement and the two make their way over to the couches where he’s set up the cards. On the table are examples of possible hands in order of ranking. As he goes over them, he makes sure to give MC enough time to properly memorize the categories. When she’s had her fill, he continues to explain the rules and mechanics of the variant his chosen in-depth.

Plainly, players will be dealt two cards, then five will be laid onto the table as community cards. Use the two cards in combination with the ones of the board to make a better hand than the other.

“I’ve decided to go easy on ya!” A huge smile can be seen on Mammon’s face. “This one’s the easiest to learn, so you should have no problem playing.” It’s obvious he’s having so much fun teaching her something he loves.

MC smiles in response. Seeing him so enthusiastic makes him so endearing. He’s quite serious about it too. No way he’s not by how thoroughly he’s explaining the game.

Soon enough the two begin playing, starting with some practice rounds. When MC decides she has the hang of it, she suggests they raise the stakes by finally betting clothes.

“Ya haven’t won yet!” Mammon rejects the idea straightaway. “Ya hafta win first,” he clarifies.

She has to wonder if he’s doing such a slow reveal on purpose. No, of course he is. First the long lesson now all the practicing. Though, she has to admit, it is more fun this way—there’s a buildup, anticipation. And there’s no point in rushing, they do have half a day. So, she's content to carry on without anteing for now.

While there’s a bit of enjoyment in trying to win against Mammon in something he excels in, MC is starting to lose interest. The lack of risk is starting to compromise the point of playing, even if she always either loses or folds. All she has to do is win once, then the real game can begin. Time to really focus.

Up to this point, she’s just been paying attention to her own cards and trying to beat Mammon’s hand. She’s been foregoing any observation of her opponent proper. Right, I’ve got to play the player as much as the game. She starts with some simple watching, noting anything that might help her: expressions, movements, comments, etc. Further scrutinizing is done by deliberately making a couple of bad moves to gauge his reactions. She’s getting nothing from him.

A couple more rounds go by, and MC has concluded that Mammon is unreadable, almost. The only time he reacted, just slightly, was when she nearly won. He seemed almost proud. That’s got to be her angle. She’s not skilled enough to read him, but she can coax him into giving away information. Just have to ask the right questions.

It takes some tries before finding the most effective line of questioning. Problem is, before, she wasn’t asking too many questions. Now, it’s like a flood gate has been lifted.

“Finally getting serious, huh?” If Mammon knew what she was up to, he wasn’t showing it. Additionally, the influx of questions hasn’t thrown him off. Rather, he’s quite excited to show off his talent in front of MC. Maybe a bit too excited. He’s letting down his guard.

Which is perfect for her. She needs this win. In fact, she might have him. The last thing she asked caused a slight stir in Mammon. “So, a pair in hand and a pair on the table is a two pair?”

“Yep! Got it!” Mammon's response showed no sign of hesitation or worry. But there was the tiniest hint of disappointment hidden within his words.

This is what tipped MC off. He thinks he has a better hand. Good thing her cards are better than what she said. And with what’s on the table, there's a good chance his cards will lose to her actual ones.

“Alright let’s show ‘em,” she says as she lays her cards into view.

Mammon almost immediately declared himself winner until she pointed at the three aces on the table, those being the two in her hand and then the community one. In addition to the pair included on the board, that makes her a hand a winner compared to Mammon’s, who only had five cards of the same suite.

“Guess we can start anteing then,” MC proclaims. She’s ready to stop being so damn uncomfortable because of the weird layers she’s wearing. She may not even try the next rounds, not that she’ll let Mammon know that. He would try to make excuses to prevent her from stripping for sure. “Actually, maybe you should explain how you’re thinking of doing that first,” she follows up after realizing he never clarified those particulars.

Mammon goes on to lay out the rules he’s devised. Simply, if both players show their hand, the loser has to remove an item of clothing. There’s no penalty to folding considering the circumstance.

Sure enough, the next round plays and she ends up losing an item of clothing. Can’t say she ended up not trying, though. She just didn’t try as hard. It was fun learning how to play against Mammon, but it’s too much now. There’s no way she can keep up steam.

She opts for the skirt first. It’s been the major cause of her discomfort, surprisingly to her. The band has been causing the two shirts to rub against her skin nonstop. She sticks her thumbs in to separate it from herself and lifts herself off the couch just enough to pull the skirt off, setting it to her side. With that she returns her gaze to Mammon.

This prompts a small fuss from him. Snapping out of a lascivious stare, he spits out, “Why'da go for that first? I gave ya the jacket!”

That’s the other reason. She doesn’t want to take his jacket off. She tells him as such, burying her head in it as she does. It’s soothing in a way.

A small amount of color rises across Mammon’s face from this. He gets up wordlessly and walks over to MC. Taking off his own sunglasses, he puts them on her, slightly brushing her cheeks as his hands slide past.

“There,” he says as he looks at her before walking back around the table. He seems satisfied with that explanation, or rather, lack thereof.

“These will literally be the next thing I take off.”

“They’re suppose'da be.” Mammon goes on to deal the next round. It was tight, coming down to who had the higher cards. Ultimately, he won by a hair.

And the glasses come right off.

The following hand plays much slower. MC takes her time to analyze everything, thinking of endless possible card combinations that’ll earn her a win as the community cards are laid down. She’s decided she can’t be the only one stripping.

It’s down to the last card on the table and she has to choose whether to show or fold. It’s a decent enough hand. She’ll show.

Mammon's the first to flip his cards, revealing a respectable hand, as well.

“Are you sure you haven’t been cheating?” She suddenly asks.

“Huh?” Mammon was taken by surprise with this. A little offended, he answers, “I may bend the rules sometimes. But this isn’t the time and place, MC. Even I know that.”

“You’re right,” she turns her cards over. “Because you would’ve won, then.” She reveals a hand that triumphs over her opponent’s.

“MC!” He exclaims both pleased and a little unsettled. “Ya had me going there. Hah! Look at ya.”

But she is just looking at him, waiting with a smile half-cocked. They showed their cards. She won. He lost.

He eventually understood why she was staring at him with such a look. And he froze. Right, by his rules, he loses an article of clothing now. For some reason, this didn’t even occur to him as a possibility—that they’d both be half-naked.

He's already lost his jacket and glasses. All that’s left are his shirt and pants. He picks the prior. Reaching over behind his head, Mammon takes his shirt and, as quickly as he can, yanks it over his head.

“You can quit lookin' at me like that, now.”

She doesn’t. Not even realizing she’s staring; she continues to admire his physique. Only when Mammon goes out of his way to get her attention does she snap out of her daze.

“Next round!” He says as if he’s uttering a decree.

The cards are dealt once again. MC, however, is getting tired. He sure can play for a long while. Having won the last round, she decides to phone it in for the rest, trying only as hard as it takes Mammon not to notice. It helps that she’s not good to begin with.

The next clothing item she tosses is the shirt beneath Mammon’s jacket, still refusing to take it off. She somehow manages it by balancing the jacket on her shoulders as she slips out of the top worn under it. Sure, she could have just taken off the jacket then put it back on when she was done, but it’s more fun this way. Plus, Mammon can't say anything her breaking the rules, so to speak.

Now, all she’s wearing is Mammon’s jacket and the lingerie he picked out. And she wants to show off this fact. She abruptly stands up, which causes the hanging daggers of the brassier to sway as she does so. Holding her arms out while posing, she asks, “Isn’t it cute?”

Mammon takes a moment before answering, soaking in what he’s seeing.

“You’re beautiful.”

MC felt a tinge of heat reach her cheeks. She wasn’t expecting him to respond like that. But she was glad.

She sits back down and comments on how she loves what he picked out. Then, silently thinks to herself how she hopes to wear it again for him.

Mammon, meanwhile, was marveling at how MC looked. Even going so far as to praise himself for his choice of lingerie.

“By the way,” MC begins. “This does beg the question, what about the stockings?” She leans back and to the side, supporting herself with her hands as she swings her legs alternatively up and down.

“Oh, uh,” he searches for the words, a little distracted by her bare legs. Finally finding them, he says, “It seemed like too much.”

“That’s too bad. It would’ve made the outfit even cuter,” she replies minorly disappointed. Then adds with a chuckle, “Plus it would’ve gave me more things to take off. Oh well, there’s always next time.”

“I can see that now! No need to rub—” He processes the last thing MC said. “Wait, for real?!”

MC confirms what she said, ready to laugh again. Well, that confirms he's all up for seeing her like this again.

“Imma hold you to that!” Mammon ecstatically swears. It’ll be even more fun the next time around, especially since the anxieties of this time won’t overwhelm him.

The night continues and MC can’t hide her exhaustion, yawning more and more frequently. She’s been folding more frequently too. Every round, in fact. The only thing she has left to offer is the jacket she’s been cuddling all night, and she’s not going to let it go.

“One more game,” Mammon says. “Then ya can go to bed.” He stipulates, “But no folding! Both of us gotta show our cards.”

“I’m not going to bed until you are,” she replies. “You have to get your full time.” A yawn tries to escape from her mouth as she says this.

Mammon accepts this but insists on having that last round. While she looks adorable, he does want to see how she looks without the covering piece. Plus, there has to be a proper sendoff of the game—folding just won’t do.

“In that case, we can watch a movie or something,” he suggests as he lays down the cards. He puts down all five table cards without delay. There’s no need to go through the whole process. When he lays the last card, he also flips his own, then looks at MC to do the same.

Although coming down to pure luck at this point, she ends up having to finally forego the jacket she’s come to love. She pouts as she removes it, then quickly makes her way over to the couch Mammon is sitting on the far end of. Settling down at a spot where they're almost touching, she goes on to suggest they watch a horror movie.

He’s reluctant to agree to this but relents as he’s too focused on the sudden close proximity between the two.

“I’ve been wanting to watch this certain one,” MC says as she pulls the film onto the TV. She stays on the summary screen to give Mammon the chance to read it and waits for him to give the go-ahead. Mammon, however, seemed to be focusing all his attention on MC, and she has to direct him to look at the screen. After a moment, a sign of confirmation is given, though hesitantly as if he didn't even process what he just read. She starts the movie anyway.

A little ways in, MC begins to shift and leans heavily onto Mammon, holding nothing back as she puts her full weight on him.

“If ya scared, all you gotta do is say so,” he says in reaction. “The Great Mammon will protect ya!” He looks down at who appears to be his new blanket.

She responds with a tired hum. Though she’s not having Mammon’s feigned bravery, she’s too exhausted to fight it. Instead, she continues to just watch the movie through half-closed eyes, propped against his shoulder.

“Hold on a sec.” He lifts her off for a split moment and repositions, his back now being supported by the arm of the couch. He pulls her into his lap, and she ends up laying between his legs with her head on his chest. “It’s more cozy this way, yeah?”

“Makes the jacket the next-best thing,” she answers.

The two continue to watch the movie in silence. During so, Mammon’s arms have been slowly moving from the couch to around MC, getting closer and tighter every time he got scared. He soon was fully encircling her with his head hiding behind as far as he could manage, which wasn’t much considering his position, even with sliding down. This was when he noticed the smell of strawberries.

“Hey, MC,” he spoke low trying to get her attention. There was no response. “Are ya sleepin'?” Again, he was met with silence. He took this opportunity to lightly bury his head into her, absorbing the scent that he adores on her. It had a calming effect, especially after the stress caused by the horror on screen.

“Did’ya wear this for me?” He asks softly to himself. Though the movie was over, he stayed still. He wanted nothing but to continue holding her like he was. There’s a chance he might just fall asleep too.

But he couldn’t. It’s too uncomfortable for that. The position is fine for cuddling yet sleeping like this will only bring pain the next day. And it can’t be much better for her. Not to mention, they don’t even have any blankets, and the pillows that were already on the couch are hardly meant for such use. He ultimately decides to sacrifice the snuggling, over much internal debating, and wakes MC up.

“Time to get up,” Mammon’s voice was loud as he shook her tenderly. He knew all too well if the first attempt didn’t work, he’d have way too much trouble with trying again. “It’s better to sleep inna bed. C'mon.”

MC grumbles at this as she sits up. Without a word, she makes her way over to the bed in his room.

“What're ya doing?” He asks a bit flustered, fully not expecting her actions.

“You said to go to bed,” she replies rather pragmatically. Then adds, “And there’s still time left in your twelve hours.” As she says this, she lifts the covers and climbs into bed. “Unless… you want me to walk all the way back to my own room?” It’s clear she has no plans to do this anyway, as she’s already quite settled in his bed.

Mammon makes no arguments, only an off-hand comment that can be taken as him denying all responsibility in having the idea. Instead, he gets into bed next to her, facing her way.

As soon as she feels his weight, she rolls over to meet him. She asks, “Can I hold you?”

He answers by holding her first. Showing no restraint, he presses his body into hers, his arms fully wrapped around her. He lets out a heavy sigh as he does so.

MC stiffens in surprise by this, but very quickly relaxes into him. Lifting her head off the shoulder she was resting on, she gives him a peck on the cheek as she tells him, “Good Night.”

Stunned by this, Mammon stares at MC, who has taken her position back onto his shoulder. Shifting his gaze to the side, a short moment passes before he says, “If ya gonna kiss me, ya gotta do it right.”

To this, she looks up again and brings her face to his, stopping just before his lips. And she waits, hesitating in front of him as she pauses for consent, her own lips somewhat parted ways in anticipation. She looks from his eyes to his lips then back again, as her way of asking.

Mammon gives his permission by impatiently pressing his lips to hers. His hand supports her head as his avarice takes over, roughly deepening the kiss more and more. To him, no matter how near their bodies, it will never be enough. There will always be some distance to close.

In return, he gets kisses that are sleepy but not effortless. Noting this, and realizing that he’s getting too excited, he pulls away. When he does, he meets MC with eyes brimmed with compassion. But only for a second as he quickly buries her head into his chest, hiding her from the complete redness that is consuming his face. He ends the night by telling her, “Go back to sleep,” as he feels her warm breath against his skin.

As for her, she falls asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, loud and fast.

 Although falling asleep later, Mammon was the first one to wake up. He wants every second awake he can get holding the woman he’s come to adore. In fact, even though they repositioned during their slumber, he’s still cradling her. As he lies on his back staring at the ceiling, MC sleeps soundly on his chest. He starts to caress her head, feeling the hair that would tickle him occasionally throughout the night on his fingertips, wishing this won’t end.

Unfortunately, this wakes her up after a while and she moves off his chest, much to his disappointment. So much so, that he pulls her back without delay, saying that he’s not done holding her yet. The Avatar of Greed, indeed.

“Mammon, I have to get up.”

But he doesn’t let go. Rather, he tightens his embrace.

“Mammon…” she sinks into him, not wanting to get up either. But she has to go grocery shopping for dinner. It’s her turn. A fact she relays to him, yet he still won’t budge.

“How ‘bout a good morning kiss?” This got his attention. “But I can’t do it from here.”

He relents to this. Eager for another kiss. His grip loosens, allowing MC to position herself in front of him. He props her chin up and runs his thumb over her bottom lip before he goes in. It’s softer this time, slower with deliberate motions. He wants the feel of her lips committed to memory.

Her kisses in answer are the same. In contrast to the tired grazes of yesterday, her touch now is very much alive.

Mammon stops first, distancing himself just enough to where their lips barely touch. Tentatively, he asks, “This… this makes up for last night, yeah?” His lips brush against hers with each word.

MC doesn't want to talk, but they're too close to just silently ask. She opts for a quick, “What do you mean?”

“I wanted our first kiss to-” he stops midsentence, a little bashful by the words. He rephrases, “I wanted to be gentler. But I couldn’t hold myself back once I felt your lips.”

“I didn’t mind at all,” she reassures as she smoothly rubs her nose on his. Afterwards, she furthers the distance for a better look at him as she says, “In fact, I like it when you’re assertive.”

“Don’t say such weird stuff all of a sudden!” An embarrassed expression appears on his face. “Geeze, it’s kinda scary when you act so sweet.” He thinks for a moment until he decides to tell her, “But, you could do more of that…you know, if ya wanted.”

MC feels as though she needs to put his mind to ease. “I like you, Mammon.” She’s sure to enunciate this, clearly saying his name so there’s no doubt about who she’s talking about.

He’s at a loss for words at this point, stunned. A smile soon creeps on his face and the words he finally comes up are filled with self-praise. “Of course ya do!” Secretly though, he’s relieved by what she said. The affirmation of her feelings fills him with confidence.

The conversation continues with MC reiterating that she, unfortunately, needs to go out for groceries. She furthers the argument by reminding him that his twelve hours are up.

A demand for one more kiss is his response, which she gladly indulges. He steadies her with his hands once more, as if it’s a need to feel her body while they kiss. It’s more fervent this time around after hearing her confession; his emotions seemingly exploding into her lips.

The first to pull away this time was MC, sensing that Mammon would never stop. She can’t leave if the kiss never ends, right? Looking at him, she can see he’s visibly disappointed with his eyes still closed.

When he opens them, it’s only slightly and he’s sure to not meet her eyes. If he sees her, it’ll only cause him to try to make her stay again. Instead, he rushes her along. “Just hurry up so you can get back, will ya?”

MC slips back on the clothes from the night before. Stopping short of the door, she turns to face him once more and pauses, pondering on whether she should express the idea on her mind. Ultimately, she chooses to tease him with the one other reason she had prepared to use against him.

“You know,” she gets his attention. “I was gonna entice you with some of my homemade ramen.” The jestful smile on her face cannot be hidden, no matter the amount of lip biting. “But looks like I don’t have to now.”

The speed at which Mammon disregards his previous determination to not look at MC is unimaginable. In fact, he completely abandons the notion to let her go. He hops out of bed almost as swiftly as his stare and bounds for the troublemaker. Reaching her before she can get away, he wraps his arms around her and brings her into a tight embrace of no escape. He’s back to preventing her from leaving. Not until she promises to make his ramen.

In between fits of giggles, MC manages to spill that she planned on doing that anyway. When she gets let go, she gives Mammon one last playful look before she sets off to buy the ingredients of his favorite dish of hers.

#obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me #obey me shall we date #mammon x mc #the lingerie game

[mandoalorian]

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 10

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - allusions to sex, slow burn and slight angst.

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER TEN - NEXT

You hadn't heard Maxwell's faint whisper when he had gotten into the car. You had, however, acknowledged Jeeves brief nod of affirmation when Maxwell sank bank into his seat and clicked his seat belt in place before taking hold of your hand and pressing gentle, comforting kisses along your knuckles. Jeeves had taken the long way back to the penthouse, or so you assumed. There were plenty of detours, and pretty soon you realised he was actually driving you away from the bustling city. Pearly white snow lapped the landscape around you as he drove down the long road, framed by tall bare trees.

"We're leaving the city?" you asked Maxwell, leaning your head into his shoulder. "I thought we were going home."

"We are." Maxwell replied and you furrowed your eyebrows in bewilderment, but opted not to say another word. You didn't need to. You trusted him. The rest of the journey was spent in comfortable silence, you and Max just glad to be in each other's presence once more.

Finally, Jeeves pulled up outside a huge white mansion with pillars bigger than you had ever seen before. It was magnificent, unlike anything you had ever seen before. Your hand not leaving his, Maxwell helped you out of the car and walked you to the front door, reaching into his pants pocket for the keys and unlocking it in one swift movement.

"This is- this is-" you were speechless.

"My home," Maxwell replied with a smile, carefully guiding you into the lobby. You wiped the icy water from your winter boots on the mat before following him down the hallway and into the front room. It was enormous, carpeted. A gorgeous marble fireplace and oil paintings hung up on every corner. Maxwell took a spare key from a fruit bowl and handed it to you. "And, your home. If you'd like."

"Wh- what are you proposing?" you quizzed, your eyes flicking between the silver key and Maxwell.

"I'd feel better knowing that you were here, safe. No one will harass you and you'll be way out of Tristan's reach. Although I'm inclined to believe that he'll be locked away for a very long time. I guess what I'm trying to say is…" Maxwell took a deep, nervous breath. "Move in with me?"

"Here?" your eyes were comically wide in disbelief.

"I understand if you don't like the idea. If you think it's too soon…"

You swung your arms around Maxwell and hugged him tight, burying your face into the warmth of his chest. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you back. "Yes." you mumbled happily, trying your hardest to hold back tears.

Maxwell spent a good hour giving you a grand tour of the house, and you were enamoured with the sight of every single room. Maxwell loved seeing how awestruck you were. This was all completely normal to him, but you helped him recognise how privileged he was to have such luxury. Maxwell took both of your hands when you had reached the final room of the house, his bedroom. "I know I told you I don't share a bed with… with…" you raised an eyebrow. "You know," he shrugged nervously and you nodded your head understandingly. "But I- I just think it might be nice if…"

You smiled and placed a kiss on his cheek before scowering around and checking out your beautiful bedroom which you shared with Maxwell Lord.

"I can't wait to get settled in." You admitted, your eyes sparkling.

"There is something I have to tell you…" Maxwell frowned and you looked at him with concern. Was this it? Was he finally going to admit his feelings? You had to say it back.

"Me too." you nodded confidently. "But, you first." You said with a small smile and Maxwell took a deep breath.

"I have a business trip and… I'll be out of town for the week leading up until Christmas. I leave tomorrow." Your heart sank. That was not what you were expecting at all. "But if you want me to stay… I can postpone until January. I mean, it'll be hard but- you've been through a lot and. If there's anything you need…"

"Oh," you couldn't help but reply, your brain desperately fumbling to collect the right words. "No, that's okay. I understand." you smiled weakly. You knew how much Maxwell valued his business, and that was okay. You just thought he was going to at least mention his drunken revelation from the previous night.

