#Baby Girl Bangles

[bhindijewelers]

What are the Top 5 Gold Gift Ideas for Babies?

Babies bring an altogether new feeling in a person’s life. When your loved one has a baby, you would love to show your love too with the best and most valuable gifts.

#Baby Gold Bracelets #Indian Gold Bracelets #Baby Boy Gold Bangles #Baby Boy Kada #Baby Girl Bangles #Indian Jewelry for child

[koqabear]

chulo

♫: Chulo Pt. 2, Bad Gyal

"Your hermit of a roommate finally decides that he’s had enough of your attitude. And of your constant assumptions that he’s never felt the touch of a woman. "

taehyun x fem!reader

Genre: pwp, roommates au, smut, enemies to lovers if you squint, ft. wingman jjun 

Word count 11.4K

warnings: barely edited and barely any plot mwah, use of drugs (weed) and alcohol; mentions of the mc getting drunk (not during any of the smut), jealousy

smut warnings: sub!mc, mean dom!tyun, strength kink !! bratty mc and brat tamer tyun, high sex, shotgunning, degradation, praise, pain kink, spanking, hair pulling, thigh riding, begging, pet names/name calling (slut, baby, princess, pretty/good girl, etc.) manhandling, brief choking, mentions of safeword (it’s not used though), brief marking, biting, oral, (f. rec), face sitting, tyun is a literal pussy fiend. fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, tyun is thick and big yawnnn what else is new, dumbification maybe, slight humiliation (kink? maybe.),breast play, scratching, possessiveness, creampie (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

(lmk if i should add anything lmao)

Notes: just leaving this here to remind u guys that i am the least sane solomon on this app. i actually only wrote this for myself but congrats u all get to read it too. say thank youuu! 

Taehyun was, for lack of a better word, a total goody-two-shoes; always holed up in his room studying, the only times he ever left home being for work, school, or to go run an errand. He was also your beloved roommate. 

It was meant to be, really; jumping blindly at the offer your mutual friend Yeonjun offhandedly mentioned, commenting about how his friend was struggling to find someone in order to split rent— “his old roommate moved out, now he’s going broke trying to afford the place on his own.” 

And you, in all your bright-eyed and enthusiastic glory, didn’t hesitate to ask for details; one long interrogation later, and you found yourself getting interviewed by the man himself— how you were able to snatch the title of Taehyun’s new roommate is something you’re still unsure of. 

Because as far as you’re aware, the two of you couldn’t be any more different.

“You’re going out again?” you hear Taehyun call out from the kitchen, the said man able to hear you approaching from the hallway from the jingling of your jewelry— something he was always on your ass for, never failing to comment how you’re like a walking tambourine with that stupid quirk to his lips— the sound of his voice teeming with judgment only brought about a roll of your eyes, trudging over to the kitchen to send him a harsh glare; you made a point of placing your bangle clad wrists on your hips, the action bringing about another soft jingling. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, raising a brow expectantly; Taehyun seems unfazed by your sudden confrontation, not a single muscle twitching at your accusatory tone— his back remains turned to you, leaning on the kitchen counter leisurely while he scrolls on his phone— at the sound of your persistent hmm? He peeks over his shoulder to meet eyes with you. 

“You were out till three yesterday,” he says nonchalantly, only turning so he can properly look at you whilst keeping an eye on the stove, “Is partying all you do?”

You can tell he’s trying to provoke you— but you know better than to fall for it and get angry, already victim to his constant mocking and teasing to realize that he seems to enjoy getting a rise out of you— so you simply roll your eyes and scoff, crossing your arms over your chest before you’re turning on your heel and beelining back to the door. 

“You know damn well…” you mutter to yourself, sneering at the chuckles you’re able to pick up on, “It’s none of your business anyway!” 

“Yeah, it kinda is!” Taehyun retorts, but you’re too busy slipping on your shoes and your jacket to voice out a rebuttal— swinging your purse over your shoulder, you’re able to catch his final comment right as you’re slipping out the door; “I’m not making the hangover soup again!” 

“Fuck you and your soup!” 

You shut the door behind you before Taehyun can get a word out. 

   ☆☆☆

“How are you two still living together?” 

The natural light that streams in through the windows and the sound of Yeonjun’s raspy voice is enough to have you wincing with pain and ducking your head down; hot steam from your bowl soothes your skin and puffy eyes, your body still sore from the night before as you sink into the chair with a tired sigh. 

“Because as insufferable as she is, she still pays her share of the rent,” Taehyun mutters bitterly, setting down a second bowl of soup before your mutual friend, pulling out the chair across from your as he goes to sit with crossed arms, “aren’t you gonna eat? You were begging me for this earlier.” Your lips automatically go to form a scowl, but your hand still goes to reach for your spoon— because as much as you hated feeding into Taehyun’s big fat ego, you couldn’t deny that he makes some killer hangover soup; you could already feel the tension easing from your muscles from the first bite—- your eyes remained glued to the table, knowing better than to glance back up and catch the stupid triumphant look Taehyun never bothers to hide. 

“Fucking insufferable,” you mumble between bites, glancing at the way Yeonjun seems to catch onto your words, shoulder shaking with the soft laugh he huffs out. 

“Me?” Taehyun gawks, leaning forward as though to make sure he was hearing things right; neither of you respond, which only serves to make him more irked.

“As far as I’m aware, I’m the one that has to deal with you— always coming back late and drunk as hell—” Taehyun’s pointed glare jumps over to Yeonjun, who simply flinches and averts his gaze down to the table, “you said you’d be watching over her last night.”

“I’m not a baby,” you butt in, ignoring Taehyun’s look of disbelief, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“And yet you’re always asking me to take care of you.” 

You shrug dismissively, the last bit of your energy spent as you find yourself no longer interested in arguing; staring down at your bowl, you found that you were so busy trying to ignore Taehyun’s piercing glare that you ended up scarfing down your soup in a haste— standing abruptly, you go to place your dishes in the dishwasher before you’re spinning around and sending Taehyun a bright, innocent smile. 

“It’s not my fault you always jump to come help me out,” you coo, wincing at the soreness of your body and the sharp ache in your head as you make your way over to him, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks together, leaning in close to him even as he begins to fuss and swat at your hands angrily, “and you’re just soooo caring and sweet with me— it’s in your nature, don’t lie.” 

“It gets tiring listening to you complain around the house,” Taehyun sneers grabbing your wrists firmly and pulling your hands off his face swiftly— the sudden strength catches you off guard, hands falling dumbly at your sides as you can only stare at Taehyun as he continues, cold and aloof as always, “It’s the only way I can get you to shut up.”

“Sureee… sure,” you mumble offhandedly, clearly unimpressed by his excuse as you saunter off to the living room instead, making yourself comfortable on the couch before you’re yelling back to the kitchen one last time. 

“Jjunie,” you call, waiting for the muffled hmm? of the said man before you continue, “are we still down for the part next Saturday? Jake’s place?”

“Oh… uhhhm,” he pauses, and you’re sure Taehyun is probably sending him a deadly glare right now, “sure, if you want to.” 

“Of course I want to,” you grin, pulling out your phone to look up Jake’s instagram page, scrolling through his feed to get a refresher of what he looks like, the satisfaction of what you see seeping into your voice as you speak, “Partying’s all I do.”

You swear you hear a scoff; it only serves to make you anticipate the weekend a little more. 

   ☆☆☆

“You’re leaving like that?” 

Your body is jolting in surprise, the mascara wand in your hand clattering on your desk as you curse in shock— Taehyun stands in your now opened doorway, unable to sense his presence due to the focus you were putting in to make sure your makeup came out perfect— meeting his gaze through the mirror, you frown, nose scrunching in distaste at the way he clearly judges you; your hand reaches for your phone, turning down the music you were playing in order to actually hear him properly. 

“Don’t you know how to knock?” 

“I tried. I’ve been trying. For the past three minutes,” Taehyun says, ignoring your complaints as he makes his way into your room, coming up behind you as he scans your setup— he ignores the way you continue to glare at him harshly, eyes running slowly over the mess you’ve made before he’s leaning down and reaching across the vanity; you’re pressed back against the chair and left to watch as his arm obscures your vision, hoping he didn’t pick up on the way your eyes glued onto his muscles that bulged slightly as he reached for the charger plugged into the far outlet. 

“You never gave this back,” Taehyun sighs, and before you can refute that you were just about to, he gives you a pointed look with that raised brow of his. “It’s been three days.”

“My bad,” is all you can bring yourself to say, picking up your mascara wand again as you go back to applying your makeup carefully— but it’s hard to concentrate, especially with the way Taehyun continues to linger behind you, able to feel his warmth due to how close he is— and you glance over your shoulder, scanning him up and down before you’re turning back to your vanity, “is there something else I can help you with?” 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What, the whole why are you dressed like that thing? Are you seriously expecting an answer to that?” you ask, putting your mascara away as you move to your lips instead, “It’s nothing new, I don’t know why you’re so fixated on that right now.”

“Nothing new?” Taehyun repeats, and through the reflection of the mirror, you’re able to catch the way he frowns in disbelief and scans you once more. “You never dress like this for house parties.” 

“Hmm,” you hum softly, doing your final touch ups before you’re standing abruptly, spinning around to face Taehyun with a pout, “it’s the skirt right? It’s throwing the whole thing off.” 

Taehyun watches as you push past him and head straight to your closet; glancing over your shoulder and nodding at him to sit on your bed, turning back around before you can catch the way he hesitantly follows your command— and you’re turning back around with three more garments in your hand, each option smaller than the one before— the sight has his brows jumping briefly. 

“I was thinking this one at first— I think the darker denim is cuter though, like this one,” you press each skirt to your waist, peeking at yourself in your body length mirror before you switch to the next option; again, you’re pouting and shaking your head, throwing the first two options aside before you’re turning around to show Taehyun the last option proudly. 

“But actually, I think this one is the one— look at the pockets, they’re sooo cute,” you smile, flipping the garment over to show him— and indeed, they’re blinged out and sparkly, just like the rest of you; you hold it against your waist, checking yourself out in the mirror with satisfaction. 

“That— that barely covers you.”

“So?” you effortlessly reply, tilting your head and meeting Taehyun’s gaze through the mirror; dramatically, you gasp, mouth falling open and brows rising as you proceed to blatantly mock him, “Oh, is this too scandalous for you? Sorry, I forget you’re a bit more… reserved. It’s okay, you don’t have to stay in here if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You’re biting your tongue as you listen to Taehyun sputter behind you in confusion; through the corner of your eye, you’re able to watch as his brows knit together, leaning forward and tilting his head as he struggles to find a response. 

“Where the hell did you get that from?”

“Oh,” you trail off, tsking awkwardly and amping up your dramatics as you pause— Looking over your shoulder, you meet Taehyun’s prying gaze, returning it with a faux apologetic smile. “Y’knoww… Yeonjun told me. About you.”

If anything, that only serves to confuse Taehyun even more— and worry him, if the way he stares off into space, visibly deep in thought, serves as any indicator. 

“What did he tell you,” Taehyun mutters, the question more directed to himself as he racks his mind for possible answers— but you beat him to it, continuing your efforts to keep a poker face as you shrug innocently. 

“Just… about you. Relationships, experience…” and you’re turning your back to him, muttering the last part and taking in the way Taehyun leans forward even more to catch what slips out your mouth, “or, lack thereof.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“We were talking about our own stuff and you kinda just came up in the conversation randomly!” you say defensively, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of! It’s okay to shy away from… this lifestyle, or whatever you like to call it— there’s nothing wrong with being your little introverted self, tyunnie.” 

You’re provoking him— you’re setting up quite the bait, and it’s working, because Taehyun can only find himself able to gawk at you in disbelief, mouth parted slightly in wonder of it all— your cute nickname flies over his head in favor of processing the fact that you basically just called him a homebody. A virgin. 

Just when Taehyun thinks he’s found the words to respond to such an outlandish accusation, your phone dings with a notification— you’re all but bouncing over to it excitedly, hovering over the device and letting out a soft ah! In excitement— sending Taehyun a pleading smile, he’s already able to guess what you’ll ask of him. 

“Junie’s here! Can you please please please go answer the door for me? I need to change.” you watch Taehyun hesitate for a moment; he then nods reluctantly, getting up slowly before he trudges out of your room, your words still bouncing around the walls of his mind as you shut the door and yell out a cute thank you! As you do. 

Taehyun opens the front door to find an equally flashy Yeonjun on the other side— the sight of his over the top outfit is enough to catch Taehyun off guard and have all his thoughts tumbling out of his mouth without restraint. 

“Did you tell her I was a virgin?”

Yeonjun’s brows jump up in disbelief— he’s halting mid step through the doorway, sending Taehyun a confused look before he steps inside and closes the door behind him— looking at his friend for further explanation, Yeonjun is only met with Taehyun crossing his arms with an expectant look. 

“Dude. What the hell are you on about.”

“Why is ___ acting like I’m a total prude— saying you told her I was inexperienced,” Taehyun isn’t exactly sure why tonight’s comment was what set him off— you’ve been like this for as long as he could remember, always portraying Taehyun as someone pure, innocent, and stuck-up— he always thought you were joking, but as it turns out, that might not be the case. 

“Oh— she’s probably not being serious, don’t worry,” Yeonjun shrugs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, craning his neck to try and get a glance down the hallway, seeing if you’re finally ready— you’re nowhere to be seen, and Yeonjun sighs impatiently.

“Okay, but what did you say to her?” Taehyun presses on, eyes narrowing at the sight of Yeonjun pressing his lips together hesitantly, “Yeonjun.”

“I just said that it’s… rare to ever see you get interested in anyone,” Yeonjun pouts, but Taehyun can tell that’s not the full truth— Yeonjun caves in after a moment, gulping softly and lowering his voice to nothing but a murmur, “and that she should stop flirting with you, cause you wouldn’t even know how to handle all that.”

“You what?!”

“Yeonjunnie, what do you think?” your voice is sweet and lilted as you finally come out of your room, interrupting Taehyun’s heated outburst with your jingling jewelry— the two men are turning over to you, Taehyun too busy taking in your appearance to notice Yeonjun sighing in relief at your well-timed interruption. 

“So?” you ask, doing a cute spin that has Taehyun’s eyes widening and his hands clenching— yeah, that skirt was practically a belt, your pretty skin lotioned up and shining under the lights, the spin only allowing him to get a perfect whiff of your addicting scent, “Y’think I can get Jake’s attention with this?”

The name has Taehyun frowning before he can even process it— behind him, Yeonjun whistles at your dolled-up self, doing a once over as he proceeds to hype you up. 

“Are you kidding? I’m gonna have to fend you off from everyone in that place,” he says, reaching out for your hand and grinning at the way you giggle and take it, your fingers interlacing naturally, “he’s gonna be all over you.” 

“Jake? You can’t actually be attracted to that douchebag,” Taehyun frowns, watching the way your expression immediately drops at his comment.

“I am, actually. It’s nothing serious, just a hook up at most,” you roll your eyes, voice turning undeniably bitter as you bend down to slip on your shoes, the sight of your panties peeking out from the skirt, tucked neatly between your thighs not lost on Taehyun, “Plus, I heard he really knows how to treat a woman.”

Taehyun’s gaze snaps up to meet Yeonjun’s; his glare is lethal enough to kill, and the recipient can only shrug sheepishly in return. 

“Sleep well Taehyun,” you remark, clearly poking fun at the fact that Taehyun usually sleeps much earlier than you, never failing to call him a grandpa for it, (which is ridiculous, considering that you barely sleep.) “You don’t have to worry about me— probably won’t be home tonight.”

You’re closing the door and dragging Yeonjun with you before Taehyun can respond, probably off to pregame outside while you wait for your uber; he’s left staring at the spot you just stood at, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in anger— a minute goes by, and something decidedly shifts within Taehyun. 

He’s gotta do something about this image you have of him. He should probably fix that attitude of yours too, while he’s at it. 

   ☆☆☆

“Where the hell is he?” it’s something you seem to have asked for the umpteenth time tonight, leaning against the wall and pouting at your friend while you stand in line for the bathroom— you’ve been at the party for a solid hour now, and you still have yet to see Jake around. And to think, he was the one who invited you to his place in the first place. How rude. 

“I told you not to give him a chance!” Yeonjun yells, leaning in closer so you can actually hear him through the booming music and the crowds of people singing along to whatever’s blasting from the living room, “this party fucking sucks, too.”

You can only exaggerate your pout further with a petulant humph. Your body slouches and you can already feel your heart getting heavy with disappointment, unable to refute the way your best friend proceeds to mutter something about Jake probably being too busy sucking off another girl’s face in a random room of the house. 

“You never gave in to his advances— you said he was a man-whore,” Yeonjun continues to recall, wincing at the sight of two random girls rushing past him and to the front of the line, carrying their clearly shit-faced friend and screaming about how she’s going to throw up all over— the two of you cringe, exchanging a glance and mutually agreeing that you two can hold it a little more; you slowly trudge your way back to where everyone else is. “What changed? Why’d you give in?” 

You scoff, lips upturned with distaste as you send your friend a glare— the wound still as fresh as ever, voice dripping with venom as you lean close to Yeonjun’s ear so he can actually hear you. 

“Junnie, you know why!” you whine, smacking his shoulder and ignoring the way he childishly yelps, “I’ve officially decided to move on— I can’t stand flirting with a brick wall anymore, I need to… need to…” 

You’re trailing off, gaze wandering off to a foreign point, Yeonjun’s brows furrowing before he begins to follow your line of sight— and just like you, Yeonjun remains speechless, the unexpected sight leaving your jaws gaping. 

“This can’t be real.” 

But it is. The way Taehyun is currently leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand and coy smile on his face as he talks to some random girl, is very real. You can recognize that man anywhere— even in this crowded room of dancing and jumping bodies, your eyes still remain glued to him. 

But, the more you look at him, the more you realize something— he looks… different. It’s subtle, but it’s still there; the mischievous glint in his eyes, his relaxed posture and the hair that falls into his eyes, he has a confident, sly air to him you’ve never seen before— the girl leans up on her tippy-toes to whisper something in his ear, a hand on his shoulder to get stabilized, and the two laugh; your mind is too preoccupied with the way her hand lingers, the way Taehyun tilts his head in amusement, to realize the frown that has pulled your face together. 

Taehyun brings the can of beer in his hand to his lips— he turns his head, and his eyes find yours effortlessly. 

“He actually came,” Yeonjun awes beside you, and that’s enough to have your head whipping toward him, trying to ignore the way your face burns at the sudden eye contact, still able to feel his eyes linger on you for a moment after. 

“What are you talking about? Did you give him the address?” you say, your voice whiny as you speak, surprised to find that you’re not exactly sure how to feel at his sudden appearance— torn between the sudden interest he piqued within you and the disappointment that festeres in your stomach, knowing that now that Taehyun is here, you won’t think twice to give anyone else any attention. 

“Hmm? No, he was invited,” Yeonjun says, glancing back to where Taehyun is, looking back to find your confused expression, “him and Jake go way back.”

You’re kidding. 

“Nope. Those two were fucking menaces,” Yeonjun laughs— it seems as though the words must’ve slipped out of your mouth, the shock painted on your face more amusing to your friend than anything, “they used to host the craziest parties— now that I think about it though, that was probably all Taehyun’s work.”

“Wait… don’t tell me that…” you glance over to where Taehyun remains, then glance back at Yeonjun, reading his expression carefully and gasping, “was Jake Taehyun’s old roommate?”

Yeonjun nods, as though the news wasn’t earth-shattering to you. 

“After a while, I guess Taehyun just didn’t feel like keeping up with the fast life… I don’t blame him though.” Yeonjun shrugs, his eyes beginning to drift behind you, drawing you to turn around at the sound of the crowd on the dance floor cheering and yelling obnoxiously— and sure enough, Jake can be seen in the middle of a circle, flashlights of phone cameras recording lighting him up clear as day— you wince at the sight of a random girl dancing up on him, the sight leaving you to shudder and wonder why you were even gonna give him the time of day.

Ah, right.

“I can’t believe I was about to rebound on him with an old friend,” you breathe out, bristling at the sound of Yeonjun’s laughter, whipping your head around to send him a harsh glare, “and you were going to let me!” 

Yeonjun raises his hands up defensively. 

“Hey, I was just being a good friend,” he says, but with the way he smiles mischievously, you don’t buy it a bit. “I support women’s wrongs, or whatever.” 

“You prick,” you mutter miserably, gaze inevitably wandering back to where Taehyun remains; frowning at them now being visibly closer, Taehyun’s hand resting leisurely on the girl’s waist as they talk. 

And again, his eyes flicker back to meet yours.

“You know, he’s only here for you,” Yeonjun murmurs in your ear, watching your interactions like a spectacle, “he doesn’t care about that girl— probably just trying to get you jealous.”

“Stop lying,” you say, but your voice is weak and your brain is susceptible to his words; you tell him to shut up, but the way you perk up with interest is saying otherwise. 

“If I’m lying, then why is he giving you fuck me eyes?” 

As if on queue, Taehyun glances back again— his gaze is dark and inviting, scanning you slowly before he turns back to the unknown girl— and his eyes soften; they’re less intense, aloof, clearly uninterested. The final piece of your resolve crumbles to pieces.

“I think I’m about to do something stupid,” you say sheepishly, eyes still glued on the man across the room; beside you, Yeonjun chuckles.

“Do it,” he says, giving your back an encouraging push, sending you stumbling forward, “I support it.”

You don’t bother looking back at your friend for one last word of reassurance— your feet have begun to take you before you could even stop and think. 

You’re pushing through bodies; it’s crowded and hot and sweaty, cringing and jumping at the feeling of hands brushing against your bare skin— whether it be intentional or not, you try not to dwell on it, honed in on your goal instead.

It takes a moment for you to finally find yourself on the other side of the crowd— but you’ve lost Taehyun, eyes darting back to where he was just a second ago, frowning and scanning the area for the familiar man— he’s nowhere to be found. 

You’ve begun to wander around— exploring the layout carefully, eventually abandoning the living room and making your way into the kitchen instead— and like before, you’re unable to find Taehyun, growing increasingly frustrated the longer it takes to find him; it isn’t until you’re making your way to the back porch that you finally spot a familiar, broad frame leaning against the railing. 

“Taehyun,” you call out, the said man not flinching at the sound of his name; his back remains turned to you, but he listens to the sound of your nearing footsteps and your jingling jewelry, the scent of your perfume following soon after; you’re standing behind him, hands undoubtedly on your hips and a pout on your face as you speak. “What are you doing here?” 

He huffs out a soft chuckle— his relaxed, slouched posture only serves to annoy you, going to stand next to him so you can get a good look at his face— you try to hide the shock that’s blooming on your face, but then again, you’ve never been good at hiding your emotions. 

Taehyun cracks a small, lopsided smile; your eyes are wide and you seem like a deer caught in headlights, watching with fascination as Taehyun continues his attempts to light up the joint caught in his lips— your mouth is falling open to say something, but you’re closing it immediately after; this proceeds to repeat for a few seconds more, only able to find your words once you’ve watched Taehyun take a relaxed, languid hit. 

“You… you smoke?” you ask softly, unsure of what else to say as you stand staring at Taehyun dumbly— he raises a brow in amusement, pulling the joint away from his lips and turning to blow the smoke out into the night— it’s a slow, deep sigh, and you’re left in awe as you watch the smoke fall from his parted lips and disappear into the air; his eyes fall back on you, and you gulp. 

“Yeah?” he says casually, turning so that he’s leaning his side against the railing, tilting his head and drinking up your every reaction eagerly. “What about it?” 

Now that you’re before him, you’re finally able to get a proper look at Taehyun— a good look, unable to stop your eyes from wandering; he’s wearing that usual baggy tee and cargo pants combo that he’s so fond of, but even so, everything just feels so different; his undercut is styled cleanly, his nimble fingers glint with the aid of silver rings, a chain hanging from his neck to match— his tan skin glows under the single light placed on the porch and fuck, has he always smelled this good?

“Nothing, it’s just—” you stop yourself, biting your lip and thinking carefully over what to say; Taehyun quirks up a brow curiously, bringing his hand back up to his lips, taking another slow drag from the joint, watching the end light up before he pulls away— and you huff, hands gesturing hopelessly as you find yourself unable to properly articulate your thoughts, not when he’s staring at you so intensely, “Where did all… this, come from?”

Taehyun doesn’t answer; he simply stares at you with amused eyes. So, you continue.

“You’re always judging me for going to parties, now you’re here? And—” you stammer, pointing at the joint between his fingers in confusion, “I’ve always asked if you wanted to smoke together, and you always said no.” 

Gently, your voice trails off— and suddenly, any confidence you had when you initially approached Taehyun is wilting, your gaze averting as you begin to recount his behavior, his words, everything.

“Do you hate me or something?” 

Your words are accusatory and petulant; the question is meant to be lighthearted, but Taehyun can tell there is some genuineness to it. 

It’s silent; you’re tense. Your gaze remains glued to some distant irrelevant point, finding yourself too nervous to look up at Taehyun’s reaction to your sudden outburst— but nothing happens. Seconds feel like hours, and after what feels like eternity, a hand is gently reaching to tilt your chin up; your gaze meets Taehyun’s, and he smiles— his other hand slowly comes up your face, the joint centimeters away from your lips. 

“Wanna hit?”

His evasion to your question is not lost on you. Bitterly, you chuckle, reaching up to take the joint from him— but he’s pulling it away from you before you can grab it, tutting softly and placing it back at your lips; you reach for it again, but this time, Taehyun grabs your wrist to stop you. He taps the joint against your lips and raises his brows expectantly— what he’s asking of you finally clicks in your mind; your lips part, and he holds the joint for you as you inhale. 

Taehyun watches you with dark, intent eyes— as though analyzing every move you make, from the way you lean your head forward to the way your eyes flicker up nervously to look up at him— your face is oddly innocent and shy, feeling a lot smaller under the man’s gaze as you finally pull away; you’re exhaling slowly, your mouth slightly bitter from the taste as your swallow nervously. 

“So? Are you just gonna ignore all my questions?” you ask softly, suddenly feeling a lot weaker as you lean on the railing, crossing your arms and watching Taehyun bring the joint back to his lips— the edges of his mouth quirk up at the sticky feeling of your lip gloss that lingers on it. 

“Well… first of all… I’ve been like this, you just met me during the time I decided to back off and change my ways,” Taehyun jokes, the joint still caught between his lips as he speaks, hanging precariously, “and second of all, I definitely don’t hate you.” 

“You don’t?” you ask hopefully, doe eyes lighting up and your hand subconsciously reaching out to ask for the joint; he chuckles and hands it to you, shaking his head and watching you take a long hit with a raised brow.

“No. You’re just annoying,” he mutters, watching the way you bristle with annoyance, “what? It’s true. You drive me crazy, always forcing me to take care of your reckless ass.”

“Seriously? I literally don’t do anything to you— you’re the one who always decides to get involved,” you sneer, your snarky attitude finally back as you glare at an unfazed Taehyun; your eyes run over his appearance once more, unable to control your childish mouth as you continue, “even now— you come here out of nowhere and suddenly you’re all badass.”

“Are you trying to prove me wrong? You gonna go find some girl to bring back to the apartment?” you pout at him, taking one last hit from the joint and smiling wickedly, “I wouldn’t mind if you did, there won’t be anyone else home anyway— I have the same plans as you tonight, remember?” 

Your back is suddenly pressed against the railing; Taehyun is close, he’s pressing against you, caging you in and looking down at you with a gaze that makes you feel small— your skin warms and your eyes widen, unsure of what else to do but stand there and take the way he smiles meanly at you.

“Yeah? Where is Jake, anyway?” he asks, taking the joint from your hands and placing it between his own lips, hand steadying himself against the railing as the other suddenly lands on your bare thigh, just below your ass; you jolt at the feeling, his eyes flickering down at your outfit, at the tiny pieces that barely leave any room to the imagination; his skin is warm but his rings are cool against you, fingertips barely digging into the flesh, “or wait— is it not your turn yet?” 

Your body flushes with an unexpected heat; his voice is downright degrading, his eyes filled with pity, telling you things that his mouth doesn’t have to— look at you, all dressed up for a man who hasn’t even looked your way tonight. 

He looks at you as though you were nothing short of pathetic; it makes your knees feel weak and your stomach flip with an unexpected need. 

“Jake isn’t worth my time,” you confess, watching as Taehyun raises his brows as though to say oh really? “I can easily find someone better than him.”

“You could,” he muses, voice mocking and coy, taking another small hit before he speaks, “but who?”

“I— I’m sure there are plenty of other guys here right now,” you breath out, heart thundering in your chest; Taehyun’s face is close, so close, your bodies slowly beginning to get firmly pressed together— your brain is starting to feel foggy, your limbs suddenly much heavier and tingly; your eyes feel heavy and you’re beginning to list off names absentmindedly, all of men who you spotted in the party, all with a reputation as equally notorious as Jake’s. 

“Heesung’s in there… and Sunghoon… and…” Taehyun is giving a big nod to every name you list; he’s patronizing you, staring at you with deceivingly big puppy eyes as he hums a soft mmhmm, and who else? His eyes never leaving yours as you both try to pretend that you don’t notice his lips inching closer to yours, the way every exhale of smoke from him goes directly into your parted lips, your voice breathy and weak as you hold back a whimper that threatens to slip through, “And… fuck, and Beomgyu’s in there too… he wanted to come to the party together, y’know. Said we should go to his place after.”

“Hmm, you’ve got quite a few options lined up,” Taehyun hums, his voice sweet and light to your ears, a shuddered sigh leaving you as his hand squeezes your skin teasingly, caressing it softly and wandering up and down, up and down; he tilts his head, low lidded eyes glued to your lips as he murmurs the last part so softly you almost missed it, “but would any of them be able to fuck you right?”

Your mind reels; your chest is heaving with shallow breaths, the two of you stuck in a state of limbo as you feel yourself get lost in the feeling of him, unaware of the way your eyes have begun to gloss over, your hand reaching out to steady yourself on his bicep— your fingers wrap around the thick muscle, and his hand slides up your leg, bold and strong as he squeezes your ass— a soft whine slips out. 

“Well?” he asks again, unable to hold back a lethargic, fond smile at the way your other hand reaches up for the joint that’s still between his lips, putting it between your own, pretty glossed lips begging to be devoured— after a second, you shake your head softly, turning your head to the side and sighing slowly; with your eyes averted, you finally decide to bite the bullet. 

“No,” you say softly, “don’t want any of them anyway.”

“Then who do you want?” he asks oh so softly, leaning in to place a soft kiss at your jaw; goosebumps erupt all over your skin, and you shudder at the way he hums softly in question, persisting after seeing you get hesitant to respond— after what feels like forever, you turn to look at him; his low lidded eyes, his plump lips— and your nails dig into his bicep subconsciously. 

“You.”

There’s no chance for you to take back your words; Taehyun’s lips are rough and desperate against yours, all teeth and tongue as he groans at the feeling of your sticky gloss transferring onto him, your soft whines only aiding him to press himself more against you, to really cage you in and keep you right where he wants you. He’s biting your lip teasingly, sneaking his tongue in and toying with you, feeling him smile lazily against your mouth, wandering hand continuing to caress your skin, fingertips venturing under the hem of your tight denim skirt. 

After a while, it becomes too much— your body feels hot, your hand is gripping onto him tightly, as though he could escape if you let him go— your lungs burn and you’re barely able to keep up with him anymore, but Taehyun doesn’t seem to mind; you’re whining and crying softly at the way he continues to squeeze your ass teasingly, jolting at the way he suddenly slaps it— your fingers jump up to tangle themselves into his roots, tugging roughly at them in hopes of getting him to part from you; he seems to understand what you want, but he continues to ravish you for a few seconds more before he finally pulls away. 

In Taehyun’s eyes, this is the best you’ve looked all night; out of breath and flushed, pressed between the railing and his body, his cock already half-hard as he wills himself to not rut against your soft exposed skin like an animal— his hand leaves the railing to grab onto your waist, the other reaching for the joint that is still in your weak hold— he inspects the half-smoked, almost extinguished item before he looks back at you; a small, mischievous grin spreads on his lips, and he slips a thigh between your legs. 

“Taehyun…!” you gasp, bouncing up as Taehyun presses the firm muscle against your poor dripping pussy; your panties stick to your cunt and quickly create a wet patch on Taehyun’s jeans, and he can already feel the warmth of you through the denim— your thighs close around his own shakily, your free hand grabbing onto his shoulder for support; the glassy, wide eyed look you give him  is almost enough to make Taehyun lose it and fuck you then and there. 

“Hmm? What’s up,” Taehyun asks apathetically, fishing in his pocket for his lighter, letting go of your waist to relight the joint with a dark, concentrated gaze; his thigh continues to move against you, flexing and bouncing against your cunt, and all you can do is cry softly and plead for him to stop teasing— his lips quirk up into a mean smile, and his eyes flicker back up to your hazy, fucked out face, tucking the lighter back in his pocket and tilting his head curiously at you. 

“What do you want, baby?” he asks softly, bringing the joint to his lips and taking a long, slow hit, his eyes never leaving yours as he does. 

“Please… please stop teasing,” you whine, and judging by the way Taehyun raises a brow at that, it’s not enough; his thigh has stopped moving, so you resort to grinding pitifully against it, eyes shining with a desperation that intrigues him, “not enough… need more.”

He huffs; his hand comes up to grab your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to open— you follow his command without a second thought, the last thing you see as your eyes flutter shut being Taehyun leaning in, his own mouth an inch away from yours as he exhales the smoke directly into your mouth. 

“Oh yeah? Want it?” he murmurs, feeling you nod in his hold, “tell me then. Tell me how you want it.”

“I— I…” words seem to have escaped you; it’s hard to find the confidence to tell him what you want, the world around you a blurry and lethargic mess, your senses heightened to only feel Taehyun, his skin on yours, his rings that dig into your cheek, his warm thigh that you grind against— peeking through your low lidded eyes, you watch him shake his head disappointedly, taking another hit and proceeding to blow out the smoke into your awaiting mouth once more. 

“C’mon baby, use your words. I know you can,” he insists patiently, clicking his tongue and scolding you as you proceed to blank out once more; his fingertips dig into your cheeks roughly, blunt nails threatening to leave indents as he forces you to look at him. 

“Want it rough? Want it hard?” he spits out, listening to your whiny mmhmm, mmhmm! with narrowed eyes, and he laughs— it’s mean and condescending, just like his next words, “fucking slut, ‘course you do.”

He’s capturing your lips in another harsh kiss before you can protest; the joint in his hand is snuffed out on the fence and tucked away, his hands falling onto your hips as he begins to press you firmly against him, guiding your pace entirely and forcing you to ride his thigh; you whine and you moan against his lips, fingers tugging at his hair as you grind your soaked cunt against his jeans— when Taehyun pulls away, your lips chase his without a second thought, hands tightening your hold against him in fear that he’ll leave.

“You want it?” he asks once more, bouncing his thigh against your messy cunt, grinning at the way you yelp, “Tell me baby, go on, say it; tell me you want it.” 

He won’t let you go quite easily this time. Sharp, intense eyes prying the words out of you, brows furrowing together at the weak, quiet attempts that come from you, fingers leaving a bruising grip on you as he silently commands for more.

“Taehyun, c’mon…” you pout, an embarrassed heat rising up your face, not used to seeing this side of him— you didn’t even know it existed, to be fair, “I want it, please, stop being a tease.”

Taehyun has you regretting your words in the blink of an eye; hand pressing the small of your back, forcing you to arch and proceeding to land a harsh smack on your ass that has you gasping, the skin stinging from the feeling of the rough metal of his rings landing on it— but his hand doesn’t fail to caress the place soothingly, a total contrast to the ruthless glare he gives you.

“A tease?” he sneers, landing another, gentler smack, as though the words are enough to get him angry all over again.

“You mean like when you were showing off this cute little skirt to me? Hmmm? Bending down and showing me your panties? Or when you were talking about getting fucked by my friends?” he can feel you tremble against his hold, your mouth opening to retaliate— but you’re not quick enough, Taehyun’s smart mouth running faster than yours, “Or how ‘bout when you force me to watch you run off to parties and bring a man over to your room, just to have me take care of you in the mornings? Is that what you mean by a tease?” 

You shake your head, scrambling to come up with a response; Taehyun seems to have gotten quite fed up with you, because his hand is coming up to wrap around your neck, adding a subtle pressure that leaves you light headed and mushy.

“What, can’t talk now? What happened to that mouthy girl I had here earlier?” Taehyun says, his voice mean and dripping with venom, “tell me you want it, or I’ll leave you here— you said you had some other toys to fuck with inside, right? I’m sure they could help give you what you want.”

“No, no, please, I want it, need it,” you cry, attempting to chase any pleasure and grind your cunt against him; you’re quickly stopped by his firm, bruising hand, “Taehyun, Taehyun, please, please fuck me, I want you, please?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters lowly, eyes glued to the way your hips buck and cant, trying desperately to break free from his hold that prevents you from moving, “think you deserve it?”