"I'm glad," Maxwell responded, and there was a short silence. "Uh- do you have plans for Christmas?" Maxwell asked and you shook your head. "Because, I don't really do anything on Christmas but I wouldn't want you to be alone. So maybe…"

You smiled. "You don't do anything on Christmas?" you asked curiously. Maxwell took your hand and pulled you down onto the bed.

"Uh, no. My dad loved Christmas. When I was a kid we'd do all kinds of cool stuff but after he passed… it just wasn't the same. My mother didn't make an effort. Sometimes she'd even leave me with the nanny while she travelled to New York to be with her friends." Maxwell explained, and you appreciated the fact he had most likely never revealed so much information to anyone before.

"That's awful, I'm so sorry." you whispered, leaning into his lap.

"Part of me doesn't want to leave you," Maxwell admitted. "Tomorrow- I mean… but it's Simon Stagg from Stagg Industries. Shit, if I don't go I could lose investment."

"It's okay," you reassured Max who simply just sighed. "I'll miss you."

You felt nervous. It was the first time you had been with Maxwell in such close proximity since realising your true feelings for him. And Max felt the same.

He placed his big hand on your face and ran his finger over your lower lip. "Well, let's make tonight count." he said, his voice low and husky as he leaned in and pressed a passionate kiss into you.

***

You were the first to wake up in the morning as the golden sunlight seeped through your curtains and highlighted your body. It didn't take long for you to realise that you were wrapped in Maxwell's arms, your head buried into his chest as you recalled the amazing night you had before. He was still asleep, light snores escaping his lips and you felt comfort in hearing his heartbeat. You felt safe, like you could live in the moment forever. You also realised this was the first time you had shared a bed with Max— slept together. It was a big deal, especially knowing how he had previously felt about such a thing.

There was one thing still praying on your mind. You and Max had yet to discuss what had been said the night of the gala. You had been desperately waiting for him to bring it up and reaffirm it. Tell you that he did in fact love you. But he hadn't. And you didn't know why. You tried to be optimistic, but it was easy to believe that maybe he wasn't bringing it up because he just didn't feel the same way. Maybe he thought he loved you, but his words were just induced by the actions of his mother, and Bruce, and a landslide consumption of alcohol.

You spent a few moments thinking about it, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you shuffled around uncomfortably. You felt like you had to get out of Max's confined grip; you felt like you couldn't breathe. Max mumbled something incoherent as you broke free and rolled out of bed, rubbing your eyes and grabbing Max's robe to cover your naked body.

"Good morning," he mumbled groggily, adjusting his vision to focus on you. You paced around backwards and forwards by the foot of the bed. "Are you okay?" he quizzed, sensing your stress.

You wanted to say it— you wanted to confront him. Your mouth opened but before you could speak, Kenneth came running in. "Sir, your carpool to the airport is waiting outside."

"Airport?" you raised an eyebrow. "Max, where is the business meeting?"

Max sighed, rubbing his head. "Uh, London," he replied quietly and your eyes went comically wide.

"London?!" you repeated, your voice a little too high and a little too loud. When Max said he was going out of town, you thought he meant a different state at furthest… not a different continent!

"I- I will call you from the hotel every night," Max promised, sitting up and pressing his hands together. "I'll be home for Christmas. And you'll be safe here." Max cleared his throat and turned to Kenneth. "Uh, Ken, do you think we could get a little privacy?" Max requested and Kenneth nodded his head before leaving the room.

Max crawled out of bed and sat you down. "I don't have to go. Just say the words and I won't go." he told you quietly.

"I don't want to be the person who gets between you and your work," you replied sadly. "I'll be okay. Just- I'll miss you."

Max nodded understandingly, taking his wallet from the nightstand and pulling out one of the many Black Gold Cooperative business credit cards he owned. He placed it in your hands. "Remember darling, you want for nothing."

You appreciated the gesture, but the feeling of his credit card in your hand made you feel sick to your stomach. It reminded you that you were just his sugar baby. Nothing more. And as you watched Maxwell leave for his last minute business trip, you realised you might never be anything more.

Taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!)

Sugar and Spice: @100layersofdaddyissues @mrschiltoncat @honeymandos @thisisthe-wayson @this-cat-is-dea @blonde2bomshell @maiyaaaa0130 @autumnleaves1991-blog @justanotherblonde23 @softly-sad @laaadygisbooornex3 @kaelyn-lobrutto24

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84 #wonder woman 1984

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

hi hi Rhododendron Hawks PLEASE BBY CONGRATS ON 100 YOU ARE AMAZING your writing is beautiful and im lucky to call you a friend

Emme my love!! Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this Rhododendron with Hawks!

Hawks x Fem!Reader

The knock at your door had your nerves working in overdrive. The sharp “Just a minute!” shooting out of your mouth before you can calm yourself. As you walk to the door you take deep breaths, straightening out any nonexistent wrinkles from your dress and taking a quick look in the hallway mirror before looking through the peep hole.

At first you don’t see anything but a deep crimson, when your eyes finally focus you can see that the crimson is a set of exceptionally large wings attached to an incredibly attractive hero. You pull back from the door and take one more calming breath before opening it with a smile on your face.

“Hey chickadee! Ready for our- “Hawks stops in the middle of his sentence when he sees you, his brain and heart both stopping momentarily. He stands there stunned, taking it all in. Your makeup enhancing your already amazing features from your enchanting eyes to your sultry mouth. The dress your wearing showing off your jaw dropping figure and your soft skin. “Wow- “He clears his throat, a blush on his cheeks. “-you look amazing Y/N.”

Your still standing in the door way, relived that he finally said something. The look in his eyes when he saw you was so intense it was almost frightening. His pupils shrinking, the gold in his eyes going molten.

“Oh! Um, thank you Hawks.” You play with the hem of your dress and drop your eyes to the floor.

I hope I look amazing, my first date in years and it’s with the number 2 hero?! I’ve been getting ready for hours!

You stand there for a moment in silence until he puts a hand under your chin and tilts your face up. “Come on dove, no need to be nervous! Here, I brought you a gift.” He pulls a hand out from behind his back, holding a white box you didn’t even notice he was carrying.

“Th-thank you! These are from my favorite chocolate shop.” You take the box from his hand holding it close, a smile on your face that takes his breath away.

“Well, I know you don’t like getting flowers so I figured chocolates would be the next best thing!”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm, thankful that he is trying his best to make you feel comfortable. “How did you know I don’t like getting flowers?”

“You just struck me as a person that doesn’t like them, being a hero helps me read people so… oh wow I sounded real douche.” He looks down then notices the time on his watch. “We better get going if we’re gonna make our reservations!”

Hawks waits for you to grab your stuff, put the box in your apartment and lock your door before heading out.

Thankfully, the hero was not expecting to fly you to your destination. He opens the passenger side door to his sleek sports car, waiting for you to get situated before shutting it. As you drive to your, still unknown to you, destination you can’t help but admire him from the side. It is rare that you got to see Hawks outside of his hero uniform except when he modeled for magazine covers. However, all of those magazines could not compare to real life.

The hand resting on the shifter is big, tanned from hours in the sun with long fingers and perfectly manicured nails. His has rings on both his middle and ring finger one black with gold veins like marble, the other crimson.  The long black sleeve button up is rolled to his forearms, showing off lean muscle, veins running down to his hands. The black slacks tight enough to show off two toned legs, and a third leg?!

You hear him chuckle and he puts a hand on your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze before putting it back on the shifter. You can feel your cheeks glowing red from embarrassment.

How long was I staring at him?!

Hawks doesn’t say anything, saving you from embarrassing yourself any further.

You finally pull into a driveway, stopping at the curb. You look out the window and see a bar and lounge that you have passed by multiple times, knowing from just the outside that you would not be able to afford anything. Hawks gets out of the car and opens your door before the valet can, holding out a hand to help you out.

You step out of the car, your dress tight around your thighs and ass. Hawks can’t help but take in the sight, the crotch of his pants tightening unperceptively.

“Have you ever been here before Y/N?” You both walk up to the doors of the lounge, Hawks slightly behind you with his hand on the small of your back.

“N-no I haven’t, it always looked a little too pricey for me.” You try to distract yourself from his warm touch by examining the ornate double doors. Both sport blacked out glass and a large silver “5” topped with an image of a flower you can’t quite remember the name of.

“It’s a rhododendron.”

A shiver runs down your spine as Hawks leans over to whisper in your ear before moving in front of you to open one of the doors and usher you inside.

The date was amazing, conversation flowed smoothly, no fans or paparazzi interrupting, Hawks was even able to guess not only your favorite drink but your favorite food as well.

At one point he decided to fold one of the cloth napkins into a very poorly constructed plane, four embroidered rhododendrons resting two to each wing. You can’t help but laugh when he tosses it up, sending a couple of his feathers to keep it in the air. You both watch it soar around the room before, a stern-faced waiter walks up and clears his throat. You both turn, matching guilty looks on your faces while the napkin is swiftly returned to the table.

The hero makes sure to keep the bill out of your line of vision, immediately handing the waiter a black credit card and continuing the conversation.

“I had an amazing time dove.” He reaches across the table and grabs your hand, caressing your knuckles with his thumb. “I would hate to end this date so soon… how about we go grab some dessert? I know a cute little ice cream shop downtown that has nondairy flavors!”

You can’t help but melt into a puddle when he smiles at you, his gold eyes shining.

“I would love to! It’s good they have nondairy; I get a little sad walking into an ice cream shop when I’m lactose intolerant.”

He shoots you a wink. “Well, isn’t that lucky then? Come on, let’s get there before they close.” He takes you by the hand and holds it while you wait for the valet to bring his car around.

When you are both back in the car Hawks turns on some music, one of your favorite songs softly playing through the speakers. “I hope you don’t mind, just felt like we could use some tunes.”

“Oh, not at all!” You wave him off with a smile on your face. “I actually really like this song this artist is one of my favorites!” You start tapping your leg to the beat, watching the street lights pass by and missing the gleam in your dates eyes as he glances at you.

“Hello! Welcome to the Frozen Marble Creamery, what can we get ya?” The employee behind the waist high freezer greets you while you clasp your hands in front of you with glee.

“Oh wow, you have so many choices!” You browse the dairy free flavors, looking up at Hawks when he places his hand on your shoulder. “What are you gonna get Hawks?”

“I’m not picky so i'll just get what you get.” He pats your shoulder, moving his hand down to the small of your back. A small shiver goes down your spine when you feel the tips of his fingers graze your ass.

The employee stands there with a stunned look on their face for a moment “Oh, wow ummm Hawks! You’re like my favorite hero! I can’t believe you are here! Could I please have your autograph?” You didn’t even see them come around the corner but suddenly they are right next to you, almost pushing against you in their enthusiasm.

“Of course! I can always sign something for a fan!” Hawks strategically moves so that he is between you and the person while still keeping a hand on you. He signs the piece of paper and smiles at the employee before putting a finger in front of his mouth. “Now don’t tell anyone but I’m on a date and I really wanna impress her.”

The employees mouth drops open and their eyes go wide turning to look at you. “Oh of course!” They excitedly whisper. “Let me know what you want, and it will be on the house.”

Hawks gives them a quick wink. “The little lady and I will both have a small mango sorbet in a cup please.”

You had been watching the exchange with a small smile on your face, impressed at the way Hawks flawlessly managed to calm his fan down. When he orders for you, you shift and bump your hip against his.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say your quirk is mind reading.” You giggle.

He bumps your hip right back. “I guess I’m just that lucky!”

After you get your ice cream you walk out to the small seating area in the front, surrounded by three rhododendron plants giving the space a pleasant sweet and spicy scent.

Conversation continues in between bites of the sweet sorbet. He regales you with tales of villain take downs and working with the number one hero while also asking about your job and tales of your childhood. You can’t believe your luck, being with the hero feels so comfortable especially since he knows you so well.

It must help with his hero work being able to read people so well.

After finishing your dessert, you linger in the sitting area, enjoying each other’s company and the mix of cool night air and scent of flowers. You are relaxing with your head in your hand, watching the cars drive by in comfortable silence when your date chuckles. You turn to him with a questioning look when he reaches over and plucks something out of your hair.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who enjoys your company, you had a couple of tagalongs.” He opens his hand, and you see two small flowers sitting in his palm.

You huff out a laugh and grab one of the flowers, twirling it in between your fingers. “You know it’s weird, I’ve been seeing these flowers a lot lately.” You watch the way the petals of the rhododendron flutter in the wind and place it on the table.

“Maybe it’s fate?” Hawks places the other one on the table, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t most flowers have meanings? Maybe these ones mean your beautiful.”

You giggle at his joke, your cheeks tinted pink at the flattery.

“I hate to end the night Dove but it’s getting late and I wanna make sure you get home at a decent time.”

You sigh, knowing he’s right but being sad about it all the same.

When you get back to your place Hawks walks you to the door, holding your hand and swinging it back and forth. You both stand there for a moment, you not wanting to end the night and him patiently waiting.

“I, uh, I had a really nice time today Hawks.” You fidget with the hem of your dress for a moment before looking up at him.

“I had a nice time too Dove. I’m excited to see you again.” He grabs your other hand and faces you towards him.

“Oh? Well, yeah! I would love to do this again.” Smiling bashfully, you stare into his captivating eyes, your breath hitching when he leans in close.

“I really wanna kiss you right now, is that okay?” You can feel his breath against your lips, closing the distance and kissing him instead of answering.

You share a sweet kiss before he pulls away, leaving you breathless. “I’ll talk to you again ya?”

You nod your head, and he bends down to kiss your cheek before walking back to his car. You stand in front of your door, still not believing how amazing your day was before walking into your apartment to settle down.

You crack the sliding glass door to your bedroom, pulling the curtains open to let the moonlight in. The view from your balcony is worth the rent you pay. The lights from the city glowing like festival lanterns, a soothing breeze like ice cream on a hot day.

Dimming the lights you walk to your bathroom for a quick shower, sleepy from the days excitement but still needing to rinse off. After showering you dry off and wrap a towel around your body, tucking a corner into the top to hold it in place. Drying your hair with another towel you look towards your closed door and admire the moon glowing in the sky. Walking towards your bed to grab your sleep shirt, sitting there on top of it was one lone rhododendron flower. Placed next to it, vibrant in the moonlight, shining like a blade, was a crimson feather.

“Oh, come on little bird.” The sultry voice startles you, turning around with a scream before a gloved hand shoots out covering your mouth.

“All the signs were there Dove!” Hawks clenches his hand, squeezing your face until tears well up in your eyes.

“But I guess you were too stupid to heed the warnings.”

You whimper, the sound barely audible past the glove, body shaking, hands clasping your towel that was loosening up.

“Beware! Beware! Hahaha. You should have remembered Dove.” Pulling your face closer, he whispers in your ear.

“I’m a bird of prey.”

#lilliths follower event #lillith writes #lilliths writing #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #takami keigo x reader

[ordinaryunordinary]

Ć̶͚̱͎͉̘̻̭̀̃̇̃h̷̨̛̦̩͇̠̙̜̟̙̮́̈́̔̓͜ä̴͙͕̞̳̪͉͈́́̈́͐́̈́̚n̵̠̖̘̉̋̎͑g̷̢̯̤̥͎͙̥̲̙̓̆̄͊̋͒̾̐͛̈́͝͝ë̶͚̱͙̰͇̜̭̭̤̭́̎̐̽̌͑̅̈́͌̈́̚͠ͅ

Experiment Zero was a success

Words: 5737

CW: implied torture, manipulation, violence, brain fuckery, they messed him up…that’s all I gotta say

For the most part, it was dark. It was also wet, what exact liquid that was though was uncertain. There were very few things he was certain of at the moment.

That it was dark, wet, and cold.

He was also certain that he was very sweaty and that it was hard to breathe. He was certain that his arms had been bound behind him by something very heavy and that same heavy object was also around his ankles and his neck. There was also something heavy covering his eyes, though it wasn’t as cold and hard as the ones arm his arms.

However, there were many things he was uncertain of. He was uncertain of where he was and who he was. He was uncertain of how he’d gotten here or when he’d gotten here and how long he had been here.

What he knew at the moment though, was how the constant ringing in his ears had stopped and a loud creaking had filled its place. There was also a small clicking noise that grew in volume as the seconds passed by.

“Get up.” He flinched, hearing such a gruff voice or just a voice in general in such a long time. When was the last time he heard a voice, when was the last time he heard his own voice? Did he even have a voice? The last sound he remembered hearing in this place was a high pitched giggle, if it could even be described as such.

Alas, he didn’t have much time to mull over it any longer before he felt that heavy weight lifted from his arms, legs, and from his neck.

“Get up,” demanded the voice once more. Hilarious, did the voice actually expect him to move in his state? He didn’t actually know what state he was in though, he was in pain. His limbs were sore where the weight had been, but there was also a constant ache going all throughout his body. If he managed to stand up, he wouldn’t make it a step before he collapsed once again.

He heard a sigh before he was roughly grabbed and pulled to his feet. As expected, he immediately wobbled and almost came crashing down if it weren’t for the sturdy arms holding him up. “Pathetic, to think someone like you was capable of evading us eleven times.” He didn’t know what the person was talking about, so there was no use thinking about it.

“The boss wants to see you,” he was addressed once more before he felt them moving. He tried to take a step, to walk along the person rather than drug behind them, but once enough pressure was added to his ankles he felt a burning sensation shooting up his legs. Giving up, he allowed himself to be pulled behind the person.

There was a slight shift in light, whatever was over his eyes was doing a good job of obstructing his vision, but he could assume that a light had been turned on in the place he was in. He staggered wherever the person was dragging him until they came to an abrupt stop and he felt himself fall to his knees. Clearly the person he was following had let go of him and scoffed watching him collapse into a heap of weak bones once again.

“Here he is ma’am.” Ma’am? So now he could assume that there were two people in the room. One being the man, he assumed who dragged him in, and another being the woman that he addressed.

“Good,” he felt a chill run through his bones at the smooth voice that rang through his ears. It wasn’t like the gruff voice of the man that he had heard so many times. And though he couldn’t quite remember who the man was, his body could definitely remember what he had done.

There was a small clicking noice that grew in volume before the blindfold over his eyes was torn away. His eyes slammed shut after a flash of bright light filled his voice and he held in a whimper to keep some of his dignity. He wanted to reach up to cover his eyes once again but his hands were blocked by a firm grip that held his face.

“Pathetic, you can’t even open your eyes.” Pathetic, he had heard that word several times today, maybe that was his name, or at least a name they were going to call him. “I myself am embarrassed that it took so long to catch you,” the woman continued before he pulled her hand away. “Open your eyes,” he winced. Just barely opening his eyes filled his vision with bright white light and it was started to give him a headache.

The man beside him scoffed, “open your eyes.” The mans voice was demanding, and he felt the man grip his head hard before his eyes flew open against his will. There was a flash of images that passed him. Faces he didn’t recognize, places he didn’t know existed, but eventually it all faded and he could see the cramped office room he was sat in.

He blinked before he turned his head to see the two standing around him. The man was tall with maroon hair and pale blue eyes and was currently looking down on him with a scowl. Meanwhile, the woman was also tall as hell, though it could’ve been because of her high heels, with long blonde hair and yellow eyes.

Her faces showed a smile, but it was anything but warm. “Young man, what is your name?” He tilted his head, “pathetic?” He flinched, his own voice was hoarse, high pitched, and barely audible. Nonetheless, it drew a laugh out of the woman. “No dear, that is what you are. But it isn’t your name.” He blinked and looked down at the ground. He truly didn’t know his own name, he was frightened by the sound of his voice, the amount of things he didn’t know were quickly becoming overwhelming.

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to disappear off the face of the earth.

“I know, we can give you a name. Does that sound good,” her voice had turned into a sweet, caring tone, almost sounding as if she was speaking to a child. “I know you’re confused, and you probably have so many questions. But trust me, we’re here to help you, I promise.” He stared up at her, her yellow eyes softening and a warm smile spreading across her face.

“Zero, that’s what we’ll call you.” She directed her face up to the man, “in honour of experiment zero being a success.” The man nodded, his grip on the young mans head lessening before he eventually pulled away.

“Listen to me Zero, my name is Valerie and this is Keon. There’s a really evil organization out there, okay? They’re threatening to hurt civilians and trying to force their ideas on to people. I work for an organization called EMBER, we’re dedicated to ridding the streets of these evil “heroes” and restoring peace to the hierarchy.”

He shook his head, he still didn’t understand a thing she was saying. She sighed before reaching over and ruffling his hair, a soft gesture before she pulled away again and crouching in front of him.

“We’re going to help you. They hurt you, they put you in this condition, but we’re going to stop them. Think of how much pain you’re in, we don’t want anyone else to suffer the same fate. You’re so strong for surviving through all of that. Don’t worry everything is going to be okay.” She reached out and stroked his hair again before she stood. “Take him to his new room and let him rest, we’ll introduce him to the others tomorrow.”

The man nodded before he held a device up to his mouth and called for someone to come to the room. He…Zero, stared at the ground. He couldn’t remember half of the thing he had done while he was here. All he knew was what this woman, Valerie had just told him. She promised to keep him safe, but at what cost? Did they want him to help them? How could he in this state?

He felt himself be pulled up to his feet again by a third member in the room. The woman smiled, “he’s going to take you to you’re room. Don’t worry, it’ll be much better than that hell hole you were in before.” He nodded, for now, he would trust her.

The third person began to pull him out of the room.

What other choice did he have anyway?

———

Valerie watched the door slam shut behind the worker and the boy. “My my Keon, you’ve really out done yourself this time.” The red haired man shrugged, “it wasn’t all my doing. There’s only so much a simple memory recall ability can do. I also had Cyko and Thompson play with him from time to time so I’m sure that helped.”

Valerie nodded before she walked back to her desk and sat down. She breathed out a sigh, “three months. We started this project three months ago and it is just now finished?” Keon nodded, “he isn’t ready to use yet. Once he can stand on his two feet, he will be our trump card against those vigilantes.”

“So, explain to me. The silver eyes, what’s up with that?” Keon smirked, “to put it simply, the colour gold is full of life, spirit, and determination. The colour grey is lacking in anything, almost numb.” The redhead laughed to himself, “I have created an entirely new vessel for you to mold to your liking.” The woman nodded, “and you eliminated all chances of a relapse into his old self.”

Keon whistled and he felt the immediate scowl the woman bore. “Not entirely, though if that happens we can just throw him back into the chamber. I’ve discovered through the past few months that he does not like small spaces.” Valerie raised her nose up, “you’re dismissed, do not let this opportunity fall from our hands.

Keon nodded before he turned to the door. He had a hand on the handle when Valerie spoke once more, “if we use him in the field, what are the odds he will recognize one of the heroes.” Keon huffed, “he won’t, and even if he does, he won’t escape the grasp I have on his mind.” Valerie spoke no more and Keon dismissed himself.

The blonde swayed back and forth in her seat.

“I want Rei back.”

She smirked, “I feel as if a rematch is due soon.”

———

He, Zero, looked around the new room he was in. There was a bed in the corner, albeit it looked sketchy as hell, but it was a bed. There was a toilet and sink across from it, and a tiny mirror near the toilet, and that was it for the room. He laid his head against the metal door behind him and sighed, his eyes closing along the way.

He shivered, both from the cold of the room and out of fear. They told him to rest, but at the moment he could do anything but. Not really though, he was still in a lot of pain and his growing headache was making him sick.

“Zero, that’s what we’ll call you.”

“In honour of experiment zero being a success.”

He huffed, what was that supposed to mean. She said that the “heroes” put him in this state, but then called him an experiment?

His head hurt.

Slowly, he crawled his way over to the bed and painfully pulled himself up into the mattress. Immediately, there was a creak, and he felt as if a ton of needles were poking into his back. Nonetheless, it was much better than the cold metal floor, and what he now realized had been chains from the previous room. He rolled onto his side, onto his back, onto his stomach before sitting up again.

Of all times to be restless, it was the only time he was told to rest.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, just staring at the wall, at the toilet, at the floor, he just sat there. “Pathetic,” it was the only word that seemed to stick to his head out of that whole lecture from the woman named Valerie.

Valerie, he had watched her mood change from sinister to caring in a matter of seconds. What was her motive, why did she want him exactly, and who exactly was she? He felt like he knew her, in the back of his head he could’ve sworn he knew her. But perhaps it was just a feeling of deja vu from a time he couldn’t remember.

Speaking of things he couldn’t remember, he had no idea what he even looked like. Did he want to know? Considering how much pain he was in, he could only imagine the state his body was in.

Curiosity got the best of him though, so he pushed himself to his feet and steadied himself against the wall. Stumbling, he reached the mirror and held one hand on the wall while he pushed back to look at himself.

His hair reached his shoulders and was matted in blood, what he assumed to be blood that is, and thrown all about the place. His eyes were grey with deep bags under them, and he could see large scars running down the left side of his face from under his eye to his neck and disappearing under his shirt. Said shirt in question was a white shirt sleeved shirt with several tears around his sides and chest area. On his right arm he could see several bruises and cuts lining his arm along with scares around his wrist and hand. His left arm on the other hand was wrapped in bandages all the way from his fingers to his shoulder, and he found that it was incredibly stiff when he tried bending it.

The black pants he was wearing also had rips around his thighs and there were large holes revealing his bloody knees beneath. And just by looking down he could see his beet red feet that no doubt were infected and scraped underneath.

Just as he thought, he looked…well, pathetic. He would hate for someone to see him like this. Then again, who was going to see him? According to Valerie, there were others he was doing to meet after he got some rest. Question is, would he like them or not? In this state, he could guess that he wouldn’t like them.

With not much else to do he eventually made his way back to his bed, and fell asleep with an empty, dull, and numb mind.

———

“Rei! Catch me!”

“I gotta ya Remi what’s got you so happy today?”

“I’m starting highschool, I get to go to the same school you did.”

“Yep! Be sure to say hi to Arlo for me.”

“I will! And let Kuyo know I say hello as well.”

“Don’t worry I will.”

——

“Get up.”

Zero was abruptly awoken by Keon standing over him, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed into a scowl. “We’re introducing you to the others and the people you’ll be working with today. Then Valerie wants to evaluate you on something.” Keon nodded before leaving the room, though Zero could see that he was only standing outside of the doorway.

It wasn’t like there was anything he needed to do, so he simply pushed himself to his feet and followed Keon on the door. “That was surprisingly fast.” He shrugged before Keon grabbed his arm and pulled him behind him. “I’m leading you to the dining hall, make note of how to get here cause I won’t be bringing you here everyday. I’d advise not getting lost, someone might get the wrong message and try to kill you.”

Zero nodded, though Keon couldn’t see it, and merely followed as Keon led him through a set of doors into a small and very crowded room. On one side, there were groups of people sitting and staring at nothing or picking at their food. On the other side, there were people wide eyed and excited and were flipping bottles, wrestling, and borderline food fighting.

Keon sat him down in the middle of chaos.

“Ahem!” At Keon’s voice, the group looked up at him and then to Zero. The young man curled in on himself at everyone’s gaze before the male in front of him spoke up. “Ohhh this is the fresh meat Keon was talking about. “Bundle of joy” he said, that diminished real quick once I was introduced.”

“Cyko,” the man looked up to Keon who shook his head. “Ohhh, interesting,” the man leaned back in his seat with a giggle. “Alright, this is Zero. He’s going to be joining Cyko and Thompson on the field as our trump card. Meaning he is your last resort if the target becomes overwhelming. Though he can be used just for fun as well.”

Keon’s hand was resting on his head as he spoke, and try as he may, he couldn’t remember a word the man was saying to the others. It was like it went in one ear and was pulled out of the other. Instead, he just stared at the man in front of him.

He had black hair with neon blue highlights that complimented his bright blue eyes and a grin laced with insanity painted on his face. And his piercing blue eyes were boring into his own dull grey ones.

“Zero.” At the mention of his “name” he perked up and looked toward the red haired man. “These two are you partners. Cyko, and Thompson.” The older man pointing at the guy with blue eyes and a man sitting next to him. “Eat your food, I will come receive you whenever Volcan wants you.”

Zero nodded, watching Keon release his head and briskly leave the crowded dining hall. Unsure of what to do, he turned back toward the table and found several pairs of eyes pointed at him.

“Zero huh,” the man with the blue highlights leaned across the table toward him, “how is it fair that you get a name cool enough without a nickname, yet you look like a kicked puppy. What’s your kill count? How many limbs have you lost?” The young man stiffened and shook his head, as far as he knew he hadn’t killed anyone, nor did he plan to.

A darker skinned male sitting next to this so called Cyko shook his head and pulled the younger back into his seat. “Leave the newbie alone, the thing looks like he can’t even hold a knife. He’s shaking like a leaf,” the other man had a deep voice and deep brown eyes that were almost black. At his words, Zero looked down at his hands to discover that he was indeed shaking.

“I’m Thompson, and as you’ve seen this is Cyko. We’re your partners on the field.” Zero nodded before Cyko leaned over and spoke again, “you can leave all the dirty work to us if you’re scared.” Again, Zero nodded and Cyko scoffed before sitting back down. “You’re absolutely no fun, it’s like I’m talking to a brick wall. Can you even talk?”

A nod.

Cyko gritted his teeth, “I’m gonna end up killing him Tom, I’m relying on you to hold me back.” Thompson sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “you can’t kill another one of our partners. Keon gave you one last warning and said after the next one they’d throw you in the chamber.”

Zero began to tune them out, he didn’t know what they were talking about. “Chamber,” it must have been where he was before. Considering how Cyko shivered and immediately curled in on himself, he could assume it was a terrible place even the worst people didn’t want to be.

On another note, the two men in front of him acted like killing was the most casual thing to do. Quite frankly, it unsettled him, he didn’t know why but it made him want to leave the table. He could begin to feel his heart pounding in his chest. Did Valerie want him to kill people? Is that what they meant when they called him their “trump card?” But she said they were going to help people, that they were going to stop the bad guys.

He wanted to H̴̛͙͚̮̜̻̰͇̽͛͌͐̈͝e̸̺̯̝͇̗̊̒̋̎̾̽͑̂͋̆́̑͛̅͌͜ͅl̷̛̛͉̘̺̱͓̮̺̼̺̯̗͋̒ͅp̸̧̙̦͓̱̣̦͚͔̼̞̤̏̃̾̒̓̃͐̔ people

He wanted to keep people S̸̡̧̻̻̄a̸͔̱͚͌͗f̴̤͎̘͕̄̔ę̷̛͚̤̳̫̣͂͊̃̉͠

He didn’t want to hurt people

He didn’t want to kill people

Ţ̶̛̜̣̺͑̀͂̊̂̇h̶̨̛̜̞͉͊̿̍̆́̆̿ä̶̻̙̼̤̦͈̥́̊͑̇̊͒ͅt̶̡̲͎̱̒͗̔͆͝͝’̴̲̙͓̮̻̤́͜s̴̢̜͎̬̪̱̬̙̈́̍̌͌ ̸̨̟̺̥̼̠͙͈̔̆͊̕n̸̨̹̲͉̠̭̥͎͐͠ơ̵͇̠̦͐̌̒̅́t̵̹̚ ̸̢͉̤͕̼̱͗͌̈̊̀̂͐͜w̶̰͕͔̹͙͈͙̯̌́͗̑̕ḣ̴̼̜̏̌͆̿͑̌o̴̼̤̓̅̊̋̾͝ ̸̜̤̭͗͒̈͠ḧ̵͚̳̳̰͂̎e̵̡͖͚̗̘̍̔̋͆͊̈́̿̈́ ̷̧̡̨̲̘̫̬͑̊̐͊͘͝w̶̛͉̞̉̾̌̚a̴̢͔̪̍́̏̆̎̎͋͜͜ͅs̸̠̲͌͑̂̑͆̇͘-

Zero blinked, his heart calming down and breathing coming down to a regular level.

“So who exactly are ya kid? Where’d ya come from?” Thompson turned toward him and spoke, neither him nor Cyko managing to see his sudden freak out. Zero shrugged, “I don’t know.” He winced again at the sound of his voice, maybe it would get better with time. Cyko hummed, “so he can speak.” Thompson waved him off with a hand, “you don’t know?” The young man nodded, his eyes flickering between the two men in front of him.

The older man nodded, a small smirk coming across his face, “they made you into their perfect little war machine didn’t they?” Zero titled his head to the side, Cyko mirroring his actions with a look of confusion. “This frail thing? A war machine? Yeah okay, if he’s a war machine, I’ll give you my burger next time we have them.” At that Thompson mature demeanor immediately vanished and was replaced with a childish smile.

“Really?!” Cyko groaned and rolled his eyes, “you’re so immature.” Zero looked between the two, they seem to be friends. That was a nice thought to have, he wanted to have friends in this place, maybe it would make him less…less what? This place didn’t make him feel anything. That was one thing he had noticed while staying here, he felt, nothing.

Physically he had felt pain, and exhaustion. But mentally, he hadn’t felt anything in his entire time here. Nothing made him sad, nothing made his happy. He felt as though he was just existing, as if he was just following an invisible string that was pulling him through his life.

“Hey,” Cyko’s high pitched voice shook him from his thoughts and he looked at the blue haired man. “Are you gonna eat that?” The other gestured to his full plate of food, white stuff that he really hoped was mashed potatoes, purple carrots, and a single apple. The hell kinda meal is that? He grimaced before pushing the plate forward toward Cyko he smiled before absolutely devouring the plate.

Thompson cleared his throat, “you’re gonna have to learn to eat that stuff. Trust me, one only get full meals maybe one every three months. And burgers only come twice a year. The food is shit, but at least they give us food.”

Zero nodded, he would force himself to eat his food tomorrow. For now however, he simply sat and listened to Cyko and Thompson talk, along with whatever conversation he managed to hear from other people. I’m doing so he found out that Justine had an affair with Cole and now Erin was going to slit Cole’s throat. One of the lunch ladies died the other day and her body was found in the kitchen with several stab wounds, the suspected murderer was Cyko who giggled about it. A girl named Lumina got thrown in the chamber after refusing a job given to her directly from Volcan.

His name floated around the dining hall a few times as well despite his limited interaction with any other people. He had just managed to start ignoring the several mentions of his name when he spotted Keon out of the corner of his eye. The male gestured out of the room with his head before disappearing around the corner.

Zero could only take that as his cue to leave. So silently, without another word to anyone, he stood from the table on wobbly legs and slowly made his way out of the dining hall. He could definitely feel every pair of eyes on him as he left, but he kept his head straight and slipped out of the room.

“I’m shocked you actually understood my gesture, and that you’re standing. Maybe this will work after all.” Keon began walking once more and Zero followed behind him, that invisible string of fate pulling him in the direction Keon wanted him to go. Maybe Keon was pulling the string, maybe Valerie was, maybe this Volcan person everyone spoke about was.

He then realized that it had been a while since he last peed. His nose scrunched up, did that mean he had been peeing himself while in the chamber? Zero held in a gag, if that were true, then he was walking in pee stain pants and was very lucky that they were black.

“If you’re done having dirty thoughts, we’re here. And be assured, your pants have been changed.” Zero nodded, a feeling of relief coming over him. Feeling calmer, he let Keon lead him through a large set of metal doors and found himself outside. He blinked against the harsh light of the sky and the sun, it was the first time he had been outside in ages, and only now did he realize just how pale he was.

Where he stood he only saw sand spreading far away from where his eye sight could reach. All around him there were props, decorated to look like people. It was a little too realistic for him, if he hadn’t looked twice, he would have though they were actual people.

“Zero!” He looked up and behind him to what seemed to be an observation deck and found Valerie standing in the edge of it. She smiled down at him and waved, and he found himself do the same. “How are you feeling, well rested?” The young man nodded, never seeing Keon’s disgusted face next to him. “That’s amazing, listen I’m gonna give you a challenge. You see, if we’re gonna go out and stop those bad people, we have to train you. Understand?” Zero nodded again and looked back toward the training dummies.

He could see where this was going. She wanted him to take out all of these training dummies and would evaluate his abilities at doing so.

Keon made a noise and Zero looked over, in his hand was knife and it was gently placed into his own.

“Listen Zero, the best way to stop these heroes is to immobilize them quickly. They can’t hurt you or others if you knock them down first. We’re not sure how well your ability works at the moment, so we’re focusing on this first, okay? All I want you to do, is find the best method to immobilize the training dummies. You don’t have to use the knife if you don’t want to.”

He looked down at the knife in his hand. It felt heavy, like it wasn’t supposed to be in his hands. He felt like dropping it would made the feeling in his stomach and chest ease up and go away. He gripped the knife tighter, it was a self defense mechanism, he would only use it if he had to.

Slowly, he made his way to the first dummy in front of him. He stopped when he was face to face with the dummy and stared at it. These are meant to be the people Valerie says are our enemies. He stared at the black button eyes in front of him and gripped the knife tighter. They hurt people.

Before either Keon or Valerie could blink, he swung his leg and connected with the dummy’s neck. Keon inhaled sharply, his body tense as he watched the dummy’s head roll down the hill.

The young man took a deep inhale before he broke into a sprint toward the next dummy. In one Swift movement he landed a punch in the chest, his fist going all the way through.

His foot took off the arm of another, his bandaged arm claim another head, and he kicked the feet out from under a dummy before stepping down on its chest. He panted, sweat beginning to fall down his neck, his grip on the knife only growing tighter, enough to wear his hand was beginning to ache.

It felt…exhilarating.

He smiled as he lunged for the next dummy, and giggled as he arm flew through the stomach of another.

On the deck, Valerie could feel her own grin widening as she watch every last bit of sanity escape from her precious experiment. Keon on the other hand, felt as though he would be sick. He clenched his fist together as he watched dummy after dummy fall over. Some missing limbs, some missing heads, he gulped as he imagined what this “thing” could do once he used his ability.

Zero grinned as one final dummy stood before him, and without a moments hesitation he brought the knife into the throat of the dummy and lodged it deep within the thread.

He allowed himself a second to breath before pulling the knife back out and holding it in his hand. He stared at it and his vision blurred, red blood painting the knife and his hands. He looked down at himself and saw blood coating his pants and his shirt.

And he heard his own laughing before he knew that he was laughing. His chest was burning, there were tears streaming out of his eyes, the knife felt like fire in his hands, but he kept laughing.

And like a fire had been extinguished, he stopped.

The knife fell from his hand and he stumbled backwards. He stared at his hands, expecting to see blood covering his body, but all he found was dirt and sand. “Zero.” His head snapped up as he saw Valerie, Volcan, approaching him and he stepped back again. His ankle rolled and he fell to the ground, crawling backwards he tried to make space between himself and the blonde haired woman.

“Zero, you’re okay. I promise, you did very well.” Valerie walked toward the young man, but he only pushed further back. Finally, she stopped, “Rei,” she said with a glare and the mans head popped up. Frightened gold eyes stared back at her and she clenched her fist. “Keon!”

Rei shook his head, scrambling to his feet and running as fast as he could from the duo. “Rei! Get back here,” he ignored Valerie’s yelling and kept running. His body screamed in pain, and he had no idea where he was going, but he wanted far away from wherever they were.

A war machine, their trump card, the prefect vessel. They were making him into their weapon, and he had no way of pushing back against it. He mentally kicked himself, he allowed Keon to get into his head, and now they had complete control over his mind.

He wiped at the tears blurring his vision, he had to make it back to Wellston, and if not to Wellston then he had to get back home. He had to let everyone know he was okay. What about Remi, what about his mom? Were they currently grieving because they thought he was dead? And what about Arlo and Kuyo, were they okay?

He had to get home, he had to help them.

“Rei!”

There was a sharp whistle through the hair before he felt pain spread throughout his leg and send him tumbling forward on to the ground.

He winced, gripping his leg close to his chest and gingerly pulling the tranquilizer dart from his calf. “Please,” he whimpered and attempt to stand up again. He saw Valerie making her way toward him, anger painted on her features and flaming claws emerging from her hands.

The “sweet and caring” demeanor was gone, and was immediately replaced with cold, murderous anger that was currently directed toward him. He held in a Yelp when she gripped his collar with one hand and pulled his face close to hers.

“Don’t ever attempt to escape from me again.”

The greenette screamed as she plunged her claws into his abdomen and twisted them further in. “Or you will never get to see them again.” She yanked her claws back and allowed Rei to fall back down. “Keon,” she addressed the male who was panting as he reached the other two. “Take him back to the chamber, clearly he needs to learn who is in control here before we can effectively use him.”

Keon nodded, his stride directed to the young man rolling on the ground, his ability active.

Rei winced, his vision was beginning to blur but he mustered enough energy to active his ability. From two of his fingers he sent a weak spark toward Keon hitting him in the forearm after he blocked his face from being hit.

“Why you little shit.”

Fear overcame Rei as Keon practically tackled him and held him by his wrist in one hand and gripped his head with another. “I dare you to tell me to stop.”

And in a flash of images he watched Remi, Arlo, Kuyo, he watched all of them smile at him, before everything went dark.

———

*1 Month Later*

———

“Your target tonight is a duo by the names of X-Rei and Nobody. X-Rei has a lightning ability at a level of 5.4 and Nobody is a 5.0 with energy discharge. Both of them have incredibly fast reflexes and speed. Exercise caution and keep a distance between yourselves and them.”

Cyko and Thompson nodded, this was a regular night for them.

“They will likely hold out for a long time, whenever you bore of them, send him in.”

In the corner of the room, grey eyes scanned over the files in his hands. X-Rei was a pink haired girl with an x on a grey sweatshirt and Nobody was a redheaded male with almost his entire body covered in black.

“Zero.”

EMBER’s ultimate war machine looked up with a smirk, a glint of silver being seen under his green bangs.

“As you wish, Volcan.”

#unordinary #unordinary webtoon #unordinary rei

[lastwagontrainhopper]

A guiding hand

Royai week day 2 - Serene (let’s collectively ignore how late I am posting this ok thaaaanks)

Summary:   “She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke again, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ” ”

---

The Colonel and his Lieutenant share a late-night conversation. (Blind!Roy)

Words: 2489 

Tags: Blind Roy Mustang, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Conversations, Established Relationship, Canon Compliant

read on aot

“They had left their windows wide open, letting in a soft breeze to relieve them from the heavy summer heat. The curtains were rising and falling without a sound, fluttering in the air like ghosts. Even the streets around the house were quiet at that hour; the only thing that broke the stillness of the night was Riza's voice.

"As for Senator Harn's wife, she was wearing a very elegant apricot-colored dress. With her signature high hairdo, of course.”

Their blankets had long been kicked away to the bottom of the bed in a messy pile. Roy was lying on his back, facing to the ceiling, one hand playing idly with a lock of Riza's hair.