“Yes,” you immediately sigh, body restless and hot and overwhelmingly needy, feeling as though you’ve gotten tunnel vision for the man before you; your hand slips from his shoulder and down his chest, finding the hardened bulge that has been pressing against your body with ease— his jaw clenches, and his face remains stoic— but that doesn’t mean you don’t notice the way his lips part or his hips press against your palm reassuringly, “yes– give it to me, want it, only wanted you from the start.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out, heavy eyes locked onto the way you look up at him so prettily, your hand palming and rubbing at his clothed cock only serving to cloud his thoughts further, “C’mon.” 

He’s stealing one last slow, messy kiss from you before he pulls away; fingers intertwined with yours, stepping back and proceeding to tug you along— you stumble at the sudden action, your airy self giggling softly at the way you tumble into Taehyun’s broad back; he sends you a fond smile, squeezing your hand reassuringly before he’s opening the door to the house and leading you back inside. 

It feels as though the whole environment of the party has changed; the neon lights, blasting music and humid air is a little more welcomed than it was before, unable to contain the dopey smile that grows on your face as you allow Taehyun to lead you wherever; you trust him. 

“Wherever” leads you to a bedroom upstairs— Taehyun is slamming the door shut and grabbing your waist, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall before you can even react; his face is inches from yours as he mutters a safeword for the two of you, waiting for you to nod and repeat it back before his lips are back on yours— but this time, he seems to want to take his time with you; plump, swollen lips beginning to trail along your jaw, wandering until he’s peppering kisses along your neck, teasing mouth nipping and sucking at your jaw until you’re holding onto his shoulders and begging for more. 

Slowly, he begins to walk the two of you backwards; lips never leaving yours, hands caressing your skin and toying with the hem of your shirt as he sits down on the bed, making you stand between his legs— pulling away, you put your hands on Taehyun’s firm shoulders, sighing shakily at the way he looks at you; as though he were holding back from devouring you entirely, a fondness that makes you weak in the knees undeniably there in his pupils. 

“Fuck, pretty girl, pretty body,” he breathes, leaning forward to pepper kisses wherever he can— pushing your shirt up to expose your chest, burying his head in your tits and placing open mouthed kisses, biting teasingly at the flesh, chuckling at the feeling of you jolting and jutting your chest out, your body much more reactive and sensitive— and he trails down slowly, down the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, lingering there for a bit as he kisses and sucks marks into the vast canvas; his hands trail up and down your sides, pulling you in every time you try to squirm away. 

“What, you getting shy on me now?” he tuts, nipping at your side and listening to the squeal that escapes you— his hands tighten and he’s forcing you forward, leaning back until he’s laying down and you’re straddling him precariously; your knees dig into the mattress and you’re trying your best to remain stable, but Taehyun doesn’t seem to be satisfied yet— you frown in confusion at the feeling of him trying to tug your hips up more, resisting the motion with a tilt of your head; Taehyun pouts. 

“Don’t be like that,” he groans, hands shifting from your hips to the back of your thighs, one cupping your ass and the other falling just below— and you yelp, Taehyun’s muscles flexing as he moves you up forcefully, much too strong for you to retaliate; you’re tumbling down, face burning and planting into the mattress as Taehyun shifts below you— your dripping cunt hovering just above his face, skirt riding up and bunching at your hips, any whines of protests falling on deaf ears as he begins to press soft kisses on your inner thighs. 

“T–Taehyun, wait, you don’t—” you stutter through moans, fingers gripping onto the sheets below you as you feel him beginning to trail up, your body revealing just how much you don’t mean your words, “you don’t have to— mmh–!”

His hands are coming up to your middle, pulling and signaling for you to sit up; you do, partly from your own efforts but mostly from his, easily moving you as though you were nothing but a doll— and your cunt is hovering over his face, hungry eyes flickering up to meet yours— he sees the hesitation on your face, the way you’re beginning to ramble once more, and he scoffs; the smack that lands on the back of your thigh is enough to get you to stop mid sentence. 

“Just shut up and let me taste you,” he says sternly; his fingers dig into your hips and he’s tugging you down, sneering at the way you continue to hesitate, only allowing yourself to hover over him— he bites at your inner thigh in retaliation, the sensitive feeling bringing out a cry from you, hips bucking and thighs squeezing around his head for a second, “C’mon baby, sit on my face— I can take it, you know I can.”

The hesitant hum you let out is enough for him; he rolls his eyes, and with a strength you forgot he possessed, he forces you to plant your cunt directly onto him. 

It feels like a switch has flipped within him. Fuck, you think, your lips parted in a silent scream, a hand scrambling to tangle itself in his hair, fuck! 

He hasn’t even bothered to move your panties to the side; he’s eating you out through them, tongue pushing into your hole and lips kissing and sucking at your clit like a man starved, groaning and praising you with a muffled voice; his fingers dig into your ass, making sure to keep you planted firmly on his face as he eats you out.

You think you’re losing your fucking mind. 

Just when you thought it was too much, that your body felt like it was buzzing with electricity, filled with a euphoria and pleasure that had you mewling and crying desperately, Taehyun’s nimble fingers finally push the ruined cloth that covers your pussy to the side— and oh, oh, your eyes are rolling back and your mouth is stuck open, Taehyun’s hot tongue lapping and fucking into your hole and his nose pressing firmly into your clit— he’s panting and sighing against your cunt, slurping up any arousal that leaks from your poor hole— his head shakes from side to side, humming into your pussy, and the last bit of resolve within you shatters. 

“Taehyun— oh my god, Taehyun—!” you cry, hips grinding down into him, thighs closing around his head; you can feel him fucking smiling lazily into your pussy, rough hand slapping your ass and guiding your movements against him, as though to silently reassure you and ask for more. “Please— oh god, oh— fuckfuckfuck, m’close, I’m close, hnng—!” 

Your words are nothing but fuel to the man beneath you— his tongue is flattening against your hole, licking up and flicking at your clit before he begins to suck on it; two fingers prod at your clenching entrance, proceeding to push in without warning, curling expertly and finding your sweet spot with ease; your body shivers and you wail, muscles growing weak as you fall forward once more— burying your head in your arms as you cry about how close you are, the new position only allowing Taehyun to move your hips firmly against him, rocking you back into him; his fingers pull out of your cunt in favor of shoving his tongue back in instead, following every buck and twitch of your hips with ease— his nails dig into your skin as he holds you still, eliciting a dull feeling of pain, and everything falls apart. 

Too much, too much! you think— maybe you say it out loud, your mouth open and gasping as you grip onto the bed sheets, feeling as Taehyun continues his same, intense ministrations; letting you ride out your orgasm but not stopping, even after you’ve begun to sniffle and cry about how sensitive you feel— after a while, Taehyun finally gives in, pulling away from your cunt to lick you clean, pressing firm, sloppy kisses against your hole and puffy clit, smiling at the way you twitch with each one. 

You feel as though your bones have all melted; you can’t move, face burrowed into the mattress and chest heaving as you try to catch your breath— beneath you, Taehyun moves, slipping out from under you and hovering behind, hungry eyes taking in the sight before him eagerly; ass up and back arched, glistening hole on display as you continue to shudder and breathe shakily— you hear the sound of clothes rustling behind you, followed by the feeling of the bed dipping— Taehyun’s hand rubs at your ass fondly, and you jump at the sudden sensation, eyes screwing shut and a quiet whine leaving you.  

“You’re so fucking hot,” Taehyun sighs, biting at his lip and stroking your skin, up your back and to your shoulders, leaning over and kissing gently at the nape of your neck as he whispers, “think you can take more?” 

“Yes– yeah, please,” you beg quietly, unable to feel an ounce of shame from how immediate your response is; you can feel his cock rubbing against your ass, the stickiness of his tip that ruts against you subtly— you look over your shoulder with a hazy eyes and a soft, blissful smile, meeting Taehyun’s equally fucked out gaze as you push your hips back, “wanna feel you inside— I’m on the pill.” 

The sharp breath of air Taehyun sucks in isn’t lost on you— his cock jumps from the way you grind against him, no longer able to keep up that cold and uninterested facade he’s kept up since the moment you two met up for the first time— he wants you, bad. And to his delight, you seem to feel the same. 

“Jesus, you drive me so fucking crazy,” Taehyun breathes, the soft giggle you let out not helping him remain calm; he sits back, a hand grabbing at your waist and the other wrapping around his length— he’s squeezing the base, pumping at it slowly, the gruff sighs and moans you hear behind you enough to have you clenching around nothing— just when you think you’ll have to beg again, you feel his thick tip begin to prod at your entrance. 

You think you could cum from the feeling of him stretching you out alone— a broken moan leaves you at the feeling of him entering inside you, so thick and big that you think he might just break you; your head drops back into the mattress and your hips are pulled back against Taehyun’s, soft cries leaving you at the feeling of him bottomed out inside you. 

“P-perfect, so… damn perfect,” Taehyun rasps out, head falling back and eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of you clenching around him— you’re so tight and sensitive, walls fluttering around him and sucking him in, tempting him to lose control and pound you straight into the mattress; he has to take a deep breath and concentrate on not cumming then and there, because the way you’re beginning to whine for more like a cockhungry bitch is really getting to him, “shit– stop— ugh– stop squeezing me like that princess, won’t fucking last long if you do.”

You can only whine in protest at that; it’s so hard to remain still, your hazy mind already fucked out beyond belief from your first orgasm— but even so, you still want more, you crave it, you need it; you make sure that Taehyun is aware of it, too, whiny and breathy as you cry and cry for him to fuck you. 

“Tyun, come on,” you pout, impatiently moving your hips back, in search of any stimulation you can get, “please, wanna get fucked already, want it hard, don’t tell me that was all talk earlier.”

If there’s one thing you’ve figured out about Taehyun, it’s that he hates when you try to act up on him— because as he tightens his fingers into your plush skin and slowly begins to pull his hips out, you realize quickly that he’s most definitely not all talk. 

“Ah—!” 

Your body is being driven forward with each thrust— Taehyun is fucking you hard, muttering angry words that you can’t even pick up over the sound of your own moans; his cock is thick and his hips are angled so his head bumps against your sensitive spot with each thrust, harsh pace not allowing you any reprieve as you simply fall limp, unable to move your hips back in tandem with his pace; if anything, Taehyun is doing it for you, rough hands bringing you back against him like it’s nothing. 

“Fucking slut— got such a dirty mouth, should make sure you to fuck you good so you can’t talk back to me,” he growls, feeling you clench like a vice around him, even more when he stops thrusting in favor of pulling you back like a doll for him to use, “Oh, you’d like that huh? Like it when I use you like a toy? Stupid pussy’s nothing more than a fucking cumdump for me— yeah, c’mon, move your hips, thaat’s it, just like that.” 

His mouth continues to spew filth, a stark contrast to how Taehyun usually is— he’s always been quieter during sex, but the sight of you trembling and struggling to take his cock is enough for his mouth to run faster than his mind— that, and the aid of his high that seems to have gotten rid of any self-control he usually exhibits. 

Your movements have become sluggish and weak— you’re getting tired, he can tell, so with one last slap to your ass that has you yelping, he finally decides to take control again. 

“God, can’t even fuck me for more than a few minutes? Where’d that cocky girl from before go, hmm?” He asks, voice patronizing as he begins his harsh thrusts— only pulling out halfway before he’s sinking in all the way, hips slapping against your ass creating a lewd sound; your cunt only tightens and gushes around him, hiccupped moans leaving you as he picks up his pace, watching as your arms give out beneath you and your face gets planted into the mattress; he huffs out a laugh, and reaches out to grab a fistful of your hair— yanking your head back, you yelp, left to his mercy as he begins to pound into your ruthlessly. 

“Taehyun, wait– slow down…!” you cry, scratching at the bed sheets and feeling tears prick at your eyes— and he does, for a second, waiting for you to say something else, for the safeword you both agreed on— but you don’t, and the laugh he lets out after catching on is enough to have your face burning with humiliation— and his pace picks back up— no, he’s meaner than before, degrading you below his breath and pulling at your hair, pulling you back against him, a hand sneaking down to place sloppy circles at your clit— you’re keening and clenching like a vice around him, a sharp hiss leaving him at the feeling. 

“Mmmh, too… too much,” you manage to say softly, immediately given another harsh tug at your hair in response, your eyes watering at the feeling. 

“Too much?” Taehyun repeats, and you can practically hear the pout on his lips from the patronizing tone, “thought you wanted it hard? Don’t tell me it was all talk.”

He’s spitting your exact words back at you, watching with amusement as you try weakly to prove him wrong. 

“That’s right. You’ll take it like a good girl should,” he grunts, slowing his pace down and punctuating his words with rough, deep thrusts, “Fucking. Take it. All.” 

You’re close, he can feel it, he can hear it— and the thought of watching your pretty face screw up into pleasure and bliss is enough to send Taehyun’s mind reeling, not hesitating to pull out and let go of your body— his lips quirk up with satisfaction at the way you’re immediately falling limp, fucked out face peeking behind in confusion, about to complain about why he stopped when he begins to move you. 

It feels dizzying, the way he’s able to manipulate you and force you into any position he likes; you’re sure Taehyun can read it all over your face, because he smiles meanly at you, patting your cheek fondly before he begins to busy himself with your clothes. 

“Don’t think I never noticed you staring, pretty,” he grins, tugging your skirt and panties down swiftly, eying the soiled underwear before he throws it off to the side, landing directly on his discarded pile of clothes— and he sends you another sleazy smile that has you bringing your knees up and closing your legs shyly— it’s all futile though, because he’s immediately kneeling before you and spreading your thighs open with his warm, large hands, holding onto the underside of your knees as he scoots closer to you, “always getting so touchy with me, grabbing onto my arms and thighs— dumb little thing, bet you thought you were getting away with it each time, hmm?”

“Shut up,” you whine, resisting the urge to cover your face and hide away— but you really can’t, especially with the way his thick cock ruts against your pussy, tip sliding up and down your slit as he teases you by putting it in, only to pull back out again, “Taehyun…”

“C’mon, grab onto me,” he muses, slipping the tip in once more before he begins to slide in slowly, watching your mouth fall open and your eyes grow glassy, “wanna watch you cum on my cock.”

This new position practically has you seeing stars— Taehyun hovers over you and watches intently, chain hanging over your face as he presses your thighs against your body, fucking you straight into the mattress; you tremble and you gasp, a fire festering in your stomach as you beg for more— “m-more, please, faster, harder, s-shit—!”

Taehyun listens to your every request intently— his stamina is impressive and ruthless, and his cock is reaching and hitting places you never knew were there— your back arches and your hands scramble to grab onto something to stabilize yourself, inevitably falling onto Taehyun’s body in the end; one on his shoulder, the other on his bicep that flexes from the effort of keeping your squirming body still. 

“So… fucking… pretty,” Taehyun groans, watching your chest heave and your eyes blink away tears, leaning down to suck and bite at your breast, frowning at the bra that still covers them— throwing a leg over his shoulder, Taehyun pulls your bra up roughly, hips continuing to pound against yours as he latches his mouth onto your pretty nipples— you gasp, nails digging into his skin as you begin to cry to him, good, s-so good, fuck! 

“Shit, I’m close,” he says after a moment, pulling off your breasts with a lewd pop! That has your eyes rolling back; he moves up to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, murmuring your name sweetly and waiting for you to respond. “I’m close baby, so– so fucking close– where— hah, where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you immediately mewl, hearing him groan unabashedly in response, “Please, pleasepleaseplease, inside, inside—! Fill me, want your cum, wanna be full—!”

“Okay baby, okay,” he says sweetly, kissing at your neck and wandering up to your ear, “gonna fill you up good, just like you want.”

“Oh, are you close too?” he asks, and you nod furiously, watching as he goes back to hover over you, watching every change in your expression intently, “I can feel it, pretty cunt’s squeezing me so good– c’mon, cum for me baby, wanna see it, wanna watch your pretty face, will you let me? Yeah, only for me to see— gonna cum, fuck, make you mine, you’re mine only, okay?”

His words are enough to send you over the edge; you let out a long whine and scratch at his skin, crying out his name desperately as your nails rake down his back, down his arm; he hisses at the feeling, the pain enough to set him off and join you right after; his hips stutter and his face screws up from the pleasure, brows knitting together and teeth gritting together as he lets out soft moans— but his eyes never leave yours, deft fingers circling your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm— your legs tremble under his hold, eyes rolling back and face smoothing out from the pure euphoria you feel.

“Yours… just yours,” you sigh out, feeling his hips finally still, thick cum beginning to leak out from you, falling onto the sheets and ruining them completely; you pant and try to regain composure, but it’s really, really hard— you feel like you’re on cloud nine, words tumbling past your lips before you can second guess them, “y’have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

“Really?” he asks; the panic you feel in your chest is short-lived, because as soon as you see the soft look in Taehyun’s eyes, you melt. 

“Yeah…” you say softly, suddenly a lot more shy under his gaze, “this was like. Attempt number one hundred of me trying to get over you. Or make you jealous.”

“Hmm… well, you don’t have to do that anymore. I’m all yours,” he mumbles, swooping in to steal a slow kiss from you; you can’t control the giddy laugh that leaves you at that, lazy hands tangling into his hair to keep him close. 

“Good,” you murmur against his lips, “I was running out of guys to use against you.”

His hand squeezes at your hip in warning— you smile coyly. 

“Joking, of course.” 

Nipping at your lip, Taehyun sends you a half-hearted glare. 

“You better be.” 

You give him a giddy nod; after tonight, it wasn’t like anyone would be able to compare to him, anyway. Shifting underneath him, you wince at the feeling of your sweaty body rubbing against the sheets— Taehyun is able to read your face before you can get anything out.

“Wanna go home?” he asks softly. 

“Please,” you say, giving him a shy smile that has his heart flipping pathetically, “will you carry me?” 

He laughs, placing a chaste kiss on your lips and sneaking his arms under your figure. 

“Always.” 

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[chicingold]

Personalized Mom and Child Cuff Bracelet SET, Mommy and Me Adjustable Bangle Set, Girl Boy Baby Name. Available in 14k Gold Filled, 14K Rose Gold Filled, and Sterling Silver. Model: CG433B

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[thelovelyruin]

𝖆𝖈𝖖𝖚𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : choso x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : choso just couldn’t wait for you and him to be acquainted.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : college au, smut, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, teasing, fingering, edging?

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 5.3K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from acquainted by the weeknd.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! probably my favorite yet. i hope you enjoy it; if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

Baby, you're no good 'cause they warned me ‘bout your type.

“Yeah, no.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean, NO. She’s bad news, dude.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, I don’t. She just gives off the vibe that she’d break your heart or somethin'.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, she’s out of your league, first of all. You’re kinda awkward, and I can’t tell if you’re celibate or just can’t get laid. That and she’s pretty friendly with everyone.”

“Shouldn’t she be friendly?”

“Yeah, a little too friendly. A jealous motherfucker like you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“She wouldn’t be that way if she was in a relationship, right?”

Yuuji raised his eyebrow and threw his arms up.

“The world may never know. That is unless…you wanna know?”

Choso rolled his eyes, following Yuuji to class.

Baby, you're no good; I think I fell for you.

Little did Yuuji know Choso was already in love with you. As much as he’d try not to, he couldn’t help but see you walking around campus. 

Pretty face adorned with sparkly lipgloss, your hair always down, giving a slight view of your hoop earrings. You usually wore a little locket necklace, never telling anyone what was inside, sitting atop a pink shirt that your tits always looked great in. Then a miniskirt that, depending on the breeze that day, gave a sneak peek of your ass. Then, the heels you wear, except for the winter when you wore a cute pair of boots with leggings, he could practically see through them. It was tough when he was in class with you; you raised your hand to answer a question, a French manicure, and the clinking of your bangles that were practically ASMR for him. Then, there were your books that, when some random guy wasn’t offering to hold them, pressed against your chest, making your breasts lift as you walked. Sometimes, you’d wear a perfume that smelled like cake; other days, vanilla, pretty hard to miss as you walked by. Then there was your skin, always glowing like you drank from the fountain of youth or something, legs smooth as you crossed them over one another or stood before the seminar to answer a question on the board. Sometimes, you had a pair of stockings or thigh highs that covered them, ending a little lower than where your skirt ended; god forbid you bent over, which you were careful never to do, usually asking someone to pick something up for you. You never touched a door either; sure, it was because every guy wanted to fuck you, running around like your puppies ready for a task; sometimes you gave them one, they’d run back to you with a lollipop or something like that, which you parted your lips so sexily to take in and suck. 

It's not like he was paying attention or anything.

You got me puttin' time in.

Now, Choso wasn’t terrible at talking to girls, sometimes getting approached but a little too awkward to continue the conversation. Then again, he had the hots for you, so it was hard to look at anyone else. He’d got it in his mind that he’d talk to you one of these days. Maybe he’d ask you out on a date, but he wouldn’t know how he’d react if you rejected him; in light of that, he never said anything to you, just an awkward look if you guys ever made eye contact, which you always gave him a confident one, followed by a wave. But all that was thrown out the window right now. He was too shocked that you were standing in front of him to hear what you’d said; your face had one of those optimistic looks, hands sitting on his desk in the library as your arms squished your tits together, leaning over a bit to look at him.

“Hello, earth to Choso, you there?”

“Sorry, could you repeat that?”

Your skirt sat particularly short on your hips today, your belly button ring gleaming with a little heart at the end, but his eyes drifted to your waistline, a little bit of a pink fabric peeking ever so slightly out the top of your denim-

“I said, “Hey, Choso! What’s up?””

“Oh, sorry. Not much, how about you?”

“Oh, nothin’; saw you were sittin’ alone and wanted to come say hi; that okay?”

It was more than okay. He had to shift in his seat, boner becoming irritably hard against his thigh.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Uh, wanna take a seat?”

“Sure! So, whatcha workin' on?”

“Oh, I’m just studying for the statistics exam.”

“That class is super hard! I feel like I’m not getting any of it.”

He took that as his one-way ticket to testing the waters with you.

“I could, um, tutor you if you want.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

You perked up, hand touching his arms, tits calling out as you shifted towards him in the seat. He couldn’t take his eyes off them, but he knew he had to focus if this was gonna work at all.

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

“Perfect, when are you free?

He was free anytime for you.

“Uh, I’m free after classes; what about you?”

“Hmm, well, I have a sorority meeting at six tomorrow, so that probably won’t work, but then, ooo, I have cheer practice on Thursday, ugh, and I can’t forget Nobara’s party on Friday!”

“So, Wednesday?”

“Perfect! We’d just have to do it after my nail appointment at 3.”

He looked at your nails; nothing looked bad about them, so he was confused. He hadn’t realized how busy you were, which explained why you didn’t have a boyfriend. But that only made him feel worse.

“I think your nails are nice like that?”

You were blushing now, bringing a hand out in front of you two.

“Ya think so? I was thinking of changing the color; I've changed my mind since last week.”

Your phone got a ring; he noticed it was Mai, a girl he’d often see you walking around with. Happily, you answered it.

“Hey babe, what's up?”

He couldn't hear what Mai was saying to you on the phone, but fuck, he wished you'd answer the phone like that for him. That's when it struck him that he hadn't even-

“Sorry about that! She had to tell me about this crazy thing one of our sisters did.”

“Sisters?”

“Yeah, like in our sorority, silly! Anyways, gotta blast, but I enjoyed our chat!”

You pulled a pen out of your purse along with a piece of gum; after unwrapping it and putting it in your mouth, you grabbed Choso’s hand, writing down your phone number.

“There ya go, put it in fast so it doesn’t wash off, 'kay? Bye, cutie!”

With that, you walked away. See, this is where Choso was fucked; he had to think about when he should text you, now, later today, or Wednesday? That and his boner. He hurried up and shuffled to his and Yuuji’s dorm room, using his backpack to cover his crotch.

Nobody got me feeling this way.

“YOU GOT HER NUMBER?”

“Yes, but it’s because I’m tutoring her.”

“So, you and her, alone. “Studying”.”

“Yes, Yuuji, now fuck off!”

When Choso told Yuuji about the exchange earlier, he was convinced you were on something.

“So, she just randomly walked up to you? Isn’t that weird?”

“Is it that foreign for someone to want to talk to me?”

Yuuji looked him up and down, giving him that look. Choso scoffed and continued typing up his essay. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, if he was being honest. He tried his best to put off texting you, but that lasted all but 4 hours.

“Hey. It’s Choso.”

He sighed as he threw his head back. He was feeling a bit stupid, to be honest. For all he knew, you had been dared to talk to him, or it was a little game you came up with. Still, he knew it wasn’t in your character to do something like that, but his self-loathing told him otherwise. All of a sudden, though, his screen lit up.

“haiiii <3 wednesday still good? :3”

“Yeah, what time?”

“let’s do 5, 'kay?”

“Sounds good.”

“yay! see you then :p.”

When Wednesday came around, Choso was nervous all day. Yuuji teased him for it, saying there was nothing to worry about; you guys were only “studying.” Choso had seen you in class with the usual demeanor and look, but instead, today, you gave him a wink as you walked by, which went straight to his dick. It had been 4:55, and he was pacing his room, trying to mentally and physically prepare to be alone with you for the next hour or so. But then five came, then 5:05, then-

A knock at the door, which he was praying, wasn't Yuuji coming back to the room; he told Choso earlier he was gonna spend the night out ‘In case something happened.’ Much to Choso’s bliss, it was you, panting a bit. 

“I'm so sorry! I spilled my smoothie on my other top, so I had to change, then I ran over as fast as I could! You’re not too mad at me, are you?”

Choso had realized you had a different shirt on when he opened the door. This one was a lower cut, your cleavage on full display, the bottom short cropped. Damn, you looked good.

“You’re fine; come in.”

“Ooo, thanks!”

You walked into the room, and he waited for you to say something; his room was pretty much clean, except for a pair of socks Yuuji left on the floor. Instead, you smile at him, then bend over to set your purse and books- fuck, you bent over. Choso looked at every single item in the room, anything to not stare at your ass in his peripheral vision. Quickly, you got up and turned around, Choso flustered as ever.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Uh, no…let’s get started.”

An hour passed, and Choso was shocked at his level of resolve. He tried his best to help you and pay attention to the papers in front of you, but fuck, your tits looked great from this angle.

“All done! I think this is the best I’ve ever done! Thank you so so much!”

You wrapped your arms around him, bringing him into a hug that made his breath rapid. You pulled back from him now, still hugging him, as you looked up at him with those doe eyes of yours. Choso was much taller than you, so he was getting quite the view, but that came with him looking the most flustered he’s ever been. You let go with a giggle, walking over to sit on his bed. He watched you sit back on your hands, legs slightly open as your chest poked out. God, you looked cute, even better that you were sitting on HIS bed.

“Hey, Choso?”

“Yeah?”

“I need your help with something.”

“What’s up?”

You got me touchin' on your body…

He walked over to you with a confused look on his face. What could you possibly want? You guys had already studied, which is what you both agreed to; maybe another class-

You opened your thighs to him, panty-clad pussy on full display.

He was about to fucking die. He couldn’t help but pinch himself; he had to be dreaming. It was already surprising to him that you were in his room, but you practically asking him to touch your pussy was an enigma. You pulled him forward by his shirt, his face up to yours.

“That is, if you wanna.”

Choso started melting, but he wouldn’t let this opportunity pass him by. With urgency, he dropped to his knees, positioning himself on the floor between your legs, both draped over his shoulders as he pulled you closer to him. God, he could smell you; it was making him hungry. Then there was your thong soaked from your wetness, leading him to wonder how long you wanted this. The print of your lips against the fabric was about to send him over. He brought his hands up your legs, the feeling of your plush thighs making him ache, all the way up to your hips, where he flipped your skirt up. He wasted no time grabbing the edge of your panties, backing up to pull them down your legs. You opened up a little more for him, soaked pussy on full display. He was dreaming, he was dreaming, he was dreaming. He experimentally brought his fingers up to spread your lips apart, precum dripping out of you. He almost passed out, but that was the last thing he needed to start his mission.

Choso brought his lips down to your pussy, lapping up all of your juices, then fucking his tongue into you. You were moaning, body arching as you found your fingers in his hair. Fuck you tasted good. He brought his tongue to your clit, circling the bud slowly, making the most out of this situation and simultaneously making you whimper.

“Choso….”

You sounded so fucking good. Every moan of his name went straight to his dick, which was looking to rub against anything to get some relief. He brought his fingers up and slipped them inside you, making you groan loudly. He explored your walls carefully, but it wasn’t until he curled his fingers that he really got a rise out of you.

“Fuck, right there, don’t stop!”

He was a damn good listener. He pumped his fingers in and out of you as your body jerked, begging to cum. He was in disbelief; he was the one making you feel like this. Moan like this. Cum like this. It came hard, fingers gripping his hair in a way that brought him out of his hazy state. And fuck, as you came down, you rutted your pussy against his tongue, mouth still opened and eyes rolled back. Choso was in fucking heaven. You were panting on his bed, half-naked, back still arched; you were a sight to see. You began to come back to earth, sitting up on your hands again, pussy most likely staining the sheets, but it’s not like he fuckin' cared.

“Come here.”

Your usual bubbly demeanor left the second you came, grabbing Choso by his shirt and bringing him down to kiss you. You opened your legs so he could position himself between them, kissing him intensely now. Instinctively, he brought his hand up to your tits, groping them through the fabric of your shirt, pinching your nipple once he found it. He ruts his hips against yours, making you groan into his mouth. Fuck, you were so hot, all of his senses were filled with you, he was gonna lose his-

I know I'd rather be complacent.

He fucking came on himself. Simultaneously, your phone began to ring, the same tone as the other day when Mai called you. With a pout, you walked over to his desk to grab your phone. God, he praised himself for wearing back sweats that day. Luckily for him, it didn’t seem you noticed, picking up the phone and smiling. Just like that, you were back to your usual self.

“Hey, hey!”

Mai said something to you as Choso went to his drawer, already looking for a set of underwear and pants to replace the ones he accidentally soaked. You were pouting now, tilting your head to the side as you talked to her.

“But Maiiii, I’m doing something super important!”

You looked at him from head to toe, smirking as you continued talking. Fuck, what were you guys talking about?

“Ugh, fine, but you owe me! See you in a bit.”

You hung up the phone and walked over to him, a sad look on your face as you wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your head into his chest.

“You gotta go?”

“Yeah, but I really don’t want to!”

“It’s fine. You should be ready for the test on Thursday.”

You bent over to pick up your purse and books again; this time, he really couldn’t look because he knew his dick would probably betray him. You put your heels back on, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Bye, cutie!”

“Um, bye.”

Choso took a shower as soon as you left, in which he had to relieve himself from the events of today. It’s like he couldn’t get your taste you out of his head; every time he tried to focus on his essay, you were there. It didn’t help when he found your thong on the floor beside his bed. Shit, he hadn’t even thought to put them back on you. Quickly, he texted you, letting you know you forgot them.

“oopsie :3 consider them a gift ;)”

Fuck, you were dangerous.

Girl, I'm so glad we're acquainted.

Baby, you're no good.

“YOU DID WHAT?”

“Shut the fuck up, you're gonna wake the whole hall!”

“Let me get this straight, you fucked her?”

“No, yes, well, not exactly. I, you know…”

“Awe shit, she sucked your-”

“NO, YUUJI, JESUS.”

“So, what did you- Holy shit, you gave her head!”

Choso became flustered, never really having a conversation with Yuuji about his sex life, but Yuuji was more than open about his.

“Yes, I gave her head.”

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up! You’re too damn loud!”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s not like I didn’t believe in you or anything, but a girl like that? I probably would’ve cum on myself.”

Now, Choso knew you were busy, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to see you again. He’d remembered everything you said you had to do, so he figured he’d talk to you again at Nobara’s party. He was initially going because Nobara was a mutual friend through Yuuji, but now, he had a way better reason. You guys had seen each other around the halls Thursday, you giving him a wink every time you saw him, and he’d return it with a blush and grin. He hadn’t texted you either, trying to be considerate of your time, but as Friday afternoon came along, you appeared to be distant with him. He was nervous at this point. What if he was over-analyzing things? Just a quick fuck to get each other’s rocks off? Then, unfortunately, the thought came to mind that maybe you had realized he came on himself, which hurt his feelings pretty bad. I mean, he couldn’t help it; spontaneous oral on the girl he’d liked for months now, he was already in bad shape to begin with. But, fuck, he missed you.

All my homies think I'm crazy 'cause I'm thinkin' 'bout us lately.

Nobara’s party could be heard down the street, some AirBnb, all your sisters put in on. Choso couldn’t lie; it was pretty nice, a large house with at least eight bedrooms, a pool and basketball court in the back, and balconies on almost every window. He and Yuuji had shuffled their way into the house, Yuuji immediately looking for something to drink that was far from water. Once he found a bottle of tequila, he poured him and Choso a couple of shots, both throwing them back like it was nothing. Yuuji seemed to know everyone at this party, sparking conversation with damn near anyone that walked by. He and Choso found their way to the backyard, sitting in the little patio section next to the pool.

“So, did you text her yet?”

“No, I’m pretty sure she’s upset with me about something.”

“Cause she’s been giving you the silent treatment?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, she’s obviously not giving it to him.”

But really, if I could, I'd forget about you.

Yuuji pointed to you on the other side of the pool, talking to some guy. You held a cup, presumably with alcohol, but what you were wearing was the kicker. You hadn’t bothered to wear a top, just your string bikini covering your tits, which wasn’t doing a very good job of covering them up. Then there were your shorts; they were basically underwear with how high they came up, the underside of your ass on display. You were leaning into the guy, obviously in deep conversation. The guy, however, was getting an eyeful; he couldn’t even make eye contact with you because he was staring so intently at your chest. 

You got me puttin' time in.

Choso couldn’t lie, it pissed him off real bad. He couldn’t tell if it was because you were talking to this guy and not him or because the guy was looking at you so inappropriately; it wasn’t like he was one to talk. But his jaw locked as he saw the guy slip a hand onto your waist as you stumbled a bit, and you didn’t stop him.

“She’s free to do what she wants.”

“Yeah, she’s doin’ what she wants, alright. Your face was in her pussy on Wednesday, and she’s probably gonna do the same to him tonight.”

Nobody got me feeling this way.

Yuuji’s comment had put a fire under Choso’s ass. Immediately, he got up from where he and Yuuji sat, heading straight towards you.

“Told you, you were jealous, bitch!”

Now, Choso wasn’t the confrontational type, but three shots in, he felt a little bit of that liquid courage. He’d closed the gap between the patio and the pool quickly, focused on getting to you; as he walked up, he could hear you giggling at whatever that fucker was saying. You turned your head in surprise, an awkward smile on your face as Choso grabbed your arm.

“Gonna borrow her right quick.”

Choso could hear the guy cursing him out in confusion as he walked away with you, but if anyone was confused, it was you.

You got me touchin' on your body….

Choso led you up the stairs as you rushed to keep up, spilling your drink a bit. He found an empty bedroom, walked you into it, and locked it behind him.

“Choso, what the actual fuck?”

“What are you doing, huh?”

“What am I doing? What am I doing? Motherfucker, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you haven’t talked to me in days. Then you pull me in here, like I’m the bad guy or something, fuck, did eating me out mean anything to you?”

“Of course it did! I haven’t texted you because I wanted to give you space!”

“I could’ve made time for you! I don’t wanna hear your shitty excuses as to-”

To say that we're in love is dangerous…

Your sentence was cut short by Choso pulling you into a kiss. You were fucking mad at him, sure, but you wanted to fuck him more than anything. That’s why you let him lay you on the bed behind you, mouth coming to kiss you, even deeper this time. He pulled back to undo your top, allowing your tits free.

“So, who the fuck was that?”

He brought his lips down to your nipple, sucking it as you moaned softly.

“A friend, what are you, jealous?”

He sucked the other one, massaging your tits as you watched him intently.

“Depends.”

“On?”

But, girl, I'm so glad we're acquainted.

Choso began to move his way down, sucking the skin of your stomach as he brought his hands down to hook into your shorts. He had them down to your ankles, pulling them off of you.

“I’m your friend too, no?”

“Something like that.”

He undid the strings on your bikini, throwing them somewhere in the room. He brought his face down to you, kissing your inner thighs to tease you.

“You let all your friends eat your pussy?”

Ever since I met you, I couldn't believe what you did.

You couldn’t answer his question, body reacting to the kitten licks he was giving your clit. Choso was a bit more familiar with you now; he knew you liked it when he fucked you with his tongue and that you moan a little harder when he pressed his tongue harder on our bud. But, god, you were intoxicating. He missed the taste of your pre-cum on his lips, shamelessly saturating his whole face with your juices. That is until he pulled his face back, teasing you.

“Answer me, princess.”

“No, I don't.”

That made him hungry, greedy even. His face was back on you, fucking his tongue into you as he pinned your hips down, watching you squirm from the pleasure. The pleasure he was giving you.

Choso picked up the pace of his tongue, his fingers finding their way to your pussy, curling them as he sucked on your clit. One hand still on your hips to keep you still; it was all in vain because when you came, your body came undone. You buck your hips into his touch, moaning his name as you let him suck you through your high. You were fucking beautiful. He pulled up to look at you, smirking as he saw your tits rise and fall from all the panting you were doing. He figured it wasn’t too bad to give you another orgasm; you looked so fucking hot coming down that he couldn’t resist drinking your cum as he brought his thumb to your clit. You were on fucking fire, still recovering from before, and now he was bringing you up to his face. He pinned you down, devouring you instantly.

Now, Choso felt a little adventurous, bringing his hands up to rub your nipples between his fingers while you fucked his face. You didn’t know where all this nerve came from, presumably because he’s made you cum twice now, the third one about to join. But you honestly didn’t give a fuck. If he had the balls to eat you as good as he was doing, you could care less. Because his tongue was just too damn distracting. You began to grind your pussy on his face, not even considering his ability to breathe; it’s not like he was concerned about it. You were moaning his name like a symphony, pulling them out of you more frequently as you felt your body giving in again.

“Choso, I’m, I, fuck!”

So comfort me…

Choso smirked into your pussy as you came, falling over onto the bed immediately. He was kissing you now, soft and sweet, like he didn’t intend to fuck the shit out of you. With a careful hand, he brought your leg up, pulling it away from the other so he could get in between them. He enjoyed the view of you, spent and gasping for air, bucking your hips slowly as you waited for him to fuck you. As he began removing his clothes, he continued this little conversation.

“Hm, that doesn’t make sense then, does it?”

“You’re more than a friend, Choso.”

At this point, he’d taken everything but his boxers off, dick almost stabbing out the front of his briefs. He took them off quickly, bringing his body back up to sit on top of yours. He kissed you as he fingered your pussy again, making you squirm under his touch. Messily, he brought your cum out of your pussy, rubbing it over his shaft as he looked down at you.

“More than a friend, huh?”

Choso kissed your neck as he slid his dick in, holding your hips as he rolled his into yours. He was painfully slow, pulling out to sink back in. Fuck, it was torture.

“Yes, Choso! Now fuck me, please!”

“No problem.”

He slammed his hips into yours, making you groan. He gripped you tightly as he fucked you, forehead meeting yours so he could see your pretty face as you took him so well.

 “When was the last time you got fucked?”

“Months ago.”

“So, you decided you just wanted me to eat your pussy one day?”

He began that slow pace again, scratching his back as he reached the deepest parts of you.

“No, I liked you for a while! Thought you didn’t like me ‘til I met you in the library!”

He couldn’t fucking believe it. This entire time you’d been waiting for him to make a move, and he was too fucking pussy to do it. Well, he’ll make it up to you now by fucking your pussy. He hit that sweet spot inside you as you moved your hips to meet his, hands brushing through his hair as he gave it to you right where you needed him. And god, you were sexy. You pressed your tits against his chest as he fucked you into the bed, practically screaming his name every time he’d give you a hard thrust to get a rise out of you.

“I want you, princess.”

To be fair, you hadn’t really entertained any of the guys who wanted you; they’d just ogle you, but you wanted someone who’d claim you. Make you his. And Choso was doing it. He fucked you like no one had ever done before, sucking hickeys all over you that you were sure you didn’t have enough concealer to cover up. Then, there was the way he’d moan into your ear. Sometimes your name, but mostly baby, princess, beautiful. He was taking you higher and higher, and you didn’t wanna come down.

“Then, I’m yours.”

Ain't no rush from me.

That was enough for Choso. He fucked you faster, keeping your hips still so he could fuck you how you needed it. Your body was practically begging to cum again, all but throwing yourself at him. He prayed you’d cum soon because he’d be down for the count here shortly, panting into the side of your neck as he took you. And take you, he did, gripping his shoulders as you moaned his name into the room, eyes rolling back and mouth wide open as you came for the third time that night. You honestly didn’t know you had it in you, nor did Choso, because he was right behind you, gripping the headboard as he fucked you through his orgasm, whimpering your name as he fell to pieces inside you. Your pussy was like fucking heaven, taking his cum so well as your hands fell to your side, too fucked out to move.

I’ll keep on touchin' on your body. To say that we're in love is dangerous…

Choso fell beside you, exhausted as ever. He was grateful he’d taken precautionary measures and relieved himself before he came to the party cause he surely would’ve cum the second he felt your pussy. He looked over at you; he could tell you were pretty damn tired; who wouldn’t be after he made you cum so many times. So, he helped you put your clothes back on, carrying you down the stairs and out to his car. He shot Yuuji a text to let him know he was leaving, choosing to leave out the details of what he had been doing for the past hour and a half. After getting you in the car, he got in the driver’s seat and started it.

“Ima take ya home, okay?”

You perked up a little, grabbing his arm and wrapping around it.

“Wanna go home with you!”

“Whatever ya want, princess.”

Choso gripped your thigh as he drove off, returning to his dorm. He carried you to his room, removing your clothes and helping you get into one of his t-shirts. Both of you in the bed, he pulled you into his chest, letting you get comfortable. You look up at him, smiling a bit as you yawn.

“Night, baby!”

You kissed him quickly and laid back down, drifting off to sleep.

‘Baby’, huh? He could get used to that.

But, girl, I'm so glad we're acquainted.

♱ the song used in this story is acquainted by the weeknd. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

#choso x reader #chosoxreader #choso x female reader #choso x f!reader #choso x fem!reader #choso x you #choso smut #choso fluff #choso fanfic #choso fic #choso kamo #kamo choso #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk choso #choso #kamo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #thelovelyruin #thelovelyarcana #Spotify

[chaoticladyfire]

Things I screamed about in ATSV (spoilers)

-Got to rewatch the film so I’m just going to add the colours changing to warmer tones when Gwen hugs her father. Not even ten minutes in and I was already crying.

-Realised that we missed the Gwen-Vulture fight BUT got to see Jessica Drew enter the scene like a bad ass in her bad ass bike and hearing the audience collectively say ‘me too’ when Gwen asked if Jessica could adopt her. 

-Screaming OSCAR ISAAC when Miguel spoke

-Lyla. Just Lyla.

- ‘Do you say anything other than no?’ ‘No-YES!’ more of miguel and jessica pls

-The Spot’s introduction. I didn’t see any promotional stuff, teasers or even trailers before watching this film so I had no idea who or what the The Spot was which was great because he really went from villain of the week to villain of the movie. And they clearly had a great time choreographing the fight scenes with him

-Miles’ heating up the beef patty while the spot and the convenience store man argue

-Miles patting the spot’s with a ‘good cow’ text

-Gwen and Miles both having to deepen their voices to avoid being recognised by their respective cop dads

-Miles saying that he can get two cakes when the counsellor says you can’t have your cake and eat it too and then bringing two cakes for his father’s party and neither of them saying what he wanted to convey. 

-Rio and Jeff scolding an annoyed miles but instantly smiling when a relative hugs them what an universal experience 

-Gwen teasing Miles for drawing her in his notebook almost obsessively but also breaking the biggest rule to spend time with him knowing the consequences. 

-As they went to talk, my friend leaned over and said ‘yeah I bet they will talk’ and when they only talked he groaned very loudly at which point I had to remind him Miles was only 15 

-Watching Jeff talk to Spiderman about his son not knowing his son is spiderman

-The DJ increasing the volume when Miles’ parents started scolding him in the middle of the party (the real mvp of the movie actually) 

-JK Simmons cameo that no one seems to be talking about??? Embarrassingly enough I had to literally scream into my friend’s ear for most of the people to realise it was indeed JK Simmons

-Just the entire Mumbattan scene. It was so exciting to see my city be represented like that, still a bit cliched in my opinion but not like Slumdog so obviously they have updated their views. Everything from the traffic gag to Pav’s rant about chai tea had the theatre howling. Also the detail of the thought boxes (?) and sounds being written in Hindi 

-Screaming DANIEL KALUUYA

-My friend and I are huge fans of the UK punk scene (her for the ideologies and myself for the music and fashion) so Hobie was a dream come true. He was already super cool with his guitar and mohawk costume but when he revealed his face it was just so amazing

-Gayatri is every indian’s dream girl with her modern shirt-flannel and jeans combo mixed with bangles and piercings I really wish we get to see more of her in the next movie. Anyway there was a lot of wolf-whistling and hooting for her and Pav

-Also Pavitr literally means pure I don’t know if they did that on purpose or not but I love it

-His pet name being Pav cured my soul

-’This is the most emotional I have seen him’ and Captain Singh has no emotions at all

-I want to see how they came up with so many spider designs because each was so unique and immediately endearing. My friend who is also a big dinosaur fan screamed DINOSAUR 

-Kind of obsessed with how detailed Ben Reilly’s arms are they did not need to go that hard with it

-Tom Holland’s Spider-Man being referred to as ‘the little nerd’ by Miguel

-When everyone was making puns about the Spot my friend leaned over and said ‘i wonder which hole the spot prefers’ it is a miracle we are still friends actually

-The Donald Grover cameo!!!

-Peter B Parker having a cute little baby with the love of his life is what he deserves

-Miguel O Hara is one step away from becoming a Batman-Spiderman 

-Hobie’s admiration for Mayday being the avatar of chaos Spider-baby

-Screaming ANDY SAMBERG

-I think they saw the appreciation for the art style in the previous film and then trebled it for this film and I cannot thank them enough for it

-Peter complaining about how Miguel breaks the Spiderman tradition of being funny and witty and Miguel being the first anomaly 

-Every scene with the Spot is very unnerving because as I said, you watch him transform from this joker to a literal void of vengeance and it is every bit of terrifying

-Miguel is a man suffering from the destruction of an entire universe because of his selfish actions and forcing that anomaly narrative on a fifteen year old boy who became a spiderman on accident and doesn’t want his father to die because of that. Unlike the Spot, who isn’t even human anymore, Miguel is drowning in grief and guilt and trying to ignore it by holding the weight of the spider-verse on his shoulder. I hated him so much for making a boy go through that but then I just couldn’t in the end. 

-Andrew Garfield and Tobey Maguire cameo!!! Hopefully we’ll get a fun Tom Holland one too in the next movie.

-’Let me guess, he died?’ being a therapist for Spider Men must be a fairly boring job after a few patients.

-I just loved the absolute of wrongness of the scene where Miles returns ‘home’. The rain and darkness. I didn’t really think about Rio asking Miles what happened to his hair because I thought she was referring to the rain (although of course she wouldn’t ask him why his hair was wet when it was obviously raining outside) but realised something was wrong when he didn’t know about comic con but she did because in the first film there’s a joke about Peter B Parker explaining the concept to Miles. 

- This movie is not good for my father related issues

-The glaring neon welcome sign when the gang end up in Earth 42

-How did Uncle Aaron get even scarier? 

-Miles being the Prowler is honestly a great twist I saw it coming but still felt the shock of the reveal

-Prowler Miles having an accented voice meaning his father probably died when he was young and he only had his mom growing up

-Can’t wait for the original spider team to return for the third film seeing as they brought back Spider-Man Noir and Spider Ham and Peni Parker

-Screaming WHAT when the ‘to be continued’ appeared because that cliffhanger is absolutely destructive. All that adrenaline and excitement just popped. I’m still oscillating between being impressed and being disappointed. 

I probably skipped over a lot of other scenes because these were the most memorable and I only watched the film once (unfortunate) but I can’t wait for the movie to hit streaming services and watch it again and again for all the other details I missed. Ill probably keep adding things as I remember

#across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales #gwen stacy #hobie #pavitr #miguel o'hara #jessica drew #peter b parker #the ultimate spiderman #spiderman #spiderman noir #spider ham #rio morales #prowler

[gavisuntiedboot]

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Reader

Part 1

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: After a lot of consideration, I have decided to start posting my Pedri series. I think that I can get a lot of interaction with these, and I think it is a good way to feed my soul and get eyes on what is happening in Palestine. So please, if you enjoy this series, consider helping out Palestine. Even if it's just with a click (second link!)

(Also if there are any continuity errors pls pls pls lmk)

Operation Olive Branch is an org working to help raise money to evacuate people from Gaza. I have decided to highlight Anwar and his family, who need to raise $35,000 in order to survive. Please donate what you can:

I will continue to highlight this family on all my posts until they reach their goal inshAllah.

Synopsis: Moving to a new country can be a pain in the ass. So can starting a new job when your position is completely different to what you thought. But nothing is going to stop you from achieving your goal of being the next Law Roach. Not the language barrier, your aching feet on the wonky streets, and definitely not your annoying, full of himself client. Because everything is going to stay professional, right?

~~~

"Bryce, can you please pay attention? God, I hate Americans."

The slow and thick laughter flowed through the line, peppered with static and cutting off whenever a particularly loud vehicle rolled past.

"Self-hating much? You are also American."

"I'm Texan, sweetheart. We are basically our own breed. Now can you help me?" You were finally able to flag down a taxi, stepping in carefully to make sure you didn't flash the driver. The stark white of the flowy skirt contrasted heavily with your bright orange cowboy boots, worn to match the white "TEXAS" baby tee with orange lettering. Your bangles clinked happily against your wrist as the door closed, hair mused by the late September wind. It was a comfort-from-home turned fashion statement, a way to stay close to your roots but show everyone at the office you were the type of girl that people saved on their "cool y2k outfit inspo" Pinterest boards. At least, girls back home would.

"How the hell did you move to a foreign country without learning the language?"

"Because I was supposed to be in PARIS, remember? I didn't minor in French just for mierde and giggles."

"Yeah, yeah, and then Paris decided to self destruct. I've heard the story. Just put me on speaker already."

Through the phone, Bryce's Spanish flows fluently as she instructs the driver to deliver you at your new place of work. Style Di Fortuna was one of the best styling firms in Europe, if not the world. Located a mere two streets from the Passeig De Gracia, there was nowhere better for a young woman to start her career in the fashion world. Except you weren't supposed to be here.

The plan had been perfect. After 4 years working your fingers bloody at UT Austin, you finally turned the bright orange tassel and accepted your B.A. in fashion. You were able to say "couture" with the perfect amount of phlegm to be taken seriously by the French snobs you had interned with, the ones who were supposed to be your colleagues after you graduated. The dreams of smoky cafes, bike rides through the city, and the lights of Paris fashion week were often the only things that helped you push through your professor telling you that you sewed like a blind sloth.

But then the French did what they do best: went on strike. For months. And after the long periods of no productivity and the destruction of half the inventory, you got the concise email that you would need to find employment elsewhere. About a week before you moved to France. So in a blind panic, you applied to every job you could think of within Europe, desperate to not have your first year post grad be spent at the soup kitchen or bagging groceries. You finally heard back from one of your contacts, another alumni from your school who said they could get you a job in Spain, but it was a little far from the type of fashion you wanted to do.

A "yes please I'm begging" email and 24 hours later, you had a job with SDF. Hey, fashion is fashion, and if you have to start by styling TikTokers in sparkly mini dresses before you could get to the good stuff, so be it. There were dues to be paid after all. So you grabbed your already packed bags and changed your ticket from Paris to Barcelona.

"I can speak Spanish. I lived in Texas for 21 years. Just not... Spain Spanish." You said quietly, rummaging through your bag for the ID that had been mailed to you the week prior.

"Right, and my white ass took it in school and he seemed to understand me just fine. So you, Miss Texican, need to stop with the perpetual fear that people will think you're stupid. Be confident and just speak. The company is Italian, anyways. Most of them will probably speak English, and if not, they'll think you're exotic and sexy."

"Mhm I'm sure."

"You're going to do great, okay? Just be yourself. You had like ten billion friends at home. It's almost impossible not to like you. You got it girl - go hook 'em."

Laughter bubbled out of you at her cheesy pep talk, feeling lighter already. She was right - even if you had gotten this job on the fly, your portfolio was super impressive, and people had no trouble liking you. So what was there to be worried about. After bidding her goodbye and having the courage to thank the driver in Spanish, you stepped out of the cab to the front steps of the new building. It was much taller than the surrounding, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the lower buildings and pale stone. Making your way up to the 16th floor, you were quickly ushered past bolts of bright fabric, racks of shoes worth millions, and some very stressed (yet very stylish) other employees.

"So excited that you're going to be joining our team! It is going to be so helpful having some international input to make sure we are not pigeon-holing our clients into fashion that is not received well globally. You will be reporting directly to Katerina, and she will report to me. Your colleagues are mostly male given the nature of the division. But Tania, Silvia, and Maria should be a good support as you move into the role. We also have Juliana who is between here and the Milan office. So it isn't a complete boy's club."

Huh?

After years in fashion, one thing you definitely knew was that it often was not a "boy's club". Sure, all the suits and big investors were often old and withered men, but most of the creative side of the business had been run by almost fully female teams (and the exceedingly rare stylish man).

"I'm sorry, the nature of the team? What do you mean?" You asked, trying to keep smiling while running after her towards a more and more barren part of the office.

"Sorry, was it not included in your offer letter? You're working in our athletics division. We are horribly understaffed in that department, especially now that we have taken on all the Adidas athletes in Spain. My word there are a lot of them. Bellingham alone needs three team members for every event."

No no no no no. This cannot be happening. You had come in prepared to style a lot of things: prom dresses, lingerie, even the scraps of fabrics that were rented out by the local burlesque show. But sports???

Now don't get it twisted, this isn't some "I'm a girl and I don't know anything about sports!" kind of thing. On the contrary. You were at every football game rocking the longhorns, cheering on your friends as they crushed it at basketball, and even tried watching a formula 1 race (there was a three car crash and you fainted) - you were totally hip with sports. Although you were not a fan of stretch materials or athleisure, you were willing to bite the bullet as a first step. The issue was the hidden undertones of your job. It was the fact that you would be working with, from what you could surmise, a lot of male athletes.

Bryce was right - it did feel like you had ten billion friends back home. Everywhere you went, you spoke to strangers with ease, and people warmed quickly, conversation flowing and bonds forming. But that's the issue: everyone seemed to warm to you, and so it meant a lot of male attention. And despite your best efforts, you always made a "too flirty" comment to someone's crush or "inappropriately smiling" at someone's boyfriend. And so as fast as they liked you, suddenly you were public enemy #1, and the drama became all-consuming.

No one seemed to understand. There was constant advice to just brush it off, to ignore the people who brought pain to your life. But you couldn't help it, laying in bed, stomach in knots, questioning why no one could see that you were just trying to be kind to everyone around you. The cycle of worrying had created a very isolating experience.

"Tania! Where are the other girls? I want to introduce you to the newest member of the team."

A girl with blown out black hair turns around, double nose piercings taking a back seat to a piercing charcoal stare. She was in high waisted jeans and a leopard print button up, the first two unbuttoned to show off the black strap of her bra. Her neck was adorned with a simple gold cross necklace, and she flashed a cordial smile as she stuck out a hand.

"I love your shoes." You said sweetly as you exchanged a shake, eager to make your first friend at work (and maybe in all of Spain).

"Oh, thank you. Dolce and Gabanna - they're friends of the firm. Your shoes are..." She gave a glance to the cowboy boots you had on, "muy naranja" (very orange).

You crossed your legs, self confidence waning after she addressed you like you had traffic cones on your legs. You were introduced to Silvia (a tall girl with short blonde hair and vintage Adidas Sambas paired with boxer shorts) and Maria (dark blue hair slicked back to show off her Italian football jersey). All of them oozed the coolest essence, and you were excited to get to know them.

"Alright, girls, not too much chattering. Barca arrives in 15 minutes, and there is not a single jersey in sight. Lets go! Rápidamente!"

A gasp spread across the room, accompanied with a groan from Roberto in the back, and there was suddenly a mad dash. Stretch fabrics in a hundred different colors were flying across the room, and it seemed like no one could move fast enough.

"I'm sorry to ask but... what is a barca?"

Silvia's sambas squeaked loudly as she came to a halt, whipping her neck towards you. Her eyebrows knitted together, looking at you like you had just said Jesus was a goat.

"Who is Barca? You cannot be serious. Please don't say anything like that when they walk in the door. Just stand out of the way and do some googling. We will fill you in when the team leaves."

You stepped back towards the mannequins, trying not get trampled by the other employees. A quick search on Instagram gave you the basics. Soccer (or well, football now) team that was super famous. SDF was tagged in their post from their TV series premier, so you came to the conclusion that they were long time clients. You were so consumed with your search that you didn't notice the gaggle of young men enter the constricted space until you heard a chorus of voices chant "Bon Dia, Pedri!"

You glance up, trying to see the man that the girls were addressing, but he was covered by a crowd, which was comprised of Tania, Silvia, and girls from the other departments of the building (you could have sworn that red head worked at the café in the lobby).

"Bon dia, ladies."

The giggles that came as response were far too exaggerated for just politeness, and before you could roll your eyes, you heard the gag from beside you and turned to who was ultimately Maria.

"Don't mind the girls. They aren't usually like this, but their brain turns to mush around the magician."

"The magician?"

Almost as if planned, the swarm of girls parted in that moment, a pair of sickly sweet molasses eyes meeting yours, holding your gaze in something that felt warm and almost intimate. His stubbled cheeks spread into an infectious smile, and suddenly a gorgeous man in a hideous pair of jeans was giving you a subtle wave across the room.

"Pedri "The Magician" Gonzalez, current reigning golden boy at FC Barcelona. Who knew God could pack so much talent and trouble into such a small package? Anyways, the other girls in the office are obsessed with him. They all think they're going to be the special little snowflake to pull him away from the line of Instagram models waiting to jump in bed."

As you listened intently to Maria's rant about the sports star, the two of you couldn't keep your eyes away. As Tania and Silvia went back and forth, talking his brain into oatmeal, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who is the new girl?"

~

Pedri Gonzalez was many things: a generational talent, a laid back 20 year old, and (though less known) a shit-stirrer. These monthly team visits to SDF ranked very highly on his list of favorite activities. He was able to sit with his teammates as they watched some of the hottest girls in Europe fall over themselves just for a kind word or a prolonged glance. He just wished the boys would have seen the way they moved when he came in for personal sessions whenever there was a new Adidas campaign. Not even the king was served so wonderfully.

As the team bus parked outside the building, he lazily draped one arm over Gavi's shoulders, ripping his attention away from his phone screen.

"You know she does have a life outside of answering your texts, Gavi."

There was no attempt to hide or deny, just a continued scowl coupled with scrunched brows.

"She was really weird during the drive home the other day. After Martin was a little bitch on the field, she hasn't been the same. I think there's something wrong, but I don't want to push her away. I just want her to be happy."

"Ay, you'll have lots of time to make her happy after you confess your undying love in her passenger seat and kill her boyfriend." Pedri quipped back, taking a few careful steps off the bus and rushing into the building, the squeals of his name from adoring fans fading into the background.

"Okay, maybe not the best idea I've ever had, but now you do have work with Adidas and Springfield and all the other brands that want a piece of Pedri Potter." The nickname earned Gavi a light smack on the back of the head. "So in the end, I did you a favor."

The boys make their way upstairs, greeted at the elevator by Pedri's fan club.

"Bon dia, ladies."

"Bon dia, Pedri. We missed you."

Gavi tried to tone down the look of confusion that painted his features, watching these two girls trail behind his teammate in a way that was anything but professional. But there was a natural air to Pedri that had women swooning whenever he uttered a sentence, so Gavi supposed this situation would be no different than the one he had seen before in the club, at the beach, in the grocery store - basically anywhere Pedri went. He said a silent thank you to the powers that be that their types were vastly different.

The girls vying for his attention were promptly shooed away, with only the two who were actually part of their styling team remaining. Pedri scanned the room, making a mental note of who he would be looking up on the SDF Instagram once he was done for the day. He was a humble young man, but he wasn't self depreciating. He knew the number of women that wanted him was rising into 6-figure range, and he was not one to deprive himself of a pleasure that wasn't closely regulated by the staff over at Camp Nou. He loved entertaining the occasional tryst with an influencer or model or bottle service girl - whoever caught his eye for the evening. The world was his field, and boy was he ready to sow.

His newest playthings were his regular stylists. Since he was going to be spending a lot more time at the firm, he decided to at least enjoy himself a little bit. He dropped casual compliments, noticed the changes they made to their appearance, let them talk his ears off about how well he did in the previous match. Whatever they wanted he would provide. Why not? He was young and single. If they were to delude themselves into thinking he was going to settle down and take a wife at this stage of his career, then really they had no one but themselves to blame.

Tania and Silvia were nothing if not wholly entertaining. They always bounced around the office together, blonde and black hair making them look like a salt and pepper shaker set. Today, they dedicated themselves to dressing Pedri in the vintage Barca jerseys that were being photographed, leaving the rest of the squad to be dealt with by Maria, Roberto, and the bright spot in the corner of the office that caught Pedri's eye.

"Who is the new girl?"

He knew the question was going to cause the bile to rise in the throats of the two girls in front of him, who were already milliseconds away from killing each other if it meant he would take the survivor to dinner. But there was something about the flash of color that had caught his eye, hair falling in front of a pretty face that was glued to a screen and trying to stay out of the way.

"What new girl?" The response came from Tania, the more jealous of the pair by a mile. Pedri had often caught her stalking his account, his brother's account, and the account of every girl DeuxMoi "spotted" him with during the international breaks.

"Her. In the corner. She's new, right? That's someone I would remember seeing." He raised his head to get a better look at her, taking in the tight shirt and bright colors, watching her jewelry sway along as Maria (his least favorite in the office by far) called her over to help dress the rest of the team. The girls whipped around, taking in the same view that Pedri was.

"La naranja?!" Tania asked, disgust evident in her louder-than-appropriate tone. At the use of what was quickly becoming your office nickname, you looked towards the sound of the commotion, seeing Pedri staring intently at you once again. And while the depth of his gaze threatened to ignite a warmth somewhere within your chest, it was Tania's furious expression that had your heart racing in fear. You hadn't even been at work for an hour - what could you have possible done to have invoked such a murderous glare?

"I didn't think foreign girls were your type." Silvia said, much calmer but tone still icy.

"Maybe I just like the color orange." He replied smoothly, whipping off his shirt to slip into the one from 1980 that he would be modeling for the Barca site. The sight of bare skin was enough to make his playthings forget their rage, being replaced by lustful stares and lingering touches as they "adjusted" the fabric over his pecs about 20 times over.

"I think orange is a hideous color on girls." Tania couldn't help but mutter and she fixed his collar, putting in a couple pins so it wouldn't move as he walked to the photographer.

"I think the ugliest color on a girl is jealousy green." Pedri's eyes met hers in a silent warning. She was officially nothing more than one of his stylists. He was a busy man, and the last thing he needed was for his distractions to become a new stressor. He was notorious for being quick to cut girls off for the most superficial reasons, and Tania was not eager to be one of those deprived of his affections. She smiled sweetly, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Oh, of course. Especially when there is obviously nothing to be jealous of. Go welcome her on her first day - if she can even understand a thing you're saying. I don't think the American school system teaches Canarian." She left Pedri in that moment, calling sweetly to Ferran to come get dressed.

"Ay, Gavi, I knew you were short, but they can't even find pants that fit you now?"

The sudden voice behind you made you jump, causing a yelp from Gavi, who had been stabbed with a stray pin due to your scare. Your head whipped around, meeting that same smile that was brighter up close.

"Perdon, Naranja. Didn't mean to startle you."

Your eyebrows came together, a small frown on your features.

"I don't know what Tania told you, but that's not my name."

"I didn't think it was, but it's quite fitting, don't you think? A cute nickname for a cute girl."

The complement caught you off guard, and your mouth dropped open, reply unable to form in your mind. Was he seriously flirting with you? After half the office just threw themselves at his feet?

"Thank you, but I would really prefer if you called me-"

"Your accent is strange. Where are you from?" Pedri cuts you off, giving you a once over and taking in your figure, focusing intently on the writing across your chest.

"Texas. Can't you read?" You asked, growing more annoyed by the minute. Maria would be back any second to grab the boy who you were hemming, now identified as Gavi. You weren't eager to be seen as a slacker on day damn one.

"Houston?" He asked, accent preventing him from getting the "S" in the word quite right. "My brother used to live there for a bit."

"San Antonio, actually. But I went to school in Austin." As desperately as you wanted to make a good impression on your first day, something inside your chest wanted to make a good impression on Pedri, who was listening intently to the mini tour of Texas you were giving him.

"Is that close to Dallas? We are meant to play a game there in the summer. Maybe you can come along, show me around your city." He punctuated his sentence with a wink. You wanted to speak, tell him that Austin was actually several hours from Dallas, San Antonio even further. But your heartbeat was in your ears, and you could do nothing but nod along.

Pedri was not much better off. He had spoken to some of the most gorgeous women in Europe, maybe even the world in his mere 22 years on the planet, but something about the way you looked at him while speaking, eyes locked onto his, made his heart race in a way that was foreign but not unenjoyable.

"Hey! Hurry up - they need Gavi next. Or are you incapable of putting in a couple pins?" It was Silvia barking down at you, causing you to tear your gaze away from Pedri and back to Gavi's leg. Thankfully, the boy was typing away and didn't notice the break you had taken to chat with his teammate. "Pedri, stop distracting la naranja with your flirting and go get a pair of shoes from Maria."

You burned with embarrassment, the nickname turning from something affectionate to something sour, used to remind you of your outsider status as 'Cinderella' was reminded of her place by the coals.

"I was just being friendly." Pedri said, standing to follow her instructions.

"I think you have enough friends in the office." She bites back, shoving him lightly towards the wall of sneakers.

Your cheeks burn, embarrassment causing your hands to tremble as you continue hemming the trousers in front of you. Maria had gone out of her way to warn you that Pedri was off limits, and yet here you were again: persona non grata with your coworkers because some boy had taken an interest in you.

"You speak really good Spanish for someone from America." A quiet voice said from above you. Looking up, Gavi was gazing down at you, distracted by his phone every few seconds.

"I'm half Mexican, and most people in Texas speak Spanish anyways." You reply, trying to tone down the annoyance in your tone.

"Oh, I didn't know that. My friend- eh, physiotherapist also studied in America. She has this really cute accent when she says some of her words now." You watched his eyes glaze over in a way they probably shouldn't if he was just talking about his doctor.

"You don't have to make conversation with me, you know." You mutter back, scared that maybe this player was Maria's and you would sever the final connection you had left in the office inadvertently.

"Oh. I didn't mean to annoy you." The tone in his voice and his crestfallen expression made you feel like you had just kicked a puppy.

"Oh no! You're not. I just... It seems like I just pissed off the girls by talking to Pedri, and I don't want to make any other mistakes."

He laughed, eyes crinkling and head tilting back. "Pedri is a special case. When you flirt with everything that moves, someone is bound to be upset eventually."

The admission caused a pit to form in your stomach. Everything that moves? The romantic heat you felt earlier cooled into a slimy, sickening emotion. What kind of person toyed with people's feelings for fun? As you entertained the thought, you tapped Gavi on the leg, instructing him to hop off the stand and go get photographed. A shadow loomed over your form as you tidied pins from the floor of the workroom.

"So, I believe you were about to give me your address before we were so rudely interrupted." It was Pedri, returning with a grin, standing coolly with his hands in the pockets of his cargos. "Of if that's too personal, I'll settle for a phone number. Or an Instagram handle - I'm not picky."

"I can tell." You muttered back, unease still sitting in your chest. You avoided his gaze, chewing nervously on your bottom lip and directing your eyes to anything but Pedri.

"I'm sorry about Silvia. She can be... intense. And let me just go ahead and apologize for Tania as well, in advance. They're weirdly possessive over me for some reason." Pedri sounded sincere, eyes doing their best to catch yours and convey his message.

"Don't worry about it. I can see why you're so popular." You shuffled to collect stray pins off the floor. Pedri was not like any other guy you had ever been attracted to. Usually they were tall, lanky frat boy types, all blue eyes and khaki shorts. But the combination of beautiful brown eyes brushed by dark hair, chiseled jaw and plump lips, and strong arms that lifted a mannequin out of your way did weird things to your heart and your stomach.

"Can you now?" He was smirking. You could practically hear it in his voice, the amusement dripping from every syllable. He was obviously completely unbothered by your clear signs of distress.

"Yeah. Every girl I ever knew wanted to be the sugar baby of an athlete. Watch out or you'll get your bank account drained." Despite your best efforts to come across as cutting and sharp, he laughed at the statement. A full head thrown back and hands on his belly type of laugh.

"It's been a long time since I've spoken to a girl as funny as you." His eyes held yours, and the look was so captivating you simply couldn't avert your gaze. In that moment, it was also lost on you that you had, in fact, only made one joke. You responded with a half smile and heat radiating from you.

"Hey listen, a couple of the boys and I are going out tonight. You should come with us."

The invitation started to knock some sense back into you. Out? As in out out? Back home, going out usually meant getting shit-faced and riding a mechanical bull. It wasn't the best look to pull up to work the following morning looking like death and smelling like tequila. You were already on the way to holding the record for the worst first day in history.

"I don't know... I think Tania would put Nair in my shampoo if we were seen together when not contractually obligated."

You looked up shyly, and a part of you waited for him to insist, to feel somewhat special.

"Ah, I won't make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. Just DM me on Instagram if you change your mind. I'm not hard to find."

"Do you answer DMs from every girl that finds you?" You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

"No. But I'll be looking out for yours."

Another voice called out to Pedri, and he left you standing there slack-jawed. Who was this man? And what was so special about you to have piqued his interest? You asked these same questions of Bryce, who was now fully awake.

"Girl, the answer is obvious." She said through face time, words garbled by her teeth-brushing.

"Please don't say-"

"You're hot."

"That. Bryce, these girls in the office, they're stunners. 10s across the board. If he was going for looks, he wouldn't be going for me."

"I think you're over-thinking this whole thing. He just wants to talk to you for now," She paused to spit, "So talk! What's the worst that could happen?"

A shrill voice cried out 'Naranja!' and the trill of your new unwelcome work nickname was the signal that your lunch was over. You trudged back into the office, abandoning the warmth and sunshine for the cold front put up by Tania and Silvia. They bumped you every time they walked past, making comments about your clothing, your hair, the speed of your work, your taste level - everything. You stuck close to Maria, getting only two smug "I told you so's" before it was back to business. The boys left a disaster in their wake, with jerseys, trousers, socks, shoes, and all manners of accessories scattered about the workroom. Maria exchange stories of her childhood in Rome for your escapades in San Antonio and Austin, and the day passed with relative ease. Katerina click-clacks into the room an hour before your sweet release, huddling together everyone who worked with the team for a summary of what was accomplished.

"Great job team. I think Barca will be very happy with the photos, which will make me very happy. Now," Katerina handed out a series of files to everyone in the circle. "As some of you know, we have been fighting tooth and nail against Fordham Fashions for the new Adidas Rising Stars contract. Well, we have finally won! Here are the clients that we will be working with closely for individual Adidas campaigns, collaborations, and so on."

Opening the file, a familiar face grinned back from the first page.

"Everyone already knows Pedri, so we will move past him. Now, let us begin the style briefing for Bellingham..."

You stared for another moment at the bright grin on the page before turning it to take notes on everything Katerina was saying. The meeting wrapped 30 minutes later, with one final request from the boss.

"The new Predator boots have just come in from Adidas. We will be sending a pair to each of our athletes to allow them to adjust before we style and shoot in the coming weeks. And to avoid another, ehem, hair pulling incident, the new girl will be sending Pedri's. Sort the rest out among yourselves. See you tomorrow!"

The glares burned your skin before you even had the chance to process that the 'new girl' in question was you. Everyone scurried to the wall of blue shoe boxes as you looked over the brief again to find the man of the hour's shoe size. Pulling it out of the pile, you moved to a far corner of the workroom, but that did not seem to stop Tania from coming your way.

"So, you think Pedri likes you?"

The statement caught you off guard, hands slowing and your eyes widening at your coworker.

"Excuse me?"

"You think that now he's going to date you just because he laughed at one of your jokes? Because trust me, you're not his type."

You were prepared to rebut, tell her that she had completely misunderstood the situation, and you were just being nice to a client. But it died on your lips as the meaning of her words washed over you like an icy tidal wave, leaving you to pathetically whisper out,

"Why not?"

Her laugh trickled out lightly, delicate and beautiful and cutting all at once.

"Just look at you, Naranja. Anyways, this is a note from the agency that needs to be included in Pedri's box, so slip it in there, 'kay? See you tomorrow!"

Swallowing thickly, you didn't watch her walk away, staring at the table top to stop the flood of emotions that was clogging your throat. You knew you weren't ugly. Quite the opposite actually. It usually only took a coy glance and the bat of an eyelash for you to have people eating from the palm of your hand. But the self doubt started to eat away at you. What was wrong with the way you looked?

And then your eyes focused on the crisp white envelope on the table. The girly scrawl of Pedri was too... romantic to be a formal note. The green slime of jealousy seeped through every one of your veins. You took a quick look around the room, and finding no one, you carefully opened the envelope. Immediately a strong perfume assaulted your senses. The letter was a quick confession of love, and you couldn't help the increase in your heart rate. If your coworker was determined to hate you, then you should at least give her a reason.

Your childish antics came two fold. First, you tiptoed over to the cabinet with the stationary, grabbing a blank envelope and some corrector fluid. You carefully removed Tania's name from the bottom of the letter, writing in a little "S" with a heart beside it. You refolded the letter and placed it into the new perfume-less envelope. The letter found its home in the shoe box, and on your way out of the building, you dropped it off at the mail room. As you waited for your cab home, you typed five familiar letters into the Instagram search bar, and sent a message asking,

"Am I still invited out tonight?"

~

Pedri could not contain the Cheshire cat grin that lit up his face when he saw the DM from you. Scrolling quickly through your Instagram, he zoomed in on your pictures from the summer, swimsuits the same bright orange that had hugged your chest earlier that day. He responded quickly, telling you that you would be the highlight of the entire outing, and as he predicted, your phone number quickly followed.

"See, Gavi? I told you." He turned the screen to his teammate, who could not possibly be less interested. Being met with silence, he quickly snatched Gavi's phone from his hands, eliciting a protest.

"Gavi, this is an intervention. You need to stop this sad puppy behavior. After the sixth unanswered text, it's time to accept that she's not going to respond."

Pedri almost regretted it as soon as he said it, the sunken look painting Gavi's features being too much to bear. It was like taking a baby's favorite toy away.

"I just mean that she's probably busy, hermano. She'll respond when she can. Now, back to me."

Gavi rolled his eyes and leaned back against Pedri's couch. He displayed his most exasperated expression.

"Please, Pedri. Tell me again how you got a girl to swoon for you in a matter of minutes. It's always my favorite story."

Gavi barely missed the pillow chucked at his head, but pressed on anyways.

"Come on, Pedri. It's the same story every week. Find a cute girl, flirt, invite her out, sleep with her, and then block her on all your socials."

"Okay but this one is different. She's my first American."

Gavi gave him a look that told Pedri that maybe the joke should have been reserved for Ferran. Despite all the wisdom Pedri had imparted, Gavi hadn't listened. Instead of taking advantage of the swarm of women ready to show him heaven, he had gone and fallen in love with one of his coworkers. Sheesh. What a stupid idea. But he had never seen Gavi, or anyone really, care so much about a person. So he was being a good friend, just pretending that this love story wouldn't go down in flames (badum-tsss).

Pedri was not willing to be a hopeless lover boy. He killed himself on the pitch, and there was no way he wasn't going to enjoy life after the whistle blew.

"I just don't think it's an idea to start involving girls you're going to have to see again."

The statement cut straight through Pedri's daydream of what you would wear to the club that evening. Gavi may have been right. When messing with Instagram models, it was easy to avoid previous flings. A block online, a slip of their photo to Camp Nou security, and worst case scenario, when they came up to him at an event, he just put on his best confused face and asked, "Do I know you?"

But this was new territory. He had toyed around with Tania and Silvia for months now, but it never left the office. Inviting a girl who he would have to see again and again for work out was risky. But the risk-assessing brain cells were on vacation. All that was left were the party neurons, the ones that craved dopamine and finding out what your skin would feel like against his palms. So he pushed all of Gavi's valid objections into a dark corner of his brain. He opted instead to ask,

"So, are you coming out tonight as well?"

Gavi lifted his hoodie up to cover his face, using all his self control to not grab his phone from its place on the coffee table.

"I don't think so. I'm not in the mood to see Ferran or... anyone really. Just want to sit home and watch my show."

"Suit yourself then. I'll let you know how the night ends."

"I'm begging you not to."

~

You smoothed your hands over your dress one final time. You were pacing around your living room, eagerly waiting for Pedri to pick you up. Despite your best efforts to assure him that you could Uber yourself to the club, he refused, and you couldn't help the giddy feeling at the gentlemanly antics.

Staring at yourself in the mirror once again, you thought of the dates you had been on in your senior year of college. From darties on frat lawns to drive-thrus to fine dining, many guys had tried to win your favor. It wasn't that all of them sucked (even if the majority did). It was just that the guys back home in America were... boring. All of them were pretty self centered and shallow, nice to look at but nothing deeper. While a pretty boy was nice at 19, it was time to grow up and look for something more.

The buzzing of your phone knocked you out of the trance you were in. "Pedri from work" illuminated the screen as you rushed to answer.

"I was going to come in and knock on your door, but I can't get into your building."

You laughed lightly in response, apologizing about the door code while grabbing a jacket and heading downstairs. A low whistle greeted you, dark eyes tracing your figure with a look that you tried not to interpret for your own sanity. A shy smile played across your features as you allowed Pedri to open your car door, sweet talk you throughout the drive, and escort you in to what was more of a lounge than a club. Live musicians played just loud enough for ambiance, but not enough to completely drown out everyone chattering amongst themselves. The two of you walked up to a table of Greek Gods, which you assumed were his teammates.

Pedri introduced you to the group, making sure that his body was physically situated between you and Ferran. He was a good guy somewhere deep, deep down, buried under the anguish of his last girlfriend, who left him upon finding out about the pay reduction that came with moving from Manchester City to FCB. Pedri tried to stop him from taking out his rage on a coworker (and Gavi's crush), but he was hard headed and couldn't be swayed. Eventually he would calm down, and they could go back to being young and single and not bitter. Pedri's phone glowed with a notification from the boy on his mind.

[Gaviiii]: dude i foujd her outside my house just sitting in her car n cryng so im gonna take care of that

[Gaviiii]: dont tect me or call me im not gonna answer

The typos were normal, as it was hard for Gavi to avert his eyes for even one second when his most precious was in sight. Pedri shook off the text and turned his attention back to you, arm coming to rest around your waist in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You were not comforted. On the contrary, you were on the verge of throwing up. You were one of only two girls in a circle of incredibly attractive men, the other being someone's wife. You couldn't remember the names of any of them, except for Ferran, who you had been specifically warned about on the drive over. The devil really is a charmer. His short cropped hair showed the angels of his face beautifully, long lashes fanning against his cheeks. A few tattoos peaked out from under rolled up sleeved, and you had to remember that you were with his friend on a... what was this exactly? Pedri had never said anything more than that he wanted to be friends. But he asked you to go out with him, picked you up, gave you the pre-date compliments, and now was shielding you from other men. Were you on a date?

You tried your best to participate in small talk, listening to them go back and forth about football and training and life in general. The various accent were not kind to your brain that was barely used to the Canarian lilt to Pedri's speech.

"Are you okay?"

The whisper came softly in your ear, hot breath against you skin causing an eruption of little bumps. Pedri's arm had not left your waist, but now he was rubbing delicate circles into your skin.

"I'm fine. Just... a little overwhelmed? I feel sort of out of place."

"Don't worry, linda. No one can take their eyes off you."

The affirmation only increased your heart rate once again, the thump against your chest beating in rhythm with the base from the speakers. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his palm against your skin, radiating through the fabric of your dress. You loosened up as the evening progressed, participating in the conversation more confidently and laughing more freely. Slowly, the boys excused themselves from the gathering one by one, and soon it was only you and Pedri in the low light, talking about the most beautiful scenery you have ever seen.

He was lost in describing his home island, the clear waters and lush foliage that he called home. You leaned forward, enraptured by the passion that he spoke with about the places and people he loved. Slowly, you found yourself getting closer and closer, until there was only a few inches of space between you. The gold flecks interspersed in dark brown became clearer, and you struggled to breathe as you watched Pedri's gaze drift to your lips.

"I am getting the impression you want me to kiss you. Please correct me if that's not the case." Pedri breathed out slowly, more strained than you had previously thought. You don't know what you were thinking. Maybe you weren't thinking. You just acted on what felt right. Closing the distance, you joined Pedri's lips to yours, arms around his neck as you kissed with a hunger borderline inappropriate for the public.

You weren't usually this person. It was usually a couple dates before you would allow for a goodnight kiss, let alone the almost make-out you were currently engaged in. You pulled away from Pedri, the heavy breathing a commonality between the two of you. Maybe it was the being in Spain. Maybe it was that he was hot and young and famous. Maybe it was that of all the girls throwing themselves at him, including your coworkers, he picked you after an hour of conversation. Something told you to take a chance on what could be your love at first sight moment. So when Pedri leaned close and asked,

"Do you want to go back to your place?"

There was no answer but yes.

~

The following morning was filled with bliss. Pedri had woken up just as the first rays of sunlight were painting the stone. He kissed you on the cheek, whispering something akin to "see you around" before he left to training. You floated through your morning, making a coffee in a daze and dressing with a permanent smile. Bryce was still fast asleep, so you left her about 30 minutes worth of voice messages before you had the guts to step out and hail your own cab to work.

You walked into the office still riding the high from the night before. Your skin was ablaze, and every time you thought of the "activities", heat spread through you rapidly. Luckily the November chill kept you from sweating through your bones. Your bliss lasted for most of the morning, as you worked with Maria and a couple of people you had never met to create a mood board for an upcoming photoshoot. As you flipped through paint swatches, a piercing scream split the air, causing you to drop to the ground and cover your head.

"Why are you on the floor, Naranja?"

One of the boys looked at you with raised eyebrows, and a part of your brain registered that your new work nickname had trickled into other departments.

"Oh, sorry. I went to high school in America. Screams like that meant someone was getting jumped. Or shot."

Another scream rippled through the hallway as Maria helped you up.

"That was Silvia. Given recent history, your prediction about her being attacked might be correct."

The both of you scurried down the hall, the clicks of the other department workers followed behind you, eager for the newest and juiciest chisme. The sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks. Roberto was holding Tania by the waist, apparently the only thing that was keeping her away from Silvia, who was on the other side of the room crying and grabbing her head. There was a trail of silver thread between the two hysterical women. No, not thread - hair.

"She cut my hair! She came up behind me and cut my hair!"

"She's a traitor and, more importantly, a whore! I should've slit her throat."

Katerina had finished ushering everyone who didn't work there out of the room, and now she was standing in the middle of the room ready to mediate.

"You two have 5 minutes to explain what the hell happened and why I shouldn't fire you."

Tania had calmed, no longer straining against an iron grip and gaze filled with slightly less murderous intent. She released the clump of hair that she had in her hand onto the floor, revealing the absolute carnage that had taken place. Safe to say Silvia was going to be rocking a pixie cut for the next few weeks. Both of the girls remained silent. The prisoner's dilemma in real time. Katerina clicked her tongue after the moment of silence and simply said, "Roberto."

You could swear you saw a smile on his face briefly before he cleared his throat and began.

"Tania gave the new girl a note with her phone number in it to send to Pedri. Pedri texts the phone number, but instead of addressing it correctly, he says-"

"HEY SILVIA. THIS MORNING HE TEXTS MY NUMBER WITH HER NAME." Tania's outburst had everyone stand up, fearing that she was going to lunge. She remained in place, but no one sat back down.

"So you decided to attack her because he can't tell you two apart?"

"She must have done something to my note. She-"

"No." Katerina interrupted. "I have hear enough. Both of you are no longer working on any project Pedro Gonzalez is involved in."

Protests came from both of the girls, suddenly sullen and docile. They began to plead to be punished with anything else, but not exile from their favorite footballer. As they whimpered to your boss, who reminded them they were lucky to still be employed, it dawned on you. This morning. He texted who he thought was Silvia this morning. In response to a flirty message. After he left your bed. Maybe before he had even left the apartment.

There it was again. The nausea. The urge to projectile vomit. All because of Pedro Gonzalez. Fuck a nickname. He was a rich fuckboy that had played you like a fiddle. You held the tears back as you went back to fabric swatches, taking a moment to block him on Instagram.

"So, how does it feel to be Pedri's personal stylist now?" Katerina startled you, and the shock caused a delay in processing what she had just said.

"His what?"

"Well, now that those two are not allowed to be within 50 meters of him, it's only you and Maria working the Adidas contract. Especially now that Roberto is part of the Olympics team. So you get Pedri, and she gets Bellingham. Perfect, no?"

You nodded, swallowing hard to push the bile back down. This very unfortunate one night stand maybe have been the worst idea you have ever had. You walked through the rest of the day with disgust and rage flowing through you. You decided to brave the cold of the November afternoon and walk home, stopping by a bakery to get something with chocolate to keep the tidal wave of intense depression at bay.

How could this be happening? You weren't this girl. You weren't someone who let yourself be gullible and played. Hell, you had gone the last four years with all of Texas and parts of Mexico vying for your affection. But this little Spanish boy took advantage of the connection you felt, and he had barely left your bed before starting to text your coworker. Your phone buzzed with several messages in rapid succession.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: My agent just told me you were my own personal stylist

[Pedro Gonzalez]: that's good to hear.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: At least I'll have a friend at all these long and boring photoshoots

No mention of the night before. No "I had a good time". No question about your wellbeing. Nothing except his own self interest. How the situation would be good for him. Again. You felt awful as you pushed a teenage boy out of the way, barely making it into the bathroom before throwing your guts up. What the hell. How did you manage to fuck up so poorly so quickly? It was day damn one. And now you were throwing up in a bakery bathroom in Spain because of a man that's 5'9". You sat at a table, cake and coffee cooling in front of you. You didn't trust your legs or your stomach just yet, so you decided to type out a response instead.

Pedri was in overall low spirits. His injury had had another flare up, causing him to limp to the locker room. The email from his agent brightened his day, as he saw your name in the email. He shot a quick text your way, excited at the prospect of seeing you again, only to sour at the response.

[Naranja]: dont speak to me pedro

[Naranja]: we are not friends

[Naranja]: and we never will be

[You can no longer send messages to this user]