"Apricot?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That's the yellow with a touch of pink, right?”

"That was pretty much it, yes." Riza was lying on her side, her head against her hand, elbow propped up on the pillow. The room was covered in shadows, but the flickering lights from the window on the street allowed her to see the outline of Roy's face.

"And you said Harn had a royal blue jacket...That must have made for an odd contrast.”

Riza smirked. "Yes, that's what several people seemed to think. It looked as if the General and his wife had not consulted with one another before coming to the gala.”

A sly smile spread across Roy’s face. "Ha! And you just know the rumors about their marriage are already flying high. It's sort of ironic, considering how Harn is constantly babbling to the Parliament about the “traditional family” and the “sanctity of marriage” and whatnot." His hand came to lightly circle Riza's wrist, his thumb tapping the back of her hand. "I’m sure you now understand how crucial fashion is in Central. It's not just a matter of taste: it's inherently political.”

"Sure," she answered, unconvinced. "Anyway. The Harns didn't capture the guests' attention that long, since the buffet was brought shortly after.”

Roy hummed appreciated. "And that was a good one. I've rarely tasted crab this delicious.”

"Yes, and they must have put as much effort into the presentation as in the cooking, because the set-up was magnificent. Everything was served on glittering silver plates, which reflected the glow of the chandeliers. On each table, the dishes were arranged in a sort of pyramid, culminating with the piece of meat or seafood. It looked extremely fragile, like...like some sort of house of cards, or crystal architecture, defying gravity - but they all stood the evening without crashing down. It was breathtaking.”

This had become the most constant part of their day. Almost every night, as they lay in bed before going to sleep, Riza would describe to Roy a long list of the things he hadn’t been able to see during the day. When they had first started this habit, as they were working on the the reconstruction of Ishval, Riza's descriptions had been much more pragmatic, like a mission report: which building seemed in need of repair? Which tribal leader looked unsatisfied during their morning meeting? She did her best to give him this information as the day went by, but there were always important details that she missed.

As the years had passed and the two had distanced themselves from the military, Riza's description had slowly become more lyrical. She began to tell him about beautiful sights that he was missing – a particularly colorful sunset, or the way the city lights looked at night. As time went by, she started to enjoy these conversations and more more, and they became increasingly long. It got to the point where, as Riza saw something pretty during the day, she found herself immediately thinking of the way she would describe it to Roy later at night.

"You should try to write a book," he had told her once. "You're so good at this - I can picture in my mind everything that you're telling me about like I was seeing it."

"It wouldn't be the same," she had answered, shaking her head. "I like hearing your reactions."

He had arched his eyebrows, smirking. "And yet you scold me every time I interrupt you.”

"Stop being overdramatic,” she had retorted. “Now let me continue." They had left it at that.

Sometimes Riza would rest her head on his chest as she went on with her stories. This was what Roy preferred.  Ever since losing his eyesight, he had grown much fonder of physical contact, even casual, with her - after all, it was the surest way he could know that she was by his side. But Riza liked to remain slightly further, just next to him, so that she would be able to observe him during their late-night conversation. His face would take on such a special expression at those times, almost peaceful, or...serene.

Serene. That would have been the last word anyone would have chosen to describe Roy under normal circumstances. Despite his reputation as a slacker, he was a man that was constantly busy thinking about one thing or another, pondering, planning his next ploy – or his next date with a certain Lieutenant. His eyes in particular had always betrayed the constant working of his mind: they were restless, always darting around the room to study the people they were talking to, noticing details in their postures, noting suspicious movements out of the corner of his eye.

And, Riza knew it well, even the moments of rest didn’t bring Roy much serenity. More often than not, his sleep was plagued by violent nightmares that would wake him screaming in the middle of the night - or at least, that tensed and distorted his expression as he slept.

This had not changed since the Promised Day. But since Roy’s fight in the underground of Central, his blind eyes had lost their piercing look and had taken on a milky appearance. In the first few weeks, Riza had hated meeting that blank stare - it reminded her too much of what his eyes used to look like, as well as symbolizing her failure as a bodyguard.

But eventually, she had come to see a certain beauty in them, and in the calmness they brought to Roy's expression. He was still as expressive as ever, with his trademark crooked smile and taunting eyebrows. But in the evening, when they were alone together, his face truly relaxed. As Riza described the day's events to him, he would focus entirely on her voice, letting his mind recreate the image she was painting. His eyebrows would loosen and his forehead became smooth, free of its usual furrow; his mouth would fall half-open. At this particular moment, Roy took on a serene expression that Riza had never seen on him before, and she never got tired of looking at it.

"I need to tell you, unfortunately," Riza broke the silence that had settled, "that you were not the best-dressed man at the reception.”

Roy propped himself up on his elbows, frowning with surprise. So much for serenity.

"What? Who was?”

“You’re not going to be happy about this,” Riza said, trying to hide the small smile in her voice. "But Colonel Birks made quite an impression. He wore a rather daring suit, made of a black  fabric from which red velvet patterns stood out.”

Roy huffed with indignation. "Velvet! Nonsense. He obviously can’t stop pushing the boundaries of extravagance – and of bad taste.”

"I don't know," Riza said evasively. “I thought it was pretty elegant…and I wasn't the only one.”

Roy ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "Outdressing the president should be considered insubordination," he muttered under his breath. "I'll call Ms. Zhao tomorrow. I need something more avant-garde for the next gala. Maybe with some silk mixed in with a cotton suit?”

He lay down again on the bed and raised his arm, inviting her to come closer. Riza moved to nestle up against him, putting her head on his shoulder, a hand on his chest. Roy wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his nose in her hair. Whenever he did that, his breaths would tickle Riza's neck, making her giggle; she would always pretend to be annoyed but it, but they both knew better.

After a moment, Roy tucked some of her hair away from her face. He brought his lips close to her ear. "Tell me again what you were wearing."

Riza felt a shiver go down her spine. That deep voice that Roy used when he whispered always got a reaction out of her, no matter what cliché or silly thing he would say.

A wry smile crossed her lips. "At this point, you know my wardrobe better than I do, Roy. ”

"I know," he answered, unabashed. "But I like hearing you describe it."

Riza chuckled. “Well,” she began, “I was wearing the flowy emerald green skirt that Rebecca got me for Christmas, a brown leather belt, and my white blouse. The one with the embroidery on the collar. ”

He hummed in appreciation. "With your golden high heels, I'm guessing."

"With my golden high heels," she nodded, "because even though my feet are killing by the end of the night when I wear them, they do really go well with that skirt." Her hand started to play with the ring that Roy wore as a necklace. "I didn't put much makeup on because of how humid the weather was. But I did wear my bright red lipstick."

She felt his cheeky smile even before he spoke. "I can recognize it by taste, now."

If they weren’t pressed so close together, she would have dug her elbow into his ribs. She rolled her eyes instead. "I also had my gold bracelet to go with the shoes, and the earrings you bought me to complete it all. What else...my hair was in a bun, and, of course, I had my necklace."

She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or a joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ”

Riza felt her smile drop. A lump appeared in her throat. Roy rarely complained about his blindness; even in the months following the Promised Day, he had adapted to his new lifestyle with impressive resilience. At first, it seemed as if his disability had affected his Lieutenant, plagued by guilt, more than himself. Still, Riza knew that he must have carried a lot of silent regrets through the years. There was so much Roy had had to give up, so many compromises he had had to reluctantly accept on his plan to reform Amestris – and on his personal life.

Riza disentangled herself gently from his grasp and straighten up, half sitting, to observe him. One of his arms was folded under his head, and he still seemed to be looking at the ceiling - but of course, that was just an impression. She ran a hand through his hair, brushing them away from his face. He smiled slightly at her touch, but she didn't need to see the pupils of his eyes to know that his heart wasn't in it.

She didn't like seeing him like this. With thoses cloudy eyes, melancholy turned his serene expression into a confused one - like he was a child that got lost and couldn't look for his way home.

Riza laid down again and rested her head on the pillow, her face turned toward Roy. She started to gently stroke his arm. "At least, you can keep in your mind the image of what I – and you – looked like in the prime of our youth," she said after a moment in a playful tone, trying to comfort him. "You won't need to see us get all old and wrinkled.”

To her surprise, Roy's face saddened further.

"Don't say that. Beautiful women are like fine wine, they only get better with age - that's what Chris used to say. I always wanted to see how you would look as you grew old.”

Riza raised her eyebrow, surprised. "Really?" she answered in spite of herself.

He nodded. "Not everyone ages gracefully, of course. But I know that wrinkles would look flattering on you; you have such elegant features. And silvery hair never fails to give this distinguished look - at least on women," he added, running a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. His eyebrows furrowed. "Do I already have grey hair?"

Riza felt her shoulders relax. "You're almost completely bald by now, Roy."

He winced. "Please don't joke with that. I don't know what I would do if this were to happen.

Riza simply smiled, and they fell back into a comfortable silence. She watched Roy’s chest rise and fall with his breathing, lulled by the calm rhythm.

"You know, I always wished I could see you grow old, also because it would have meant that we made it."

Riza felt her breath catch in her throat.

She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, hoping her touch could tell him what her words couldn’t.

“We did make it, Roy.” Now of all time, she wished he could see her face.

"I know," he said. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a light kiss against her knuckles. "I know."

Riza propped herself up on her elbow. She close her fingers around his, and squeezed firmly.

"Listen. We'll just do like with everything else. When my hair turns grey, I'll describe it to you. And as for the wrinkles," she placed his hand on her face, "you can see that for yourself."

Roy made a small smile. For the first time, he turned to face her, placing the tip of his fingers on both sides of her face. That was something he never tired of doing. Before he had lost his sight, he had always been able to read her like a book, understanding the meaning behind even the most subtle of her facial expressions. Now, he could do it in a much more literal sense, by tracing the surface of her body, reading the lines on her skin as if they were words written in braille.

"And when my face is so wrinkled it's unrecognizable,” she continued, "you will know the story behind each one of them.” She injected a smile into her voice. “The ones I already have on my forehead, for example, come from the stress of having spent so many years asking you to do your paperwork.”

His fingers brushed her forehead, and he smiled, abashed. "And you're all the more beautiful for it, my dear." He reached toward her and, guided by his hands, placed a light kiss on her head. “I can’t wait to see the rest.” ”

#royaiweek21 #royai #blind roy #fma #fanfic

[shesawriter39049]

|UNWRAP ME| M|

Pairing : Jimin X Reader (Ft a lil Tae)

“There’s a bow on my panties because my ass is a present!”

About- Honestly, you were just trying to prep gift bags for your company’s holiday party! But Jimins stressed, and needs a little brain reset sooo….I guess we’re prepping gift bags later!

Or- The company has quite a few deadlines to hit before you guys close for the holiday! Jimin’s in charge of talent and everybody’s fucking up…but in your line of work it’s a domino affect! So if his crew falls behind ultimately everybody’s behind! Hints Jimin’s stress and frustration....

WC: Sneak peek (1k)

WARNINGS: (FULL THING): Teasing, light edging, dirty talk, top/bottom OC, top/power bottom Jimin, hand restraints, unprotected sex, over stimulation, fingering (F receiving), biting/marking kink, VERY light degration kink (he playfully calls her a “little bitch/slut” once) light come play, light spanking

FINAL NOTE: This is a stand alone smut drabble within my OT7 poly universe called “7 DEEP”. Short AU SUMMARY: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with! P.S. If you’re new here Kookie joins the party a little later….

*Pierced Jimin/Red haired “Dope” Era Jimin meets 2020 Jimin!?

*Also it should go without being said but Jimin, IS Westernized, he’s from LA in this ffs!

*In true Rocki fashion I decided to do holidy prompts late af & did not finish in time for the main Holiday but w/e! Note, there is some backstory here bc this was set to be the 1st of 3 holiday prompts!** ___________________________________________________

Sunday, December 14TH, 4PM 

“Alright, so you wanna hear some bullshit?!”

K, well that’s apparently Jimin, musing around a mouth full of fries! I love how no one even bothers to knock, give notice they just show the fuck up! Whenever...

Cute.

I swear it sounds like your running a damn liquor store because there’s an obnoxious amount of bells and mistletoe hanging above the door almost acting as a doorbell at this point. Just casually Fa-la-laing together, echoing throughout your entire apartment every damn time the door opens! Honestly, your slowly regretting giving Jin and Tae free reign with decorations because that shits annoying as all hell!

Gaze still focused on your original task, not even looking in his direction “Don’t trip over the-“ There's a loud thud, followed by an obscene groan, accompanied by an even louder “Fuckkk!” Which solidified he did in fact trip over the ....

“....Box with Jin’s other Christmas tree in it ...” The words kinda died off your tongue at this point because well, clearly the warning did not fare well! “If anything’s broken I’m totally snitching just so we’re clear” Sassing over a half empty glass of spiked eggnog.

Now that you’ve finally looked at him, you find yourself hiding a smirk behind your cocktail as well! The boy is fine, you’d give him that! Looking like a model off duty, in his low cut white v, neck hidden beneath a distressed leather jacket! Topping off the look with a pair of chunky combats and disrespectfully tight dark wash denim jeans! I swear they damn near looked painted on, aviators resting on the bridge of his nose! Gucci backpack slung over his shoulder, Starbucks in one hand, and some brown bag full of grease in the other! Jimin recently went back red, looking dangerously close to the same 18 year old you met, at UCLA almost years ago now!  Just a boujier version, it’s like this Jimin’s from Calabasas instead of the Bay! Though your down for both options if we’re being real!

Not that Jimin’s not equally as good of company as well, you were honestly just expecting Tae! The two of you were starting to put together the gift bags for next week's holiday party! Hints the hot ass mess all over the floor of your living room, it’s a disgusting pile of shopping bags and boxes! Everything from Amazon to Saks Fifth, at this point you aren’t even sure where the fuck your floor starts or ends! One thing you do know for damn sure is Hobi’s going to have an aneurysm If he sees it! Sooo, hopefully Tae shows up sooner than later...

It’s become a tradition, or at least since the companies been profitable enough to do so! First off, you’re love language has always been a combination of “Gifts” and “Acts of service, so shit like this is essentially second nature!

However, quality time has slowly slipped its way into the mix over the past couple of years as well! Especially considering it’s almost a luxury for the seven of you at this point but you try not to complain! I mean Namjoon and yourself just did an interview last week for Forbes 30 under 30 for fucks sake! But anyway, like I was originally saying this little party is your way of trying to give your staff a combination of all 3 said love languages!

Above everything else you all work your asses off well, aware this is far from a 9-5, yet they give you their best constantly! Yeah, it was built on the backs of you and your boys but it wouldn’t be were it is now without everyone else! So, with that being said the schedule is as follows! 

1.Bust ass and hit all of your year end deadlines by December 22nd. 

2.The holiday party is on the 23rd...

3. Thennnnnn....after that the companies closed until the 2nd of January! 

Well kinda, if we’re being real the 7 of you never fully stop working, but you damn sure plan to try! I guess it’s the beauty and the curse of having damn near everything accessible on your phone! I swear this morning Joon was washing your back whilst you read him the latest profit/loss update from Jin soooo......that’s that!

Everyone else however....off duty with pay!

Which brings us back to the original task at hand before Jimin showed up,prepping the gift bags that get handed out at said holiday party! The invite list is pretty exclusive honestly,outside of your staff, and there plus one, the other guests are typically the immediate crew/ talent used throughout the year on various productions! Oh, there’s also special little packages mailed out to a couple of the company's sponsors as well! So all together were looking at at least 100 gift bags give or take! Of course at this stage you guys go all out but that’s not what it’s about! It’s legitimately the thought that counts!

Little gestures like this just remind people that you care,that they’re on your mind even if they aren’t currently doing you a favor! That’s what sets Onyx apart, all the little things you do without even thinking about it! Coffee, donuts, catering on set for long shoots,or even the little kits Jimin brings with him to set for the models! Fully stocked with soothing cream, heating pads, the full nine! It’s actually sad how much of a rarity it is in your line of work! 

Obviously, it goes without saying that those types of gestures aren’t feasible for everyone....However there’s companies worth more than you that do amples less!

But anyway back to Jimin and Tae! As I mentioned when the door originally opened you were expecting a mop of silver locks as opposed to red! Baby boy ran out to pick up the custom gift bags from this Indie vendor in WeHo. Hint’s why you were expecting Tae instead, now, why Jimins here I have no damn idea! Clearly we’re about to find out and apparently it’s “Some Bullshit!”

Honestly outside of checking his OOTD you didn't truly look at him. Far too busy propped on top of your oversized dining room table sorting through a manusery of  “Thank you” cards!

Eyes flicking to the left ever so slightly as you hear him shuffle closer “I-yeah sure what bullsh-wait are you eating my DoorDash?!”

It’s the way you constantly have to remind yourself that jail will not be like Orange is in the new black! Because I swear you damn near chucked this martini glass at that fire engine red dome of his!

Jimin just shrugs, a little nonchalant and unenthusiastic, almost as if he’s inconvenienced actually...

“Mmm, depends on perspective” He deadass just stuffed two more fires in his mouth! You're literally going to strangle him! It’s borderline painful how hard  your jaw tick, eyes narrowed in his direction!

Brows arched so damn high your gonna end up needing Botox from the permanent crease embedding within your skin. “Perspect-your literally eating-“

Holding a solitary finger in your direction “Tae just text me and said look at your phone and text him back...with like, a million pouty faces. Also, different note, who changed the decorations I placed on the mantle?! “

Jimin’s hand is now resting on his hip, legitimately angry about these damn decorations! I think his neck even did a couple rolls in the process, and I’m willing to bet,before he leaves they will be swapped out again!

A frustrated groan attempts to leave your throat  though it goes unacknowledged as your lacking any ounce or bite! Far too fond of both of your boys to truly be agitated at the moment! Actually that’s a lie, you high key wanna punch Jimin but it’s fine ....

“That, would be Jin, he said they clashed with the table decor” Pointing to all of the gold, and maroon colored decorations donning the marble coffee table “So, if your pissed go curse him out because I could give less than a damn! Now where the fuck is my phoneeee”

Hopping off the table causing your oversized UCLA Alum hoodie to hike over your ass. Said ass is covered or barely covered considering your cheeky, red, ruffle little panties are in fact assless! A cute little bow perched right on top of your tailbone, as if to direct the eye where to go….

Jimin is now choking on stolen fires and yeah there’s a smirk on your face as you grab your phone!

Mmmmhmmmm...and to think, maybe if he wasn’t being such a brat you’d let him unwrap one of his gifts a little early!

“Baby now he’s calling meeee” Anddddd he’s whining, wiggling his phone like it’s on fire! Ya know, moments like these in fact remind you that Tae and Jimin are the youngest!

“Oh for fucks sake!” Huffing in his direction snatching the phone and bag of Five Guys away in the process!

“Yes baby?” It’s actually terrifying how quickly your tone, and entire demeanor just switched! Somewhat reminiscent to how you’d see a mom scold one child then baby talk another all in the same breath! 

Jimin without a doubt noticed too, lip jutting out in a pout and no matter how many times you roll your eyes you still find yourself leaning forward kissing it right off! He moans into it and you Instantly taste the tangy seasoning from your fries, especially once he tries to swipe his tongue past the seam of your lips. The feeling of that tiny piece of metal playing in his mouth almost distracted you, but alas...the notion immediately reminds you why you were irked to begin with! Without even thinking you lean back into nipping at his bottom lip, though...this is Jimin we’re dealing with here! So whatever you thought you’d achieve is now dead, because a needy little whine just rustled in the back of his throat 

Speaking of love languages,there’s another called “Physical Touch” which has the words Jimin Park written all over it. So with that being said you really should’ve already been prepared for whatever’s about to unfold.

It’s subconscious at this point, head dropping down to the crook of your neck, nosing up a vein like a neglected puppy! Squeezing your waist hard enough to damn near engrave his thumb print in against your hip bones! Well, clearly he doesn’t want you going anywhere anytime soon!   

So what do you do instead? Place the bag of food on the bar, hold the phone in one hand and bring the other up to play in his freshly dyed locks! I swear this man is a second away from purring so maybe he’s not a puppy after all. Suddenly his ring clanned fingers trickle down your spine heading south, flexing his palm to squeeze down around the swell of your ass! Shifting you forward so your chest to chest...

So, here you are trying to cater to both of your boys at once...lord help you!