~~~

A/N: Here it is! The first part of the new series! Just some preemptive answers: I don't know what my posting schedule will look like and idk how many parts it's going to be. I hope you enjoy this first part. It might be a little rushed because I just wanted to set up the main story. Please let me know your thoughts in comments and asks! I'll try to reply to as many as I can. I love you all <3

Palestine: I will try to donate $1 for every comment that has a watermelon or an olive in it. I will keep y'all updated with how it goes.

Here are some more links to please please please look at while you're here.

Care for Gaza: an org that has been getting help and aid to people on the ground -> https://www.gofundme.com/f/careforgaza

Daily click that donates money to help Palestinians -> https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

#gavisuntiedboot #gub we cant be friends #pedri #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri imagine #pedri blurb #pedri gonzalez #pedri x y/n #pedri x you #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri fanfic #footballer #football rpf #football fanfic

[honeytonedhottie]

HONEYS IT GIRL MAGAZINE march edition⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the march catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. a magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

MUST HAVE FASHION ITEMS ;

for march/spring fashion in general its so fun to dress like a winx doll or a fairy. i feel magical in flowy material that shimmers, adorable mini skirts and accessories like gold bangles and waist chains.

when im going shopping, im mainly buying clothes for hot girl summer bcuz im just so excited and can't wait. plus i wanna be prepared yk? some patterns that i've noticed in my shopping patterns are that im buying lots of camisoles and sleeveless shirts.

also i've been looking for cute shorts and low waisted jeans. im looking for cute things to embroider onto the jeans and shorts to personalize them and make them feel more "summery".

something that i started was a FASHION BINDER. i followed @prissygrlsorority's idea for a fashion binder and started my own and so far im having SUCH an amazing time. i want to take time and perfect my binder but so far its going well ✨

spring traditionally has LOTS of pastel colors so formulate a color scheme based on pastel colors that look good on you. some rly good examples for color scheme this spring include

something to note for spring fashion specifically is to not look for colors that are specifically dark or bland, the idea behind spring fashion is giving fresh flowerbed, something REFRESHING.

FOR THE BLOG ;

i've been working this month on a larger project that i think you guys would really enjoy and find useful. it'll be released on the first of march and i'll announce it exactly a week before.

additionally during the month of march i expanded my blog by setting up a membership system and facilitating a way for u guys to tip my work and support my blog. i've also offered my services if u might want them.

for the month of april u can expect a variety of content but i wanted to get input from you guys on what you'd like to see the most so i'll be releasing a poll for april content later today.

HOT GIRL SUMMER PREP ;

look, ik its only march but hot girl summer is right around the corner so here are some ways that you can prepare yourself for the summer, so that you can be your most glowy, confident, and radiant self ✨

you can moisturize ur skin with the most sweet smelling and extravagant body butters and creams, but if ur skin is dull and dead you won't get that GLOW that u so desperately seek

for this i recommend juicing (i'll get more into health in the wellness girlies section) and start dry brushing to promote blood circulation and remove dead skin cells from ur body, leaving ur skin feeling baby smooth. also i recommend using a body scrub 2-3x a week depending on the sensitivity of your skin.

if u liked this hot girl summer prep section u can continue reading right one of my recent posts where i went more in depth about how u can prepare for ur hot girl summer.

OH HOW I ADORE BEING A WOMAN ;

this months catalog was in collaboration with @pastel-charm-14 and this section of the magazine was written by her ✨🫶🏽

march brings more than just the promise of spring, it's also a time to celebrate the amazing women who've shaped history. as women's history month rolls around, we can't help but reflect on what it means to be a part of this incredible legacy.

think about those bold suffragettes who fought tooth and nail for our right to vote. they weren't just distant figures in history books; they were real women with fire in their hearts and determination in their eyes. and what about the everyday heroes—the moms, sisters, and friends who quietly make the world a better place?

they might not be famous, but they have such an incredible impact. so here's to us—here's to the laughs, the tears, and everything in between. here's to celebrating our history, our struggles, and our triumphs—because they're what make us who we are.

cheers to being women, and cheers to the journey ahead. being a woman isn't always easy, but i know wouldn't have it any other way.

FOR THE WELLNESS GIRLIES ;

something that has come to my attention is that i drink a lot of fluids early in the morning. i've known that it was good to drink fluids in the morning, specifically water, but i wanted to have an in depth explanation of why it was good. so i googled it ofc.

ur body is dehydrated while u sleep so when u drink water first thing in the morning it helps ur body to recover from the temporary dehydration.

your body absorbs fluids faster in the morning on an empty stomach. so my routine has been, once i wake up to have an 8 oz cup of water, but water isnt the only thing that i drink in the morning.

bcuz fluids are so quickly and efficiently absorbed in ur body in the morning, you can drink other healthy drinks and reap the benefits. some things that i drink in the morning are ;

chlorophyll - this makes me feel so clean, it boosts red blood cells production and helps with glowy skin and weight loss. plus after i drink it i feel so clean, like a fresh out of the shower feeling

ginger shots - these are pretty lethal but they r so good for you. ginger shots are rly good for digestion issues and bloating, and it also boosts ur immunity which is always good

kombuchas - this one i dont drink on an empty stomach, but drinking kombucha in the morning though rly helps with bloating and reduces inflammation, leaving me looking snatched

FUN QUIZZES, VIDEO ESSAYS, RECIPES AND GAMES ;

what kind of flirt are you? - seventeen magazine

whats ur girl power anthem? - seventeen magazine

what kind of dessert are you? - queendom

FOOD FOR THOUGHT ;

this is the video that im going to be thinking about in order to write this section and here's what i thought about it.

ok so the conflict is unique but personally if i was the husband i wouldn't be mad bcuz its not like the wife was IN the bed with the brother in law 😭 she just said that he could use it cuz he was so sleepy. i think that what she did was nice and the husband could've communicated that he was uncomfortable in a better way then to get angry. but in that same breath the wife knows how strongly her husband feels about things like this so maybe she could've been more considerate. like bring out a pillow and some blankets for the brother in law and let him rest on the couch or whatever 💀.

if u thought differently or if u wanna elaborate on that and have more of a discussion feel free to share ur own opinions and thoughts in the comment section.

#honeysitgirlmagazine✨💝 #honeytonedhottie⭐️ #becoming that girl #it girl #self concept #self care #self love #that girl #it girl energy #dream girl #dream life #dream girl tips #it girl catalog #catalog #magazine #hyper femininity #girl blogging #girl blogger #for funsies #juicy #luxurious #glamor #march #fashion #spring #fashionista

[alphabetboyluvr]

throttle │ jjk - one

this fic is my baby and has just hit 400k over on wp, so I'm sharing her here too he he

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - jungkook is blonde <3, he's also a bit of an asshole. dangerous driving, alcohol consumption, nothing major, we're setting scenes, building worlds just to ruin them woohoo. mentions of violence, gang dynamics. both the oc and jk swear like sailors.

word count - 17.8k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

The bell above the gas station door always chimes just a little bit louder than is really necessary. 

In fact, the shrill clang of metal is so intrusive, that it feels borderline rude every single time a customer swings the door open. It's only natural for you to ignore it now, affronted by the way it distracts your focus.

It's not like you're ever doing anything important. Just flicking through the day's newspapers or counting stock. 

Although, come to think of it, you're never actually counting stock, either. You leave that job for Jieun, because you know she's a stickler for the rules, and likes feeling accomplished after her shifts are finished.

You're not really sure how much accomplishment can be derived from a part-time job at a GS25 attached to a gas station forecourt, but she seems to enjoy it.

This job really isn't for you - but it's better than following your father into local politics, and nepotism is all you really have going for you, considering you flunked the college entrance exam. An act of rebellion, for the corruption scandal your father had chosen to embroil himself in during your senior year, you had refused to write a single word on the paper. 

You thought it would embarrass him - and it did. Just at your expense.

And so, while it may not be your childhood dream of being a pop star, or a vet, or anything of any significance, ringing up bills at the gas station is how you're able to pay your own bills. It'll do for now.

You ignore the chime of the bell as the door to the service station opens once more. 

It's the start of the year, and the breeze is bitter whenever it rushes in. This time, the wind is accompanied by a guy in his mid-thirties. Dark slacks, burgundy jumper. His off-brand sliders scuff across the floor as he traipses round to the refrigerator, bottle clinking as he picks up a little soju and some beer for his evening. It's not an uncommon occurrence for men his age.

You hypothesise his next move. To the snack section to pick up something for his kids? Maybe straight to the kiosk to pay for his fuel? You check the screen, and notice he's barely added enough gas to cover the minimum charge. 

A scornful mutter of 'priorities' laces your lips, as you see him put back the soju and reach for the whisky instead.

Still, you can't blame him. It's fucking freezing. A little whisky to warm him up will probably be as cost-effective as getting a new boiler that actually works.

It's all just an assumption of course. 

You don't know this man, and you don't have a clue if his boiler works or not - but thinking about the lives of the people you meet for split fractions of time always helps to make your shift go quicker. 

He comes to the counter, pays, and leaves. 

You wonder if he's made up a life for you in his head, too.

Probably not. He probably already has an actual life to distract him from his thoughts. Maybe that's what the whisky is for.

And there you go again; hypothesising. Thinking. Putting your assumptions onto strangers.

The next customer is a girl around your age, wearing a fluffy pink coat and hoops big enough to be worn as bangles. She arrives on foot, pushing the swing door open without much care for excessive force. 

You decide, all rather quickly, that she must work at the gentlemen's club around the corner from the gas station. She's buying a coffee, iced, and nothing else. 

It's when she's at the kiosk that you realise your make-believe life for her is terribly inaccurate. She fumbles with her purse, dropping her staff I.D. card.

She's a nurse. Paediatric nurse, to be specific. The coffee she's picked up isn't for a boost before a shift on the poles, but to keep her going through a night on the wards.

And yet despite how your assumptions are so often so wrong, you still consider yourself to be a good judge of character.

It's a flaw, the way you always seem to think you can read people; think you can look at their demeanour, their clothes, and assume their financial status, what they do after the sun sets, and if they're going home to an empty house or not.

Your thoughts become lore. The gas station you work in is the thick leather cover that protects your make-believe world from outsiders.

When the bell chimes again, you don't look up. 

It's a habit. You don't want to make eye contact. It breaks the illusion that these people are just characters in your head.

Instead, you glance up to the curved mirror in the far corner of the shop. It acts as a second pair of eyes, and is ignored by pretty much all of the customers - except for the teenage girls who like to take selfies in it.

Tall, you assess when you finally find the new customer in the mirror. Broad. 

His posture a little sloped, but all things considered, he carries himself well. He heads for the refrigerators, just like every man above the age of 19 seems to do on a Friday night. There's that clink again, and you guess he's going for soju. He's young, so it seems apt. Whatever's cheapest seems to be the drink of choice for the guys your age, and you can't blame them.

You watch, cautious to not catch his gaze, as he heads to the food fridge. 

Gimbap, you guess. Tuna, not chicken. One roll, not two. 

He pulls out his phone to check a notification, and you notice just how hard his gaze is. There's a ridge between his brows, and a couple silver ballbearings accenting the brow farthest from you. Whatever he's reading on his phone, he doesn't like.

Girlfriend, you guess again. No. An ex. No, no. A FWB turned far-too-clingy. 

He looks like the type to be after something a little casual. 

The tattoos on his hands are nothing special - you've seen hands like his in countless 'sneaky' Instagram stories; a hand on the thigh, holding a bag. Y'know, the ones. The kind of shit girls post with the caption 'private, not secret' - but you both know there's nothing really 'private' about it. The owner of the hands will be blocked within a week or two, once the girl realises he's nothing special, just like his hands.

You hear him mutter beneath his breath. You can't quite make it out, but the way he shakes his head lets you know that it was most likely a curse. He locks his phone, tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans, and carries on looking for something to eat. 

You watch as his gaze lifts and falls.

That's it, you urge silently. Go for the gimbap.

You want to be proven right. 

He's already got a green bottle tucked into the pocket of his black bomber jacket, so you know you've got his choice of drink correct. You're assuming that your guess about his phone is correct, too, so you only need one more right to get a full house.

As he looks across the snacks - gimbap, vacuum-sealed meats, cheese, strawberry sandwiches and enough microwavable food to feed an orphanage - he pushes his hair out of his face. The way it falls back down almost instantly makes you smile. 

He needs a haircut - but you bet that his FWB (turned far-too-clingy lover) loves it, so he keeps it long for her satisfaction. It's bleached; pale as the sticky rice balls he's eyeing up, with dark roots that let you know he's trouble. No boy with hair like that has ever been good news. Especially not the ones who look like him.

Or so you guess look like him. He's wearing a mask. It's black, to match his outfit, cinched at the nose, hooked around ears that are studded up the sides. He must have, what? Five? Six? Little square studs in there. Airport security must be a nightmare.

You smile to yourself as he reaches for gimbap. One roll, not two. Tuna, not chicken. Bingo.

"Pump six," he says as he approaches the counter. You already know. It's been waiting on the screen since he walked in. There's no one else in the forecourt. "And these."

He tosses down the gimbap, and pulls the soju from his pocket, an old receipt coming with it. Kang's Auto Repairs it reads, but he stuffs it back into his pocket before you can read anything else.

"We're cheaper," you note, not really caring for revealing just how incredibly nosey you are. There's a perspex screen between you, which always makes you feel protected - from people, their judgements and whatever other airborne diseases they might be carrying. From the looks of him, the only diseases he'll be carrying are the ones found beneath the sheets. He's too well-built to be suffering from any ailments - but equally, too well built to not to be fucking about. "Cheaper than Kang's, I mean. He'll charge you an arm and a leg for the honour of his service."

"Hmm?" He raises a brow, obviously just wanting to pay for his shit and go. "Thanks, but I like Kang's. Been going there for years."

You hold back a laugh. He's no older than you. 24? 25? Yet he's talking like he's been loyal to that over-priced, under-qualified garage for decades. The neighbourhood is littered with garages, scrap part dealers and gas stations, and yet Kang's is the main competitor for your place. It's not even in this neighbourhood - it's across the river, which is a different district entirely, but the proximity is close enough. Your boss will never miss an opportunity to shit talk Old Man Kang and his 'con-artist' car mechanics. He doesn't think any of them are actually trained.

"Yeah, well," you smile, scanning his items, pretending there's a fault with the barcode on his gimbap just to be a little annoying. "Our guy, Yoongi, he's a specialist with those." You nod out of the window and towards the car by pump six. It's red; a little bit brash, but a classic. "Pony, right? Hyundai? '80?"

"Pony," he nods, tone neutral but eyes a little narrow. Doesn't know why, but he didn't expect you to know - and then he remembers you work at a garage. Of course you know. Got the year wrong, though."It's an '83. A mark two. I'll keep the suggestion in mind," he adds, though you both know he's lying. "How much do I owe you?"

He doesn't really listen as you list off the figure. Just hands you his card, hums when you ask for his signature - sign of a big spender, must be a full tank - and says little else. His phone buzzes on the counter as he stuffs his purchases back into his pockets, and you glance down - again, not caring for the discretion of your nosey tendencies.

KNJ. (1)   New Message.

Sneaky bastard, you think. How rude of him not to have his message previews displayed.

You're not sure if he caught you looking, but he snaps his phone up regardless and shoves it into his back pocket.

"Cheers," he nods, before he sets off into the night. Car unlocked, he slides into the driver's seat and empties his pockets onto the passengers' side. You watch on for a moment, before there's a rattle of his exhaust pipe, engine roaring into action - and like that, he's gone. You assume he's not on his way to his FWB (turned far-too-clingy lover). Wouldn't have bought tuna if he was. Then again, he's a guy. You don't expect him to care about such social cues.

Maybe he's just left hers. His neck did seem a little red, but then again, it's cold. Minus 3. The river you walk across to get to work is frozen over, and has been for about two weeks now. You've got a heat pack stuffed in either pocket of your work jacket. 

Well, Yoongi's work jacket. It's his name stitched into the breast pocket - but it's bigger than yours, so you can fit a few more layers beneath it. If the boss saw you in it, he'd have a bitch fit for 'not following company protocols,' and for not caring about the 'company brand image'. Which is true. You're neither following protocols, nor do you care about the company nor its brand image. 

It's just gone nine on a Friday night, though, and the boss clocked out a few hours ago with a bottle of makgeolli and the day's newspaper under his arm. He's not gonna see. And if he does, what's he gonna do? Fire you? Good luck to him finding anyone else who wants to spend their winter nights freezing half-to-death in this shit hole of a gas station.

By the time midnight hits, you've been yawning for at least an hour. Keeping yourself warm is a laboursome task.

"You're gonna catch a cold," Yoongi acknowledges as he enters the shop through the back entrance. He's still wrapped up in a calf-length puffa jacket, all warm and cosy. He heads out past the kiosks as normal, up to the fridges. Bagged americano and a cup of ice. You know his score - and you're proven right. "Tell me why I agreed to cover your night shift, again?" he says with a slight shiver as he scans through his own items.

Though he's typically out fixing up cars behind the service station, he helps you out at the kiosk too. Normally just when there are staff shortages - which in all fairness, occur more frequently than you'd expect.

"'Cause you love me," you sing, knowing that it's entirely plausible. 

Yoongi - stone-cold, stoic, as emotionally inept as you'd expect a bachelor verging on his 30s to be - could very much be in love with you. It's not like he really speaks to many other women, and he's never given you a reason to believe he's not interested. 

But he does give you his jacket, cuts you slack on the days you feel like shit, and covers the shifts you don't want to work without asking any questions. Sometimes he sneaks you the food that was meant to be tossed in the bin overnight, and other times he makes sure there's a peach tea waiting for you when you clock in.

"It's 'cause I love money," he corrects, as if the extra 30,000 won he'll make from the last three hours of your shift is really an incentive. He's already spent 3,000 on his coffee. "Now scram. Get yourself home. Fucking freezing tonight. Want me to call you a cab?"

That'll be an extra 7,000 to his evenings' expenses. You really don't think he does love the money. At least not enough for it to be a reasonable excuse.

"It's good," you shake your head. "You know I'm not far away."

He nods, not really fighting your choices. It's not like you ever accept his offer anyway. He learned quite a long time ago that if you want something done, you'll do it for yourself.

Y'see, you're not the only one who watches.

Yoongi watches you too, as you tap through on the screen to log yourself out and cash up the till. 

You've only run 260,000 through your till in the last four hours, barely enough to make ends meet for the gas station. No wonder the place hasn't had any upgrades - with the exception of tills and a new fridge every now and again - since the mid-noughties. The signs are rusting, and Yoongi still has to change the fuel prices by hand every morning.

On the rare shifts you work together, you like to make assumptions together. You guess what people are gonna buy, hypothesise where they're going, who they're going with. When you hear bottles clink, you guess which flavour soju they're going for, as if you don't only have 4 flavours stocked. During the summer, you like to guess who's filling up their tanks to go to the coast.

The door chimes as a new customer walks in, and Yoongi knocks his head back. "Go on, out. I'll cash your till up. It's all good."

You ask if he's sure, to which he smiles and tells you to leave again - so you do. Not without thanking him, and fluttering your lashes a little. Maybe it is your fault, just a little, that Yoongi might be a tiny bit in love with you. 

"I owe you the world!" You squeal as you skip out the door. He laughs, but says nothing. He just wants you home and safe as quickly as possible.

Yoongi doesn't mind covering your shifts, not this late at night. He knows this area doesn't have the best reputation, and despite your sharp tongue, he knows that you'd stand absolutely no chance if someone decided that it seemed like a good place to commit a felony or two. 

It's a debate you've had a few times before. You know he's right, but you fight against him regardless. It always makes him smile, and only adds to your theory that he might be a little bit in love with you.

You forget the quiet thrum in your chest as soon as the cold air hits you. Yoongi traded his jacket with you before you left; him now in his work uniform, and you in his thick puffa which reaches down to your ankles. Hands stuffed into his pockets, your shoulders hunch as you walk, a mask covering your face just to keep the heat in. Your scarf is wrapped around you so tightly that you might just suffocate, but it would be worth it, you think. You hate this time of year. So fucking cold, and for what?

The bridge lights are off by the time you reach it, illuminated only by a couple of cars. They're sat up towards the far end, facing you, and you sigh. Every fucking weekend.

It's not always the same cars, but quite often it is - or some variation of the same group, at least. They sit, waiting for traffic to die down and the lights to cut off, before turning the bridge into their own little speedway.

You should have guessed from the sound of that asshole's exhaust earlier that evening that he'd be one of them. 

The fact he goes to Kang's, too. 

It's obvious, when you think about it now. 

Guys his age never fill up their tanks - but he did. Filled it up just to spit it all out again, painting the road in iridescent speckles of gas.

You can see the Pony. It's the car farthest away from you, next to a black SsangYong. 

You can't make out the model of the SsangYong, but it looks fast. It's lowered, windows tinted, exhaust tampered with, just to create an almighty roar - which screams 'I have a tiny cock'. 

At least with the Pony, you can tell that the sound being delivered comes from his engine. Credit where it's due, and all that. He could still very much have a tiny cock, but at least he's better at hiding it.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you hug into yourself to preserve heat. The lights of the cars make you a little self-conscious, aware that you're the only thing in sight that's disturbing their peace. There's ice on the road, but you pay it no notice, knowing that there's no point in worrying about one of the cars swerving off-road as they inevitably shoot past you. 

If it happens, it happens.

The SsangYong is loud. Obnoxiously, so. You can hear pressure being put down and released on the gas pedal, clutch raised. He's teasing you. Warning you. Hurry up. 

Next to it, the Pony hums. He doesn't seem interested in taunting you as if you could fight a two-tonne vehicle as it hurtles towards you. That, or he doesn't want to waste his gas. Lord knows he'll be wasting enough of it tonight as it is.

"Try me, fucker," you mumble under your breath, eyes trained on the black car. You can't make out its driver, nor do you really care. 

It's at this point you notice a guy on the opposite side of the road. 

He flashes the torch of his phone, once, twice. The Pony kicks into gear now, too, revving to rival the SsangYong. You're halfway across the bridge, wishing they could have just waited, like, one more minute. But whatever. Assholes will be assholes.

The torch guy is out of your line of vision by the time you hear tyres screech against the ice-cold road, rubber-burning regardless. The Ssangyong bolts, fumes from the exhaust fogging in the air behind it. You expect the Pony to do the same.

It takes you half a second to realise it's stagnated, and another half to realise that things aren't going to plan for Mr Gimbap.

There's a thud from the back wheels as they lock and release, causing the wheels to spin out. You've seen enough wheel spins now to know one, and as the Pony lurches forward, you know that's exactly what it is - but you also know the road is icy. 

The fun of a wheel spin, or so Yoongi likes to tell you, is that brief moment of lost control. He likes to do it whenever he gives you a lift home, because he finds the way you freak out funny - but he's always in command of his vehicle. He's never done it with you in the car during the winter. He knows better. Doesn't actually want to lose control.

At least, not like the dude in the driver's seat of the Pony currently is. 

The back kicks out, sending him swerving. The front wheels are a fucking mess, his hands twisting the wheel in an attempt to rectify his fuck up. It's fruitless. He's off the clutch, the wheels aren't spinning, but he's already on the ice, and he's hurtling towards you.

You're aware you should run, but like the river, you're stuck. Frozen in place. 

Maybe you should have accepted Yoongi's offer of a taxi. RIP.

There's another biting screech as you're doused in headlights, and you're pretty sure that this is what people mean when they say you see the light before you die. Fucking blinding. No way those lamps are regulation approved.

It's as you're bracing yourself for the inevitable end (and thinking about how embarrassing it's going to be when your family is tasked with clearing out your apartment after your demise - you haven't cleaned for weeks, laundry has been sat in the washer for two days, and there's a pizza box that you don't dare look in sitting next to the bin) that miracle seems to strike.

The Pony hits an uniced patch just in time for the driver to slam on his breaks. Handbrake, by the sound of it, but you're not sure. Not really sure of anything. Your heart is beating in your throat.

Steam is coming from the heat of the tyres, but the air around you is frozen, and so are you. You're not sure if it's from the cold or from the shock. A bit of both probably. You don't shake out of it until the driver's door pops open.

"The fuck are you doing?" He shouts. His mask is off now, not like it had been in the store. Light glimmers off yet more metal stuck in face, this time a ring around his plump bottom lip. His nose, though well proportioned, is blushed. "I could have fucking hit you!"

"Uh, yeah?" You almost laugh, too stunned to compute the fact that he was shouting at you. "Yeah, you could have fucking hit me, you asshole-"

"The fuck are you doing on the bridge? This late? Wearing all fucking black? I know you work around here, so I know you know what this place is used for-"

"Yeah, it's a bridge," you deadpan. It's notorious for racing, but who cares? It's not like you're in the wrong here. He's the one breaking laws. You're just trying to go home. "It's used to cross rivers. So, yanno, people working night shifts can walk home without rowing a fucking boat. Pretty neat actually, invented by the Greeks."

"Don't be smart," he scolds. "You saw us gearing up, you knew what was about to ha-"

"I'm sorry," you really are laughing now. "Are you telling me that I'm in the wrong? You? The asshole who's racing his shitty car on an icy fucking bridge? The asshole who can't control his aforementioned shitty car-"

"Can control it," he snaps. "If I couldn't, you'd be fucking dead."

"Oh, well thank you very much! How kind of you to not kill me as a result of your reckless driving. No, really. I appreciate it so much. How ever can I repay you?"

"You know what?" He calls after you when you begin to walk away. As far as you're concerned, the conversion is done. "Next time, I will just hit you."

"Be my fucking guest!" You shout back, holding your middle finger up to wave goodbye. "Stick to Kang's next time, you pretentious, self-absorbed cunt."

"Gladly."

"Oh, and by the way," you begin to say in a sickly sweet tone, which you just know is going to piss him off. You turn to find him standing, facing the bridge wall, looking at the river that's illuminated only by the headlamps of his car, like two little moons. The real one is hidden by clouds. "You'll have better control if you release the clutch a little slower. Wheelspin like that? Yeah, someone needs to practise their clutch control."

He looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he just flares his nostrils and grates his jaw. He knows you're right. Knows he missed the mark - but he'd been distracted when he noticed you on the bridge. You threw him off his game.

Equally, you know he's a good driver. The way he gained control of his car on the ice was borderline expert. Impressive. You won't go as far to say life-saving, because if it wasn't for his driving in the first place, your life wouldn't have needed any God Damn saving.

You walk backwards for a step or two, just to gloat in the knowledge you've gotten the last word. He glares at you, but stays silent. Victory.

"Oi, Kook. The fuck was that about?" A distant voice yells. The SsangYong driver, you assume.

"Nothin'," he yells back. His eyes are still on you, watching as you hunch a little, folding your arms over your chest. You must be freezing, he thinks. Stupid, too. The area is littered with taxis on Friday nights. Why anyone would choose to walk is beyond him. He casts you one final stare, his chest heaving from the adrenaline, before he turns away from you. "Stupid bitch almost got herself killed. Starting line. Let's go again."

────────────

You don't mention your near-death experience to Yoongi when you see him at work the following Monday. You know he'll just worry, and then he'll really start insisting on ordering cabs for you.

Worse yet, you think he might just order them to arrive when your shift finishes, and then you'll have to take them. No point in making mountains out of molehills.

Customers are always steady on Mondays; people fuelling up for the working week, replenishing stocks wasted on the weekends.

By the time it hits four, school kids are piling in. They're picking up snacks, something to fuel them between mandatory classes and the additional ones they've picked up at hagwons. Poor suckers, you always think.

It's been years since you did the same grind, and you still don't fully understand just why you worked yourself to the bone, only to end up working in a fucking service station. 

It had never been the dream. Still isn't - but it beats being hired on account of nepotism, thanks to a father with an unlawful influence in the city. 

Your family name - which you don't go by, these days - is on the side of buildings, in the list of hospital beneficiaries, even on the local soccer team's fucking shirts. You're cursed with it; no identity of your own. Even when did try to get a job without the backing of your family, people still knew. Your face has been at God knows how many press junkets, playing the role of the Mayor's darling daughter.

All bullshit, of course.

Your father is just as good at saving face as he is at making investments. Turns out there really is nothing money can't buy; support for a mayoral campaign, the silence of a nanny - of whom he started fucking when you were still in middle school - and enough pearls to keep your mother happy after she found out.

Cars, houses, material goods? You'd wanted for nothing as a kid.

Privilege. It's a funny little thing. You had the world, and yet none of it was yours. Not really. And so, as soon as you were of legal age, you were out of the family home, trying to find some concrete meaning for your life.

All you'd found so far was the harrowing knowledge that your father's mayoral tenure had been hell for those without the privileges you'd been raised with, and therefore you'd distanced yourself so far from your family that you weren't even sure they'd recognise you, anymore.

"You good?" Yoongi asks, around about the time the clock hits five. He's by the back entrance, wiping his oil-covered hands on an old rag. "Just finishing up."

"Good," you nod in response to his question. You give him a fond smile to let him know that the perplexed expression he'd caught on your face was nothing to be worried about, and then you ask him his plans for the evening.

There are only a few more hours left on the clock for you. It's a mid-shift, someone else coming in to work the night rotation. You've never liked these shifts - the highest influx of customers, but by far the least interesting interactions.

They come and go so quickly that it's hard to make up a fake life for them, before they're replaced by the next sullen face, wanting to get in and out as quickly as possible.

"Gimmie a call if you need a lift," Yoongi calls over as he gets his jacket to leave. Off comes his work one, tossed over to you, replaced with the black puffa you returned that morning.

"Will do," you nod - and you both know you're lying. Still, he's a gentleman through and through. Wouldn't have felt right if he didn't at least offer. The bell on the entryway door chimes, but you don't look over to see the customer, choosing to smile at your friend instead. "Catch ya later, Yoongs."

"Yeah, you too," he smiles back, zipping up his coat and pulling up his mask. He's walking home, too, but it's still light. It will be dark by the time nine hits, and even though he doesn't know about last Friday night, he still doesn't like the idea of you walking home alone.

You hear the clink of glasses by the fridge, but the view is obscured by an obnoxious advertising standee your boss has insisted you put up inside the store. You tried telling him that the whole point was to draw customers in, not block them from even entering, but he was having none of it. Doesn't trust the kids in the neighbourhood not to nick it.

There's a crunch as the lid of the chest freezer is slid open, a cup of ice rattling as it's pulled from the stack. You only filled it up half an hour ago. 

Annoying. And who the fuck is drinking an iced drink on a day like today? You think, as if Yoongi doesn't reach for an iced americano before each and every shift. You're just as bad. Your peach tea habit is becoming an issue.

You glance to the forecourt to check which pump to ring through - and that's when you see it. 

Sat in bay six, as proud as the paint is bright, is that stupid fucking Pony again. With a small scoff, you pull up the balance - just over 30,000. Half a tank. Already.

Hardly a surprise, with the way he had been ragging it about on Friday evening. Must be a common occurrence.

As he comes into your line of vision, you busy yourself. 

Turning your back to the kiosk, you're arranging cigarettes that don't need to be arranged, purely so that you don't have to look at him. The bottom of his soju bottle clinks against the counter, the ice and a coffee bag following suit. You still don't turn around, instead opting to look through the 'how-to' manual for the lottery machine, just to really reinforce the fact that serving him is the last thing you want to do.

Had you not told him to stick to Kang's?

"Ahem," he coughs.

You pause mid-page turn and look vacantly into the distance for a moment, before facing him with a smile so insincere it's almost comical.

"Sorry, didn't see you there."

He nods, but doesn't say anything further. He's in all black again, this time with a sweater beneath his bomber. Air quality is still bad, thanks to the cold temperatures and lack of rain to clear the skies, so he's wearing a mask again, but it's perched beneath his jaw. His poker face holds up well.

You ring up his total, ignoring the fact he's chosen to go for a peach tea, not coffee like you'd assumed, and ask if he wants a receipt. He declines, and heads on his way, scooping up his soju bottle, leaving the peach tea.

"Oi," you call after him, but he ignores you."Oi."

Still, nothing. He pushes the door open with his knuckles that are wrapped tightly around the neck of his bottle, not paying you any attention. He's just being a dick at this point. You know he can hear you.

"Oi," you shout again, sliding out from behind the kiosk and following him to the door. You don't grab his drink - he can go back and pick it up himself, the asshole. 

"Kook," you shout, remembering the name the SsangYong driver had called him by.

He stops now.

"Oh," he turns, lips pursed, before throwing your words right back at you. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

Neither of you say anything. It's fucking freezing, and you can see your breath as you huddle yourself together. His eyes are soft, expression gentle, to suggest he's only teasing, but you can't work him out.

"You left your drink."

He shakes his head. Holds up his soju. "No, I didn't. That's yours. You like them, right? It's what you were drinking the other day?"

You narrow your eyes, only for him to raise his brows. You aren't the only nosey one, doll.

"Bit weird," you tell him.

Retrospectively, he thinks you're probably right. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He hadn't intended for it to be so strange - he just isn't great at admitting when he's in the wrong, so a peace offering is a far more tempting solution.

He digs a hand into his pocket, almost as if he's searching for the remains of his dignity, but simply shrugs. "I know I was a bit of a prick."

Acknowledgements of flaws are always welcome by you, but you really don't fancy just forgiving and forgetting. As stupid as it all seems, it was a life or death situation. A peach fucking tea wouldn't have resurrected you or uncrushed your bones.

"Yeah," you nod, biting down on your lip, a little unsure of how to handle the situation. "You were. And not just 'a bit' of a prick. Massive prick, actually."

He repeats your correction, and adds, "You just took me by surprise. I panicked. I'm not usually that..."

"Unreasonable? Arsey? Unable to control your clutch?"

"All of the above," he smiles, and you notice that he has dimples. Asshole. "Look, I won't bother you again. It just wasn't sitting right with me, the way I behaved. My mother would have been rolling in her grave if she heard me speak to a girl like that, especially so late at night. It was a dick move... and so," he inhales, looking at the ground before briefly meeting your eyes again. They're round and wide, almost as if he's incapable of telling lies. "I'm sorry."

There's silence for a moment, and then there's the flash of headlights as a second car rolls into the forecourt. You both turn to check the car, but it's just a standard family saloon. Nothing worth checking out, but it's enough to end the conversation.

"Stick to Kang's," you simply say as he pops open the door to his car. "I appreciate the sentiment, though. Was sweet."

He nods, fully intending on sticking to Kang's. He just needed to do this before he could move on from things. 

Or at least, that's the assumption that you make as he drives away. 

You wait for a little while, ignoring the man clicking the gas nozzle into the side of his car, just watching the now empty road where the small red car had sped off from. You wonder where he's going, but determine he's most likely going to that FWB you've decided he has.

Turning on your heels slowly, you let your body weight fall into the swing door, pushing it open with your shoulder. The bell jingles, like always, and for some reason, it kind of feels like the sound has settled in your stomach. It's all jittery and annoying, and you don't quite understand it. You definitely don't like it, whatever this feeling is.

It's the same feeling that washes over you next Thursday afternoon, when the bell chimes and you glance out the window, only to see a red Hyundai fucking Pony sat in bay six.

He begins to make a habit of it. Neither of you really address it. He just keeps showing up, filling his tank up, and buying whatever tickles his fancy from the snack fridge. It's nearly always gimbap. Occasionally he'll pick up something a little more substantial, and it's always accompanied with soju on Friday nights.

It takes about three weeks for you to be able to distinguish the way in which he opens the shop door. The bell chimes a little slower than normal, his casually cool demeanour preventing him from using too much force to open it. It will always 'ding' for just a bit longer than when other people push open the door. Doesn't matter where you are in the shop, what time it is. You always know when it's him.

It's a Saturday when you hear the unmistakable sound of him again, 4 weeks since that first time.

You can't see him, thanks to the standee that is still obstructing your view, but you can hear the fridges. One, two, bottles of soju. There's another clang. Three? Unusual. It's when he heads to the snack fridge that you realise you're off your game.

He's holding beers - four of them. Making the most of the four for 10,000 deal, you muse. The bottles are green, so you assume Terra, but there are some foreign imports in the fridge, too. You kind of stop guessing at this point, too busy watching. His hair is messy, like aways, and the flannel shirt he's wearing is in need of an iron, but you have to admit - there's a certain charm about him.

Your eyes flick to the door to check that nobody else has entered, and are proven correct - so why does your stomach still feel like that bloody bell chiming?

"Am I good to leave these here?" He asks, drawing your attention back to him. He's already putting the beers down on the counter, so it's not really like you can say no. "Haven't filled up yet, just wanted to check that you had what I was after, first."

"Beers?" You laugh almost immediately. "It's a GS25, dude. Course we have beers."

"Right," he nods, scrunching his nose up a little as he smiles. It was a stupid excuse, and he knew it. Part of you thinks he actually looks a little bashful. It's sweet. Confusing - but sweet, nonetheless. "I'll just go fill up."

"Uh-huh," you nod, when he doesn't leave immediately, almost as if he's waiting for permission. He laughs, and so do you. It's awkward, and you don't know why but you find yourself dropping his gaze. "Just go fill up your car."

"Yeah, yeah," he says. "Fill up. Right."

You move his bottles to the side just in case of another customer, and set about making yourself look busy, but you're a simple being. It's hard to do anything other than wistfully stare when a boy that pretty is stood in your forecourt. 

He pays you no notice as he unscrews his gas cap and positions the nozzle against the opening of his car.

There's a casual nature to his posture, leaning back ever so slightly as he slides the length of the nozzle into his car, displaying just how in tune he is with doing such a menial task. It's second nature at this point.

He watches the nozzle, then lifts his gaze above the car and out towards the road. His eyes are hard, focused almost, that little line forming between his brows again. Almost like he's looking for something.

There's a click as his gas reaches its limit, and he withdraws the nozzle slightly, letting the excess drip into the tank. He knocks it once, twice, against the entrance to be sure that he's emptied it of every last drop, before he slides it out and hooks it back into its holder.

You finally avert your eyes as he screws the cap back into place, your fingers working nimbly to bring up his total on the screen.

There's that ringing feeling again when you notice he's barely reached the minimum spend, yet you could hear the tell-tale sign of a full tank from the forecourt. He hadn't needed gas at all.

He could have just gotten a few bottles of beer from any of the convenience stores in the area - and yet for some reason, he made his excuse to come to you.

The silage of his aftershave lingers by the kiosk, and you remind yourself that he's probably off to see a girl you've made up in your head. The beers are probably to be drunk with her. The flannel shirt is still creased because what's the point in ironing something that will just end up on the floor, anyway?

It's these thoughts that have you acting a little frosty again when he returns. You ring up his total, instruct him to put his card in the machine, as if he doesn't know what he's doing, and then you offer him a receipt.

He's a little confused by the fact you're as cold as the air outside.

Had your interactions not developed past the point of a typical cashier-customer relationship? Maybe he'd read the situation a little wrong.

"Kang's have beer," he finally adds, accepting his receipt, studying it, just to see if it has your name listed under the cashier ID. It does. He takes his time to fold it up, instead of just stuffing it into his back pocket. He's biding time. Making more for himself. "But I'm a bit of a liar," he says, ending his statement with your name. The way he says it, hanging onto the last syllable, taking claim of your identity as his gaze meets your eyes, has that stupid ringing feeling back in your stomach. "I'm not here for beers."

"No?" you ask, almost nonchalant. You're divided by a perspex screen, and you've never been more thankful. It's cutting the tension for you.

"No," he shakes his head. He's about to speak, when the bell of the door goes again - for real, this time. Not just in your stomach. 

He steps aside to let the customer pay for their gas. It's a simple transaction, no added extras like Flannel Boy always has.

He stands awkwardly, toying at the bagged sweets with his ring adorned fingers. You decide that even if your assumptions about him are wrong, there's one that must be right: he knows he's hot.

The way he turns and smirks after the customer leaves, and says, "where were we?", only confirms this.

"You were saying how you weren't here for beer," you remind him, not that he actually needs it.

The perspex screen feels like a thick brick wall. You're simultaneously thankful for and annoyed by it.

"Ah, that's right," he nods. "You were saying how you're going to call in sick tomorrow night and meet me downtown."

"I'm gonna do what now?" You laugh, caught off guard by his boldness. He's smooth, you'll give him that much.

"You're gonna meet me downtown," he says simply, before adding, "Jungangno underground, exit two. The one near CGV. I can draw you a map-"

"Shut up," you laugh, blissfully ignoring the fact he's flirting with you. "I know Jungangno."

"So you'll meet me there?"

"I didn't say that."

He begins to gather up his beers, two in either hand, a smile etched on his cheeks. "So I'll see you tomorrow, at, hmm, say, 8?"

"No," you laugh.

"Yes," he grins back, walking away so that you don't have even more opportunities to reject his advances.

"No, you won't."

You sound so full of conviction when you say it. Determined. Self-assured.

Idiot.

────────────

You tell yourself that you're not going to go.

You told Mr Gimbap that, too, before he left the gas station, not that he was listening.

You tell yourself it again when you're thinking about what you could wear, and then you repeat it like an oath when you're texting Yoongi to see if he can cover your shift.

It's not like you're actually going to go.

You just want to check out your options.

And yet, somehow, you find yourself sitting on a bench outside a shitty burger chain at seven-fifty-six the next evening.

You're dressed casually, in a pair of jeans and a slouchy sweater which is a few sizes too big, but you think it looks cute. It's covered by a thick puffa jacket, regardless - cropped to your hips, unlike Yoongi's mammoth calf-length one.

He told you he'd be happy to cover your shift tonight when you asked, but you still feel a little guilty.

Mainly because when he asked why, you panicked and lied, telling him it was a friend's birthday. 

You then also told yourself that you're definitely going to hell - but it's not like that's news to you. 

It's still freezing, and you're thankful that you changed out of your converse and into a pair of boots before you left your apartment. Your hair is clipped up, make up the same as it normally is, just with a little more mascara than normal. You don't want to make it look like you've actually made an effort - but you definitely have.

You're about a mile and a half from work, but you can feel that bloody door chime in your stomach, again.

Should you walk away, a little? You don't want him to see you waiting.

Appearing too keen is the least of your desires. 

Desperation isn't a good look for anyone. If anything, he should be the one waiting for you. Kind of rude that he isn't, actually. So you get up, and pace around a little, before thinking fuck it. 

You hop on the elevator and head down into Jungangno underground mall, painfully aware of your stomach doing that stupid ringing thing again. Maybe it's vertigo. From, like, the change in altitude, or some shit like that. You're almost able to convince yourself that it's plausible. Almost. 

The shops in the underground mall are a welcome distraction. Ajummas stand in dated clothing stores, offering low-quality clothes for even lower prices. It's crowded, and stuffy, but you're enjoying the distraction. You head for your favourite jewellery place, an emporium filled floor to ceiling with what must be thousands of jewellery pieces, and fumble through the racks of earrings. 

You aren't wearing any, and remember that he - Kook, though you're not entirely sure that's actually his name - wore enough to open up his own jewellery store. You settle on a simple pair, just a couple silver hoops. It's a subtle difference, but one that makes you feel a little more confident. A little more willing to awkwardly say hello, and go on a date (if you can call it that) with a guy you barely know.

Pulling your phone out, you check the time. Seven past eight. Do-able. A little late, but not so late that it's rude. You head up the stairs, and are greeted with almost the exact same scene you had left ten minutes earlier. 

Perhaps he's just running late. It's not embarrassing to be the first one waiting, not now that it's gone past the meeting time, but you can feel that ringing in your stomach begin to grate against your insides. 

It hits eight-fifteen, and you're feeling anxious. Embarrassed. Even if he does show up now, it's obvious that you've been waiting there like a tragic, desperate excuse of a woman. 

Five more minutes, you tell yourself. 

But five turns into ten, and then another fifteen, and then it's nearly nine. 

You pull out your phone and are barely able to type, thanks to how bloody cold it is.

How long until lateness turns into being stood up?

Opinions vary, but everyone on the little online forum you're reading seems to be of agreement that 45 minutes is the cut off point. 45 cold, lonely, mortifying minutes. 

You imagine he's watching you, laughing from the warmth of a cafe, with that friends-with-benefits girl you've convinced yourself is definitely real. 

God, you must look like a twat. You've been sat here for so fucking long. Your hands are numb, arse too, and you know you're gonna wake up with a cold - but none of these compare to your hurt pride. Not by a country mile.

With a sigh, you stand, admitting defeat. Being a jerk, you could get over. But this? Deliberately being cruel? You're proven right, after all. The guy is an asshole.

You hop on the 503 out of the downtown area and back towards home. The ride is lonely, city lights reflecting in your eyes as you gaze out the window and wonder at which point your life became this bleak. You work at a gas station, and got stood up by a guy who drives a fucking Pony. Mortifying.

The ding of the bus as it rolls into its stops reminds you of the chime of the gas station door - so you stay on for a few extra stops past your apartment building. 

You're gentle as you press the red button to let the driver know you'd like to get off, but there's a little more traffic than normal, so he lets you off ahead of schedule. Odd. The roads are never normally blocked, not at this time of night. 

You're only a couple hundred steps away from the bridge, but you notice the red and blue flashing lights across it almost instantly. 

Your heart sinks to your stomach, right into the pit where the chime has been grating your insides apart. Still, you keep on walking. It's only the road that's blocked. Not the path. One foot in front of the next, you keep going, until your pace begins to increase. You can see the police cars now, and where they're parked. 

Fuck the kid you barely know, fuck feeling sorry for yourself. 

All you can think about is Yoongi. 

There are four cars sitting outside your place of work, and you can hear an ambulance blast its sirens away from the gas station in an attempt to get through the crowd. 

You're gonna be sick. You can feel it - or is that just the chime resting too far up in your oesophagus, now? You ignore it though, and begin to run, faster, faster, faster, boots clicking against the pavement as you draw closer to the gas station. Your boss is there, locked in conversation with a police officer, but Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

A cop notices you approach, grabbing onto you as you attempt to run past the tape and into the store.

"Woah, woah, woah. Calm down, little lady-"

"Where is he?" You panic, not even caring to offended by the officers choice in tone. "Min Yoongi. The guy who was working. Yoongi, where is he?"

"Who are you?" The officer counters, and you want to scream.

"Where is he?!" You struggle against his grip, kicking out, but the officer is firm. He's trained to handle situations like this; girls like you. The little but fierce. The kind of girls Shakespeare wrote about. "Where the fuck is he?"

From across the forecourt, your boss calls over. "She's one of mine. Was meant to be working this shift. Did a last minute switch with Min Yoongi."

The officer nods, understanding the situation, but not easing his grip. "In that case, I'm gonna need you to come with me to the station. Need you to answer some questions."

You stop struggling. "I- What?"

"You're not under arrest. It's voluntary, but we'll have to go to the station," he speaks calmly, straight to the point. You notice that his nose is slightly crooked. You wonder how many people have punched it. Quite a few, probably, considering that you'd quite like to do the same.

"Just go," your boss calls over, not even looking in your direction. Asshole, you seethe internally. City is full of fucking assholes.

"Where the fuck is Yoongi?!" You demand to know, this time shouting towards your boss, who looks like he's in desperate need of a cigarette. He just fucking shrugs.

"C'mon, station," the officer says, deciding that enough is enough. 

You don't know your rights. You can't fight back, not really, and you're starting to tear up, and everything feels like such a fucking mess. You just wanna know that Yoongi is safe, that he's well, that he's okay. If he's not, it's all your fault, and you don't even know how to process that. 

In fact, you don't know how to process any of this. Your cheeks are wet before you're even sitting in the back of the police car. The engine rumbles, and before you know it, you're back downtown, but this time you're at the city's main police office. 

It's hard to comprehend anything. You practically feel like you're dragged from the car and then dumped in the witness interrogation room. Some rookie cop is asking you questions, and you find yourself not wanting to answer a single one of them.

They're stupid fucking questions, for starters. Dumb shit.

Why did you switch your shift? Were you aware of a planned hold up at your place of work? Is that why you swapped? Who were you going on a date with? Why did you lie to Min Yoongi about your activities this evening? How do you not know the name of your date? Says on your file that you legally changed your name six years ago? Why? Anyone know of your family ties to politics? 

Dumb questions reap dumb answers though, so once they realise they're getting nothing of any substance from you, they admit defeat. Tell you they'll be in touch if they need to follow up.

And then, after they've watched you cry for an hour and half over Yoongi, they tell you he's fine. Came in for routine questioning, but was released without charge (obviously) and drove back. 

He's waiting for you in the lobby. 

That temptation to break the officer's nose? Yeah. Intensifies. 

"God, you fucking idiot," Yoongi speaks softly as you come into view, face all red and puffy from tears cried over him. He pulls you into his chest, and you can hear his heart thud, thud, thud, against your head. "Why did you go to work? Shouldda just gone home."

He calls you an idiot again, and you sniffle into his chest. There's a comforting scent to his clothes, a mix of gasoline and cotton, and it makes you feel a little calmer. 

You pull away, and inspect his face. There's a small graze on his cheekbone, which is beginning to bruise, and a little dried blood crusting around his nostrils. Other than that, he seems okay. 

He's silent as your fingers trace the pink flesh of his cheeks, lips resting a little ajar, unsure. Uncertain. He doesn't know what to make of such an outward display of concern - so he simply brushes it off. 

"I'm fine, trouble," he promises, bringing his hands up to clasp your wrists and stop your hands from roaming. Doesn't wanna stop you. Not really. Just knows that he should. "C'mon, let's get you home."

And it's ridiculous, 'cause Yoongi was the one who had been held at knifepoint by three men that evening, the tills forcefully emptied and his life threatened if he didn't tell them where 'the girl' was. 

He doesn't tell you that last part when he tells you what happened, though. Doesn't want to scare you. He's scared enough, himself.

It replays in his head, the way the guy with the knife doubled-down when Yoongi said he had no clue where you were. The clatter of the knife against the counter, the hands that tangled in his hair and slammed his face against the surface... yeah, they weren't memories he'd be forgetting any time soon.

Yoongi has few regrets in life, but taking the perspex screen down at the beginning of his shift to clean it definitely makes the list.

A conversation plays on loop, though, which scares him more than anything else. 

"You said she'd be here. She ain't fuckin' here!" "Well she normally is. You know I've been keeping watch for weeks-" "Not hard enough." "Oh fuck you, you do it next time, prick." 

Doesn't take a genius to work it out - and Yoongi's pretty smart, regardless. For whatever reason, they'd been hoping you'd be on shift.

"Do me a favour?" Yoongi asks as he rolls his car into your neighbourhood. He only lives around the corner from you, but it's too far, he thinks. 

"Mhmm?"

"Kind of feel a bit..." he pauses, but doesn't elaborate. He doesn't need to. You already know. "Don't really wanna be alone."

"Stay at mine," you offer, straight off the bat, not giving it a second thought.

He shakes his head. Makes some excuse about your place being small. Avoids mentioning the fact he's scared that someones keeping tabs on you. 

"I've got a spare room," he adds. "Makes more sense."

You'd be forgiven for thinking this is just another sign that the poor boy is helplessly infatuated with you. He knows he isn't really all that inconspicuous, but he also knows that the pair of you would never work. He just can't seem to help himself.

And so you end up in his bed, while he takes the pull out sofa in his spare room, because he's far too much of a gent to make you sleep on something so crappy. He leaves the heater on in your room, because you're always complaining about the cold, and tells you not to worry when you pout and mention the fact it will hike his heating bill. It's a small price to pay. 

"All the money I've saved when you refuse taxis can go on the heater, instead."

Still, you click it off as soon as you're confident Yoongi won't be back in to check on you.

In the morning, when his hair is all fluffy and cheeks puffy from a crappy sleep, he orders breakfast and double-checks that you're okay to work the shift you're scheduled on for. You remind him that he was the one held at knifepoint. Not you.

You're not surprised to learn that Yoongi thinks two iced americanos and half a bagel each qualifies as 'breakfast', but you appreciate it nonetheless. 

"I can cover, if needs be," he rambles, bagel in one hand, americano in the other, while you watch on with a smile. His cheek has bruised rather spectacularly, and you wonder if it aches as much as your heart does. "Boss gave me a couple days off, but I don't love the idea of you being there alone-"

The guilt of asking him to cover the night before is eating you alive. You don't think you'll ever ask him to cover for you again. Karma will catch up with you, you're sure, but for now, you'll be your own Saturn. 

"I'll be fine," you smile. "Lightning never strikes twice." 

────────────

When Jungkook drives, he drives alone. 

No music, no radio, just him and the open road. He likes to hear the way the tarmac sounds beneath his tyres, and how the engine purrs a little louder when he steps on the gas. It's therapy in a way - though, with the amount that he spends on gas, he's pretty certain that an actual therapist would probably be cheaper.

The roads are empty, morning sun breaking beyond the mountains that line Daegu, as he makes his way past the bridge over the river, and out towards Kang's. There's a boxing studio next door, owned by Old Man Kang himself, a little decrepit and definitely not the kind of place you end up by chance. 

It's the kind of place that's bestowed upon those who need it; the people looking for a home. A family. A cult, some like to joke, though Jungkook thinks they're half right. For him, it's somewhere to hide when the world gets too invasive; a shadow in the spotlight. 

Old Man Kang's boxing club is a shit hole, when Jungkook looks at it objectively. Wires hang from the ceiling, and the walls have needed a paint ever since he'd first stepped foot into the place six years ago. He thinks about doing it sometimes, just showing up early before anyone else arrives, with a can of white emulsion from Daiso and a few brushes. Never does it, though. Would be a thankless job. Old Man Kang probably wouldn't even notice. 

And if he did? He'd probably make Jungkook pay for 'defacing his property.' 

As he pulls his car into the forecourt, parking up by the air compressors, Jungkook sighs. He isn't expecting anyone else to be here so early, but he's having trouble sleeping. Pulling down on his sun visor, he's rough as he slides the mirror cover across to study his face.

He's not looking too bad - lip a little split, but alright, all things considered. Could have been a lot worse. Namjoon has a mean left hook, after all.

His thumb presses down on the buckle of his seatbelt, releasing it as he reaches over for his duffle bag in the footwell of his passenger seat. There's a clink as he does so, half a dozen bottles of soju ready to be transferred into the fridge by the entrance to the locker room. It's a free for all, used by all the members of the boxing club, but no one ever knows who actually stocks it up. It just kind of... replenishes. Like Christmas presents, or coins under pillows in place of lost teeth.

Admittedly, Jungkook never used to know, either. He still doesn't know who stocks up the waters. He knows who stocks the soju, though. Or at least, he's known for the last few weeks, now.

Where else is he gonna put all the bottles he buys from your store? It's not like he ever drinks them. He just needs an excuse to visit so frequently. 

"You're early," a voice says from the back entrance, as Jungkook is shuffling around with the bottles. The fridge light hums, illuminating his face, as he lets his perfectionism take priority when arranging the bottles. He doesn't turn to look, knowing the tone by heart.

"So are you, Minnie."

Minnie by name, mini by nature, Park Jimin is a 5'7 (though he swears blind he's 5'9 with shoes on) force to be reckoned with. He likes to get to the club early, before his shifts at the fishmongers. It gets his blood pumping, ready for a day of hacking away at marine carcases. 

"I'm always early," he teases, as he tosses his bag on an old wicker chair in the corner of the room. 

It's a large space - a disused rice store that was repurposed in the 80's, and taken over by Old Man Kang after the last owner gambled it away during a back alley game of poker. A large square ring is in the middle, red ropes a little tatty, but still usable. There are a few machines dotted around the corners of the room, but most people opt to use the plethora of punching bags hung up by the far wall.

Jungkook smiles softly as he begins to wrap his hands up. He's dressed down in just a black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. They're tapered towards his ankles, where they meet his beat-up black high tops. His laces are pulled tight, wrapped around the classic star logo, and tied in hasty bows on the back of his ankles. Double knotted, as always. "Couldn't sleep."

For how much of a liar he is, Jungkook is always honest with Jimin. 

Well. Nearly always.

Jimin heads for the far corner, where a skipping rope is strung up on a rusty nail embedded into the wall. He nods, figuring as much. "Joon isn't happy."

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he stretches out his back. He couldn't give a fuck if Namjoon is happy or not, especially not after-

"You should talk to him."

Squaring up to the coffee-brown punching bag, Jungkook knocks his head to the side. His jaw clenches as he gently presses against the leather to get a feel for the weight. He bounces, left, right, and then throws a punch. The smack of his hand against the weighted bag echoes into the room.

"Or not," Jimin adds, sensing that Jungkook is in no mood to talk to anyone - and definitely not Namjoon.

Unsolicited advice is never received well by Jungkook. If he wants it, he'll ask for it. Jimin knows this.

There's an art to the way his body moves, recoiling a little with every punch thrown until he disciplines himself. Back broad and triangular, calves strong and tense, it's clear to see that Jungkook can defend his own. If he had wanted to fight back against Namjoon, he could have. 

But Jungkook is a man of honour. Integrity. Respect. He'd never fight against Namjoon, no matter how much he disagreed with him - so instead, he takes it out on a punching bag that is so old it may as well be an antique. The echo of his assault against the leather rings in his ears like a warning bell. A siren. A chime. 

It's funny, 'cause a few roads over - just past the bridge and down the lane  - there's a ringing in your ears too. 

For you, it actually is a chime - the one of the gas station door, and it's a scathing reminder of how badly you fucked up by asking Yoongi to cover your shift.

You spend your morning lamenting, hypothesising. You're so busy thinking about the stupid boy who drives that god-awful red car, that you don't even bother making assumptions about other customers.

They're all about him. Where he was, who he was with. Why he did what he did. 

You decide that he grew up in a single-parent household. He's already mentioned his late mother, and suggested that she influenced his need to apologise, so a father figure didn't really seem to fit the profile you have of him. 

He wears so much black because he's scared of having an actual personality. Scared that it makes him vulnerable. Or so you assume. In fact, you decide that 'scared' is the best way to describe him. 

A scaredy-cat. A chicken. A pussy. No balls. 

After all, he was too scared to show up, and didn't even have the bottle to find a way to let you know. Did he have your number? No - but perhaps that was deliberate on his part, too.

Your final assessment of his character comes in the form of his FWB (turned far-too-clingy lover). If she's real, which again, you've decided she is, then you don't think it's her fault that she's developed an unhealthy dependency on him. He seems to be the type to lift others up, only to drag them back down with him.

Enough thoughts about him, though. 

If you're not worthy of his time, then why should he be worthy of yours?

The next few days are spent in a subliminal haze; body moving, mind still. It's Wednesday before you know it.

Jieun is on shift with you, after she complained about not wanting to work alone following the raid. You told her that no one would be stupid enough to rush the place again so soon after the first time, but she's having none of it.

"We don't get paid enough to put our lives at risk," she states whenever the topic of conversation is mentioned. And she's right - you don't.

But as you look at the grainy CCTV footage still-image that's taped up above the counter, you can't help but think they wouldn't have actually killed either you or Jieun. Realistically, they barely left a scratch on Yoongi. Physically, at least. Mentally, he's a little more wounded. 

There had been three of them; two rather tall, the third shorter. About Yoongi's height, you guess. Dressed in all black, it's hard to really distinguish any features or their bodies, let alone their faces, which had been covered in ski masks. Run of the mill robbers. The kind you see in crappy action films. Background characters. Just a way to move the plot along, no real personalities, no actual significance to the lives of the protagonists, other than causing a mild inconvenience.

You don't even realise when you're making assumptions, these days.  You think in hypothesis more often than not.

The thieves had run off on foot and down the back alley behind the shop, which is where the trail to find them ends. The CCTV for the alley has been out for months. The boss didn't deem it a necessary investment - "Well, we'd never been robbed before!" - so it had fallen to the bottom of his priority list. The issue with the back alley is that it leads to an underpass with so many blind spots that it's easy - almost too easy - to slip into nothingness. 

It's when you're staring at them, thinking about the assumptions you could make for your mystery men of misdemeanours, that the door chimes. 

You don't ignore it, anymore. The raid has spooked you. So you look towards it, and are met with the sight a broad back. The shoulders, strong and well-defined, are covered in a brown flannel shirt. It's tucked into a pair of jeans, that cling to the contours of the customer's legs. He's not wearing a coat - just hopped out of his car, where the aircon is keeping him toasty - and you realise you recognise his posture. 