“No, of course I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just busy-yes Tae. You wanna put what in a what,Now?”

~~~~~

Hiii, as I mentioned above this was kinda last minute, I wrote out prompts on the 21st, then adult life kicked in. I actually had my own little office Christmas party to plan (Nothing on this scale obviously because well, we know the way the real world is rn) However because of that I couldn’t truly work on this until the 24th. However it’s been a long time since I wrote/wanted to write so I opted to just post it anyway! Hopefully the full thing will be up by the 28th at the latest.

I have also attached the overall masterlist for this AU!

7 DEEP 

#jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin x you #park jimin #park jimin smut #park jimin x reader #bts #bts smut #bts x reader #bts au #kpop #kpop smut #bts poly #bts poly au

[rosy-cheekx]

I Want To Be A Real Fake

@kaiserkorresponds said: Black and White + "I want to be a real fake" + formal clothing <3

Prompted fic that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I received it! Hope you like it, Kaiser!

-

Jon would not consider himself fashionable. He has a distinct sense of style, yes, but that style lately has been Tired-Academic-Works-in-a-Cold-Office,-Steals-Sweaters-When-Necessary-core. Not exactly suitable for the business casual dress code The Magnus Institute “requires” (no one seemed to pay attention to the Archive staff’s choices of attire), but certainly not suitable for the small rectangle of cardstock Elias Bouchard hands him, on a quiet spring morning in the Archive.

“What’s…what’s this?” Jon asked, staring at the neat, printed text as if it was Greek. (If it were Greek, at least, he could decipher parts of it. He was an English Lit student, after all, and he had really enjoyed etymology.) The card was a stiff black and white, with the black owl logo, the symbol of the Magnus Institute, printed in the top middle. Glancing down at it, he saw a date, and the words: “black-tie.” Shit.

“My apologies, I forgot how tired your position tends to leave you.” Elias’s voice was prim and polite, but Jon still winced inwardly. “As a head of a department, you are now strongly encouraged to attend the fundraiser I host in April each year. Our donors are fascinated by our departments, and especially the Archives. Gertrude’s disappearance has raised questions as to her successor, and I trust you can assuage the concerns of our donors at your accomplishments in the position.” Jon chose to believe that Elias’s keen eye didn’t sweep the mountains of paperwork that surrounded his desk as he surveyed the small, poorly lit office. “I’m certain you’ll be able to find appropriate attire for the occasion.”

He turned on a heel, halfway to the door before seemingly considering something. “Ah, and Jon, one more thing. Gertrude always requested she bring an assistant. Would you like to do the same? I am happy to accommodate one more for the catering count.”

Jon snapped his mouth shut, utterly dumbfounded by the responsibility just thrust upon him, and nodded mutely, before clearing his throat. “Ah-um, yes, I would appreciate that. Does it matter which one?”

“Someone who can make a pleasant impression, please.” Elias raised an eyebrow, nodded almost imperceptibly, like he had made a decision, and rapped his knuckles on the doorframe on the way out. “I trust your judgement.”

Jon counted to thirty, to be certain Elias wasn’t coming back, and slouched into his office chair, scanning the save-the-date again, without the immense pressure of Elias’s eyes on him.

“The Magnus Institute Fundraiser Gala,” it read below the embossed owl, within a thin black border. “23 April, 7-10 pm. Black tie. Catered.” Jon traced the owl with the pad of his finger, flipping the card over to see, in Elias’s thin cursive: Make a good impression, Jon.

God, this is going to suck.

-

“Sasha, come on.” Jon wasn’t one to beg, but desperate times and all that. He had cornered her in the breakroom, while Martin was on a research trip and Tim was getting takeaway from the chippie down the street. “It’s only three weeks away, and you’re the one I trust the most. Please.”

“Jon,” Sasha sighed, smoothing her skirt patiently. “I would if I could, I swear to you. But my sister’s wedding has been planned for months, I’ve already requested time off, and I can’t undo all that for a work party.”

“Fundraiser,” Jon corrected instinctively, even as he signed in resignation. “Fine. I just really didn’t want to go alone.”

Sasha scoffed, shaking her head to herself as she opened the fridge and pulled out her bagged lunch. “You have two other assistants you know. What about Tim? Or Martin?”

Jon wrinkled his nose at the thought of bringing nervous, rambling, doe-eyed Martin to the gala. “God no. Martin would be too much; I need someone who can handle themselves and hold a decent conversation. I need someone who can attend a black-tie gala and look more at-home than me.” A withering look from Sasha.

“So why not Tim, then? He can do all those things.”

“Do all what things?” Jon jumped and spun around to see Tim, carrying a grease-spotted bag in one hand and a paper soda cup in the other. He surveyed Tim in a moment: the button-up shirt, red and printed with tiny black balloons, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, dark black hair artfully mussed. High cheekbones dotted with freckles, and what Jon swore could be the faintest bit of eyeliner.

“Tim, would you like to go to a fashionable, catered work party with me?”

“Boss,” Tim lowered himself to a knee and held out his soda solemnly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Tim, that’s backwards. The kneeler isn’t the one who accepts,” Sasha chuckles helpfully.

“You’re just jealous of our love, Sash!”

Good Lord.

-

Jon was really hoping the food would be good. He was in Tim’s flat, in the toilet, checking himself in the mirror one final time. His hair was carefully braided, courtesy of Tim’s deft hands and coiled into a thick bun at the base of his skull, gold and emerald hairpin snugly in place. His suit was nice: a respectable white shirt, dotted with tiny lime-colored flowers he had to strain his eyes to see, under a dark green suit jacket and matching trousers. The suit itself was cut in a rather androgynous style, pulling tight at Jon’s waist in a way he rather liked, and contrasted beautifully, he thought, with the smooth brown of his skin. He flicked an invisible piece of lint from his thigh and, satisfied, stepped into the hall to tell Tim he was ready to go.

“Tim, I’m all-woah,” the exhale was accidental. Tim’s suit was certainly not subtle. He was wearing a deep blue turtleneck, hair perfectly coiffed. Over the turtleneck, the suit jacket was white, a spray of water-color flowers in all shades of blue and purple shifting with every movement. The navy blue heeled suede boots on his feet accentuated his already-tall frame “Tim, you look good,” Jon breathed.

“Ouch. No need to sound all surprised. I know I clean up well; I dirty pretty damn good too.” Tim chuckled and adjusted his sleeves. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. ‘I don’t want anything too crazy.’”

Jon grinned shyly, rocking on his heels of his own, less intimidating dress shoes. “I like it, I think. It feels nice.” The excitement over how good he felt in the clothes had, all too briefly, suppressed the impending doom he was feeling about the evening’s events. “Are you ready for tonight?” he asked for what must have been the fiftieth time, spinning the solid black ring he wore around his finger.

“Yes, Jon. Talk about the reorganization process as a structural renovation, converting files to audio formatting for future accessibility, don’t talk about artefact storage even a little, don’t get caught up with anyone too pretty, I get it.” His voice was flat, bored by the repetition. “This is going to be fine.”

“What-what if it isn’t, though, Tim? What if they ask about Gertrude or how their money is being used, o-or how the restructuring is going? I can’t bloody well tell them I’m using a tape recorder that’s probably older than I am.”

“Jon,” Tim’s well-manicured hand was on his shoulder, nails the same blue of his turtleneck. “Take a deep breath. For Gertrude: be honest. It was a tragedy, and you hope she’s found, but until then you’re doing your best to act on her wishes as her replacement. And for the rest, be vague. Restructuring is going ‘as well as can be expected’ or ‘is running quite smoothly with the help of your three wonderful assistants.’” He winked. “And tell them you’re using a multimedia system, that’ll confuse those old boomers enough to move topics. And it is technically true. Laptops and a tape recorder are multiple medias. Anything else we can riff, you know? I can talk with the best of them.” He eyed Jon meaningfully. “This will be fine. It’s one night. And we’ll get chips after. Promise.”

Jon nodded and closed his eyes, breathing steadying. He was grateful Tim had been available. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-

“So, how did you know what black tie meant?” Jon asked, eyeing Tim across the seat of the cab. They’re on their way now and Jon’s hands are steepled tightly, pressing his fingertips against each other until it hurts to do so. “I had to Google it last week when I went shopping, in case we had to wear literal black ties.” He needed to talk about anything, anything but this stupid fundraiser they drove steadily towards.

Tim grew silent for a moment, considering his words. “My brother was an extra in a movie once and started dating a stylist for one of the leads. He fibbed his way into getting us tickets for premieres, so I’ve made my way through a few high-fashion events.” He shrugged, fiddling with a thin silver bracelet along his wrist, were Jon knew the letter D was carved in delicate cursive. “I like it, too, you know? Dressing up for events. It makes me feel debonaire, like a spy.”

Jon shook his head in disagreement. “Makes me feel fake,” he mumbled, eyeing the lorry floor beneath them. “Like everyone knows I don’t belong. I hate having their eyes on me and knowing they’re better than me.”

Tim prodded Jon with his elbow gently, raising his eyebrows in a comforting manner. “That’s it though, isn’t it? We aren’t fake. We worked our way here. Hell, you’re the boss of an entire department, Jon. We’ve gotten to where we are in the Institute because we deserve to be here. And anyways, everyone at that party next week is gonna be fake. They’re pretending to care about our jobs, and we pretend to care about their money, and they pretend they’re even the ones who write the checks and not some snooty financial advisor in Wales.”

Jon shrugged, trying to keep himself from biting back that he wasn’t enough, didn’t earn this spot, that Sasha deserved it more than he did and was doing nothing to prove to Elias he was up to the monumental task of being the Head Archivist. He didn’t, though, and instead took a steadying breath, nodding to Tim’s comforting words.

“And anyways,” Tim continued, shrugging. “Even if we have to be fake for a night, it’ll be fun. We get to be a part of ‘the queen’s high society,’” he added in a high-pitched, overly fake RP accent, eliciting a chuckle from Jon. “And Rosie said the catering Elias orders is divine. Apparently we should keep an eye out for tiny samosas?”

As if on cue, the cab shuddered to a stop. Jon thanked the driver, paid, and followed Tim out.

-

The Institute looked different under the pretense of wealth and success. It was still the same building of course, but the floor was clear of the rain mats and the smooth marble floor paved the way to the library, the main sitting room of which had been cleared as a rather respectable grand hall to host a party. Tables lined the cordoned off books, hot plates and silver trays steaming slightly. Bottles of wine lined a bar, behind which a vested individual with slicked-back hair was pouring small glasses and taking orders. A quiet orchestra completed the scene, cello and piano in a delicate duet. Before tonight, Jon couldn’t have imagined this many people in the Institute alone, least of all the library. Not that it’s packed. There’s maybe thirty or so well-dressed individuals milling about, the din of conversation white noise in comparison to the floating of the music.

Tim’s hand is on his back, pressing kindly into his spine. Oh yes, he remembers dimly, and nods, allowing Tim to guide him into the library and hand him a glass of wine. They stand out a little, two beacons of color around what is a pretty drab spectrum of black and grey, save for a few spectacular dresses in the crowd. Jon finds he doesn’t mind it, except that it may lead to unwanted conversation. It’s not his looks he fears being judged on, but that he be found wanting when it came to his capabilities. He was always selectively self-conscious like that, some things utterly meaningless, others inexplicably important.

Jon isn’t a huge fan of wine, but he finds himself clinging to the glass as a lifeline as he and Tim meander through the crowds, largely ignored. The music is intoxicatingly simple; he finds himself caught up in the deep reverberations of the cello as they walk, feeling it deep in his chest. There were, in fact, samosas, as well as small cannoli, and he and Tim piled plates as high as they could without garnering stares.

There weren’t many people Jon recognized; he didn’t even see Elias as he scanned the crowd for faces. Wine in one hand, a plate in the other, he thought maybe the night wouldn’t be too bad.

Jon shivered, the sensation of being stared at prickling the back of his neck. He spun around, trying to appear casual, and spotted Elias at last. He was standing with a large man, broad and wearing a deep blue suit, scruffy beard a mix of tawny and white. Elias crooked his finger, smiling primly. As Jon made his way over to the pair-who he could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen previously, he was intercepted by a short bald man in a plum velour suit, leaning heavily on a cane.

“Ah, Archivist,” he smiled warmly, extending a hand to shake before seeing Jon’s hands were full, and nodding his head instead. “Congratulations on your promotion. Elias has told me he expects great things from you.”

Jon smiled politely, glancing over to see Elias and the other man gone again. Regretfully, he turned his attention back to the man. “It’s a shame about Gertrude, yes, but I’m hoping I can do her proud,” he said in a practiced tone. He glanced over his shoulder. Where was Tim? He was just with him.

“Of course, of course. I was hoping I could have a word?”

“W-with me?”

“Yes, you see, I was rather concerned when I heard Gertrude’s position had been left open. When Elias said you yourself where at the junction to take over, I wanted to meet you for myself. I worry about the Archivists in your institute, so many of you do such monumental work for so little recognition. Do you worry your work to be meaningless?  Your name insignificant when it is all said and done?”

(It is this conversation he remembers, months later, when he demands to record Prentiss’ attack. He refuses to be another mystery, a name on a placard to be wondered about.)

“I-ah, yes? No?” What was the right answer here? Jon stammered out a half-assed reply about doing his best, midway through when he felt a hand firmly on his shoulder, where his neck and collarbone met. Glancing to his peripheral, he saw a golden ring, an eye, and was frustratingly grateful to hear the cool tones of Elias Bouchard over his shoulder.

“Now Simon,” he said, voice even, “you aren’t trying to scare my dear Archivist, are you?” He gave the shoulder a squeeze but remained put. “Jon, I believe you’ve heard of Simon Fairchild, a significant donor to our establishment.”

Jon nodded wordlessly, not really listening to the two bureaucrats delve off into some topic or other, craning his neck to look for Tim. The music had picked up, he registered dimly, a orchestral melody led by a violin, sharp and whimsical.

“Jon?” Another squeeze to his neck, and Jon tried not to wince. “Wouldn’t you agree,” Elias asked, voice patient at surface level. “That the best way to move forward is to restructure the Archive?”

Jon nodded, trying to recall the answer he had rehearsed. “Yes, ah—my team and I have worked quite hard at recording the statements a-and organizing them in a way that will last long-term.”

“Ah, what a delight,” Simon—Mr. Fairchild—said warmly. Jon was reminded of the voices adults would use when they spoke to him as a child, when his inane facts about space or etymology had moved from endearing to obnoxious.

The conversation lasted for what felt like days, Jon feeling rather like Mr. Fairchild’s cane: a statement piece, contributing nothing to the conversation but unable to find a smooth exit. Leading questions from Elias led to thankfully rehearsed answers before Simon found his own exit and walked away smoothly, eyes wide and taking the room in.

“I-I really should find Tim,” Jon muttered, glancing around the room anxiously.

“Nonsense. He’ll be back,” Elias said, releasing Jon’s shoulder and taking his elbow in turn, “I would like to introduce you to a few dear friends of mine. I believe Tim is keeping one occupied at present.” Jon sighed inwardly (and maybe outwardly as well) and allowed himself to be led around the room. His wine glass was empty, as was his plate and he found it snatched away by a member of catering. He had nothing to cling to, to keep his hands busy, and was struggling not to pull out his delicately-placed hair pin just so he could fiddle with something.

Jon was taken on a tour of old rich people of England. Names flew past him, conversation buzzed around him, and still Jon felt like nothing more than a well-dressed trophy to be ogled at. Did Gertrude do this every year, he wondered dimly. No wonder she disappeared. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, nodding and smiling at the appropriate times, speaking when needed, and feeling the swirl of the orchestra build up in pressure behind his eyes. The music was beautiful but hard to listen to. Something about it was ugly, hiding a dark secret behind the innocent melodies.

Eventually, the evening was so much of a blur that he couldn’t even begin to fathom how much time had passed. It may have been weeks, may have been merely twenty minutes. Jon glanced down for his watch before realizing he had taken it off at Tim’s flat and never strapped it back on. Pity. It only added to the dreamscape reality he seemed to be participating in.

At last, Elias led him towards the large burly man that was suddenly in view (hadn’t he always been? Jon wasn’t quite sure. The wine must have affected him more than he thought with the nerves) and Jon saw Tim, similarly trapped in conversation as he had been. He smiled apologetically as Jon and Elias approached and the larger man smiled warmly at the newcomers.

“Ah, Archivist. I hope you don’t mind I stole your companion away briefly. I was curious about the nitty-gritty of your Archive. Timothy here was very informative.” Tim winced at the use of his full name and a part of Jon smirked, relating to the sentiment of being called Jonathan or worse, John.

“I’m glad he can answer your questions.” Elias spoke before Jon could open his mouth. “I’m quite proud of the Archive staff. Jon chose well and I am sure the four of them are going to do great things together. Jon, you remember the Lukas family?”

Jon nodded, confused for a second before the man in front of him extended his hand. “Peter Lukas, at your service.” The hand was cold, and a feeling of dismay washed over Jon as he shook it. He couldn’t help the feeling that the shake of that hand was a seal of his fate.

The orchestral music had picked up, a swirl of strings and piano, ascending in pitch until it grated at Jon’s ears. No one else seemed to react to it, however, as the manic notes pulling at something inside Jon’s brain, something he couldn’t explain. It was almost like a migraine, but sharper and deep in his spine and in his ears. Elias let go of Jon’s arm at some point during the conversation with Peter Lukas, a discussion about boats, maybe? Travel? This was the conversation Elias was so keen on Jon being a part of?

As Jon felt that grip relax, the glint of the ring on Elias’ finger seeming to wink at him, Jon took a staggered step backwards. “Mr. Lukas, ah-Peter, it’s been a pleasure. Elias, ex-excuse me.”

Jon turned and dashed out of the library, feet carrying him on instinct through the winding halls and down the stairs of the institute, deep into the Archives. He stopped when he felt his feet echo against the cold, solid lino of the archival storage and bent over, hand on the wall, gasping in shallow, rapid bursts. It was too much, it was too much, he thought he could do this but it was too much and he wasn’t enough for them-

“Woah-boss.” Tim was there. When did Tim get here? Was he speaking out loud? Shit. “Jon, yeah-hey, Jon. I’m here. You’re okay. Take some deep breaths, okay? You’re going to black out if you’re not careful.”

Jon felt his suit jacket being shrugged off of him and the newly allowed freedom of his shoulder helped. He took a deep, sputtering breath, the sweet oxygen flooding his system and sharpening his thoughts.

“The-the music and the talking,” he said under his breath, Tim craning to listen without infringing on his personal space. “Too-too much.”

“The music? Jon, hey, hey, just focus on calming down, okay? That was a dick move of Elias to separate us immediately. I was talking to that Lukas guy for way too long. Not even sure what we talked about. I think he’s just one of those guys.” Jon smirked to himself as he focused on the floor beneath his feet, breathing slowly until his heart rate had resumed a normal rhythm.

“Says you,” he mumbled, eyes closing as he pressed his warm cheek to the cold wall.

“You bastard!” Jon felt a light swat on his shoulder. “I listen to people! I have meaningful conversation; just ask Martin and Sasha and Alexa from Library and Calvin from Artefact Storage. I am practically a professional listener.”

Jon smirked, satisfied with his jab and turned around, now pressing his back to the wall. “God, Tim, I do not want to go back in there.” It was hard to admit out loud, even if the evidence was written all over his face.

“Okay. So, we won’t.”

“What?” the answer was so mind-bogglingly simple, Jon reeled.

“We don’t want to be here. We’ve talked, we’ve eaten. Let’s just leave. I can tell Elias I had an emergency and you had to escort me home, like a true gentleman.”

“Lie to Elias? I feel like that cant end well.” The offer was tempting, Jon hadf to admit.

“I mean, Sasha has keys to my flat. I could ask her to start a fire, if you think that’s sufficient?”

Jon barked out a laugh at that. “Ah, no, lets save a fire for something big. Yes. Let’s-let’s go, Tim. And-er, I suppose I should thank you. For coming tonight. I know its not an ideal way to spend an evening.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim did a twirl, Jon’s own jacket slung over his shoulder. “I look hot. You think I’d pass up an opportunity to dress up like this? You’re dreaming.” He smirked and took Jon’s arm, leading him back up the stairwell. It felt different than Elias’s touch. That had been a cold tug, directional and leashed. This felt…snug, more like a link in a chain than anything else. Comforting, reassuring.

(Luckily, they weren’t laughed out of the Nando’s they popped into late at night. Lemon and herb and spices covered their hands, but they were careful to keep their jackets clean. Jon, when looking back on the evening; remembers this moment, talking and laughing and letting the fresh night air was over them. Elias, Lukas, and Fairchild be damned. He’d deal with that tomorrow.)

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #fanfic to a tea #jonathan sims #tim stoker #prompt fic #black-tie #elias bouchard #still a dick #peter lukas #simon fairchild #sasha james #me? write everyone BUT martin> #amazing

[thepointoftheneedle]

Happy New Year!

I wrote a little New Year’s Eve one shot.  It’s below the cut or you can read it on AO3 here.  (I’ve started a collection of short pieces just to keep things tidy.) I hope you are all able to celebrate safely and I wish you a healthy and happy 2021.

It was obvious that the party was going off the rails as soon as Archie started lining up shots along the whole length of the marble counter top.  He called Reggie out and Reggie never backed down from a challenge to his machismo so they both worked their way along the little bullets of stupid until, breathless and belly laughing, they slid to the floor, their eyes swivelling in their dumb skulls like cartoon coyotes that had just been smashed over the head with an Acme anvil.  It was nine fifteen. Betty had wondered if Veronica would be mad about it but she seemed in the mood for some chaos as she set up two more lines of glasses opposite each other on the counter and challenged Cheryl who had never met an unnecessary drama she didn’t like.  

Betty had drunk a very pleasant glass of good champagne and had been contemplating having a couple more before midnight.  She’d never been a big drinker so for her that was cutting loose.  It had been, to put it crudely, a shit-show of a year and she was glad to see the back of it.  At the last New Year’s party she had been showing off a dazzling engagement ring, about to start the job that she had been expensively and laboriously trained for and she and her intended had signed the lease on a cute and well appointed apartment in Sunset Park which everyone said was the up and coming neighbourhood. The world had been unfolding for her like a flower.  Then the frost had come and scorched the petals with its chill. This year she was single, her job sometimes felt like it was eating her up and that cute apartment burned through every cent of her pay check now she had to make the rent alone.  It was possible that she was the saddest girl in a cocktail dress on the whole island of Manhattan, she was certainly the soberest person at the party.