The mop of bleached hair is pretty damn recognisable, too. 

"Jieun," you hiss quietly, drawing her attention from the stock she's counting in front of the kiosk. She glances towards you, eyes startled by your tone. You beckon your head back, and she scurries over to you.

"Can you man the till?"

She looks confused for a second. "Why?"

"Girl issues," you lie, knowing she won't be able to say no. "Just came on my period. Need to, yanno-"

"Go, go, go," she nods, hurrying behind the counter, ushering you away and towards the staff room door. 

As you leave, you glance to the curved mirror in the far corner; the one that only you look in. It's your second pair of eyes - but you find another pair staring back at you. It's brief, and his gaze drops as soon as he sees you focus on him, blonde hair covering his dark eyes from your view. He's looking at the gimbap again, now.  Pretending like he never saw you.

Good, you think. Fuck off. 

It's been three days since he stood you up; three days since you jeopardised one of your best friends lives to see him, only for him to be M.I.A. You don't know the kid, not really. Why waste any more of your time on him?

You stay in the bathroom for upwards of five minutes. Just enough time for him to leave. Jieun must be wondering what you're doing, but you'll just explain it away.

You're quite good at that. Lying. Just little ones, white lies. Porkies. Fibs. Never anything that will harm another person, just things that will protect you instead. 

"Who's the blonde dude?" Jieun asks when you return. You furrow your brows and play dumb. "The one with the brow piercing," she adds, as if you need any clarification. Blonde dudes aren't really the norm around these parts. He sticks out like a sore fucking thumb. "Tattoos."

"Dunno," you say with a smile. It's the same one that laces all of your little lies.

For once, Jieun looks at you, her thick brows hard and poised, as if she knows you're lying. 

And then she nods towards the counter, where a peach tea and a cup of ice sits. "Left this for you."

"Hmm," you purr. "Must think I'm someone I'm not."

Yeah, you think scornfully. Must think I'm an idiot.

It worked as an apology once before - but it's a pattern of behaviour, now. He's a leopard, spots unchanged as he runs away from the consequences of his actions, suffocating you in the dust clouds he leaves behind.

"He's cute," Jieun muses.

"No," you smile. It's the same one. That little one full of lies. "He's not."

────────────

The peach tea sits on the counter by the till for two days. It's tucked behind a box of pocket money candies, which are waiting to be restocked; hidden in such a way so that only you know it's there.

Y'see, you've been making assumptions again - though you wouldn't really call this one an assumption. It's acceptance of a habit that's been proven: he will return.

He always does, it seems. 

And sure enough, that afternoon, two days after you'd last been graced with his presence, he returns.

Jieun spots him first, eyes darting immediately towards yours. You're like a deer in headlights, ready to bolt - but she doesn't let you.

"Gotta go," she squeaks, before mouthing 'girl issues' to you, with a smile she reserves moments like these; her little victories. 

He does his usual rounds, and you're already mentally ringing it up: a bottle of soju, and a tuna gimbap roll. You glance out to the forecourt, towards pump six - but it's empty. Not a single car in sight, let alone his trusty red pony. You're confused. Brows furrowed, nostrils a little flared. Lips pouty. You big baby. 

When he eventually comes to the kiosk, it takes all of your strength not to ask, 'why the fuck are you here?'

And just like all of your assumptions about him, you're wrong. Again. 

No soju, no gimbap. Banana milk and bibimyun ramyeon, instead. A great combination by all accounts, but you're not gonna give him the satisfaction of letting him know you think his choice is elite. 

As far as you're concerned, he can take his banana milk and shove it up his ass.

Frustratingly, he appears to find amusement in your outward expression of annoyance. There seems to be a small grin on his face, cheeks appled beneath his mask, as if he's not aware that it's painfully awkward between the pair of you.  

He has no manners, you decide. No spine. No awareness of social cues, either. A triple whammy. What a catch.

But you believe that silence is a virtue, so you say nothing as you ring up his items. You don't even tell him his total - just nod towards the card machine. He follows your line of sight, watching the machine light up for a moment, before putting his card in the slot. 

While he does so, you reach for the peach tea and add it to his stockpile. 

"You forgot your drink again."

He looks at the pouch of tea, then up towards you. And then he repeats it, several times.

"Ouch," he says, ending his declaration of pain with a small laugh. You've got half a mind to rip the pouch open and pour it all over his shitty flannel shirt. It's blue today, paired with sweats, because apparently that's fashionable? 

Boy looks like he got dressed in the dark, you think scornfully - but really, you're just annoyed with how hot you think he looks. Unreasonably hot. He's the bloody Sahara storming through Daegu's coldest winter. He's melting the river, leaving everyone wet in the process. 

Or maybe not. Maybe just you-

"What's the grin for?" he teases, and you realise that you've been paying too much attention to your thoughts.

"No grin," you snap, face flushed.

"Service with a smile, as always."

"Your transaction is done," you say, this time smiling as if butter wouldn't melt. "You can leave, now."

He holds up his pot of ramyeon and shrugs, before glancing over to the food station, where the hot water and microwaves are waiting for him. "Actually, I think I'm just gonna eat here."

Without even so much as a glance back towards you, the asshole picks up a pair of chopsticks, wrapped in thin paper, and heads towards the food station. You're in a state of disbelief. Entitled prick.

Jieun returns almost as soon as he's left the counter. She still doesn't have a clue about whatever's happened between the pair of you, but she did see you hiding up the peach tea a couple of days ago, so she figured it was something. 

"You gonna take it to him?" she asks, nodding down towards the tea, which he's left at the counter, again.

"No."

"Take him the tea."

"No."

"Take it."

"No.

"Fine," she huffs. "If you don't, I will-"

"Fine!" you whisper, though it's definitely a shout. You might not want anything to do with him, but you also don't want to watch him work his charms on Jieun. For her benefit. Not yours. Definitely not because you don't want to see him flirting with her instead.

Him, with his stupid tattoos, and dumb blonde hair, and annoying smile and-

"Go," she grins. 

"Just... give me a minute."

You watch as he fills up his ramyeon bowl, hot air steaming around the jet of water. It's been a while since you ate, and you're a little jealous. Your break isn't for another few hours yet, though, so smelling his food throughout the store will be torture. Asshole.

He sits down, and Jieun pesters you a little more, but you're trying to wait it out. If a customer comes in, then you can just deal with them instead - but the forecourt is empty, just like it always is at this awkward time of day. After lunch, but before the end of school. This is the real ghost shift of a gas station - after midnight is when it comes alive. 

Admittedly, it was a little too lively the night of the raid. You make a mental note to text Yoongi on your break, just to check-in, and then you glare at Jieun and her shit-eating grin, before heading towards gimbap-less Mr Gimbap. 

Tossing the bag down onto the cheap plastic table, you're indifferent as you speak. "Like I said. This is yours."

"Is it?" he asks, unpierced brow raised. "Doesn't look like mine."

"Well, it is," you say, clearly fed up with him. "And just while we're talking - where's your car?"

His eyes narrow ever so briefly. Almost like he knows you're onto him. For what? No clue. But something.

"Taillights out. Just needs a repair."

You nod. Seems plausible. At least he sticks to the highway code - even if he does break it after the clock strikes twelve every other weekend. 

You're not quite sure what to make of him as he looks at you, eyes only lingering for long enough to let you know that there's something he's not telling you. 

The air quality isn't bad today. There's no need for him to be wearing a mask, but he's hiding. From you? From something else? You can't work him out.

Perhaps it's shame. 

After all, this is a boy who came and apologised to you for being a little bit mean in the heat of the moment. Being deliberately cruel doesn't really seem like his motive, no matter how cold his demeanour is.

And so, instead of just letting your assumptions fester, you voice them.

"You're hiding something." 

You're met with silence. 

"Behind that mask," you clarify, before repeating yourself. "You're hiding something."

He looks at you for a moment, before dropping your gaze, and glancing towards the door. 

Thinking about making a run for it, you lament internally - but he's not. He just doesn't like how sometimes - just sometimes - your assumptions are entirely correct.

He lifts his ringed index finger to his ear, unhooking the thin black elastic that keeps his mask in place, before letting it fall. His skin is clammy beneath it from the heat of his breath, and the chill of the winter breeze outside, but your eyes fall to his bottom lip. 

It's split, the centre crease darker than the soft pink flesh around it. There's a bruise beneath it, still tender and sore. You don't mean to, but you gasp at the sight of it. It's no worse than Yoongi's graze, the placement makes it so much more bothersome.

Uncomfortable with the way you're looking at him - like you feel sorry for him - he hooks his mask back up again. 

"Happy now?" he asks, knowing that you just love to be proven right.

You scoff, a little offended. "Obviously not. What happened?" You take the seat opposite his. "Are you okay?"

"Nothing happened," he lies, avoiding your eyes as he does so. It's funny how you haven't noticed that little trait of his yet. You will. Just not yet. "I'm fine."

"You're quite clearly not fine."

"Quite clearly am," he bickers, before nodding to the food on the table. "Just hungry."

Ouch. You're just trying to make sure he's okay, but if he wants to be hostile again, then fine. No skin off your back. 

You nod, looking away. It's awkward, and when the bell chimes to indicate another customer entering the shop, you find your stomach lurching. 

Still, he toys with the softening noodles in their pot, as if they're the most fascinating things in the world. 

This isn't how he wanted this conversation to go. Hell, he doesn't even know what the outcome should be. He's just feeling uneasy, as if he's making all the wrong choices.

"I heard about the raid."

You nod. It's been on all the local radio stations. Thankfully Yoongi is the only employee being name-checked. You aren't ready to give up your own personal paradise just yet, which is exactly what will happen the second your family gets notice of where you're spending your days.

"Yeah, me too," you deadpan. It's a fault of yours, giving back the same energy you receive, unable to just suck things up and be nice all the time.

Thankfully, he smiles. You kind of expected that he would. He seems to get you, get your humour. It's something you both share, like a little secret. A smile rests on his lips as he glances up towards you, like he's a school kid trying not to giggle in class.

And then you find yourself making assumptions again. You wonder what he would have been like in school, if he would have been just as charming. You bet that he was the kind of kid who could get away with murder in class. All he'd have to do was flash those of eyes of his, and he'd be off the hook.

Sort of like how he does with you. Why else would you be giving him the time of day after he stood you up?

"Oh really?" He entertains your attitude."What did you hear?"

You lean against the table, a little bit provocative, but only 'cause his tone of voice matched it. "Heard that I'm lucky some prick asked me out, even if he did leave me waiting for hours in the dark."

His smile falters a little, but only for a fraction of a second. He likes the flirt; doesn't like the acknowledgement of what he did. "Hours?"

"Nah," you scrunch your nose up, and sit up straight again. You're still smiling, to let him know that you're feeling fine about it, now. "Didn't stick around for that long. What?" You laugh when he raises a brow, and begin to tell white lies. He'll see through them, but you want him to. "You think I don't have other eligible bachelors lining up, trying to take me on dates?"

He shrugs, and you can tell that he's pouting a little behind his mask. "I'm still the one you skived off work for, am I not?"

"That's neither here nor there."

"Yeah, it is," he speaks softly, leaning forward on the table. Closer. "What time do you clock off today? I wanna talk. Properly."

"Are we not talking properly now?" You say, unable to resist being difficult. It takes everything within his power not to roll those pretty eyes of his - but you're grinning, and he finds himself doing the same back. His mouth may be covered by his mask, but you can still tell.

He thinks about his response for a moment. If he's being honest, he wants to make some crude remark; tell you that he wants to get you talking just so he can think of ways to shut you up. You're not at that level yet, though. Coming on strong is unfavoured by him, so he opts for something a little cooler.

"We're talking about talking," he reminds you, picking up the pot up and leaning over to the sink by the food station to drain the excess water. "I wanna talk about... well, anything else."

You purse your lips, folding your arms across your chest. There's part of you that really wants to say no, to tell him to go fuck himself. But there's a teeny tiny part of you that wants to say-

"Nine. I'm off at nine."

"Nine," he nods. "I'll be here."

"Sure you will," you tease.

"I will."

"Yeah, yeah. Course. You're really good at that." You're nodding enthusiastically, a stupid smile on your face, eyes all wide as if you couldn't be more naive. You can tell he's smiling again, and it's like that door chime in your stomach is bloody broken. "Yanno, the whole showing up when you say you will, thing."

"Shut up," he laughs, but it catches in his throat like a low growl. "I'll be here, but not if you keep being a little bitch."

Your teeth cushion themselves on your bottom lip, and you nod. "See you at nine... Kook?" You question, realising that you're yet to actually ask his name.

"Jungkook. But Kook works, too. Just depends on how well acquainted you're planning on getting."

He doesn't give you a chance to reply, simply standing as he pushes the pot of noodles over to you. "Eat up. You look hungry."

Turning on his heel, he heads for the door. 

The bell chimes, and it's like it's harmonising with the feeling in your stomach.

You prod around at the noodles, and sigh, posture defeated. This is not good.

────────────

The rest of your shift trudges on. It's slow, the hands of the clock seemingly frozen - until, suddenly, it's nine.

"You're late," Jungkook greets you, perched on a bollard by the side of the forecourt. He's wearing a coat, now, wrapped up a little warmer than he had been earlier. His sweats have been traded for jeans, but he's still in that big blue flannel shirt. You like it. 

And he's not wrong - cashing up your till took a little longer than normal, thanks to an old note that wouldn't read properly in the sorter. Just another thing your boss refuses to upgrade.

"At least I'm here," you quip back.

"Touché." He holds out his arm, almost as if he expects you to link yours with his. "Shall we?"

You look at his arm, then up towards him. And then you repeat it, letting out a soft laugh, not accepting his arm, instead turning to walk in the direction of home. "C'mon," you call back. "You walking me home or not?"

It's his turn to laugh now as he ups his pace to catch up with you. "Not."

"Not?"

"Not," he repeats, seemingly unable to say anything else - until, of course, he does. "My cars around the corner. Wanna go for a drive?"

"Sorted the taillight?" You ask, curious, figuring that it would have been at Kang's overnight.

Jungkook hums a response, not really saying yes or no, but as you turn the corner and it comes into vision, you can see that his taillights seem fine - not that you can really judge. A car as old as his doesn't come with central locking systems, so it's not like you'll see the lights flash as it-

Oh. Nevermind.

There's a beep, and the car flashes in front of you, mocking those damn assumptions of yours.

"Since when do Pony's have electric locks?" You ask defensively, almost as a reflex for having your assumptions disproven.

"Since I decided to install them," he says, as if it's the simplest job in the world. You've heard Yoongi mutter 'bastard locks' enough times to know otherwise.

"Kang's must make a killing from you," you joke as he nods towards the passenger side, indicating for you to get in.

"Kang's don't make shit from me when it comes to the wires."

You wait for him to pop his door open before you do the same. The interior is leather, all black, and is cold to the touch as you get in. The windscreen begins to fog almost instantly, the minimal heat you're letting off proving just how cold it's been getting lately. 

It's curious, you think. There should be a little heat left in the car from his drive to meet you.

"No?" you question, choosing to ignore the temperature of the car. It's below zero, you rationalise. Of course it cooled quickly.

"No," he shakes his head, turning the key in the ignition.

The car rumbles - purrs - softly. You can tell he's listening to the engine, making sure that it sounds okay before he sets off. Standard old car problems. Running gas through the motor before it warms up only causes issues.

Like his locking system, you notice that the stereo isn't exactly true to the era in which the car was built (even if the lack of insulation is). It's got an aux cord hanging from the headphone jack, which he picks up and places in your lap. "Don't put anything shit on."

He avoids clarifying your question, and it annoys you - so you choose to be direct about it, not plugging your phone in at all. If he doesn't want to listen to shit music, he should be a more specific.

You're stewing, clearly irritated, but you're also casually enamoured, watching him as he carefully observes the dashboard, checking the revs, trying to heat the car up a little.

"Just the electrics? What about everything else?"

He doesn't look your way as he replies. "Just the electrics. Put your seatbelt on."

"Why?"

He's still not looking at you. "'Cause if I crash, you'll go straight through the windshield."

"Not the seatbelt," you reply, though he's got a point. You haven't clicked it into its buckle yet. Nor has he, though. "The electrics."

Still. Not. Looking. At. You.

It's not even like it's an important question. You couldn't give a flying fuck about his shitty car's electrics. You just don't like that he's deliberately avoiding answering something so simple, as if you're asking him how old he was when he lost his virginity.

Eventually, he cracks. It's as he's sliding his seatbelt down, the smooth noise of  fabric scruffing against plastic filling the car. He's bargaining - hopes that if he does his belt up, then you will too. 

Then again, he knows that you're difficult, and that you'll probably use it as a bargaining tool. You won't do it up until he gives you an answer.

"Electrician by trade," he says with a little sigh, before turning to face you finally. "Happy?"

You don't want to say yes - but you are. You're smug in the knowledge that you know just as much about him now as he does you.

"By trade?" You push a little further as your buckle clicks into place.

"By trade," he answers, in that annoying way he so often does, not really giving you an answer, just confirming what you already know. "I'm in between jobs at the moment."

"Ah," you smile, finally putting the aux into your phone. The windows are beginning to clear. "That explains why you're always in the garage at such weird hours."

It doesn't. There's an entirely different explanation for that. Not one that he'll give, though.

He hums a response, not wanting to tell more lies. He knocks the car into first, and lets the handbrake down, easing the car into motion as it rolls gently from the curb and into the road. 

It's at this point you realise you're in the car with a near-stranger, and that it's probably the dumbest thing you've done in a while. You're smarter than this. Been raised better.

Jungkook smiles at your statement, though. "You ever stop making assumptions?"

A laugh falters in the back of your throat. "No," you muse. "I don't think I do."

His palm rests on the gear stick, thigh pressing down against his seat as he dips the clutch. There's a simple joy to be found in watching his movements like this, as if you're getting to see something reserved for very few people. He's smiling as he knocks it into second gear. Smiles a lot around you, actually. 

Perhaps he's just like this all the time. Naturally light natured, despite the dark clothes and even darker eyes.

"Tell me mine," he says as the car moves from the slightly beat up side road, towards the main street that leads up to the bridge. There's a change in pressure beneath the tyres, the new road far smoother, far easier, than the one you'd been on previously. "Your assumptions. I wanna hear them."

"I can't," you reply, as if they're some closely guarded secret. In a way, they are. You've built up this idea of Jungkook; of who he is, who he associates with, what he does in the dark.

If he confirms or denies a single one of these assumptions, then it could all be in tatters.

"Can't? Or don't want to?"

You watch his hands as he flicks on an indicator. There's no one else on the road. Seems redundant. It's interesting, though, how he seems to care about the rules of the road now that you're in the passenger seat.

"Why can't it be both?"

And just like that, you're going round in circles again. Always talking, but never quite saying anything. It's a strange little dance you like to do, one that you don't know the steps to, but seem to get right anyway.

He uses the palm of his hand to turn the wheel, back on the bridge now. It's less icy today, but you find your heart resting in your chest just like it did the first time you were here with him. He glances over to you, but you keep your eyes straight ahead.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "About that time. When we were here, yanno?"

You nod. It's a weird thing to think about. You could have died. Came pretty fucking close to it - and yet all that really lingers in your mind from that night is the way he stared you down.

"Mhmm," you press your lips together, and cross your legs.

He doesn't like it. The way your body sort of angles away from his. It's cold. Cruel, almost.

So he lifts his hand from the gear stick and taps your knee. A request, not a demand. He's gentle as he nudges, encouraging your legs to unhook, until they're back in their original position. You just kind of let him. Neither of you say anything, but there's an awareness that he doesn't want you to close off from him.

Your arms move instead, without much thought, crossing over themselves.

"Don't."

The silence is so loud you think the windows might shatter.

"Please," he follows it up, then decides that he needs something to fill the void that you're leaving in the conversation. "Put some music on," he says, before backtracking on his earlier statement. "I don't mind if it's shit."

It earns a small smile from you, an exhale from your nose letting him know that you find humour in his words.

You unlock your phone and head to spotify, confronted with more playlists than you know what to do with, and settle on the one you use when Yoongi lets you control the music in his car. It's pretty inoffensive, you think. Nothing too shit. No noughties classics, at least, though there are a couple from the 80's. If he complains, you'll just remind him of how old his car is.

"So what's the deal?"

The fact you only start talking as he exits the bridge isn't lost on Jungkook.

"No deal," he replies just as casually as you asked.

"Well you aren't taking me home," you muse, glancing over to him. There's a smile on his face. Dimples present. "And I'm hoping that you're not chauffeuring me to a date with the Grim Reaper - so where are we going?"

"We-" He turns to face you, now. Just briefly. Just a glance with a smile that has a chime sounding in your tummy again. "-are heading into town. I don't think the Grim Reaper's gonna be there, but you never know with that dude. Always showing up at the worst of times."

"Mm," you agree with a small laugh. "His social skills are atrocious."

"You give him a run for his money, yanno," Jungkook teases you.

It's reflex, more than anything, that has you swatting at his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt is soft, and there's a waft of his aftershave as you draw your hand back to your lap. Oaky. Mature. Probably more than he seems to be.

"My social skills are fine. You're just shitty company."

"Me?!" He sounds affronted now, but there's a grin plastered all over his pretty little face. "Sorry, little miss clutch control. Forgot you were queen of making casual conversation."

"Uh-huh," you say as you shift in your seat, body angled towards his. The smile on his face grows. There's one on yours too. A pretty fuckin' big one, at that. "That's why they hired me. Could see I'd be great with the customers."

He snorts, crown of his head tipping against the back of his seat. "Oh, yeah?"

You hum an affirmation, and Jungkook looks towards you briefly, chin lifted, eyes narrow, curious of what you'll say next. 

"Well, I seem to have done alright with one of the customers, at least."

His teeth begin to show as he looks towards the road again. "Poor fucker. I'd hate to be him."

And then you're both laughing. 

It's how it remains for the rest of the evening. 

You're laughing when he parks in the furthest corner of the lot, just to make sure no one scrapes his paintwork. You're laughing when he can't figure out the QR code for the automatic parking fee, and you're laughing when he tells you to fuck off for laughing. 

But he's laughing too. 

Laughs when you can't figure out the apron in the dakgalbi place off the side of the main shopping street, and laughs when the middle-aged lady running the shop comes to help you out. Jungkook had refused. He was enjoying the struggle too much.

See, your cheeks go all red when you get flustered. He's never seen that look on you before. You get a similar look once you realise the spice of the galbi is a little hotter than what you're used to, and you get it again after you've had a few shots of soju.

He matches you, shot for shot, but also makes sure to keep filling up your stainless steel water cup. In fact, he fills it more than he fills his own.

Unlike you, and your perceived ability to judge characters, Jungkook actually can read people pretty well. He knows his limits, and he's guessing at yours, but doing a good job doing so.

It's not until Jungkook's paying that you realise just how many bottles the pair of you have gotten through. You're steady on your feet, but you can feel the alcohol in your system, and know that he must be the same.

"How we getting home?" You ask, as the chime of the door rings behind you. Within seconds you're pulling your arms over your chest, trying to preserve heat. You fucking hate January.

"C'mon," he mumbles, looping his arm around your shoulders, rubbing at the side of it quickly to build up some heat. He's all hunched up too, clearly feeling the cold. "Taxi? I can pick my car up in the morning."

It's gone twelve on a week night. You both know there's no way in hell you'll be able to score a taxi, not without a 45 minute wait, at least. The curse of downtown Daegu. Should have just gone to eat in your neighbourhood, but Jungkook felt like he had a point to prove. He wanted to make it up to you. Properly.

You drop Yoongi a text as you load up your taxi app, just checking in, letting him know that you're all good. He replies pretty much instantly, but you're distracted by Jungkook letting you know that his app says no cabs are available.

"Shit," you hiss, bouncing around on the balls of your feet, trying to keep warm.

Jungkook weighs up his options. On the one hand, he knows he needs to get you home. On the other, you're hopping around like a fucking bunny. It's borderline cruel to keep you out in the cold like this. Especially when his place is only a ten minute walk away, in the heart of town, compared to your hour long trek back to the outskirts.

"My place isn't too far."

The suggestion is out of his mouth before he knows any better. He's getting himself in too deep already. All it's taken is a couple weeks of awkward flirting across a gas station kiosk and exactly one (1) shared dakgalbi. Maybe the 6 bottles of soju didn't help.

"You can wait it out in the warm for a taxi, at least," he adds on, before realising that you're both as tipsy as one another. Both hovering a little too close to one another. Both feeling that weird pull, of which he's telling himself to ignore, but he just can't seem to help himself.

He's a simple man, of simple pleasures - and sex is the most simple of them all.

If he wants it, then you probably do, too.

Might do, he corrects himself. Best not to make assumptions about things like these.

"Wait it out," you nod, a little grin resting on your lips. They're a little plumper than normal, partially thanks to the galbi spice, but also thanks to the you've been biting down on them all evening. It's okay, though. Jungkook's lips are just as bad. All plump and pretty and - fuck. You know you're staring but it's kind of hard not to.

He knocks his head to the side and holds out his hand for you to take. "C'mon. I'm this way."

And so you do take it. Fingers neatly linking between his, hooking on and holding close as if it isn't the first time that it's happening. It's been so long since you did this with another person that you're almost not sure you're doing it right. His grip adjusts, and then his other hand reaches behind your shoulders to prop the hood of your jacket over your hair.

"For the wind," he says. 

Definitely not so that the pair of you are a little more incognito. 

It's why he puts his hood up, too... For the wind. 

After all, he's not hiding behind his mask like he was earlier. Not hiding from you. 

But he's hiding from something.

And you should be, too.

────────────

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook smut #bts fanfic #boxer!jungkook #mafia!jungkook #throttle #byholly #jungkook fluff #angst #smut #jungkook x y/n

[hwaitham]

𝓹𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓱 𝓹𝓾𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 ꒱ྀིა . ｡˓ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

al haitham x f!reader . sfw . established relationship ﾉ fluff + suggestive ﾉ reader is in a saree + haithie is in a sherwani :3 ﾉ reader has a rather cutesie personality ﾉ al haitham wubs u vvv much but ohhh ! is he ever the litl tease ( ˃᷄˶˶̫˶˂᷅ )

㌥( ྀིง ˙˘˙ )ว㌥ . . halloooo happie deepavali fwens :D ! ! this is my silly littl gift to u . . . it’s quite rushed + not my best work , but i rllie wanted to post something for today ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ regardless of whether u celebrate the holiday or not , i hope everything that u wish for comes true && u r blessed w all the joys the universe has to offer ⭐️ ! !

fireworks shower the night sky with ribbons of light, colouring sumeru in vibrant reds and yellows and pinks. amidst the muffled pops and fizzles they create, you can hear the crowds pass by al haitham’s home up along the cobblestone path of the divine tree— laughter from happy couples and cheering from akademiya students, children ushering their parents to ‘hurry up’ lest they miss out on a good spot outside the sanctuary of surasthana to catch the fireworks (and all the sweets are sold out!).

you seem to exist in a similar vein, al haitham finds, when you begin to huff and whine, tilting your head up to pout at him in the mirror while he continues to calmly pin the jasmine garland he’d bought for you earlier in the day into your hair. 

“haitham, we’re gonna be late.” 

“we won’t be if you’d just keep still for a moment.” with a finger, he pushes your head back down, his lips curling into a soft smile and carving dimples into the apples of his cheeks when he hears you mutter under your breath. “truthfully, i don’t think you’re so preoccupied with being late as you are worried about all the padisarah pudding being sold out when we arrive.”

“yeah, w-well! well…” flaring up in embarrassment, you grumble, gather your cheek within your molars and bite down, avoiding al haitham’s gaze to look down at your hands— nails manicured and wrists sounding off little tinktinks! at the clinks of the bangles that adorn them. “hmph. so what if i am?”

your lover chooses not to dignify you with a response, and instead works a bit more hastily to finish decorating your hair, the rich floral notes and slightly sensual muskiness of the jasmine surrounding his senses until all he can really think about, feel is you.

oh, you darling girl of dreams. sweet, sweet light of his.

dressed the way you are in baby pink, the georgette fabric of your saree pleated and draped perfectly, bindi centred right between your brows, you look nothing short of doll-like, delicate and precious and the prettiest flower in the meadow.

“oww, haitham, you’re tugging on my hair!” 

when he notices you wincing, al haitham is drawn out of his head and he ceases his movements in threading bobby pins through your hair, watching you raise your hand to massage the sore spot that blooms across your scalp.

“so fragile,” he leans down over you, his voice lilted into a playful tease, yet his touch so tender and cautious— as if to apologize for the pain he’d caused— before he lays a kiss to the shell of your ear all the while sliding one last bobby pin through your hair.

it’s only brief, but he hears the catch in your breath, how you stiffen your shoulders at the kiss, feeling its aftereffects as a warm trill travelling up and down along your spine.

so fragile, indeed. he staves off the temptation that bubbles in his chest at your meek little display, pocketing it to have his fun with you later in the night. 

after all, padisarah pudding comes first!

“there, you’re all done.”

with a few more firm pats of his fingers around the bobby pins, al haitham secures the jasmine garland to your scalp, scritching your head sweetly and sealing his handiwork with a gentle press of his mouth to your temple. he admires you alongside yourself in the mirror, bringing two of the flower chains around either side of your neck, letting them fall along your chest. 

“you made me look so pretty!” an airy giggle spills from your lips— soft and glossy as you step back from the mirror to do a twirl for him, reaching out to tug on his sleeve and bounce on your tippy toes, thanking him with a wet mwah! of a kiss to his cheek. “thank you, haitham!”

“wait a minute missy, we’re not leaving just yet…” before you can scamper away out of his clutches, al haitham wraps his fingers around your wrist, tugging gently in a silent command to stay facing him. when you do, he takes your cheeks within the cradles of his palms— searching your eyes and scanning your lips with sharp cerulean, a mischievous smirk.

pretty. 

you’re so, so, pretty. something of a little butterfly that he’s come to grow perhaps overly fond of— with your tiny pearlescent wings, the flits and floats when you play among the summer flora, your delicate dances over teacups and honeypots. you fly circles around his heart and entwine it in pink ribbon, drinking its sweet nectar, making a home in the palm of his hands, the strong junction of his neck.

“haiyi…?” 

he sighs rather dreamily when you squeak his name in confusion, his teasing smirk dissolving into something more tender as he tucks a loose tuft of your hair behind your ear and adjusts his hold on you, now squishing your cheeks together to effectively pucker your lips. “i think i require more than just a kiss as a thank you.”

“b-but—” you're caught off guard by his close proximity, looking anywhere else but his eyes in an attempt to fight off the roses blooming in your lungs and their petals stuffing your mouth full, leaving you void of oxygen. “but, padisarah pudding…”

at your deflated little whimper, al haitham laughs breathlessly, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a loving smile when he realizes just how endeared he’s become to your puerile nature. he’s hunching his back to hover over you, ghost his lips on top of yours, letting his breath fan spearmint over your face before he dips his head down into the crook of your neck. 

“gosh, you’re just too cute…”

he lays his wet, open mouth over your pulse and kisses, and licks, and sucks, and oh—your head spins and your knees buckle as you press further against him, grapple at his shoulders to try and regain any sort of leverage over the dizziness that falls upon you. “hai-haitham; we gotta… gotta go…”

brows knitted tightly, al haitham only hums dismissively at your blubbery words, sliding a warm palm under the drape of your saree to take you even more by surprise. it smoothes down the side of your torso, tugs gently on the gold chain adorning your waist to bring you flush against his chest. his knuckles graze your flesh and his fingertips tease the clasps of your blouse and his touch—tender yet commanding—makes you want to sin.

and it’s only after he’s worked you up to this headspace, needy and clingy and wanting more, pawing at the buttons of his sherwani and panting rather eagerly into his clavicle, that he retracts, pinching the dip of your waist between his thumb and forefinger to bring you back down to earth.

ever the tease.

“hey!” you yelp, he chuckles, you frown, he smiles. 

“c’mon. we don’t want you missing out on any padisarah pudding, do we?”

“you’re a horrible boyfriend.” weakly, you bat at his chest before turning away from him to slip on your heels.

he beats you to it, kneeling in front of you before you can reach down for your shoes, gathering the skirt of your saree in one hand before fitting the heel to your bare foot, kissing the gold ‘𝓐 ’ pendant of the chain that rests delicately atop your ankle. “oho, is that what you think of me, dear?”

softening around the edges, your heart skips several beats at the romantic gesture, and your forgiveness is instantaneous, for all you find yourself wanting to do in that moment is kiss and hug and love on him without inhibitions.

“i suppose you’re not all bad…”

he pats your head, rubs his nose against yours in a little bunny kiss. slathering you with his affection is the only way he knows how to apologize to you. “that’s what i like to hear.”

and just as he guides you out the door, on your way to stuff your pretty little face with as much padisarah pudding as your heart desires, he kisses the crown of your head once— for good measure— and pinches your waist, yet again— for good luck!

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x you #genshin impact x reader #al haitham fluff #genshin imagines #al haitham x y/n #haitham ❤︎

[wiinterz]

show me out | kyle ‘gaz’ garrick

pairing: roller skater!kyle x roller skater!black plus size fem!reader

genre: f2l, one-shot

warnings: cursing, flirting, usage of the n-word (like once), banter, fluff, added oc’s, kissing/making out, petnames (foxy, baby)

word count: 2.4k

summary: your group, ‘the foxies’ had been holding the skating rink together since y’all were eighteen. your best friend, kyle and his group, ‘shottas’ been coming in hot as long as you could remember. on a saturday you bet kyle that his group couldn’t be better than yours at skating, you taught him everything he knows and then some. but why is it every time y’all work together, things just move better and smoother?

recs | taglist | help hub | cod m.list

AIR CONDITIONING BLASTING THROUGH the rink as people roll through the area. Groups and couples came out during the weekend as og’s and newer groups danced around the rink. ‘Party Like A Rockstar by Shop Boyz’ played through the bluetooth speakers. Wheels pushing past against the carpet with food in your hands, you reach your best friends who were sitting down with drinks in their hands. The shakes of stomps hitting against the ground and whistles blowing with the tempo of the song, with people singing and dancing in a single file line.

Sitting down next to Kelsey, you place the food on the table, watching your friends grab some and place it on their semi-empty plates. Your eyes gravitate towards a couple, the guy holding onto his girl’s shoulder as she tries to help him walk against the carpet.

“He finna fall, watch.” Rossco chuckled, your fingers grab a fry and chew on it. “Stop praying on these people's downfall,” Carmen shouts over the music, Rossco rolls his eyes and continues to watch with you. Without missing a beat, the man scoots back a bit too far and falls, his feet going up in the air while his girlfriend yells and falls with him. The people around them stop their movements and look down at the couple as Rossco and Kelsey laugh at them.

“Y’all deadass wrong for laughing.” You grumble and Rossco nudges your knee, “You not laughing is what makes it even more hilarious.” Kelsey and him laugh a bit harder and other people help the couple find a seat as the dude huffs and takes off the skating shoes.

Looking back down, you go back to eating your chicken strips with fries and hot sauce on the sides. Taking sips on her blueberry slushie, Carmen looks around, sighing as her favorite song, ‘Tambourine by Eve’ plays. “Come on y’all, we gotta get before everyone else takes up the space.” She whines and Kelsey speaks up, “Ain’t nobody finna take up space, you see how big that rink is compared to everyone. Plus I doubt most know how to move it like we do. So you good.” Kelsey reassures Carmen, or at least tries.

You nod in agreement, “she’s right, just calm down.” Carmen sighs, crosses her arms, and leans against the chair. “Okay but still, ion wanna be sitting here all night now.” “And you won’t now chill,” Rossco says and hands her his plate of food to finish up. Looking back down at your phone, the sounds of the front doors pushing open and Carmen stopping herself mid-sentence you look back up. A sigh escapes as you see your best friend and his clique.

Gaz walks in, a smirk on his face when he notices you. He's looking up and down at you, taking in what you’re wearing. Your hair is in braids but up in a high bun with your edges done. You have on a yellow crop top with your name bedazzled across it. You had on denim shorts, gold necklaces, and gold hoop earrings. Wearing a dark lipliner and lipgloss, your bangles moved around as you picked up a fry.

Your eyes did the same to Gaz, looking at what he was wearing. He has on black loose shorts, a black tee, and a sweatband on his wrist. He wore his newest Nike, a single diamond earring on his left standard lobe. His homeboys, Ricky, Marcus, and Gio were standing next to him. All were fine and brought attention to themselves.

A girl you never cared for walked past Gaz as she winked at him and he winked back. A bit of jealousy pangs you but you try to play it off. “She ain’t even allat and he’s liking her off?” You question out loud, grabbing Rossco’s attention. He looks at her and shrugs. “I mean she kinda fine, she got a fat a-” Kelsey hits his shoulder, looking at her and he kisses his teeth. “I think he means she ain’t all that for real, so stop,” Kelsey replies and you sigh, watching as Gaz walks up to you with his homeboys behind him.