An hour later the shots were completely out of hand and Betty had only just prevented Ethel from throwing up into the piano.  Moose made some half hearted effort to restore order, offering glasses of water, trying to start a game of Charades, but Kevin was in too mischievous a mood for his efforts to bear any fruit and instead they were embarking on Drunk Jenga, the rules of which seemed to be that you took a shot whenever you removed a block and then another when you placed it on top of the stack.  She imagined you took a shot if the tower fell but she didn’t stick around to find out.  She sidled over to where the Pol Roger was stacked, neglected,  in its very own champagne refrigerator and helped herself while everyone else was supporting the economy of Mexico by the prodigious consumption of Patron Silver.

She took her recharged glass to the window and looked out at the snowy expanse of Central Park far below.  It looked like the idealised interior of a snow globe, the air glassy and still and a huge yellow moon surveying its domain.  Betty remembered walking through the park with Trev last Christmas, bundled in a thick coat and scarf.  They’d held hands inside one of his mittens. They’d made snow angels.  They’d skated at the Wollman Rink and drunk hot chocolate afterwards.  Her life had been a cover image from a romance novel. This year she had spent Christmas being patronised by Polly’s constant offers of introductions to a succession of Jason’s frat brothers and golfing buddies.  Eventually she’d pointed out that if she’d wanted some obstructionist, bigoted blowhard she could have found one herself, without Polly’s oh so sympathetic intervention.  Polly cried and Betty apologised but she still wasn’t going to go on a date with a junior vice president of acquisitions even if he did have a weekend place in Connecticut.  She wouldn’t tolerate being paraded in front of prospective suitors like a prize dairy cow at the county show, not by Veronica and certainly not by her sister.

As she reminisced she became aware of Archie and Veronica deep in conversation in the corner of the room.  “We have a teeny emergenshy,” Veronica said, her hand on Archie’s forearm.  Veronica was never less than perfectly composed but that slur at the end of her word and the ramped up sincerity gave her away to her best friend. She was sozzled. “Only two bottles of Patron left and then the cupboard is bare. I may have over-ordered on the fizz and neglected the tequila.”

Archie nodded, taking the situation as seriously as his wife.  Then some kind of light dawned on his handsome face.  “We’ll get the magic doorman to get us some.  He’ll be on duty now.  I’ll go slip him a fifty and he’ll take care of it.”  He turned to reach for his wallet and promptly fell on his face. It was ten to eleven and all was decidedly not well.

Betty went over to help Archie off the rug.  He grinned even though his nose was bloody. “Ronnie, Betty’s all sober and sensible.  She can go talk to the wizard.  Here Betty, here’s fifty for a tip and Ronnie’ll give you her credit card for the booze.  Okay?  Shit I’m bleeding… still it’s not a party til something gets broke.”

V was looking at her imploringly now.  Somewhere there was the sound of glass smashing and Monroe’s attempt to do chin ups on the kitchen doorframe seemed to be bringing plaster down on the floor.  Betty would rather be almost anywhere than right here so she nodded at her friend.  "What do you need V?”

V explained that the building’s night doorman was a kind of fixer.  When Tom in 204 had forgotten his wife’s birthday Jones had got him a gluten free chiffon cake iced with her name at two thirty on a Thursday morning along with a bouquet of out of season narcissuses....narcissi? When the little boy in 116 had told his mama at midnight that he needed a George Washington costume for school the next day the night doorman had sourced it, complete with powdered wig, before the little tyke had finished his cheerios.  When V had realised an hour before her 5.15 a.m. flight to Miami that she had completely forgotten her niece’s confirmation gift he had sourced a personalised Catholic Bible bound in white leather which he handed to her as she got into her cab.  “He’s a miracle worker B.  Just tell him we need a case…no two cases of Patron Silver before midnight.  Give him the fifty but tell him I’ll make it a hundred if he can fix it by eleven thirty. OK?”

“Sure.  On my way.”  

She travelled down in the elevator imagining the doorman.  He’d be some old guy in a uniform with gold braid on the chest. He probably knew all the residents and their dogs by name and had one of those old timey extended families so that he could reach out to Cousin Ike for last minute birthday cakes or get his nephew’s wife to sew a costume at no notice.  She needed a fixer herself since her life seemed so broken.  She wondered what he could do for a lonely woman who was trying to work out if getting a cat was too much of an admission that she had given up.

As she stepped out into the lobby she was slightly taken aback by the mismatch between her expectations and reality.  He was behind the reception desk, dark head bowed over a laptop, no braid in evidence, no grey whiskers or paunch, just this dark, poetic looking guy in a black sweater.  She approached the desk and he looked up at her, fingers still flying over the keys without him needing to glance down.  He seemed to reach a natural pause, closed the lid of the laptop and smiled politely.  “Yes ma’am, how can I help?”  His eyes were blue.  They seemed to look through her probably thinking she was just another rich girl bringing him problems.  He must get that a lot.

“Yeah, hi, I’m a guest of Mr and Mrs Lodge Andrews up in the penthouse.  They’re having a little New Year's Eve party and they’re running low on liquor.  They wondered if you could source them a couple of cases of…”

“Patron Silver?  Yes ma’am, of course.  Who should I charge it to?”  She had no idea how he could have known what she was going to ask for.  It made her want to say that they wanted Stolichnaya or absinthe or something, just to surprise him but she’d been sent for Patron and Patron she would get.

“Oh, yes, I have a credit card.” She handed it over,  “and Mr Andrews said to give you this for the trouble.”  She passed him the fifty, embarrassed.

“No incentive to get it here before the coaches turn into pumpkins?” he asked, eyebrow raised.  She thought he was making fun of her but she couldn’t be sure.  

“Oh yes, that’s right.  Veronica said another $50 if it’s here by eleven thirty.”

“Okay ma’am.  I’ll buzz up when it’s here.  If that’s all.”

“Oh please don’t call me ma’am.  I’m Betty.”

“I’m Jones... Jughead. Nickname. Long dull story.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering why she was still standing in front of his desk.

“Look, it’s a little crazy up there.  Would it be okay if I just stay down here for a minute? Just say if it’s inconvenient. I don’t want to disturb you if you’re busy.” She didn’t think she could bear to be the responsible adult at Veronica’s party for a moment longer. Here it was quiet and no one needed her to hold back their hair while they were getting sick.

“Busy getting hold of twelve bottles of good tequila on New Year's Eve but that’s all.  I just need to make a call.  Excuse me.”  He stood and walked away from the desk, his back turned to her.  It was a good back.  He was wearing the black sweater over grey slacks with a key chain hanging from one of his belt loops.  He had broad shoulders but his neck was fine, not thick and meaty like the guys who needed to lift weights to manufacture some self esteem. He was slim at the waist and the hips, long legs, tall.  The hair was the USP though, dark waves of it tumbling freely as he dragged long fingers through it, waiting for someone to pick up his call.  Finally he yelled “Hey Toni.  Yeah, two cases of Patron Silver asap.  Yeah, I’d noticed that but mark it up. Can Sweetpea drop it over?  Yeah right now.  Hey, ask him to get me a burger on the way too.”  He turned and looked at Betty with a questioning look and she shrugged and nodded, “Two, make it two.  Ok, thanks Toni.  Yeah you too.  See you Sunday.”

He ended the call and made his way back to the desk.  “My pal Toni runs a bar,” he explained with a grin. 

“Veronica says you’re magic, a wizard,” she told him.

“Nothing occult about it.  I’m just observant, that’s all.”

“Seems magical to produce a George Washington costume overnight,” she countered.  

“Oh well, that was a lucky break.  My sister’s a textile artist.  A struggling one.  I gave her the brief and she knocked up the costume in a few hours.  Now all the upper east side mommies have her business card and she can afford to buy materials and pay her rent.  She had to pull an all nighter but it paid off pretty big in the end.”

“Birthday cake?  Out of season flowers?” 

“The husband’s kind of a dick.  He forgot last year too. They had a fight about it in this very lobby so I wrote down the date and got ready to save his bacon.  If he’d remembered the date I’d have had cake for my breakfast and sent my sister a bunch of flowers.  As it was I made a couple hundred bucks.”

Betty was laughing now at the smug look on his face.  “So you could have reminded him beforehand?”

“Could have, but maybe the expense’ll help him remember next time.  Anyway if the doorman knows more about your wife than you do it might be time to review your priorities.”

“Ok but what about the Bible?  That seems pretty miraculous.”

“Actually it’s kind of the opposite. The kid’s confirmation name is Maria. Hardly original.  My buddy Joaquin’s little sister was confirmed a few months ago.  Her confirmation name’s Maria.  She hadn’t made a whole lot of use of the Bible.  Your pal paid me three hundred, Joaquin’s kid sister got two hundred in her college fund.”

“Seems like the side hustles are more remunerative than the pay check,” Betty observed.

“It’s all a side hustle.  I’m a writer.  This job’s kept me supplied with characters and plot lines and given me eight hours of mostly uninterrupted writing time.”

Betty flushed pink and jumped up from the corner of the desk where she had been leaning.  “Oh I’m so sorry. Here I am wasting your time.  I’ll be on my way.”

“No, wait,” he reached out and put his hand on her arm.  It tingled.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  This is research.  Maybe I’ll put you in my next book.  The sad girl in a party frock who’d rather be in the lobby than with her friends at a party being kissed for New Year.”

“There’s no-one to kiss up there,” she confessed with a sad smile and then, without having any idea why, she said “I broke up with my fiancé last February.”

“Aha,” he said.  “There’s the plot.  Tell me.”

“He’s great.  A really good guy.  Kind, loyal, handsome.  Everything I should have wanted. Any girl would be lucky to have him. I think I broke his heart.”

“Why?”

“We started to plan the wedding and I wanted to run away.  I couldn’t bear to think about it.  Then one day I found myself imagining what I’d do if something bad happened that prevented it, like if he got sick or if I was in a car accident or something.  It was pretty clear that I couldn’t go through with it if I preferred the idea of one of us being in a coma to the idea of my wedding day.”

“Cold feet?”

“Oh freezing but it wasn’t just nerves.  When I imagined being married to him I couldn’t see myself, I was just a blank. It was… I don’t know how to say it…like I was finished.  I’d never be anything more than I was, never change or grow or struggle.  It was all too easy.  No grit in the oyster.  I know it’s crazy.”

“You didn’t say it was you not him did you?  You didn’t do that to him?” He was smiling at her, sympathising not mocking.

She blushed.  “I did.  All the clichés.  How could I explain?  I don’t even understand it myself.”

“I understand it.  You want to find out who you can be and he couldn’t give you that.  He was happy with who you were, didn’t want you to change.  He was probably scared of losing you. Anyone would be.” He looked at her with an intensity that made her nervous so she tried to change the subject.  

“A writer then?  What do you write?”

“Mostly mystery stories.  Magazines and online so far but I’ve just got a publisher for the novel.  I’m going to quit this next year.  What do you do?”

“I’m a psychologist.  I work with kids who are in trouble.  Try to get them back on track.  I love it but it’s hard sometimes.  I hear things that it’s tough to leave at the office.”

“You need to take care of you first.  You can’t save someone if you aren’t safe yourself. ”

“Writer or life coach?” she smiled.

He chuckled.  “Sorry.  I’m not good at small talk.  I get too intense too fast and freak people out.  Oh hey, cometh the man, cometh the tequila.”  

A tall guy in a leather jacket was pulling boxes out of the back of a truck that he’d illegally bumped up the curb outside..  He looked a little scary.  Once he was in the lobby she saw that he had a snake tattooed on his neck.  He fist bumped Jughead and then pulled him into a side hug. “Hey man.  Happy new year and all that. Hey,” he said, noticing Betty for the first time. 

“Hey.  Thanks so much for bringing it over. There’s a whole apartment full of drunk idiots upstairs just waiting to make themselves sick on it. Oh!” He turned back to Betty, aghast at what he’d said. “Sorry Betty.”

“You’ll not get an argument from me.  That’s why I’m down here talking to you.”

Neck tattoo laughed and held out his hand “Sweetpea.  Pleasure doing business with you.”  He turned back to Jughead,  “So I have to get back, I’m supposed to be on the door at the Wyrm.  See you Sunday?”

“Burgers?” Jug reminded him and his friend nodded, trotting back to the truck to grab a take out bag and toss it back to Jughead who snatched it from the air like a dolphin snatching a fish at Seaworld.

Betty buzzed up to the penthouse to get one of the assembled jocks to come and collect two cases of tequila and bring down a bottle of Pol Roger and the promised fifty dollars. It was eleven twenty four.  Ten minutes later she was sitting on the reception desk eating a burger, washing it down with $200 champagne.  “This is the best New Year's Eve I’ve ever had,” she grinned, a little disinhibited by the bubbles.  

“Weren’t you engaged last year?”

“This is much better.  I was pretending last year.  Now I’m just being me.”

“I always find that works better.  The not pretending bit. Especially not with someone you can love.”

She certainly wasn’t pretending at eleven fifty nine when she reached out to him and he took her in his arms and kissed her softly as cheers and yells rang out from the parties all over the city and fireworks exploded high above the park, casting confetti of coloured lights across the marble lobby. 

As the kiss ended she looked up into his blue eyes, wondering if it was the champagne that was making her blurry and relaxed or if it was him.  She thought she’d have to keep on kissing him to know for sure.  He really was a fixer though.  Her heart felt lighter, hopeful.

He grinned.  “Spectacular as that was, this is probably the most surveilled lobby in the city.  Can we schedule the repeat for when I’m not actually on the clock?”  He gestured at the security cameras covering every inch of the space and she blushed to think that somewhere there was taped evidence of her trying to seduce the sexy doorman.

“Can I stay here and talk to you some more if I promise not to touch?”

“I wish you would.  I get off at six and I know a great diner for breakfast.  We can tell people our first date was breakfast.  They’ll be scandalised.” She couldn’t hold back at the mention of the first date, of them telling people about it, so she kissed him on the cheek before retreating back to the edge of the desk with her hands up.

They talked about her work, his writing, they compiled an ultimate New Year's Eve playlist and top tens of movies and books.  She found herself distracted by the fullness of his lips, the expressiveness of his face, the heaviness of the locks of hair that fell forward over his eyes only to be pushed back impatiently.  They agreed on almost nothing and that was exactly how she liked it.  When she crept up to the penthouse at five thirty to collect her coat and change her party shoes for snow boots, she was met with a scene of devastation.  Prostrate bodies sprawled on every flat surface.  The two cases of tequila sat unopened in the kitchen, clearly surplus to requirements by the time they had been manifested.  She picked her way through the carnage and found the coat closet where Archie had put her things when she’d arrived the night before.  Opening the door she noticed the cases of liquor stacked inside, three unopened boxes of Patron among them.  She realised that Jug wasn’t the only fixer in the building.  She made sure to lean over her sleeping friend to place a kiss on her forehead before she let herself out, locking the door behind her.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead fan fic #New Years

[queenmylovely]

The Best Things Ain’t Free

Summary: Roger Taylor x fem!reader. After meeting through friends, Roger is impressed with your lifestyle and you’re impressed with his prettiness. 

Word Count: 10.9k listen... she’s long

Warnings: cussing, smut (oral sex, fingering, etc.) (18+!! marked with ***)

A/N: This idea has been on my mind for ages because I can’t look at certain pictures of Roger in a fur coat without this thot. PSA that the most fictional part of this fic is reader being rich bc your girl ain’t. Let’s all use our best imagination and enjoy the life of the wealthy for a minute. Please leave feedback in any form whether it be tags, replies, asks, or messages, because I really do love hearing from you!

Masterlist; BLM Resources, Register to Vote (U.S.)

(these are what inspired this entire thing bc look at them!!! pics edited by me)

☆☆☆

Normally, you wouldn’t be one to go to a dingy pub to watch some band play a set. If you wanted to hear good music, you’d go to a concert in a real venue, with box seats and catering. And if you wanted a drink you’d go to the Ivy, Grenadier, Star, or if you really wanted a nice time, the Ritz. But your friend, Kalaya, from your time at Oxford (she had attended on a merit-based scholarship, bless her heart), had insisted that you come.

“They’re one of the best bands I’ve ever heard!” Kalaya gushed, trying to convince you to go.

“Better than the Stones? The Supremes? Janis?” you asked, referencing all of the concerts you had taken her to in uni. “We saw Janis the one and only time she played solo in London, are you telling me this student band is going to match her?”

“I said one of the best bands I’ve ever heard. And it’s not like you’ve never been to the bar before, it’s Angel’s, I took you there after exams junior year, remember?” Kalaya prodded, hoping that since it was at least somewhat familiar, you might be more likely to go.

“Oh yeah, I remember. Someone spilt a drink on me and I stunk like cheap beer for the rest of the night,” you said, wrinkling your nose in annoyance.

“C’mon you can’t condemn a whole pub just because one drunk idiot made a mistake,” Kalaya reasoned.

“Never would’ve happened at the Ritz,” you said with a huff.

Lucky for her, Kalaya never took you as seriously as you wanted to be and she laughed, “Stop being so stuck up, it’s not flattering.”

You stuck your tongue out at her, and she just rolled her eyes.

“Please, I need you to go. I fancy the guitar player and I can’t show up alone, you know I get nervous in crowds on my own,” Kalaya reminded you with her best puppy-dog eyes.

Your face broke out in a grin, “You didn’t say you fancied someone, oh my gosh, of course I’ll go! Tell me more about this guitarist.”

_____

The one caveat you had made Kalaya agree to was new outfits for the show. You would go to a grungy student pub to support your friend, but like hell were you going to dress the same as everyone there. After a few hours traipsing around Oxford Street, you both had completely new, fabulous outfits that were sure to stun, on your dime of course.

When you had first met Kalaya, she hadn’t liked you paying for things for her, but when you insisted that it only made sense for you to do or else you would be doing everything alone, she began to accept it. Plus, you had told her, the money was doing a lot more good being spent on fancy dinners and trips to the sea than sitting in some bank account in Switzerland. Anyway, your parents owned the largest shipping company in England, or something, so it wasn’t like there wasn’t plenty to spare.

“It’ll take about an hour and ten minutes by car, so we should leave about two and a half hours before the concert so we can get there early,” you planned out two days before the concert, during dinner at your shared apartment with Kalaya.

“Car? We can just take the train, it’s practically the same amount of time,” Kalaya replied.

“And get our new outfits all dirty before the show? No way, Chay can take us. I already told him about it and he’s bringing Martie so they can go too,” you explained. Chay (short for Charlie, short for Charles) was your family’s driver and Martie was his wife. They were in their early thirties so they still appreciated new music.

“What if something happens with Brian and I want to stay? Won’t Martie and Chay want to come home?” Kalaya said sheepishly.

“When that happens, we’ll just get rooms at that Inn on the boulevard and wait until morning to bring you home,” you said with a smirk.

Kalaya got her own cheeky smile, “And what about when you inevitably sweep some unknowing pretty boy off his feet? Where will they go without you to get the rooms?”

You hummed, thinking about all the boys that might be at the concert, “They have their expense card, of course.”

_____

The afternoon before the concert, the four of you met at the drive of your parent's house, ready and dressed for the night. You’re in dark wash bell bottoms, an emerald green satin top, and black leather platform boots. Draped over one arm you had your favorite fur coat, a dark brown mink, because although it was August, it got cold late at night, especially in Oxford. Kalaya had chosen a black flowy dress that came to her mid-thigh and made her medium-brown skin richer in comparison, and black suede booties. It would’ve been boring except for the silver and gold thread embroidering it, making it look like a starry night sky. She had told you it would be perfect because Brian studied stars.

Martie and Chay were a little more understated, as was to be expected since they didn’t have to try to catch anyone’s eye. Martie was in an orange floral dress in a similar cut to Kalaya’s, but a few inches longer. The orange of the dress and the yellow and olive green flowers complimented her dark brown skin with its warm undertone. Chay was in black bell bottoms, a dark red button-down with a paisley print, and regular black boots. You told him that he was lucky his skin was still tanned from the summer holiday because his typical paper-white skin combined with the outfit would’ve made him look like a vampire. Chay laughed sarcastically and Martie changed the subject by complimenting you two girls and then turned back to Chay, noticing his large collar was a little crooked and fixing it.

Everyone, including their overnight bags just in case, got into the car and Chay immediately turned the radio up, the four of you singing along the whole way there.

_

Once you got to the bar, the four of you grabbed drinks and sat at a table near the back because it wasn’t crowded yet. The group chatted easily, laughing at each other’s jokes and stories. You were all more like family than anything because Chay’s father was the family driver before him and he and Martie had been together since they were teenagers. Since Kalaya always came to all the family vacations (that Martie and Chay also came to, as “employees;” their only duty being a designated driver), the four of you were used to hanging out and going to clubs and concerts together.

Slowly, the bar started filling up and you turned to Kalaya, “We should probably go to the front now so we can secure a spot.”

Kalaya nodded, “Are you guys coming?”

Martie and Chay looked at each other, communicating silently in that way couples do. Martie answered, “No, we’ll stay here. Don’t wanna be around a bunch of sweaty students.”

“My sentiments exactly,” you said with a roll of your eyes and Kalaya elbowed you. Then you looked at Chay with a sheepish smile, “Can I leave my coat with you?”

“Yes,” Chay huffed with his own eye roll, but he was still smiling. “Now go on, get up there.”

Kalaya and you laughed and waved, hurrying to get a good spot close to the stage. That was one positive of a small venue, being close enough to the band to do some serious damage to your hearing as well as being able to actually see the sweat dripping down their temples and chests once they really got into the music.

The crowd grew around you and you were jostled a couple of times, but once you glared at the people who did it, that seemed to stop. The energy of the crowd grew and grew in anticipation and you heard lots of chatter about how excited they were to see the band. Maybe Kalaya hadn’t oversold them.

It wasn’t long before all of the stage lights went out and a booming voice came from all around, announcing the arrival of, “Your entertainment tonight, Her Majesty, Queen!”

You laughed, appreciating the audacity of the name as someone who liked to be somewhat outrageous yourself. The lights flashed back on and you realized that the band was already onstage; they went right into the first song, drums, guitar, and bass starting strong. You listened to the music, enjoying it already, but were more focused on checking out the band, which was easy because you were only ten feet away from the stage.