His shoulders were back, chest out as he walked up, a smirk still on his face as he daps up people that he knows. You patiently wait for him, and as you do, your left leg starts to shake. You had no idea why he did this to you, made you a nervous mess, not that he hated it.

What made it worse was when y’all were alone and he gave you stares that said more than just friends but you ignored it each time. “Foxy,” he starts, his index finger holding up your chin, forcing you to look at him. Showing off his pearly white, you breathe and hold in your smile. Eyes glistening from the warm color lights as you stare at him, he was all you saw and you were all his attention he begged for.

If weak was a person, you would be the personification of that word.

“Gaz.” Your brow raises, he moves his finger from your chin and looks at everyone else. Waving at them they hum. “Saw you out on the streets the other day with wassaname?” Your tongue clicks against your teeth as Kelsey snaps her fingers. “Oh yeah, Aubrey?” She questions and you nod. Gaz playfully rolls his eyes and laughs. “So?” He shrugs, you shrug with him. “What, she wasn’t interesting enough for you or sum?” You ask, lightly punching his arm.

“I mean she is but eh.” He tells you, not sure what else to say about Aubrey, she wasn’t one of those girls he cared about. She was cute and had good intentions but he needed a bit more fire. Something he knows you could give to him, anything you dish out he could handle and make you stunned when he sends it back to you.

“So we’re gonna go on the rink or…?” Carmen injects, making you turn your eyes away from Gaz. You nod and stand, yet he doesn’t back up, keeping you close and locked in by the table.

His hand rests on it, and your chest raises when his eyes look down at your shirt. “What’s the magic word, baby?” His voice rasps, slowly looking back at you. You gulp and try not to fall back on the chair. “Excuse me?” Your voice almost cracks, and he hums and nods, moving away from you you roll from him and so does Kelsey, he widens his space for her as she rolls her eyes and talks shit under her breath. She never hated him, none of your best friends did. They all treated each other like siblings, which made it funnier when Kelsey would try and start an “argument”with him and end up losing in the end.

Going on the rink, you smile as ‘Show Out by Unk’ plays. Swerving from left and right as you crouch your knees a bit, Rossco follows behind, resting his hand on your left shoulder, and Kelsey and Carmen follow right after.

The DJ sees y’all on the floor, calling your group, people whistle and clap their hands, giving you more energy. As Rossco lets go of you, you all twirl, as Kelsey gets in front, raising her hands. Shouting out, “We ready!” As a group, you lean back as the rest of your best friends do the same. Carmen in the back, leans all the way, her fingertips touching the ground as you hold her waist. Gaz and his friends watch y’all, a smirk on his lips as his arms are crossed. He shakes his head, knowing that you two made that move.

Clapping your hands as you all get back up, you move away a bit from Rossco as he does the same, turning around, you both skate backward while Carmen and Kesley skate forward in a line. Eager to get on the floor, Gaz and his team stroll their way through. The DJ calls their group as everyone cheers for them.

He moves past you, raising a leg while letting it stay close to the ground, he squats down and keeps moving back. Laughing as you turn and look at him, rolling your eyes. Coming up to him, you mimic his move, the two of you, having your shoes close together as everyone claps, never seeing something like that before. “We better together, stingy lil’ girl.” He reminds you and you shake your head no. “Who the hell is we, nigga you speaking French or sum?” He chuckles and stands as you stand with him.

“I’m serious, we’re good together. Remember back in middle school, you and me making all these moves we taught our groups? Why aren’t we a group?” He questions and you raise a brow. “You mean a duo?” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “You know what I mean.” And you shrug. “Maybe cause we’re two dominant people who know damn well if we do, I might go as far as damaging your shoes.” You say and he nods.

“And I’ll damage your jewelry, now what?” He raises a brow and you nudge him. “Boy, if you don’t-” He laughs and you laugh with him. “Let’s do this right, okay? You and me, like old times.” He says and rolls off with his group. You sigh and stare at him, he was good but not great like you.

Rossco pulls up, dancing with the rest. “What was that?” He questions and you keep your eyes on Gaz. “A wake-up call.” Rossco hums, Kelsey comes beside you as Carmen stands next to Rossco.

“Y’all imma be back.” You tell them and push past people, getting to Gaz who's shouting out the lyrics to the song. He smiles when noticing you. “Guess you can’t leave me alone huh?” He questions and you roll your eyes, standing next to him. “Don’t get cocky now, alright? I’m just here for old times or whatever the fuck you said.” And he laughs.

Gaz grabs your hands and pulls you as you crouch your knees and push forward, going into a twirl. He catches you, grabbing both of your hands as you move backward, rolling on the tip of your skates. Pulling him closer, he mimics you, staring at your lips as you stare at his eyes.

Turning you around and pulling you to him, you feel your ass against his crotch, his left hand resting on your stomach, as his chin rests on your shoulder. The mixture of smells makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He got you wrapped around his fingers the way he wants and needs. “Foxy, foxy, and you said you ain’t miss this? Liar.” He whispers against your ear. Kissing your jaw and going back to moving with you. Butterflies all in you, feeling all lovey-dovey.

“I-I never said I didn’t. Just, shut up okay.” You warned and he chuckled, “Just teasing, just teasing.” Pulling you closer, you hold in a whimper as he shifts in a way to feel all of him better.

“I’m not dumb, I still know when a girl wants me.” He replies, “You’re so damn delusional and desperate for attention, Kyle.” He shrugs, “And if I am? I know a pretty thing in my arms will keep on supplying.” He whispers against your ear. Wrapping his arms around you, moving his right hand from your waist. He places it in the back of your pocket, holding your left hand as he turns you around to him. Placing your hands on his shoulder he grabs you closer and tilts his head.

“So damn beautiful.” His voice rasps out, you gulp, trying to contain control.

You look down, smiling at his compliment. Looking back at him, he holds your hand and moves you to the beat of the song. Resting your head on his chest, it becomes an intimate experience between you two. Forgetting the world around you, your friends watch, smiling ear to ear.

“Look at me, please?” He mutters, listening, you do. Seconds passed, feeling like minutes. Your lips ghost against his, and Gaz’s eyes flicker to your lips and eyes. Not stopping anything, letting things just be. Your lips press onto his, your hands coming up to his neck as he holds you closely. Holding your cheeks, he continues to kiss you, deepening it as you widen your mouth for him a bit. His tongue slips in, rolling around yours, lips lock. Pulling away, you both smile.

Resting your forehead against his, his thumb caresses your cheek. “I love you, okay? And I’m scared to mess this up.” He expresses, your heart feeling like a tidal wave, you breathe out heavily and nod.

“I love you too.” You whisper, his smile grows and raises your chin. “Now kiss me like you mean it.” He mutters and you giggle, pulling him into you more. You kiss him, passionately and slowly. Just the way you imagined.

i swear making this imagine had me giggling, i want this experience so damn bad omg.

#y’all really don’t be using the advantage of his character and it SHOWS #cod #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #kyle gaz garrick fluff #plus size reader #x black reader #black!reader #black reader #x black!reader #kyle garrick x black!reader #cod x black reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #gaz fluff #gaz x you #elliot knight #cod smut #task force 141 #cod 141 #141 x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz smut #kyle gaz x you #call of duty x black reader

[st4rbwrry]

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒: 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟

masterlist. next chapter.

SEMBLANCE WAS THE WORD TO DESCRIBE GETOU. his provision of love came in a various of ways—some of his feelings true, others a grey area. but the relationship he had with vice had been somewhat twisted, and it wasn't considered love.

at least that's what he thought towards the end of everything.

usually, starting off new came with perfect qualities. but ending up in the interestingly  haunting city of new orleans, that came with a surge of consequences. it all started off with a simple smoke, an inhale of toxins evaporating within the lungs of his body, only half of the gas being exhaled into thin air from the pen he holds. the tall man leaned against the wall of the school’s hallway, phone pressed against his ear as his long fingers toyed with the object in his hand. many people gazed at him—notes of curiosity or attraction, some hadn’t recognized him on this campus, nor had they ever seen a man with such a stringent face structure.

his eyes were scarily dark, lids drooping over the pupils he dangerously lowered. his face sent off a variety of emotions. whether it be the fact that he was mad, or he was just completely inattentive to his surroundings. he appeared unfazed by movement of people around him. they glanced as his lips moved, a fairly light pink, almost mimicking his olive skin tone. his mouth moved with a quickness; a seduction. 

once he ended the call, there had been no indication of what the conversation had been about. whether he had been talking to a lover, or ending someone's life just by muttering a few passive words. he had been standing in the same spot for almost ten minutes now. he wanted to bring himself to move,  but a sudden flurry of two bodies flown in front of him—almost right on time. as if it were all supposed to happen.

“you know i still want your fine ass brother on my roster.”

a feminine, somewhat deep voice whispered in the distance from what he could hear, making the man watch as two beautiful women emerge from the entrance of the girls bathroom. both bodies halted as one leans against the wall with books held to their chest, the other shifting in their spot to adjust their tight jeans.

"the hell, i thought you were texting that boy on the football team?" 

the voice of this woman nearly makes his blood warm. it's soft and sultry, and now he's engaging himself into their conversation. 

"i'm texting several on the football team. yet the quarterback is the finest." 

"and he's probably the worst one," the other girl replies. 

from where he stood, he could spot alluring long dark hair that grazed the middle of her back. as desperate as it sounded, he craved to see her face—for her to make eye contact with him and feel the attraction he does. 

"jealous, vice?" the girl teases with a smile. 

vice. 

"girl, you wish," vice laughs softly, the two now  strutting away opposite from him towards their class. 

from this angle, getou catches a glimpse of her side profile. a face so beautifully pure but could be so shamelessly damaged. milky brown skin, his lips tremble from the urge to sink his teeth into it. it was almost preposterous. his eyes went wide when he observed the way she walked, the salacious switch of this woman's hips in her vintage dereon jeans making him twitch in more ways than one. curvy body adorned with a gold belly chain around her waist and a cropped black baby tee. colorful bangles decorated her wrists along with rings and two rows of necklaces, complimenting the infinite amount of colorful ink along her body—from the top of her neck, all the way to where his eyes wished he could see more. he wanted to see all of her. 

his head begins to spin with erotic possibilities, illicit and passionate thoughts running through his mind about what he could do to her. it was ridiculous. he didn't even know the girls name, and yet here he was, fantasizing about fucking her like the demon he knew he was. he takes this moment to follow behind the two women after standing in his position for too long, surprised his feet didn't drag behind like a lost puppy. 

the classroom where they sat happened to be the same one he's enrolled in, coughing briefly to focus his conscious on what's important, and that was finding his seat. 

"i still think this tattoo would look better on the side of my ass," alani pouts, sliding her phone for vice to look at a sketch of a cherry blossom thorn as she suggests, "or maybe the back of my thigh?" 

"either way you're gonna scream like last time. and that was only angel numbers, on your wrist. no shading.” vice replies, wanting to focus on this idea she had for her own thousandth tattoo, pencil moving swiftly. 

alani sighs, knowing she was right. clicking off her phone, she grabs her pink cup filled with ice water to sip as she scans the class, watching it slowly clutter with students for the upcoming lecture. her eyes abruptly lock onto the man who made his presence known from afar. 

"ooh, girl. what the fuck," alani suddenly begins to choke, her hand covering her mouth as she coughs aggressively. vice shoots up in a panic, confused and patting her back with worry.

"bitch, are you okay?" vice's eyes widen, alani nodding her head and breathing heavily. 

"do you see that man?" she emphasized, finally catching her breath after she drinks her water, discreetly motioning towards a man sitting on the other side of the class near the front. vice wants to smack her for being so dramatic, eyeing her like she's a hardheaded child before adverting her eyes in the same direction. 

this man she spoke of finally caught her eye. an immediate attraction rushed through her as quickly as it left, and her stomach did a little flip. compulsive eyes that dwindled a fragile obsidian tone. flawless long black hair that nearly past his elbows, drifting along his brawny jaw and rested on the back of his black crewneck tee that accentuated his muscles. his mane was partially tied up in a manbun on the back of his head, nearly covering the gauges within his ears. lips distinctive, yet captivating, duplicity hiding within them. and now, they were arrogantly raised in an amused smirk, towards her, feeling her glance. 

"i wanna do bad things to that man," alani speaks in an almost feral manner, both women staring with somewhat opposite emotions. vice is disinterested, immediately going back to doodling artwork in her notebook. 

“yea, he’s cool. i'd sit on his face." 

"i second this quote! adding that to my roster!"

as vice laughs at her response, class begins. she wasn't necessarily looking forward to the debate they were going to have today. the previous day before was pretty heated on the topic of genocide and ethnic cleansing. she catches a mere glance at what the professor writes with chalk on the viridescent board. her pencil sat absentmindedly between her plump lips, eyes drawling back to the man once again, shoulders broad as he relaxed himself against the seat. when the teacher ended up calling her name, she hadn’t even realized. he really was . . . nice to look at. 

"miss persephome," the teacher repeated encouragingly, eyes now posted upon her skin as her slumped position peaked up, "yes?"

"the discussion, need i remind you since you seem so interested. is love a realism or is it underlined with sexual desires?" she began, causing the noiseless class to gently snicker as she continues, “i'd like for you to elucidate your debate on it."

she raised her eyebrows. allowing her pen to fall from her lips and in between her fingers, she replied, "elucidate? uh . . . sure.”

she begins, “it's simple, love. we fall in love by personality, physicality. the flutter of their eyelashes, to the smile upon their cheeks. i would say that it's possible to love someone without physical contact, because if you really love someone, sex is only a desire, rather than a necessity. you fall in love by their soul, not by the forefront distraction of their body.” 

a low and sarcastic chuckle was what caught vice's attention. her eyes turn directly towards where the sound echoed from, and oh, it was that fine ass of a stranger. the teacher was now captivated by the circumlocutory silence sitting on the right hand side of the room, seeing as he now teetered a ring in his slender fingers so casually. 

"getou, you seem amused. is there anything you'd like to add?" the professor asked. 

getou. that’s his name, she thinks. why does she care? 

vice softly frowns at him, watching as he says nothing. he looked at the teacher, lightly shook his head, and made no effort to verbally disagree. this bothered her.

"you laughed for a reason. this is a seminar. say what you gotta say," vice stares at him with impatience. his eyes lock into her's, intently boring into her cranium. the little flip in her stomach returned without her permission.

"i just think it's bullshit," he shrugs. 

"uh, alright. i understand y'all are adults. but let's exclude the profanity—"

"bullshit how?" vice interrupts, raising her brow in a threatening manner. 

"do you really think that love overshadows sexual desires? are you a child?" getou charges back. 

"um, no. i never said that. do you think that love is not a realistic thing? are you in high school?" 

"i don't have to fuck you to be in love with you. granted, any person could overshadow being in love with me by the way i fuck them." 

"oh, for real?” alani instigated, shifting her eyes back and forth. she's intrigued by their banter. 

"just based on that observation, i wouldn't fuck you,” vice snarls. 

"i doubt that." 

the professor cuts them off. "okay! that's enough, and wildly inappropriate. we'll pick this up another time. everyone may write their opinions on paper,” she concludes. 

"oooh, i love him already," alani bites the tip of her nail, a wide grin as she twinkles her fingers in his direction. 

"i can’t stand his ass already,” vice disagrees.

she stands from her seat along with everyone else in the classroom preparing to exit out the door, feeling slightly embarrassed for causing class to dismiss early, but not embarrassed enough to apologize. 

“girl, you’ll be alright. let’s go before i miss my opportunity to get them digits!” alani schemes, pulling vice by her backpack who still glares at him. the way he now politely stands to the professor and begins talking to her, it’s as if they didn’t just have that back and forth. it pissed her off even more. 

“ugh, he a scholar or something?” alani speaks impatiently, seeing as he continues to talk to the professor, both her and vice now standing outside of the classroom. 

vice pulls her phone from her pocket as it buzzes, glancing back up to her friend as she speaks, “the promo team for homecoming is looking for me. do i have to stay with you while you shoot your shot?” 

“you don’t wanna see me win? maybe you really are jealous,” alani never knows when to stop playing as she teases, vice becoming visibly more irritated. 

she starts, “girl—"

her voice goes into a stifled shout as she feels a bump within her shoulder. her eyes meet with those same dark eyes that glance back at her, that same shit-eating-fucker smirk appearing along his face as he continues walking. that sets her off. she flies forward, winding up her fist as she then feels alani quickly pull her back, sighing dreamily as she speaks, “yeah, that’s my baby daddy. cheer up, would you?”

yeah, okay. 

୨♡୧

vice stands back as she tilts her head, staring over the various amount of colors that spread along the brick wall, trying to figure out which of them compliment each other more. brent faiyaz soothes into her mind from her earbuds, the lazy pony tail she created swinging as she turns her head from the end of the wall to the beginning. 

the art department had requested for her to help decorate their seasonal wall, her artistic skills one fortunate fact about her that surpassed around the campus. it made her feel confident, but that confidence immensely disheveled if that relevancy pertained to her as a person. 

this was her safe haven, a place for her to crawl into her fantasies and never have to come out. the tips of her fingers were similar to a rainbow, sprouting in different splotches of paint. but she didn’t care. this made her happy. 

as she raised herself on her toes and added another swirl to the burgundy brick, her fantasies poofed into thin air as she felt her earbud be snatched from her head, eyes shooting daggers as her best friend now stood in front of her as she grinned, “busy?”

“expeditiously.”

“spell it, dummy.”

“A-L-A-N-I, dummy?” she refers to her as.

“whatever, you done being mad? i got tea to spill.”

“i was never mad at you,” vice clarifies, “what’s up?” 

“i got the tea on my new little project,” alani smiles, shaking the pom-pom’s in her hand, vice taking full notice of the cheer uniform she wears, figuring she’ll be going to practice soon.

“your dumbass lil’ project? yeah, not interested. can i go back to listening to brent now?” she reaches for her her earbuds, alani shaking her finger as she pulls back farther, “you’re gonna listen to me!”

vice replies, “yes, alani. i’m listening?” chuckling slightly.

“word on the street, he’s a hoe,” she starts.

vice raises her eyebrows, “a hoe ass hoe?”

“a dog ass hoe,” she clarifies, “scratching and barking, girl. been going to school here but did his classes online before coming on campus. the bitches knew him before he even stepped foot on the grass! well, not the grass, disrespectful to the ancestors. but you get my point,” she speaks. 

“i'm becoming bored,” vice sarcastically smiles.

alani’s smile drops, “you’re so fucking annoying sometimes. anyways, he’s an only child, doesn’t do relationships—commitment issues, perhaps?— probably has mommy issues, too.”

“hmm, great. so every other man on this damn campus. this is the only information you gathered in less than four hours? i thought better of you,” vice shakes her head. 

“since when are you so interested in him?” alani raises her eyebrow.

“you wish i actually was. i’m just saying, you’ was acting like you had piping hot tea. that was sugar water. and he seems pretty…on-paper to me,” she shrugs.

alani sighs, twirling her hair in her finger as she says, “you can at least admit . . .the bitch is bad!” 

vice laughs, “he in fact is. but i don’t care.”

“oh god. get over yourself, persephome. we get it. you got your heartbroken and you haven’t been the same since, you like older men, you wanna find true love and all that. is that why you got so mad in class?” alani prods. 

vice’s amusement drops. alani knows her best friend all too well, even if that meant pushing her buttons to get the truth out. vice rubs her hand over her face as she sits it under her chin, holding her arm by the other as she mutters, “alani, get the fuck away from me unless you want two broken legs before practice.”

“ooh! i hit a nerve,” she points out, “whatever. you so damn pissy! you need to do some prayer or something, have a dick shoved so far in you that it wipes away all that attitude,” she raises her middle finger, swinging her body around as she makes her way back down the hallway as she calls, “deuces! i’m heading to practice.”

vice watches as her best friend playfully sways her hips, shaking her pom-pom’s as she sings down the hall in a cheer-chant, “vice needs some dick! vice needs some dick!” 

she shakes her head, unable to help but chuckle at alani’s chaos, knowing that she loved her deeply anyways. 

it was now near six in the afternoon and vice’s fingers were stained with paint as she carried her supplies towards her car, stomach growling from the lack of food she’d eaten today. she forgot her grandmother had expected her company by now, also preparing to cook up a good meal. she always kept vice fed no matter how big she’d get. the thought of stuffing her mouth with curry goat and white rice nearly made her trip. removing her keys from her black telfar, she unlocks the passenger door to her all white 370z nismo to settle her supplies in. it was the love of her life after her art—customized to her preference with silver hearts carved into the rims, matching exhaust pipes and a black carbon fiber wing spoiler. 

vice took advantage of her family’s inheritance and splurged on her dream vehicle before she entered college, a gift to herself. maintaining a 4.0 gpa on top of balancing her title as class president for three years straight should be honored with a present, wanting her first couple of years in college to be more lax than anything. exhausted from the long day she’s had, she buckled herself into the drivers seat and inserts the key into the ignition, hand gripping the cherry blossom stick shift before hearing the one thing she dreaded to hear right now out of all times. her car wouldn’t start, that god awful scratching with dying wind sound ruining her day further. 

“fucking hell. why?” vice whines, wanting to bang her fists on the steering wheel in anger. knocking her head back, she blows a raspberry before aggressively swinging the door open, reaching underneath the wheel to pop the hood of the car.  

irritatedly climbing out, she circled to the front of her current tragedy, lifting the hood and hooking open the lever to inspect the issue. she’s not exactly sure why it’s acting up right now. she just had it looked at a few weeks ago. 

“damn, that’s all yours?” 

a voice had spoken nearby, vice wanting to crawl into a fetal position and scream once she recognized it. barely having a full conversation with this man, yet she memorized his voice. she slumps her head before darting her eyes towards getou. she has no chance to reply as he then says, “lemme see.” 

then, he’s standing next to her, tall and brooding as he leans over the engine to catch a quick glance. vice feels the way her heart raced at the close proximity. relax. 

“holy fuck, you have a z06 engine! that shits like fifteen grand.” 

“you’re a little too close,” vice deadpans, almost hurting her back from how hard she tried to lean away from him while still, in a dumb way, protecting her car with her hand holding it. as if he could steal it. 

“relax, i’m trying to help,” getou scoffs, ignoring her burning stare. irregardless, the combination of smaller frame, soft eyes and full lips are hard to ignore. 

“your battery died from running it too long,” he states. 

“i knew that. i have a brother that knows about cars,” she tries to brush him off, rolling her eyes as she wants to shove him out the way. 

“you gotta lot of attitude stored in that pretty face of yours, huh?” 

"do you not remember what happened in the seminar earlier?" 

getou thinks back, kind of forgetting. oh, yeah. that.

 “do you really think it was deep enough to have this underlying hatred towards me? you don't even know me." 

again, he’s bothering her further. 

“oh, i do know you. all i have to do is open my ear to the girls bathroom and i'll hear everything i need to know about you." 

"you shouldn't believe everything you hear,” he finalizes sternly, licking his lips before he’s motioning his hand to shoo her away. if he was actually willing to help, she’d accept it if that meant he’d get out of her face. 

“do me a favor, rev the engine while i tweak this shit,” he keeps his focus downward. 

“it's wrong?" she steps aside to allow him full access, doing as he says and sitting halfway inside so she could still hear him over the noise. her foot applying on and off pressure to the brake as she turns the key. 

getou’s jaw clenches as he chews on his gum, lowering his head to inspect deeper. he then slightly tilts around the hood as he replies, “no. you just shouldn't believe everything you hear."  

“your reputation sums up your opinion in class earlier a lot better now. you know, how you think sex overshadows love. that’s all you’re used to.” 

after moments of him solely focusing on her car rather than her, he then raised an eyebrow, almost amused at the girl's probing. 

“so that’s how you feel, huh? that you can confide in a person without the conceptualization of sex?” 

“call me a romantic, poetic even. if you think that's lame, i don't care,” she shrugs. 

“nah, it's cute. i just disagree with you,” getou inquired, trying to keep the conversation unceremonious as possible.

now vice is getting fed up, releasing the break altogether. “so what’s your fucking take then?”

“you chose love because you believe in fairy tales and happy endings. you said that sex is more of a desire than a necessity. but, how can love be established without the need for sex? sex is raw, pure . . .a bond that creates when people in love interlace, its a string that’s hard to ignore. the infatuation for that person you love ignites your soul. you can love a person for their personality, for the way that they laugh or make a funny noise when upset. that’s whatever. but you can’t fall in love with someone without fucking them. no matter what you say, sex is a staple necessity in a relationship. in my case, i’m too fucking hypersexual to be with someone who isn’t as sexual as i am. who doesn’t crave for that burn of desire. that need to feel you drag your nails down my back, my lips against your skin, your voice in my ear . . .small, broken and begging. you know how much a person loves their significant other based off of that continuous desire.” 

and like the introvert he was, he simply went back to his calm yet vexed expression, awaiting for her response. in the midst of it all, getou had managed to start her car, vice unaware of what magic stunt he used to activate the battery. apparently, rubbing his palms together to create heat and electrifying her battery did the trick. still stunned by his answer, as he can tell, she swallows, watching as he wipes his dirty palms on the denim of his jeans. 

“thank you,” she clears her throat, managing to be gracious of his help. the least she can do. getou nods, unhooking the latch for the hood before slamming it shut. 

“i’m just confused,” getou starts up again, jaw still shifting from the now old gum lodged between his pretty teeth. 

vice stares at him with curiosity, wondering what monstrosity is going to come out of his mouth now. “about?” 

he bites his cheek to kill the smile wanting to breach against his face. “so sitting on my face, does that go with your little bullshit morality?” 

like clockwork, vice finds herself in that same puddle of irritation she felt from the first interaction with him. frowning, she fully sits inside of her car, slamming the door shut, ignoring the sudden smirk arising on his face. her car is running without a problem, catching a look at him through the window to see him pull his pen from his front pocket to take a few puffs, the eye contact from the two of them intense. hidden with a smidge of unexpected attraction, even. vice rolls her eyes, shifting her stick and purposely swerving her vehicle around him in a swift donut, nearly hitting his ass, getou still so enamored by the girl named vice. 

© 𝑠𝑡4𝑟𝑏𝑤𝑟𝑟𝑦 + @thecoochiefairy all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify our work simply because it is ours. stealing isn't cute. we'll ruin your life <3

#𑄽𑄺 ━━ ꒰ 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 .ᐟ ꒱ #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #getou suguru #getou x oc #jjk series #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto #anime fanfic #vampire #getou smut #getou fanfic #vampire getou #black fantasy #getou series #getou x black reader

[chermanji]

children of paradise

A/n: Flustering robin buckley bc yes. (This turned out way longer than I expected so… enjoy? Also first ST post wohoo)

CW: pervert Robin! She’s a lil freak lmao, peeping down shirts n up skirts, no actual nsfw, WLW, feminine reader, Robin being socially awkward, not proofread

She pretends like she has the cool and makes some nonsensical greeting when she hears the bell on the door, but it dies in her throat when she sees you, you the girl from her AP lit class. How you come into family video, dressed up in a too short plaid skirt that she’s sure will flash your panties if you bend over too much and a pretty lacy top that has her eyeing your exposed neckline.

You’re way too bright is the first thing she notices. Pretty golden bangles on your forearms that jingle with each step. And the step of your legs has her unabashedly drooling over the long expanse of skin, down to your strappy summer platforms. You’re like something out of a movie, a real valley girl. Both her and Steve stop their idle chit chat to oogle at you, and Robin almost makes a joke about flies getting into Steve's mouth, but she's no better. How has she never noticed you before?

Maybe she has, she just hasn’t noticed how drop dead gorgeous you are with how chaotic everything’s been. But maybe she should’ve because you stroll in with sunshiney, “hey Robin,” and you tip your head to her friend,

“Harrington.”

Before she can even open her mouth, Steve is acting like his usual desperate self. Flashing you a self-righteous smolder and saying, “welcome in! What can I do for you?” He's practically drooling over the counter like a dog, and Robin watches in uncontained horror as you smile up way too sweetly at Steve.

Usually Robin would gag at the way her co-worker pines for women’s attention, but this time she gets it. And honestly, she wishes she could shove him into the office in the back and lock him there. Yank his stupid up-do away from your beautiful face and kick his lanky body under Keith's desk.

But to everyone’s surprise (and Robin’s delight) you completely dismiss Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, who’s dumbfounded at how he is completely missing another chance to score a sweetheart like you. You instead want her to help you, bypassing the boy and folding your arms across the counter where she sits on her stool.

Robin is straightening her back in some odd attempt to appear more formal. Well as formal as she can in her dark forest green Family Video vest and button-up. You ask her for a movie recommendation, some vague comment about needing a tape for a girls night - and she’s fumbling. The funny quips dying on her tongue once you get up to the counter.

She’s so used to watching Steve mooch his way with the ladies that she thought she might’ve picked up a thing or two, but once you drew a pretty manicured nail across the candy rack and give her a smile - she’s melting. It’s not her fault though! You’re so gorgeous it’s unreal, a babe as Steve liked to put it. And you push your glossy lips into a pretty curved pout for her as you ask,

“What’s your favorite movie?”

Oh how she blushes carmine red, freckled smattering turning tanner on her cheeks as her baby blue’s widen at your tone. She’s rambling and bleeting like a sheep, and fuck you’re wearing that low cut top and she can see your tits pressed up in the fabric. Is your bra really pink? She wants to smack her forehead on the counter, stuttering out like a moron.

You twirl strands of your hair around your finger, leaning up against the counter as you listen to her flush and ramble. You don’t mock her like she thought you would, but instead listen intently to her forceful retelling of Children of Paradise. Mhmming and oooing when her eyes light up, you nod and she feels like she’s gonna pass out if she doesn’t get air soon. She’s picking at the flakey nail polish on her thumb under the counter, throat going dry at how close you are.

“Can you show me?” You say it so soft, so sweet, she has a hard time computing what you said. She goes stupid for a minute, not registering what you mean, letting out a dumb “huh?”

To which you giggle, hands splaying over the vinyl counter as you nod your head to the racks of VHS tapes in the back. She can see your earrings dangling off your lobe, pretty sparkly ones that would only look good on you. The column of your neck smooth, in that moment she gets the sickly thought of sucking your skin till you’re marked purple and blue. What would she look like if you kissed her with your lipgloss on? She tucks a lip between her teeth to stop a whine from bubbling in her throat.

“Can you show me the movie, I think I wanna get it.”

She can hear Steve trying to stifle his laughter and she resists the urge to turn around and bare her teeth at him. Robin nods her head dumbly, swiftly walking around the counter, not before stomping Steve’s foot in revenge, and gesturing you to the romance section of the store. She hears him mutter a small, “dork” as she walks by and she just hopes you don’t think so too.

You chatter with her, making idle conversation about this and that - but to be completely honest Robin isn’t listening, making small mhmm’s to show she’s partially cued in. More entranced with the shape of your ass in your skirt. The way your hips sway when you walk and how your thighs look so plump she’s resisting the urge to wanna sink to her knees right now. She’s honestly stunned, she’s never this quiet.

You scan your eyes across the rows of movies until you find it, reaching up to grab it. And Robin is practically sinking into the floor when you stand on your tip toes to swipe the tape, she swears you’re doing this on purpose. She knows she should grab it, or at the very least ask Steve, but right now she has the perfect view of your skirt riding up the back of your legs. If you go just a little higher she might be able to see the pretty cotton-

“Got it!” You mumble in victory. Are you some sort of demon? Literally perfected by the hands of god and sent to lead her astray. She’s not religious by any means, but fuck she might just believe in it after seeing you.

“So are ya up for it?” You swivel around to look at her. A content smile is on your lips, but your eyes hold a clear disposition. You’re up to something.

“Oh, uh- up for what?” She croaks, shuffling her feet awkwardly.

“Movie night!” You beam at her. You hold up the tape of Children of Paradise. She really wishes she paid more attention to what you had said. Her brow creasing together as she tries to piece what you mean. Movie night? Aren’t you renting for your girl night? Wouldn’t that mean you want her to join girls night-?

You mistake her dumbfound silence for a no, a pout settling on your mouth. Arms dropping down, bangles clacking together as you step closer to her. Leaning close enough she can smell your perfume, a light daisy kind that makes you all too encompassing. She could fall into you if she really wanted to.

“I know we don’t really know each other, but if you’re not interested-“

Her eyes widen, “No! No- I mean, I’d love to join you for movie night.” She squeaks if out like a mouse that’s been stepped on, a far cry from the cool girl she tries to portray in band. She couldn’t say no even if she wanted to.

You giggle at her answer and Robin swears you have the prettiest laugh in all of Hawkins. She spends the next 5 minutes staring at you in starstruck awe, and you break it by saying, “This is cute n’ all, but are you gonna ring me up?”

Steve snorts in the back. And honestly Robin forgot he was even there in the first place. And she grins shakily at you, walking you back to the counter and logging your information into the computer. “You’re all set.”

When she hands you back the tape your fingers brush along her knuckles, and Robin almost shudders. You give her another smile and an airy thanks. You begin walking out of Family Video when you call over your shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight at 9, Buckley. And bring snacks.”

And you’re gone. Down the street in the summer heat with you new copy of Children of Paradise.

“What the fuck.” Robin whispers. Steve claps a hand on Robin’s shoulder and practically guffaws in her ear, “I can’t fucking believe it.” He mutters your name like it’s a sweet honey and wine, “you scored a date with the prettiest girl in Hawkins! You! You’ve outdone yourself Rob.”

Robin can’t believe it either. She’s grinning like a maniac behind the counter while Steve yaps at her. But all she can think about is you. Her first date and with the hottest girl in Hawkins - she almost can’t believe it. Is it a date? She’s still going back and forth, she sure hopes it is. She stills, sighing.

Fuck. What kind of snacks do you even like?

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley smut #robin buckley x reader smut #robin stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you

[thelovelyruin]

𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖆.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : choso x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : you’re choso’s girl, and he makes sure to give you anything you want.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : smut, love, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, teasing, fingering.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 3.6K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from primandonna by marina and the diamonds.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoy it; if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

Primadonna girl, all I ever wanted was the world…

“Chosooooo…” 

“Yes, princess?” 

“I want it real bad!” 

“That one?” 

“Yeah, that one!” 

“No problem, baby.” 

When you and Choso originally came to the mall, it was to get a dress you saw in one of the catalogs that gets mailed to your place. You’d been excited all week, having to wait til the weekend to get it ‘cause that’s when it released. You were one of the first ones there, trying it on and walking out on the runway in the store. Choso was enamored with you, especially when you did poses at the end, obviously playing around, but nonetheless, he had it bagged for you and paid for by the time you got dressed again. Even though you knew he would get it for you, you were still really grateful, kissing him as he took the bag from the counter. 

You’d decided to wear a pink tracksuit combo that day, a cropped jacket and shirt, and lowrise pants to show off your belly button ring. You wore your hair up in a ponytail, a couple of strands let out, and a cute pair of earrings. Then there were your bangles, clinking against your wrist as you walked in your pink Amiri’s. You called it “athleisure but way cuter!” (not like you were actually going to the gym), but despite what you wore, Choso thought you looked damn good.

I can't help that I need it all!

You and Choso have been together for about three years; it was pretty much love at first sight, at least for him. When he’d first seen you, it was in a magazine feature their team had gotten, getting a couple of models to take pics on the cars; you’d worn this cute top and shorts that left little to the imagination. Yuuji had given the magazine to him at a meet since he hadn’t gone to the photoshoot himself. When he landed on the page with you on it, Yuuji said:

“Dude, she’s a babe. She’s done a couple of shoots, but this was the first for our team. Just had to pick her; I mean, just look at those-”

“Look at my what Yuuji?”

You were standing in front of them now, manicured finger bringing the page down to look them in the eyes. Yuuji choked on his spit as Choso got flustered seeing you in person for the first time. You’d look past them and at the car they were sitting on, a G80 M3 with a candy purple wrap.

“Ooooo! This is so cute! Who’s is it?”

Yuuji pointed at Choso, who awkwardly smiled and gave you a little wave. You walked over to him, arms crossed as you looked into his eyes. Shamelessly, he looked you up and down, eyes landing back on your face as you smirked.

“And who are you?”

“Choso, nice to meet you.”

“Of course it is! Nice car, too bad I couldn’t shoot on it.”

You were a spicy one, but fuck, you were sexy.

“You can if you want to.”

You’d walked up to him, face inches from his as you looked up at him. Yuuji took that as his cue to leave, patting Choso’s hand as he walked off.

“Depends, do you want me to?”

“What I want is to take you out.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. Let me pick you up on Friday.”

“Hmm, I’ll think about it!”

You say that I'm kinda difficult, but it's always someone else's fault!