The singer was a slim, elegant man with light brown skin and jet black hair. His eyes were a warm brown and when he looked out at the crowd it was as if he was connecting with every person. Round lips and large teeth caught your eye and as you watched them enunciate every syllable, you couldn’t help but think they must make a wonderful smile. He was wearing a black satin jumpsuit embroidered and embellished until it shone in the light. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut and eyeliner just the same kept him on the rock side of glam, any softer and he could’ve been considered disco. And even though the concert had only just started, he was already completely into it; the energy he gave off as he strode about the stage only adding to the crowd’s.

Next you looked at the guitarist, Brian, who Kalaya was already staring at, mouth hanging open in a way that told you she didn’t realize how obvious it was. You gently reached over and tapped her chin, bringing her out of her trance and her eyes widened as she realized what she was doing. She started swaying to the music and looked around the stage in a much more casual way.

Back to the guitarist, as Kalaya had told you he was extremely tall, with some of the longest legs you had ever seen on anyone. With velvet black pants and a flowing white blouse, he was as glam as the singer. He was even more slim than the singer, and with the mound of curls that made up his head he kinda looked like a lollipop, nothing you would ever tell Kalaya. He had pale white skin, a prominent nose, and otherwise delicate features, but your main attention was brought to his hazel eyes that looked at the crowd as if he was surveying them. Overall you were thoroughly impressed with Kalaya’s choice to fancy him.

On the opposite side of the singer was the bassist, made clear by the fact that his guitar only had four strings and a longer neck. His clothing was a little more reserved than the other two, simply a black satin suit with a white satin shirt underneath. His chestnut brown hair was long and wavy, and it framed his also pale white face well. He was pretty relaxed in his playing, like it wasn’t that hard, but watching his hands you could tell the skill it took to stay on beat through some of the most complex rhythms. A soft nose, green-grey eyes that seemed kind, full lips, and a familiar feeling endeared him to you instantly, a smile coming to your face as he smirked when the singer pressed up against him.

Lastly, you turned your attention to the drummer, and just about gasped. Yes, the other three had been beautiful, but none of them were as pretty as him. His hair was shaggy, wavy, and dirty blonde, and heaven knew you loved your blondes. His white skin was lightly tanned which just made his baby blue eyes stand out even more. He was wearing some sort of black blouse but it was completely unbuttoned, leaving his chest that was toned from drumming totally exposed. You couldn’t see much else because of his kit but what you could see, your eyes ate up. As he drummed, his lips stuck out in a pout and his hair swooshed, glinting gold as he played the cymbals.

Kalaya had only been half-joking when she talked about you finding your pretty boy and now you had, your sights completely set on this drummer. Plus you figured that if Kalaya knew Brian, you had an automatic in.

Suddenly, you were making eye contact with the drummer but instead of being surprised or flustered, you started your mission. Biting your lip in a smile, rocking your hips to the rhythm he was playing, and tilting your head to the side, you made it clear you were checking him out. That seemed to spur him on and the drums got louder as he played harder. If he was trying to impress you, it was working, but more because it was a testament to his stamina than to his skill. Besides, you could see that you had done plenty to impress him by subverting his expectations and staring him down instead of swooning as soon as he caught your eye with his.

Not that there was anything wrong with swooning, in fact Kalaya was swooning over Brian at this very second because he had smiled at her, but you liked being the one to cause the swoon. You knew you were attractive and knew other people knew it too. You were confident and knew what you wanted, an energy you liked to radiate when you were around pretty boys.  

The drummer was the one to break eye contact first, looking around the room for a minute as if trying to distract himself. Then he looked back at you and you just smiled and waved at him. By the way his eyes widened and cheeks pinkened further than they already were, you could tell he was a little flustered, and laughed, something you were sure he could see as well. He didn’t seem to be looking away this time, so you did instead, turning your attention to Kalaya to make sure she was doing alright.

“How’s it going, babe? He in love with you yet?” you half-yelled into her ear because the music was so loud.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “More like I’ve just fallen further in love with him. But he has smiled and waved at me a couple times in between songs.”

“See? Don’t be all modest!” you urged.

“Well what about you? I see the eyes you’re making at that pretty boy drummer. He’s just the epitome of your type, huh?” Kalaya shot back.

You sighed happily, “He really is.”

_

About an hour later, the last encore was done and a cheap curtain had separated the band from the rest of the pub as they packed up their instruments. But apparently they would be joining the crowd later on, based on the talk of the people that had been standing around you up front. Not everyone seemed aware of this fact or maybe they just didn’t care, because the crowd thinned by half once the set was over. Quickly making a game plan, you and Kalaya decided to wait by the bar but not at the bar, in the path the band would most likely take from backstage to get a drink.

After waiting for only 10 minutes, you saw a curly head of hair bobbing through a doorway and realized they were on the move. You signaled to Kalaya with your eyes that they were appearing behind her (now out of their stage clothes), not interrupting what she was saying in an effort to remain casual. Once she had realized what you meant, she slowed her words, hoping to get interrupted. The blonde came into view and you flicked your eyes over to him just once, letting him know you knew he was there.

“Kalaya?” Brian asked, tapping her shoulder lightly.

Expertly, Kalaya turned like she was surprised, “Brian!”

They hugged quickly and she pulled back, “You all were amazing, just like last time.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad I actually have a chance to talk to you this time, instead of rushing off to deal with a flat tire on the van,” Brian smiled. Then he looked over to you and Kalaya jumped in.

“This is my friend,” she introduced you. “We went to Oxford together. She already knows all about you.”

Brian looked a little pleased at that, and Kalaya brought a hand to her mouth, realizing her faux pas.

“She means your band. She had to make a hard sell for me to come all the way back to Oxford to see the show,” you explained away what she said even though you all knew that wasn’t what she had meant.

“Well I’m glad you both made it,” Brian said with an easy smile. “Speaking of the band, I’d better introduce them all.”

Brian stepped back so he was in line with the other three and Kalaya turned so she was facing them next to you.

“This here is Freddie, our wonderful singer. Then we have John—”

“You can call me Deaky,” he interjected.

“Deaky then, our fantastic bassist. And finally our resident pretty boy himself, our drummer, Roger,” Brian finished with a bit of a smirk.

You all exchanged pleasantries and as Kalaya was drawn into a conversation with the rest of the band, Roger stepped closer to you.

“Pretty boy, huh?” You asked with a teasing smile. He nodded, about to say something in defense or make a jab at Brian, but you spoke first, “Glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

Roger flushed at that, a small smile coming to his face, but he changed the subject, “So you went to Oxford?”

“Yes,” you said slowly.

“Not a big fan?” he asked.

“No, I did really enjoy it here, just kind of small for my taste. I mean, over an hour to get to where anyone big’s playing and never having heard of fine dining? I suppose it was a good change of pace, or at least that’s what my parents say, but I’m glad to be back in the city,” you explained and Roger listened intently.

“So raised in London then?”

“Yes, except for the summers. Then it was Nice or Barcelona. Oh and one year New York,” you knew you were being a little overt with the flaunting of your upbringing, but you could tell that Roger was the type of person to enjoy the best things in life, and his eyes were as big as dinner plates as he listened to you, clearly impressed. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m just from Truro, not quite as glamorous as all those,” Roger told you and while he wasn’t exactly embarrassed, you could tell he was waiting for your reaction.

“Truro’s in Cornwall, right?” you asked and Roger confirmed with a nod. “Then I’ve been there! Yeah a couple years ago Kalaya and I went on a trip to the sea and took a little detour to Truro, we loved it! Perfect for a little weekend getaway.”

Roger smiled big, your praising of his hometown charming him, “But how is Truro on the way to the sea? Wouldn’t you just go to Brighton or Southend?”

You smiled, laughing at yourself, “Well I got it in my head that I wanted to go to the very western tip of the country, and luckily Kalaya is a good enough sport to go along with my whims.”

“Do you often have these types of whims?” Roger asked and there was more cheek behind the words than in their meanings.

“Well I adore travelling,” you said, a little smirk coming to your face. Then you fixed your gaze to Roger’s eyes, “And my personal philosophy is to do whatever I want, whenever I want, with whoever I want.”

Roger swallowed, his mouth parted, and he blinked a couple times before responding, trying a laugh to cover for his reaction to your words, “A bit hedonistic, no?”

“Hmm, a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, no?” you responded quickly. Not that you actually knew that Roger was similar to you in that way, but watching how he reacted to everything you said made you sure enough to say that.

Scoffing as if that weren’t true, all he could say was, “What?--who?”

“How are the two of you getting on?” the bassist, John-- Deaky, interjected, coming to stand so the three of you made a triangle.

“Well Roger here just called me hedonistic,” you said matter-of-factly, looking at Deaky with wide eyes.

“Ha! You’re one to talk, Rog,” Deaky told him, clapping him on the shoulder and laughing.

Roger just looked at you, surprised that you would’ve brought it up to Deaky. You just stuck your tongue between your teeth and smiled victoriously; you loved to keep boys on their toes, especially ones that looked so cute when they were surprised.

Deaky turned to you, “You look really familiar, have we met before?”

“You know, I was thinking the same thing, but you had shorter hair, right?” you looked at him more closely.

He laughed and nodded, “Yeah, this is pretty new.”

“What university did you go to?” you asked.

“Chelsea college in London, I was in electrical engineering,” Deaky replied.

You exclaimed in recognition, “The scholarship dinner! You got my family’s engineering scholarship, that was like five years ago.”

“That’s right! We hung out during that tour of one of the facilities when our parents were talking endlessly,” he remembered and you laughed along with him.

“Wait, I thought the only private scholarship you got was from that family with the shipping business that are, like, filthy rich,” Roger said and you and John just looked at each other and then at Roger, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then his eyes went wide, “That’s your family?!”

“Might wanna close your mouth Rog,” Deaky said with a laugh, tapping Roger’s chin as you had Kalaya’s.

A voice came from the bar and you looked to see Brian waving the three of you over. Deaky immediately started walking but you hung back next to Roger.

He seemed to be walking slowly because he was still processing the information, “I kinda thought you were exaggerating about the summer trips. And you weren’t kidding when you said whatever you want whenever you want, were you?”

You reached over and tucked a stray strand of hair away from his face and Roger looked at your hand as it dropped back to your side, “Mm-mm, wasn’t kidding about the whoever, either.”

Roger looked back up at you and you winked before turning to the others and gladly accepting the drink held out to you by Brian.

Chatting in a little group with Brian, Kalaya, and Deaky, you noticed that Freddie and Roger were off to the side but didn’t pay it too much mind. You were more focused on whether this Brian liked your Kalaya as much as she did he, and judging by the way he stared at her with adoration in his eyes as she talked, he did.

Standing apart from the rest of you with Freddie, Roger took a gulp of his drink as he looked at you laughing with the others.

“Fred, man, I can hardly keep up with this girl. We’ve only been talking for like ten minutes and all the things she says! I hardly know whether I wanna be with her or be her,” Roger told Freddie.

“What do you mean?” Freddie said with a confused laugh.

“Well she’s beautiful and funny and smart, sophisticated, has great taste--” “I think you’re confusing her with me,” Freddie interrupted with a sly smile.

“Ha-ha, Fred. Did I mention she’s also loaded?” Roger deadpanned.

“She’s got me there,” Freddie admitted. “Well are you going to do anything about it?

“I would, but she’s kinda intimidating,” Roger said and when Freddie looked confused he elaborated. “Like, she’s been flirting more than me tonight, even when we were onstage.”

“That’s saying something,” Freddie agreed.

“Exactly, so I feel like she’s someone who would want to make the first move,” Roger pointed out. And then a little quieter, “which you know I have absolutely no problem with.”

Freddie laughed loudly, “Well if things don’t work out between you two, I might just have to make her my best friend.”

“Hey, that’s me,” Roger said with a frown.

Patting Roger’s arm, Freddie rolled his eyes and told him, “I know darling, it was a joke.”

Deaky, Kalaya, Brian, and you got up from your seats at the bar, catching their attention, so they walked over to where you were.

“We’re walking the girls out,” Deaky explained because Brian was too busy chatting with Kalaya. Freddie and Roger nodded and then Deaky led the way, cutting through the crowd to the exit. Brian and Kalaya were lock-step behind him, and Freddie, Roger, and you followed up last, in that order.

“Leaving already?” Freddie asked you.

“Yeah, well if we want to get rooms for the night we better head over,” you explained.

“Oh are you staying at the Inn too?” Roger asked, his ears pricking up.

You nodded with a little laugh, “Seeing as it’s the only lodging in town, yes.”

Freddie laughed and Roger smiled sheepishly, thinking of something to say when you put your hand on his arm.

“Hold on a second, I gotta grab our ride,” you said quickly before heading towards the tables in the back.

Freddie and Roger shared a confused look, having assumed that the two of you would call a cab. You were walking back only twenty seconds later, slipping on your fur coat.

Roger gasped softly and gripped Freddie’s arm, “Fuck Fred, I’m in love.”

Freddie laughed, but his surprise-widened eyes were on the coat too, “With her or the coat?”

“Both,” he whispered back as you came up next to them, joined by a man and woman.

“Okay, quick introductions,” you said, realizing that you were standing halfway obstructing the doors. “Freddie, Roger, this is Chay and Martie. Technically Chay’s my family’s driver, but they’re both more like my siblings that I drag along to things like these. Chay and Martie, this is Freddie and Roger, of the band.”

“Yes, we assumed,” Martie said with a laugh, shaking Freddie’s hand first and then switching with her husband.

“Looks like we should head outside,” Chay pointed out, and the five of you exited into the cool night air. “We loved the set, you all were fantastic. And by the way, she did not have to drag us here, we were rather excited to see you guys ourselves.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” Freddie said with a warm smile and it was infectious enough that everyone smiled as well.

“Well, shall we go bring ‘round the car, babe?” Martie asked, always good at keeping Chay from getting too distracted.

“Yes, right, nice to meet you,” Chay said, and they all did their goodbyes.

You turned to Freddie and Roger, “Guess I’ll be leaving in a minute. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk more, Freddie, I feel like we’d have a lot to talk about.”

“Me too dear,” Freddie said warmly. Then he gave you a pointed look, “But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”

You both knew what he meant, and by the looks of Roger’s flushed face, he did too although he pretended not to hear. It was hard to help the pleased smile that came to your face when you realized Roger must have talked about you to Freddie.

Freddie took a look at Roger and then said to both of you, “I’ll just go say goodbye to Kalaya then.”

He walked away and you took a couple steps toward Roger, until you were only about a foot apart. Roger wasn’t much taller than you, especially in your platforms, but from that distance you had to look up to look him in the eyes. You didn’t say anything, just looked at him and waited until he blushed again and looked down for a second, eyes landing on your coat.

“That coat looks great on you,” he rushed out, tucking a piece of hair behind his hair, which did nothing to calm him as it just reminded him of when you did earlier.

You looked down at your coat too, hands brushing over the soft, brown fur, “You like it?”

“Who wouldn’t?” he said quickly and you chuckled.

“You know Roger,” you stepped closer and put a hand on his arm. “I think we’d have a lot to talk about too. Probably have lots in common. You should call me sometime to figure out all what that is.”

With that, you reached into the inside pocket of your coat and pulled out one of your cards that you always kept handy ‘cause you never knew when a networking opportunity would present itself. You held the card up between your index and middle finger before reaching behind Roger and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. You let yourself linger that close to him and drank in his wide eyes, the way his mouth parted and how he seemed to be leaning down closer and closer to you.

“The car’s here y/n!” Kalaya called out to you, pulling both you and Roger out of the moment.

You looked at him once more, touching his arm again and then walking away. Throwing him a smile over your shoulder, you called, “See you later, pretty boy!”

Kalaya and you got into the back of the car and waved through the window to the four boys that were watching you leave. Once they were out of sight you turned to her.

“Good catch interrupting me and Roger then,” you told her.

“Always leave ‘em wanting more, right?” Kalaya said with a grin.

You laughed, “Right, exactly. By the way, things with Brian seemed to be going good.”

“They were, we had a lot of fun talking tonight. I think he likes me,” she said with a hopeful smile.

You nudged her, “I know he likes you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you all night.”

“Same with Roger and you,” she pointed out.

“Well, I know he likes me too,” you said with a smirk and the whole car laughed. “You know if I were the type of person to get embarrassed, that’d do it.”

_____

A week later, during a giant heat wave that left no one able to do anything but sit inside and swelter, Roger called you around 7:00pm. Because you were lying on your bed with a fan pointed directly at you and you had a phone right next to your bed, it only took one ring for you to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, y/n?” you could tell by his voice it was Roger, but you kept that to yourself.

“Yep, who’s this?” you asked pleasantly.

“Roger from, um, Queen,” he said hesitantly.

“Oh, Roger, hello! You don’t have to say ‘from Queen,’ you know, I remember you perfectly,” you told him, sitting up so you were leaning back on your arm. Before he could say something in response, you started again, “So how are you, how are you doing? Have you had any more shows?”

“Good, I’m great. We had two more shows last weekend further north and we’ll have more next week around town--”

“Oh really? I think Kalaya and I would really love to go to another show, we so enjoyed the last,” you interrupted.

“Brilliant, you should definitely come, both of you, I can get you the details,” he returned and you interjected with a quick thanks. “But, what about you? How are you?”

“Ugh I’d be better, but it’s just so hot today,” you complained, flopping back onto the mattress.

“Well what are you wearing?” Roger asked and you grinned.

“Oh, getting a little cheeky are we, pretty boy? Haven’t even gone out and you’re asking what I’m wearing?” you asked mock-incredulously just to make him flustered.

“No--no, I just meant like if you’re hot, like maybe,” Roger was babbling, trying to find the best way to explain what he meant. “Just if you’re wearing layers or something thick or something I just--”

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you,” you said with a giggle. “Let’s see, I’m wearing satin running shorts, that to be honest are too short to run in, and one of those little strappy halter crop tops, you know the kind?”

“Y-yeah,” was all Roger could muster.

“So nothing that’s making me hot. And I’m not even wearing a bra so that’s not making me uncomfortable,” you reasoned as if this were a reasonable conversation.

You could hear his breath quicken over the phone and there was a pause where neither of you said anything.

“Maybe I should just go nude.”

You knew what you were doing, practically torturing the poor boy, but he had been the one to bring up what you were wearing, and it was the truth. But if you were simply answering his question with no impure intentions you would’ve been a lot less descriptive.

Roger made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh and then that was it so you sat up and kept going, “That reminds me, I’ve just had an idea. Today seems like a write off because it’s too hot to function, but it’s supposed to be cooler tomorrow, are you doing anything?”

He cleared his throat before he answered, “Um, no, I’m not busy.”

“Great! Kalaya and I were going to go shopping but I guess she’s hanging out with Brian instead. You can come with me and offer advice,” you told him.

“You’d want my advice?” Roger asked, confused.

“Yeah, I’ve seen your clothes both onstage and off. You have great style, Roger,” you affirmed and he smiled at the praise.

“Thanks, so do you. Um, that sounds great,” he replied.

“Okay, do you know the boutique on the corner of 10th and Wilder?” Roger hummed yes. “Good, let’s meet there at 11:30?”

“Perfect, looking forward to it,” he said flirtily.

You smiled, “Me too. Well, I should probably go, Kalaya and I are going swimming tonight at my parents’ to make up for her flaking out tomorrow. I’d invite you along, but even though my parents are out of town, they’d definitely hear about their daughter skinny dipping with some random pretty boy they don’t know. See you tomorrow!”

“I… bye,” Roger said, sounding incredibly sad that he couldn’t stay on or go swimming.

You hung up and then immediately rushed to Kalaya’s room to tell her all about the conversation.

_____

When you walked into the boutique at 11:25am, the clerk, Ayan, waved to you, as you were a frequent patron of the store. You had probably already seen all that there was to see, but thought that Roger’s fresh eyes might see something you hadn’t given much thought to before. There were a couple other customers around, but it was a little slow for a Saturday morning so you went to chat with Ayan about any new arrivals while you waited for Roger to arrive.

They were explaining that the boutique had gotten some fur coats from an estate that were in impeccable condition. The boutique was one of your favorites because it stocked mainly independent designers, consignment, and didn’t turn up its nose at thrifted finds of luxury items. In fact, it was where you had gotten your fur coat a few years before from the estate of a well known West End actress from the forties.

“There’s this one really lovely coyote--” Ayan cut themself off, eyes widening as they looked towards the door. “Don’t look now, but some special type of pretty boy is just about to walk in.”

Thinking only one person could fit that description, you looked, smiling as Roger walked in, scanning the store for you.

“You looked!” Ayan whisper-yelled and you couldn’t help but laugh. The sound drew Roger’s eyes over to you and you waved before turning back to them.

“Don’t worry, he’s meeting me. See you in a while with loads to buy under your commission,” you told them, winking.

“That’s why you’re my favorite customer,” they joked and you chuckled as you walked away.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you said cheerfully as you reached him before leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. He kissed you back and when you pulled back his cheeks were the cute pink that you were getting used to seeing.

“Hey, nice shirt,” he complimented.

You looked down at yourself. You were wearing high waisted medium wash denim shorts and a Hendrix t-shirt tied to the side at your waist.

“Thanks, I got it at his concert I went to,” you explained, smoothing it out.

“Where’d you see him?” Roger asked curiously.

“Royal Albert Hall, in ‘69. Me and Kalaya went together, it was a great show,” you said, remembering how it felt to see him perform.

“No way, I went to that concert too!” Roger exclaimed and you laughed excitedly.

“I wonder if we saw each other at all,” you said, smiling at the thought.

“Uh-uh, I would’ve remembered you perfectly,” Roger told you with a bold smile and this time, you were the one that was flustered.

“Should we start? I’m counting on you to find whatever I’ve overlooked in this store,” you said, changing the subject as you turned towards a rack of clothes.

“Do you have anything specific that you need?” Roger asked distractedly as he flicked through the hangers.

“The only need I have is to have all the best things this store has to offer,” you said airily.

Roger laughed and turned to you, saying teasingly, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re spoilt?”

“They usually stop when I pay them not to,” you said straight-faced, but Roger’s laugh made you break and you laughed together, leaning closer until you were sharing the same air and you placed a hand on his arm to steady yourself.

You were just wearing sandals, so Roger was taller to you than the week before and you actually had to tilt your head up to make eye contact this close. Roger’s laughter-brightened eyes looked at your still smiling lips and you noticed, the shift in mood making your breath quicken and your heart race. Under your fingers, the warm skin of his arm made you want to feel that warmth all over, and you wondered how long it would be until you could.

Then another customer brushed by, mumbling an “excuse me” awkwardly and the two of you were pulled away from a moment yet again. Your hand dropped from his arm and he turned back to the rack. It wasn’t long before your chatter started up again, especially as Roger found things that he liked for you to try on.

When he had made his way through the entire store, he had six things for you. He would have had a lot more but most of what he liked you already had.

First up was a black mesh long sleeve shirt that Roger told you to try on underneath your band shirt. It was longer than your t-shirt and you tucked it into your shorts, so your midriff that was exposed by the gap in between your clothes was covered by the mesh.

You came out of the dressing room, holding your arms out for Roger to see and doing a twirl, smiling widely.

“Do you like it?” he asked, smiling to match.

You nodded enthusiastically, “You know, when I saw this weeks ago I had no idea how to style it, but I love this! Very punk, street fashion, I��m a woman of the people.”

“Oh my gosh, never mind, I’m not sure you deserve to wear that,” Roger reached out and grabbed the sleeve, acting like he was going to pull it off.

“Stop!” you said through laughter. “You’ll stretch it out!”

He let you go and you went back in to try on more. There ended up being two dresses that you didn’t like because of color for one and the sheer amount of ruffles for the other. Then a shirt you realized you had in another color at home and a skirt that was itchy. Finally, there was a denim shirt that you didn’t really like because it was so plain. But you put it on anyway, figuring you’d humor him.

It was medium wash, the same color as your shorts, and it had some flowers embroidered in colorful thread which you supposed were nice, but overall it looked blah.

You stepped out of the dressing room again and Roger saw your not-so-happy face.

“What’s wrong?”

You scrunched up your face, “Don’t like it, it looks weird.”

Roger rolled his eyes with a smile, “That’s because you’re wearing it wrong. C’mere.”

You stepped close to him and he said a soft “may I” to which you nodded. His long fingers unbuttoned the bottom two buttons of the shirt. Then he tied it in a knot, fixing the ends so they laid correctly. His fingers brushed your skin and though they were warm, the feeling made you shiver. Roger was moving his hands so delicately, precisely, and you felt a rush of want go through you.

“And since you’re wearing a t-shirt,” even more carefully, he undid the upper buttons, leaving only the middle two done. Then he turned you around to look in the mirror and immediately your mind was changed. The way Roger styled it emphasized your waist instead of hiding it and now the monotone look worked instead of looking drab.

“How do you feel about it now?” Roger asked with a proud little smile.

“I love it, thank you,” you said, looking at him through the mirror.

Roger stepped past you into the dressing room and grabbed the mesh shirt, “Well here are your two finds.”

He handed the shirt to you, but before he could return his hands to his sides, you grabbed one of them, sliding your fingers along his to his palm and feeling the calluses there from drumming.

Roger watched your hand on his and only looked up when you started talking.

“Did you see anything else you liked?”

“Oh, do you want more than these two things? I can look again,” Roger suggested.

You smiled softly, squeezing his hand, “No, I mean did you see anything you liked for yourself? So I can thank you for helping me with these.”

“You don’t have to,” Roger protested.

“I might be spoiled, but I like to do some spoiling myself. I want to get you something, and this shop is too good for nothing to catch your eye. Anything you liked, nothing’s too much,” you told him, thumb rubbing over the back of his hand.

“Anything?” Roger hesitated.

“Anything, Roger,” you said, using your free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. That seemed to reassure him.

“I did see this display with this really gorgeous…” he trailed off, still uncertain, looking down.

“Really gorgeous… what?” you prompted.

“… fur coat,” he looked up to see your reaction. You were beaming.

“That’s the one Ayan was telling me about, the coyote one, right? It is gorgeous, they'll be so happy that it’s gonna sell already!” you exclaimed, using your hold on his hand to pull him over to that part of the store.

Roger followed you, a little confused about what you said, but glad that you seemed so happy. You let go of Roger’s hand, set your clothes on the corner of a nearby table, and pulled the coat off the mannequin, handing it to Roger. He pulled it on carefully, pulling the sides so they were equal.

“Here,” you put your hands behind his neck and then collected the hair that had gotten trapped underneath the coat and moved it to where it should be. He smiled his thanks and you smiled back, before turning him around to face the mirror he was standing in front of.

You stepped a little to the side of him and watched him look at himself. He let out a little laugh, the kind that meant “damn, I didn’t think I’d look this good,” and you had to agree.

Then he turned back around to you, “Whaddya think?”

You looked him up and down, the desire you felt earlier only growing, “You look… hot.”

Roger was a little surprised at your outright statement, but that was nothing compared to the surprise he felt when you grabbed the lapels of the coat and used them to pull him to you, kissing him full on the lips without hesitation.

As shocked as he was at the spontaneity, kissing you was something he had been thinking about for a while, so he recovered quickly, kissing you back. He put one hand just above your waist and the other on one of your hands, keeping it there.

But before either of you could deepen the kiss, you heard the sound of heels clacking and pulled back. Roger’s lips followed yours, and you giggled, leaning back towards him. You only planned to give him another peck but his soft lips distracted you for another five seconds or so before you remembered what you were doing.

You pulled back, dropping your hands, except Roger kept the one he had been holding and linked his fingers with yours, smiling at you. He still looked clear-eyed and focused after the kiss, so you decided that you had to get him home quickly so you could remedy that.

“So I was thinking we should go ring up and then go to my place. To drop off my new clothes and… stuff,” you said, a bit of a suggestive emphasis on the last word.

“Let’s,” Roger said, picking your shirt up off the table.

The two of you ended up taking off your new finds, figuring it’d be too hot outside for a fur coat and denim shirt, and then headed to the checkout. Ayan was pleased, but not all too surprised that you were taking home the new fur, even if it was technically going to Roger’s home. Roger, to his credit, didn’t have any more trouble with you paying, but insisted that he carry back all the bags. You agreed with the stipulation that he would still hold your hand, which he did.

You only lived a ten minute walk away, and Roger had taken the underground, so you walked the way home. There was chatting along the way, but it was hard to get too deep into any one topic with the feeling of each other’s hands and the anticipation of what was to come distracting you.

Once you got to your building, you were ushered in by the doorman that tipped his hat and wished you both a good day. Then the lobby manager told you a package had arrived and gave you a little thin rectangular box the size of a book. Finally you got into the elevator and the attendant hit the button for the highest floor, yours.

“It’s from my parents,” you told Roger about the box.

“Are they still travelling?”

“Yeah, they should be in Barcelona right about now,” you replied.

“Must be beautiful there,” Roger mused and you hummed in agreement. Then the elevator dinged and the two of you got off, waving to the attendant as the doors closed. You unlocked one of the two doors that were in the hallway (the other was the stairs), and opened the door, ushering Roger in first since he was carrying things.

You took off your shoes to the right of the entryway, next to a pile of other shoes and Roger did the same. Then you grabbed the garment bag that held Roger’s fur coat and hung it on the coat stand. You also took the paper bag with your shirts and put it on your dining table with the package as Roger followed you the rest of the way into your apartment. As you walked about, putting things where they went, Roger was looking around at your place. You had a dining area that turned into a living room with giant floor to ceiling windows on the walls that looked out over the city. Roger was absorbed by trying to see if he could see his building from here when he heard you calling him.

It took him a minute to figure out where you were; there was a long hallway that led to many doors. But it turned out you were in the first off of the dining room which was the kitchen.

As he came into the room, you looked up at him with a smile, “Here, wash up, I cut us up some peaches, if you like them.”

“Love ‘em,” he replied sweetly as he headed to the sink.

“Do you want anything to drink? I have water, soda, tea…”

“Water’s great,” Roger answered and you got two glasses. “I was looking out the windows, you have quite the view.”

“We’ll have to eat this in my bedroom, you can see Hyde Park from there,” you told him and he grinned excitedly, grabbing the bowl of peaches and then walking behind you, nudging you forward with his knee and you laughed.

“Right so, what are all these doors then? Seems like an awful lot for one flat,” Roger teased and you chuckled.

So you pointed to each as you came to it, “Bathroom, office, guest bedroom that Kalaya uses as a closet, Kalaya’s bedroom with an ensuite, closet that also leads to my room--”

“Wait, like a walk-in closet? Oh I have to see this,” Roger said, heading for the door.

“Later, later, I promise,” you said, grabbing his sleeve to pull him back. “We still have the pièce de résistance, my bedroom.”

With that, you pushed open the door and nudged Roger to walk in. He did, eyes quickly taking in your four-poster bed, vanity, bookshelves, record player and collection, chaise lounge, and finally matching windows to the ones in the living room. He walked over to the chaise which was in front of the windows and set down the bowl on the little side table, looking out the windows. You set down the glasses and stood next to him.

“Do you spend a lot of time here?” he gestured to the chaise.

“Yeah, when I’m home alone. I’ll just sit and watch the city live its life for awhile. It’s like people-watching but on a bigger scale,” you explained and he nodded.

So Roger sat down on the chaise, back against the raised end and legs spread out in front of him. He smiled at you and patted the space between his legs. You sat there, your back against his front, but you tilted yourself to the side so you could face each other more easily.

Roger grabbed the peaches and the two of you fed each other slices as you watched the city. It was a quiet and lovely moment with a growing underpinning of desire as the juices dripped down your chins and you kissed away the excess. Once the peaches were gone, you turned more towards him, catching his lips with yours fully once again. The taste of peach lingered on both of your lips, and the kisses were just as sweet as the fruit, just as soft as its skin.

Bringing your hands to Roger’s face, you swiped your tongue along his lower lip, moving it inside when he opened his mouth. Roger made a soft sound and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer until your chests were flush. Your breaths pushed you even closer and the feeling was intoxicating, all your senses consumed by the warmth of the moment. You tried adjusting to straddle Roger’s legs, but the angle of the chaise wasn’t very easy for that, so you pulled back, laughing lightly.

Roger had been even further into the kiss than you were so he wasn’t exactly sure why you were laughing but smiled all the same. This time, you saw his unfocused eyes and the tilted grin on his face and felt very proud of your work. Standing up, you brought Roger with you, grabbing the belt loops of his jeans to pull him with you as you walked backward towards your bed. Then you spun him around, pulling open one side of the gauzy curtains that were draped over the frame of your bed, and pushing Roger onto the bed. He laughed as he landed, scooting back so you could get on as well, letting the curtain fall back to its original place.

The light filtering through the curtains was hazy and soft, painting both you and Roger in amber light. Roger sat so his back was against your pillows and you made your way up his body, straddling his hips. His hands tentatively rested on your thighs, but he looked around your room once more.

“If this wasn’t already obvious, I really like your-- your decor,” Roger’s voice faltered as you took off your shirt, leaving you only in your bra.

You smiled mischievously, “I thought you would, pretty boy.”

***

Then you reached for his shirt’s hem, pulling it over his head. It left his waves a bit of a mess, so you combed your fingers through his hair. He hummed and closed his eyes as you did. When you were done, you threaded your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and leaned in for another kiss. The two of you already had a rhythm of push and pull that made it easy to get lost in the kiss. Your free hand smoothed over the tan skin of Roger’s torso, sliding across his pecs and down to his waist, and you felt goosebumps erupt over his skin, smiling into the kiss.

Roger’s hands moved from your thighs, up your torso to your breasts, feeling your nipples harden through your bra and when you moaned as Roger thumbed them, he smiled as well. Your hands went down to Roger’s waistband and you unbuttoned his jeans, pulling down the zipper and starting to shift them down his body. But his hand over one of yours stopped you and you both pulled back from the kiss.

“Can I… eat you out first?” his request wasn’t what you were expecting, but the look of desire in his eyes and the slout pout of his lips sent a bolt of heat to your core and you nodded quickly, switching places with him.

He did take off his pants, tossing them aside, left only in his boxer-briefs. You could see his hard-on, but he was focused on you. Roger unbuttoned and unzipped your shorts, slower than you had his, and pushed them down your legs with your underwear.

Spreading your legs gently, Roger laid between them, turning his head to kiss up the inner thigh of your left leg. His mouth pressed wet kisses into the skin, making your tummy flip and just when he got to the top of that thigh, he switched to the other. Once he was done with both, he pressed kisses over your slit before dragging his tongue up through your folds. You let out a shaky breath as his tongue pressed on your clit, and you tangled your fingers in the hair at the crown of his head.

Roger formed his mouth around your clit and sucked softly, making you moan lowly. He pressed a kiss to your clit then looked up to you with wide eyes and asked, “Is that good?”

The way he asked wasn’t condescending like he already knew the answer, but more eager like he wanted to make sure it was.

So you hummed and nodded, “Yes, Roger, you’re so good, keep going.”

His mouth returned to your clit and he swirled his tongue around it, making you gasp out, “Oh-- yes, Roger, just like that, fuck.”

The praise made him even more set on making you feel good, so he brought a finger to your entrance, and pushed it in slowly. His mouth didn’t slow on your clit, but he was searching with his finger to find your g-spot, knowing he did when your legs twitched. Roger slipped in another finger with the first, immediately working on your g-spot and the feeling was so strong and so good that it was almost too much and your legs tried to close around him.

But Roger just used his free arm to hold you in place. He kept the same rhythm with his fingers and mouth and the pleasure within you just grew and grew. You could feel the tension in your lower stomach tightening with every brush of his fingers inside of you and every circle of his tongue on your clit.

“Oh, I’m close, Roger, fuck,” you managed to get out and Roger moaned against you, making your breathing uneven. “You’re such-- such a, fuck, a good, oh, such a good boy.”

Roger whined against you and you immediately came, the vibrations spreading hot pleasure all over your body as your back arched and you moaned loudly, tightening your grip in Roger’s hair. He kept going, wanting to make you feel as good as possible, partly because he couldn’t believe how hot it was to see you like that.

You were breathing like you had run a mile, but slowly coming down and you loosened your hold on Roger’s hair, combing through it again. Roger’s hum on your clit made you jump a little so you touched the side of his face to get him to stop; he propped himself on his elbows to look at you.

With a playful smileful you asked, “Did you like that, pretty boy?”

He just looked at you confusedly, so you explained, “Well you’re grinding into the mattress so I thought it must’ve been good.”

Roger’s eyes widened as he realized what he had been doing. He stopped, sitting up quickly.

“It’s okay. No need to be embarrassed,” you told him, sitting up and running a thumb over his pink cheek. “I’m glad you felt good too. Now, why don’t you let me make you feel even better, huh?”

He nodded and swallowed, “Yeah.”

You switched spots with him and leaned down for a kiss, running your tongue into Roger’s parted mouth and getting a taste of yourself in return. Reaching behind you, you undid your bra and took it off. Roger’s hands went to your breasts and you bit his lip when he pinched your nipples, moaning together.

You kissed from his lips to his jaw then down his neck, nipping again on his pulse point and where his neck met his shoulder. As you made your way down his chest, you pressed soft kisses basically wherever you could reach, and Roger squirmed a little underneath you, bright blue eyes watching your actions closely. A few kisses to his tummy and above his waistband and then you took off his underwear with his help, his cock hard and flushed red against his stomach.

Settled on your knees between his legs, and putting one hand on his thigh to steady yourself, you grabbed his dick in your other hand and bent down, pressing kisses along the shaft and then peppering them on the head. Roger moaned softly and you started pumping him and tongued his slit.

You sucked on his head, using your tongue to swirl around it and he groaned, looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes. Pulling off, you pressed a couple more kisses to this head and stroked him, “Such a pretty boy and such a pretty cock.”

Roger’s hips bucked and you hid your smile by going down on him again, not giving him any break. You worked your mouth down along with your hand, building a rhythm that was making precum bead on his head, which you happily sucked off.

Looking up at Roger, you saw that his head was tossed back, eyes closed with his lip between his teeth. You lifted your hand from his thigh up, brushing your thumb along his lower lip so he would let it go. As he did, he looked at you, tilting his head forward. His pupils were blown and he looked desperate as he watched you. You got an idea and a shiver ran across your body. You stuck your first two fingers out and slowly pushed them into his mouth, Roger’s lips immediately closing around them and starting to suck.

Both of you moaned; him around your fingers and you around his cock, making his hips buck again. You took him deeper in your mouth, as deep as you could go, gagging twice around his cock before pulling off again. You let the excess spit in your mouth fall onto his dick and used your hand to spread it around, jerking him off faster than before.

Roger was watching you intently, moaning whenever you twisted your wrist. You licked your lips and swallowed, “Your lips look so good around my fingers, Roger. You’re such a pretty boy, all desperate for me.”

He tried to say something that you could barely make out as “please.”

“Shhh, I got you. Do you wanna be a good boy and come for me?” you asked sweetly, lowering your head back towards his cock.

Roger nodded, keeping your fingers in his mouth, so you brought his head back into your mouth and sucked in time with your hand. You could tell Roger was getting close with the way his hips were shifting and you could feel the vibrations of his moans on your fingers stronger. His thighs were tensing so you pulled your fingers from his mouth, gripping his thigh with your wet fingers, and the slight dig of your nails into his skin set him off as he warned you hoarsely, “I’m gonna come-- fuck.”

He came as you jacked his dick off into your mouth, swallowing his cum as quickly as you could. His high moans of your name ignited a burn between your thighs but you focused on the task at hand. You pulled off, stroking him slowly now and using your tongue to lick any leftover spots of cum off his head. As his breath evened, you pressed one more kiss to his head and then sat up and moved to lay next to him.

***

Roger turned towards you and you kissed him quickly. You tangled one leg between his and started brushing his hair away from his still flushed face. One of his hands rested on your waist, tapping out a simple rhythm.

“You’re-- you’re good at that,” he told you with a little smile.

“Thanks, so are you, pretty boy,” you said, smiling when he flushed. “Are you ever not going to blush when I call you that?”

He looked away, then looked back, an unbelieving laugh escaping him, “Probably not.”

“Good,” you laughed, bringing him in for another kiss.

_

Later, after cleaning up, as the two of you were redressing, Roger remembered that he had yet to see your closet.

“You promised,” he reminded teasingly.

“I remember,” you rolled your eyes, but opened the door and led him in. He stepped in slowly, taking in every inch of very organized racks of clothes, shoes, and accessories with his eyes, which was a lot of inches.

“This closet is literally the size of my living room. My clothes would only fill one rack. Oh, I want this amount of nice clothes,” Roger said wistfully, running his hands across the racks.

“You know, I could help with that, for a small price,” you said with a smile.

“Are you thinking… sex? Because I’m already feeling like your sugar baby with the coat immediately turning into us hooking up,” Roger said and you could not tell if he was joking.

A look of amused shock took over your face as your eyes went wide and your jaw dropped, “I was thinking more like you keep helping me with my own shopping so I focus on finding the best things instead of buying everything in the store, thank you very much.”

“Oh,” Roger said with a sheepish smile.

“And excuse you, ‘immediately turning into us hooking up?’ it’s not like I jumped you in the store!” you said, pushing his shoulder.

“Well, you kind of did jump me,” he countered, stepping in front of you and placing his hands on your waist. You scoffed, not touching him. So he took your hands and put them on his shoulders, placing his back on your waist. You pretended to be mad and looked away, not making any move to separate yourself from him.

Roger leaned closer, only a few inches from your face, “I was gonna say that I wouldn't mind being your sugar baby, it’s a pretty sweet deal.”

“Shut up,” you said with a laugh, looking at him, and he did. “It’s a sweet deal for you because you get stuff and sex. I can get sex from anyone, the only payment worth it from you is your sense of style.”

“Well then I’ll happily pay with that,” Roger nodded. He smiled and you rolled your eyes at his absurdity, but let him press his lips to yours in a kiss that made up for it.

★★★

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#so they hook up instead of sleeping together bc I couldn't do 11k I just couldn't #anyway sub!rog is the best and I had so much fun writing him #hope y'all enjoy!!!! #queen #roger taylor #fic #oneshot #the best things ain't free #queenmylovely #smut #roger taylor x reader #queen x reader #roger meddows taylor #roger meddows taylor x reader #rog #sub!rog