You’d walked away from him, leaving him licking his lips as you left. He’d seen you around for the rest of the night, talking to a couple of the other girls, then taking turns with them to flag for the races. Before Choso left for the night, he’d looked for you, but you had already left. He sighed in defeat and walked back to his car, but before he got in, he caught something under his windshield wiper—a napkin with your lipstick print, and your phone number right above it.

Choso did take you out that Friday, picking you up and taking you out for dinner, a little bowling after. He’d fucked your brains out that night, and you two were pretty much inseparable since then. Before you came along, Choso won a few races a month, then bought a dealership; pretty well off but didn’t have a lot of things to spend it on. But you had plenty. After about three months, he’d moved you out of your place and into his apartment downtown, bringing your cat with you. He’d gotten you a C6 convertible, of course, gloss pink wrap with custom cheetah print seats, which you’d drive to and from Pilates and Starbucks, always coming home to kiss him as he spoke to the employees at the dealership. You’d cook him a nice dinner and snuggle up to him at night, a true love story.

Choso fucking loved you and, as a result, had a thing for praising you. Friends would say he kisses the ground you walk on, but he tells them no. He makes out with it. You were his and loved it, wearing a little silver chain with his name on it, him having a tattoo of your initials behind his ear. He’d send you on trips while he went out of state to race, often to fashion weeks, always coming back with quite the list. Like that time you’d come home from Milan, and you just had to have that sparkly Versace dress you saw.

Choso got you everything you wanted, no matter the cost or size. That is until now.

Got you wrapped around my finger, babe; you can count on me to misbehave!

“Baby, you already have that one.”

“Yeah, but not in pink! I got it last year in white before the new drop, so now I just have to have it!”

You looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes, which usually worked, but this time, he genuinely didn’t see a purpose in getting the same bag twice.

“It’s a no, princess. Sorry.”

Unfortunately for him, you were a fucking brat. Not that you couldn’t take no for an answer, but you weren’t gonna be happy about it. You’d walked off from him now, him tailing you to make sure you were okay. You’d walked into another store, real sweet to the attendant that walked up to help, but rolling your eyes at Choso as you looked through the racks.

“Princess…”

“Yes?”

“You’re acting like a brat.”

“Whatever do you mean? I’d like to try these on, please.”

Would you do anything for me?

With that, you walked away, the attendant opening the dressing room for you two as Choso sat the bags down. You’d put the dresses on the hangers as Choso took a seat on the bench in the room. Swiftly, you took off your jacket, hanging it on the door hook and taking off your pants, your shirt following. And what did you have on? One of those pretty lace sets he’d gotten you a month or so ago, a gift for your anniversary. You were wearing probably the only set he hasn’t fucked you in. You weren’t oblivious, taking extra time to get up from the floor while undressing. Choso felt pretty courageous, pulling you back into his lap as you gasped at the sudden motion. He spread your legs over his thighs, keeping your legs open as his hand walked itself down to your panties, which Choso rubbed through the fabric, making you squirm a bit. He brought his mouth to the side of your face, whispering in your ear as his other hand pinched your nipple through your bra.

“You’re pretty damn wet, princess. Want me to help you with that?”

“Mhm!”

“Gonna stop acting like a brat so I can eat your pussy?”

“Yes, baby, please!”

“My pleasure.”

Would you get down on your knees for me?

Choso set you up on the bench as he sat on the floor, pulling your panties off and gently sitting them down next to you. You met his gaze as he spread your legs, kissing the skin of your thighs as you bit your lip in anticipation. He chuckled a bit as he kissed the outside of your lips, excited to taste that familiar sweetness he’d indulge in every day if he could. Teasing you, he licked lightly into your slit, tongue barely grazing your pussy as you sat there whimpering. He’d brought his face back up, signaling you to quiet down as he tasted you. You shut your mouth, groaning into your hand as he began eating your pussy. He’d make it quick today, on a time crunch, before the attendant returned to check on you. He’d brought his face deeper into you, fucking his tongue into you as you gripped his hair. He’d heard you moaning his name into your hand, smiling into your pussy as you closed your eyes to center yourself from all the pleasure. With that, he decided to mess with you a bit. He took his tongue off you, replacing it with his fingers, you groaning from the lack and returning pleasure. 

I know I've got a big ego; I really don't know why it's such a big deal, though!

“Move your hand.”

Hesitantly, you moved it, trying to moan as quietly as possible as his thumb rubbed your clit, the others pumping inside of you.

“That’s a good girl. How ya feelin’ baby?”

“So good, Choso…”

“Yeah? You like it when I fuck you here?”

“Yessss…”

His fingers had found that sweet spot inside you, throwing your head back as your body arched forward.

“God, you’re so fuckin beautiful, you know that?”

“So sexy, even when you’re pissed at me.”

“Look at you, lookin’ pretty as you fuck my fingers.”

All the praise was driving you mad. You brought your hand to your mouth, bracing yourself for the impending orgasm. Instead, choso brought his hand up to your mouth, pulling his body upward to kiss the side of your face as he pumped relentlessly inside of you, feeling you almost screaming his name into his hand.

“You’re so pretty when you cum, you know that? Let me see that pretty face. Cum for me, baby.”

With that, you lost it, body jerking onto his fingers as you moaned his name over and over into his hand. He replaced his hand with his lips, feeling you groan into his mouth as you came down. He kissed his way back down, putting your panties back on as you sat there panting, recovering from your high. Smiling, he brought his lips to your again, pulling away to get a good look at you.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess.”

Choso wiped your juices off his face, watching you fix your lipgloss. Damn, you were-

“Ma’am, you okay in there?”

When you give, I want more, more, more! 

You opened the door, body adorned with one of the dresses you picked out, as you stepped out and did a spin.

“Do I look good in this dress?”

“Beautiful, ma’am!”

“Great, I’ll take it!”

After you got dressed and the attendant checked you out, she gave a wave and smile to both of you as you left the store. You held tight onto Choso’s arm, smiling up at him as he guided you towards the mall parking lot. He’d opened the car door for you, sitting you inside as he put the bags in the backseat. Starting the car, he looked over at you.

“Ready to go home, baby?”

“Actually, can we get ice cream first?”

I wanna be adored!

Get what I want 'cause I ask for it, not because I'm really that deserving of it!

Choso always went all out for your birthday, going above and beyond to make your day special. He’d started the morning by getting a private chef to come up to the apartment to make you breakfast. Before that could happen, though, he was having trouble getting you out the bed, especially with how you’d woke him up.

“Choso…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Wanna fuck you, can we?”

Usually, he’d be more than happy to feel your pussy first thing in the morning, but you two had overslept (or, as you called it, beauty sleep), and the chef was gonna be there in the next 45 minutes, which you’d take the whole time to get ready.

“Want to, baby, promise, but your first surprise is about to get here soon; go start getting ready.”

When you’d heard surprise, you’d pretty much forgotten about morning sex, instantly hopping out the bed to start getting ready. You were so excited for your birthday that you got your hair curled the day before, lashes too; they were the finishing touch after you’d done your makeup. You decided on a cute pink tennis dress to match your pink Dolce sneakers, holding off on dressing up until later this evening. With a couple of sprays of perfume and a little gloss, you were ready just in time for the chef.

When you were done eating, you looked up to Choso, waiting to see what came next. He gave you a kiss and a smile, walking you to the living room, a bunch of boxes wrapped in pink paper on the middle of the floor. You squealed as you ran and sat down, waiting for him to come over.

“Oh, baby, you’re too sweet!”

“No problem, princess.”

You went through your gifts: a couple of pairs of heels he’d seen you looking at on Pinterest, one of those new hairdryers you saw on TikTok, jewelry, lingerie, the usual stuff. You’d give him a kiss between every present; lips probably had more gloss than yours did at this point. Some of the stuff you’d try on and walk around in like you were modeling, like the Chanel sunnies he’d gotten you. It always made him so happy; he could tell you loved every single one. You’d always take care of anything he’d gotten you, everything down to the first thing he’d gotten you, a sterling anklet you’d found online. After two years time, the chain snapped, and you had quite the fit. You’d been sad for days. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fix it, but he’d been there for you to reassure you that even though it broke, his love for you wouldn’t.

As you closed the final box, you wrapped him in your arms and kissed his cheek repeatedly, making him giggle as he almost fell over.

“Got one more thing for you, baby.”

Choso walked to the room, returning with a box with a big bow on the top. You looked at him skeptically, intrigued that this gift had been separated from the others. Still, you took it as he handed it to you, setting it on the couch next to him as you opened it. There was a layer of paper on it, followed by a simple dust bag, presumably to hide what was underneath it. Before you opened it, you looked up at him; he nodded to you to finish unboxing it. You slowly opened the dust bag, pulling-

“BABY, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!”

Choso had gotten you the pink version of the Vivienne Westwood bag you’d seen at the mall! You pounced at him as he smiled and braced himself for impact.

“You like it, baby?”

“I like it? I like it? I LOVE IT!”

Going up, going down, down, down!

You’d put your lips on his now as he brought a hand around you to sit the bag down gently. You completely straddled him, body pressing to his as you made out with him. He’d brought his hands to your ass, bringing your hips closer to him as you kissed him deeper. You’d pulled away, looking at him with half-lidded eyes, biting your lips.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“Wanna show you how grateful I am.”

“Yeah, how you gonna do that?”

“You're gonna take me back to the room so I can-”

Choso cut you off, throwing you over his shoulder as you playfully slapped his back, him slapping your ass next to his head. When he got you to the room, he laid you down quickly, taking off your sneakers and outfit; hate to mess up such a cute dress with cum stains, ya know? He’d removed his clothes, lifting your body to sit on the bed so you rested your head on the pillows.

Anything for the crown, crown, crown!

Choso brought his lips to yours, kissing you softly and then rushing down to your tits, making you laugh. He’d wrapped his lips around your nipple, looking up at you as he rubbed his hands up and down your body, tickling you slightly. 

“You like that, baby?

“Hmm, maybe…I think your lips would feel wayyy better somewhere else.”

“Oh yeah? Suddenly, I’m really hungry.”

He brought his body down in between your thighs, in one motion, bringing your thighs up to your chest, spreading you open for him. You whimpered when his tongue found your pussy, holding your legs firm as he fucked his tongue into you. Choso was having a lot of fun, seeing you squirm in the position you were in as he all but devoured your pussy. He let all of your juices spread his face, anything to taste more and more of you. When he started sucking your clit? You went nuts. You moaned his name over and over, gripping the shits as you were able to be as loud as you wanted. You felt that fire growing inside you as his nose rubbed against your clit, tongue sinking further and further, exploring you as you fell out above him.

“Baby…”

“Baby, I’m about to cum!”

“Baby, fuck, I-”

You came for him, closing your thighs out of reflex, nearly suffocating him. He brought his face up, letting your legs down, smiling down at you as you tried to catch your breath. Choso was pretty damn cocky. He knew that his tongue sent you flying, having to center yourself as you came down. He brought his body over yours, kissing the side of your face as you came to.

“You okay, princess?”

When the lights dim down, down, down, I spin around!

In one fall swoop, you flipped Choso over, straddling his waist as you brought yourself down on his dick. He was gone, shocked at how fast you’d maneuvered but also from how fucking good you felt. He brought his hands to your hips, fixing his legs so he could fuck into you. You were on top of the world, literally. He was thrusting into you rapidly, one hand on your tit, the other holding your ass as he slammed you down on his dick. Fuck, you two were in love. Bodies sweating against each other, both getting turned on by the other's face, flustered and fucked out as you brought your bodies against each other. You’d shifted your hips slightly so he could fuck into you at that angle that made you scream his name.

“Princess, fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

“Choso, fuck, right there, don’t stop!”

Got you wrapped around my finger, babe…

He was hellbent on making you cum on top of him; he could make you cum in missionary or doggy style later, but right now? He couldn’t get enough of your face, lips quivering and eyes forced shut as you tried to hold on to any sort of balance you had.

“Princess..”

“Mhm?”

“Look at me.”

Hesitantly, you looked in his eyes, knowing at that point you were about to cum. You were completely self-indulgent, and Choso loved it; you’d brought your body forward, resting on your hands on either side of his head as he fucked into you. Shit, he wasn’t gonna last much longer either with your face as close to his, getting a front-row view of your reactions to how good he was fucking you. He’d gripped your ass as leverage to slam you down harder, slapping the skin there every time you said his name. When your arms started to shake, he knew you were about to cum, so, like a good boyfriend, he talked you through it.

“Look how pretty you are, fuck I love you.”

“Gonna give you the world, baby.”

“You’re mine, yeah? Cum for me, then baby, give it to me.”

You lost it right then and there, arms collapsing and body laying down on his as you came hard all over him. God, you were an angel. Whimpering for him as you milked his dick, pussy spasming around his shaft. Choso came at that point, holding your hips against his as he filled you up, groaning as he sat his face into your shoulder. Panting, he brought you into a hug as he fucked you through your orgasm, smiling as you moaned his name softly.

You can count on me to misbehave!

Choso felt a little bad for fucking you so hard, your curls had fallen a bit, and your mascara had smudged a bit when you came. You lifted your hips slightly, letting him know to pull you off and lay you down. You turned your body towards him, running your hands through his hair. He swore at this moment he could marry you; watch you walk around with his ring on your finger, but right now? He was a little too fucked out to think about it clearly.

“How was it princess?”

“So good!”

He smiled and picked you up, taking you to the bathroom to get washed up. Looking at his watch, it was 10:45. Depending on how long you took to ready again, you guys could make the lunch reservations.

“Hey, baby?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“So, there was this LC500 i was looking at…”

“It’s yours.”

Primadonna girl!

♱ the song used in this story is primadonna by marina and the diamonds. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

#choso x reader #chosoxreader #choso x female reader #chosoxfemalereader #choso x you #chosoxyou #choso x y/n #chosoxy/n #choso x f!reader #chosoxf!reader #choso x fem!reader #chosoxfem!reader #choso x fem reader #chosoxfemreader #choso #choso jjk #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #kamo choso #choso smut #choso supremacy #choso fanfic #choso fluff #choso fic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk fluff #jjk

[theroyalsims]

LADY ELLA PHOTOGRAPHED WEARING §6,500 GOLD AND DIAMOND BRACELET

Just like mummy!

Lady Ella, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Harvelle and the Queen's only grandchild, was spotted wearing a luxury bangle during her latest outing with her parents.

The accessory in question is reportedly custom made for the little lady, and is crafted in yellow gold and studded with diamonds.

The posh tot wasn't the only one sporting said bracelet. In fact, her mum, Eleanore, was wearing two bangles stacked on her right wrist. Lady Ella's custom bracelet is estimated to cost at least §6,500, while Eleanore's is said to be worth about §19,000 each.

The photographs, rather expectedly, caused quite a stir online. Some royal watchers thought that splurging and showing off such luxuries seem tone-deaf and inconsiderate, seeing that a housing crisis is currently taking place in Brindleton. One commenter wrote:

"It's disgusting how tone deaf they all are. I'm not blaming the baby - I'm looking at her parents. We get that they're rich but they should've taken into consideration that there are thousands of homeless people in Brindleton now and hundreds more in fear of being evicted due to high costs of living."

Another wrote:

"Here I am debating if I should get the brand name pasta for dinner tonight or the cheaper generic one so I can save §5, while a literal baby is wearing a bangle that could pay off my utilities, rent, and food bills this month. BTW, that bracelet won't even fit that little girl in a few months time. She's gonna outgrow it really fast and then it's bye bye §6,500. She's hasn't even turned one, ffs! At least be smart about how you spend your money. You're not only showing off how rich you are. You're also showing off how dumb you are."

Some, however, are quick to defend Eleanore and Ibrahim's parenting skills:

"If I had that much money to burn, I'd buy my kids anything and everything, too. It's not Eleanore or Ibrahim's fault that other people are struggling. Poor people will still be poor whether or not Lady Ella has a §6,500 bracelet. Let this family live a little. They're not asking you to pay for it."

The Harvelles were seen leaving Liberty Park located near their townhouse here in the city. For their low-key outing, Eleanore coordinated her outfit with her daughter, wearing a floral yellow wrap dress. Ella also donned an adorable yellow bumblebee print outfit that matched her yellow hair bows and sandals.

The Harvelles are expected to return to the country after a brief stint in the city following last week's activities.

#ts4 #theroyalsims #ts4 simblr #simblr #ts4 legacy #ts4 royals #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal family #ts4 royal story #ts4 royal legacy #ella #ibrahim #eleanore

[whatdudtheysay]

Businessman Toji x f!reader ୨ part 2 ୧

Part two of the last blog postt

Hope you like this 👀

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CW - rough sex, spanking, name calling, jealous sex, makeup sex, non spoken consent, Toji is low-key hypocritical but he redeems himself, slight fluff at the end ♡

A/n - took me 3/4 hours so enjoyy. If anyone requests it I'll do a part 3 (Not proofread or grammar checked cus I was lazy 💀)

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Your complicated work relationship with Toji was frustrating.

To the public, you were just his assistant, there to help him with whatever problem he had but once the doors were closed, you were his plaything.

Toji would shower you with kisses and the best sex you've ever had and call you his and only his. He even wanted to go public with your 'situationship' at some point but you refused. You knew this could cause rumours and you didn't want to effect his reputation in any way. Especially since he was doing amazing for himself.

The only problem you faced with this whole façade was that there was no label on it. You didn't mind at first but it began to get on your nerves.

Especially when one of his ex flings came running back to him during your work hours.

You were in toji's office when it happened, the door suddenly opening with one of toji's bodyguards holding a guilty expression, in front of the big man was a girl dressed in a tight purple dress. Brown highlights contrasting her blonde hair. She gave me a slight glance before walking towards Toji, slamming her hands onto the table.

"Toji! Why didn't you invite me to the gala tonight!"

That was where you were both heading to next. A charity gala that toji's business partner - Gojo - was hosting. Despite your complaining, toji made it clear that he was taking you as his plus one.

"Busy." Toji replied, typing away on his computer. He clicked his fingers and the bodyguard came over to the young woman.

"Miss pearl, you need to leave now." He instructed.

The lady glared at him and looked like she was going to throw a tantrum. Instead of doing so, she stomped out.

Once the bodyguard left, you wanted to ask Toji about it but decided not to. Since he was 'busy.'

After your work hours, Toji took you back home, telling you he'd be back to pick you up for the event.

You took the time to shower and pamper yourself, taking care with your makeup and putting on perfume, before looking between the three gala dresses toji had bought for you, choosing the rose gold mermaid dress that had a slit at the side, reaching your mid thigh, a fluffy shawl that came with it. You used the jewellery gift set Toji had also given you, rings, a necklace and dangly earrings, as well as bangles . You wrapped the shawl around you and slipped into the heels. You took a look at yourself in the mirror. Sometimes you felt like you were toji's sugar baby rather than whatever sex relationship you had.

You thought back to the girl that had come by and just as you did, your phone buzzed, toji's caller ID flashing on your phone.

"Yea?" You asked, grabbing your purse as you answered.

"I'm outside. Get your ass down here."

You rolled your eyes before hanging up, sliding your phone, keys and purse into your purse before turning your bedroom lights off, going through your house and making sure everything was okay before finally leaving your apartment, easily spotting toji's sports car in the front. You slid in, making sure you had everything before you set off.

You were a few minutes into the ride, glancing over at toji every few minutes.

How could you not stare though? He was wearing a jet black suit, the few buttons at the top of his white shirt undone to give off a somewhat messy and undeniably sexy look, the silver chain laid on his chest teasing even further. His rings that hugged his thick fingers as well as the watch on his wrist.

"You good?" Toji asked, his grip on the wheel tightening.

You made a small 'mhm' sound.

"Who was that girl that came in today?" You asked as nonchalantly as possible.

"Just an ex fling."

Your brow furrowed, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

"When was the last time?" You asked, fingers playing with the gold rings on your fingers.

Toji hummed in confusion.

"The last time you slept together."

He tensed up slightly once he reached a red light before sighing.

"Last week."

Ouch. You don't know why but knowing he was still sleeping with other women whilst sleeping with you was like a punch of reality that knocked the air out of your lungs.

"I see." You trailed off.

You had no right to be jealous. You weren't dating. Just fooling around with no strings attached. That's all.

But why did you feel upset?

Sure you liked him and toji knew that all too well but neither of you decided to talk about what you thought the relationship was. Instead, deciding to just live in the moment.

The rest of the ride was silent, with Toji focused on the road whilst you were on your phone from time to time or just looking outside at the scenery passing by.

Five minutes passed and you both arrived at one of Gojo's charity buildings. You both got out and walked up the red carpet, Toji leading you along with him as news reporters and journalists took photos and begged Toji to look their way.

You, however, didn't really need to worry about the press. Another perk of having this whole thing be a secret. A butler and maid lead you both into the building, the sounds of light music playing from the grand hall. You both entered, greeted by many guests and people who worked with Gojo.

You were amazed at everything. You had only ever been to business dinners with Toji in the past but this was even better.

"Ah, Toji! Glad you could make it!" Gojo smiled, walking up to you both, a girl wrapped tightly around his arm.

"Melissa, this is Mr fushiguro and his personal assistant, y/n."

You smiled at the lady and she returned hers, even wider.

"I'm Melissa, Gojo's girlfriend."

You admired the woman. She was dressed in a tight long mauve dress that had a deep v cut and thin straps, her long hair curled and flowing down her back. She was undeniably gorgeous and you couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of her beauty.

"How bout you two go talk whilst Toji and I talk business?"

Melissa nodded, detaching herself from Gojo and instead grabbing you, leading you away and through crowds of people.

Gojo hummed and signalled for a server to come over. He took two glasses of champagne and handed one to Toji.

"So. How is it with you and y/n?"

Toji rolled his eyes.

"That's what you mean by business?"

Gojo shrugged.

"I'm a man of culture, what can I say? Now what's up. You getting lucky tonight?"

Toji shrugged.

"Probably not." He murmured, taking a large sip of the bubbly liquid.

"And why's that? You fuck up?"

Toji nodded.

"Lizzy came by the office."

"Shitt, that girl who you picked up at Geto's birthday?"

Toji nodded.

"She asked for the last time I slept with her and I told her the truth..Even though she didn't say anything I can tell she's upset about it." Toji hummed, sipping the rest of his drink while looking for where you and Melissa had walked off to.

Gojo shrugged.

"Well, guess you'll just be stuck with ya hand tonight, hm?"

Toji rolled his eyes whilst his friend patted his back.

"Am I late to the party?" Gojo and Toji turned to see Geto, dressed in a light grey suit.

"Not at all. We were just talking about how toji's not gonna get lucky tonight -" Gojo blabbered, downing the rest of his drink, a server coming to his side almost immediately to take the empty glass from both him and toji.

"Ahh, I see." Geto hummed. "That's her right?" Geto nodded to the side, toji followed his gaze to see you at the side with Melissa and some other girls, all of you having what looked like a good conversation.

"Yeah." Toji trailed off. Admiring how amazing you looked. Your hair, your smile, your makeup, the gold jewels complimenting your skin tone, your hips and curves and the hip dips he loved too much. You were so perfect yet. Too perfect.

"She's pretty." Geto commented, breaking Toji from his trance. "Sexy too."

Toji's brow furrowed.

"You two aren't dating?" Geto asked, looking back at Toji.

Toji glanced at both the men in front of him before shaking his head.

"We just fuck around sometimes. That's all." Toji revealed. "Why you askin'?"

Geto shrugged.

"You might not be getting lucky but maybe I will."

Toji grit his teeth, trying to maintain a plain face. Geto getting his hands on you? Not a chance. He looked over at you, still engaging in a conversation with Melissa and the others.

"You think it's that easy? She's too good for you." Toji scoffed.

Geto shrugged.

"You got some of that," Geto hummed. "Why won't I be able to?"

Because she's mine.

That's what Toji wanted to say. But it wasn't true. You weren't his. You didn't owe him anything. You were just a fuck buddy and so was he to you. You could sleep with any man you wanted to, just like he did with other women too.

"Do what you want." Toji dismissed.

Geto's eyes practically lit up. He didn't need toji's permission to get with you but hearing it was always something he couldn't get enough of.

Without wasting anymore time, Geto walked over to you. Toji watched with Gojo who had a teasing look on his face.

"You sure you want him to hit on her?" Gojo asked. "Geto is quite the flirt."

Toji shrugged.

"She's not my girlfriend and I'm not her boyfriend. Why should I care who she sleeps with?"

Even though Toji said this, he couldn't ignore the feeling of jealousy clawing at his leg.

You on the other hand, were having a fabulous time. You were worried about all the girls here being bitchy and stuck up but instead Melissa introduced you to the nicest girls you had ever met, they all shared similar interests to you which you could all talk for hours on.

Your conversation however was interrupted by a deep voice.

"Excuse me ladies,"

You all looked over and saw Geto standing in front of you all. His eyes locked on yours.

"Can I borrow y/n for a moment?"

The girls all looked at you with teasing looks, pushing you towards him. You awkwardly walked away from the group.

"Does Toji need anything?" You asked thoughtfully. You knew Geto only from business areas and you couldn't lie, he was an attractive man and him in a suit was even better.

"No. I wanted to see how you were doing."

He glanced behind him and before you could look to see what he was looking at, he turned back around, leaning down to where your ear was.

"I can show you some places around here if you want."

Your cheeks became warmer as his breath tickled the hairs on your ear.

"Come on, it'll be fun."

And just like that, he lead you out of the grand hall.

Toji was frustrated. Frustrated at the way Geto glanced at him, a smirk on his face. Frustrated at the way he whispered against your ear. Frustrated at how easy it was for him to lead you somewhere else.

Toji bit the inside of his cheek, signalling a server to come over with more drinks, causing Gojo to laugh.

"What'd you expect from the one and only Geto?" He chuckled. "Don't worry too much though."

Toji didn't listen to anything Gojo was saying however, instead, downing another drink.

"Calm down, aren't you driving home?"

Toji sighed, ruffling his hair. He looked around and saw you were nowhere to be seen.

"Gonna go to the bathroom." Toji murmured, leaving Gojo without another thought.

He was thinking about you as he exited, he looked outside the big windows and saw paparazzi were still outside. He didn't want to storm out as it would cause confusion but did you really go home with Geto so easily?

In short.

No.

You were with Geto, yes. But you never left the party. Instead you were on a balcony on the fourth floor, leaning on the railing and staring at the river that was on the other side of the brick wall surrounding the building.

"Wow, it's really pretty." You smiled, hugging the shawl around your chest as the wind blew.

"It is.." Geto hummed, scanning your form with more ease since you were closer. Toji was a lucky bastard. Geto had only been with you for about 20 minutes tonight but he already knew he wasn't going to sleep with you.

He knew damn well that you had a thing for Toji and that toji did too, he was just too much of a pussy to accept actual feelings for someone instead of just lust.

Even though Toji and him did butt heads from time to time, he would never betray a friend, especially toji.

"So.... you're into Toji?"

His question caught you off guard and you found yourself stunned, trying to find an answer.

"Well..... I'm not sure." You eventually revealed. "I'm confused."

Geto raised a brow.

"Why's that?" He asked, moving closer and resting on the railing beside you.

"You won't tell him?" You asked, cheeks heating up.

"I pinky promise." Geto smiled, raising his finger. You interlocked yours and for some reason you felt the tension raise.

"Well, I'm confused because I don't know if I should let myself have these feelings. For starters, we basically crossed boundaries with this whole secrecy thing and I've liked him for a while now...." You confessed, playing with your necklace.

"I want to have....some kind of relationship with him and I don't mind if it's not public but...I feel like Toji has lots of boundaries and prefers to have...options."

Geto knew all too well. He was partially the same.

"So that's why I just don't complain about it...I like being around him anyways so this is enough for -"

Geto suddenly cornered you against the railing.

"Shhh."

You heard footsteps coming and looked up at Geto, your face flushed.

"Trust me?"

You gulped before nodding slightly.

Just as a shadow came from the open doorway, Geto leaned down, giving you a soft but passionate kiss. You were surprised at the suddenness, reluctantly kissing him back once his hands rubbed against your hips.

"What the actual fuck."

You both broke the kiss and saw Toji staring at you both, his deep green eyes piercing through the two of you.

"Toji-"

"What's wrong? Did they start the auctioning already?" Geto interrupted.

Toji narrowed his eyes at him and instead walked to you, grabbing you by your arm roughly.

"We're leaving."

Toji dragged you from Geto, causing you to stumble slightly. You glanced at Geto to see him calmly resting against the railing, waving at you lightly.

You barely had time to think about it before Toji dragged you down the stairs.

"Wait- Toji- The press. They'll see us!"

"It's fine. There's a back entrance."

Toji dragged you through the back, strategically taking you through a route back to his car. He opened the door for you, waiting for you to get in before slamming it shut, making you flinch.

Toji got into the driver's seat, immediately starting the car, pulling out of the parking space a bit too fast and recklessly than you liked.

Toji pressed his foot against the gas, your nerves going off as he passed a red light, other cars' horns going off as he did so.

"Toji!" You yelled.

This time he slowed down, taking time to glance at you before focusing on the road. You noticed the route. It was the one back to his place.

You felt yourself grow more nervous. It was just a kiss. Why was he so riled up. You should be the most jealous one. Who knows how many people he had slept with?

It didn't take long for you to reach his mansion. He drove up the hill, stopping in front of the door, turning the engine off and getting out of the car.

Your throat suddenly felt dry once Toji came to your side, opening your door and grabbing your arm.

"Hey! I can walk by myself." You complained, trying to wriggle free from his grasp.

The front door opened and one of his butlers greeted him. Toji didn't return the greeting, instead you did for him, not wanting to be rude.

He led you upstairs and into his master bedroom, ignoring your complaints and whines.

Once you were both inside, he shut the door behind him, the only light being the ones that were left on that were atop of his bedside tables.

He slid his watch off, placing it on his coffee table, a hand moving into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes.

Toji knew how much you despised smoking. You had practically lectured him the first time he did it in front of you, but he was too annoyed to care and you were too nervous to try.

"Toji." You broke the silence. Watching as he lit it, placing the pack and lighter on the table before collapsing on his couch, taking low draws. "Why are you so hypocritical?"

He glanced at you. You had your arms crossed, eyes glaring at him while your face was blank.

"S'cuse me?" He asked, getting up and taking a few more puffs.

"You can sleep with the entire female population if you had the chance but I can't kiss one guy without being treated like shit?" You scoffed, shrugging your shawl off your shoulders.

Toji watched you, his brows knitted together. He took another draw from his cigarette. It hadn't reached the stub yet but Toji couldn't care less, walking past you to his shelves, pushing the cigarette against an ashtray.

"Didn't say you couldn't kiss the bastard."

"But you decided to drag me back to your place?"

You turned to face him and he looked back at you, dropping the cigarette in the glass plate before walking over to you.

"Geto is a man whore. You'd be better off with any other man."

You raised a brow. "But you think you're a better candidate? Give me a break, Toji. Just admit it. You're jealous."

"Jealous?" Toji scoffed. "I don't give a shit who you decide to fuck."

You rolled your eyes.

"Fine. I'm going back to the event." You stated, walking past him. "Pretty sure he'd be able to fuck me better too-"

Before you could open the door, Toji pushed you against the hard wood, not wasting any time before ripping the material of the dress, making you look back at him.

"Hey!"

You didn't buy the dress, obviously. But the dress was almost over 500,000. Hearing him rip it as if it was nothing made you slightly annoyed.

"I'll buy you another dress." Toji dismissed, tugging the straps of the dress down to free your breasts, playing with your hard buds.

"You're impossible-" you breathed, leaning against him more as his hands groped your chest. You were trying to stay mad but the pleasure he was giving you just from touching your breasts was amazing.

"Thought you said Geto would be able to fuck you better? How can you say that when you're getting turned on just from having your tits squeezed?" Toji taunted, moving to bite your neck, his hands moving from your chest to rip off the rest of your dress, revealing the thong you had chosen to wear.

"Hah, you were really planning to sleep with that fucker, hm?" Toji's finger hooked onto the thin skimpy material, pulling it up against your pussy.

In reality, you had really worn it for him, hoping that he'd have you crying over his dick tonight. You were partially getting what you wanted tonight.

Toji's hand suddenly landed on your ass, making you yelp in surprise.

"You think he can handle you?" Toji asked, delivering another heavy slap against your ass, making tears swell in your eyes.

You held back a sob from the heaviness of the blows delivered. "Of course...I would've found out if you hadn't appeared so quickly-"

Toji dragged you away from the door, pushing you onto the bed instead, immediately pulling off his suit and shirt, tugging down his pants afterwards to show his hard cock, precum leaking from his tip.

"Since you wanna fuck someone so bad, I'll give you what you want." Toji laughed, sliding a hair through his jet black hair before spreading your legs wider.

"Waitwait-" you stammered, you aren't gonna prep me?"

You looked down at toji's dick, watching his hand slowly pump his length. You knew it was going to hurt. Even with three or four orgasms worth of prepping, it was still hard to take toji whole. You didn't wanna think about no prep

"No. Should've done that with Geto." Toji shrugged.

You felt scared once he lined himself up with you. Luckily, his fingers trailed up to your lips, pushing past them. You lathered them in saliva watching as he hummed in delight, taking them out after and spreading your spit on his dick.

"You know that dick hungry whores don't deserve good girl treatment." Toji smirked, pushing himself into you.

You almost screamed as he bottomed out, your walls squeezing him tightly.

You tried to push away from his hips, his fast thrusts making your mind go blank as the pain mixed with the pleasure sweetly.

"Fuck- I can't -" you breathlessly moaned, toes curling against the cool sheets.

"You're gonna fucking take it, y/n" he growled against your ear, picking up his pace.

You whimpered, your mind clouding in nothing but pleasure and the feeling of his dick moving in and out of you.

You were still mad obviously but right now your thoughts were pushed aside, the only thing you wanted to do was have your oh so sweet release.

Toji watched your eyes cloud with tears as he continued fucking into you. He wasn't worried at all. After all, you both had a safe word in place so if anything went wrong he knew when to stop.

His thumb moved between your legs, pushing against your clit and rubbing harshly. He noticed your moans become more high pitched, your legs closing around his hips whilst grinding against him, your eyes rolling back as your back arched.

"Fuck- Gonna cum-" you whined.

Toji smirked. Despite the circumstances he knew you were his and he wanted to be yours. Sure he did sleep with other women but none were the same as you. You were the only one he could be vulnerable with. The only one he cuddled and kissed gently after sex. Obviously he did aftercare with his flings and hookups but he felt somewhat empty. They were all just a distraction for him to run from his feelings.

Your nails digging against his hands brought him from his thoughts.

"Tojiii m' gonna-"

Toji pushed your thighs up to your chest, hitting your sweet spot and your orgasm was just there but sadly, out of reach.

"Fuck- Y/n! I-"

You don't know what you were expecting but you didn't expect this.

"Y/n! I- fuckk I love you. Love you so muchh-"

That was all you needed, your orgasm crashed over you and you were surprised when you felt Toji fill you up with his cum, making you let out a choked moan.

Toji continued fucking you through both your orgasms, the overstimulation making both of you whimper and moan. Your legs wrapped around him tighter.

"Toji-" you gasped, you felt another orgasm oncoming.

"Really- really do y/n- I love ya-" Toji moaned, whimpering slightly as he overcame the overstimulation from just cumming.

Your hands clawed at his back hungrily. You couldn't even form words at that moment. Tears rolling as your orgasm rushed over you again, biting into his shoulder. Toji grunted as your walls squeezed him, trying to milk his dick again.

Toji gave you a few more pounds before he finally spilled into you again, your eyes rolling at the amazing feeling of being filled up again.

Toji sighed against you, both of you hugging each other whilst you shuddered at the feeling of toji's cum overflowing your pussy, dripping down your ass.

"Toji.." you whispered, hand lightly patting his shoulder. As much as the feeling of him being on top of you comforted you and him, you could barely breathe.

"Toji- I can't breathe."

Toji reluctantly moved off of you and for the first time, you saw he was flustered, his cheeks were a deep shade of pink and he couldn't even look you in the eyes.

"Toji. Look at me." You whispered again.

He finally did and you felt your heart skip a beat.

"Did you mean it?" You asked, lightly tilting your head.

His blush deepened.

"course I did. You think I did it for the fun of it?"

You were about to reply, instead, sighing when Toji pulled out of you, his hand moving your thigh to watch as more of his cum spilled out of your entrance.

"Toji..." You murmured, watching his eyes meet yours again.

He shook his head slightly.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

Toji helped you both into his bathtub, both of you helping each other in cleaning up, moving back into the bedroom to see that the sheets had been changed. You blushed when you realized his house helps had probably heard you two fucking like rabbits.

Toji helped lather your body in lotion, being gentle on the bruises around your thighs and hips.

Finally, he dressed you in one of his favourite black shirts, opting for just some sweats to sleep in. You both laid in his bed and you felt awkward just watching Toji click through different channels on his flat screen, whilst you rested on his chest.

"Toji..we need to sort this out." You stated, catching his attention.

"Sort what?"

"Us....I don't want to continue a relationship like this if we aren't honest or talk to each other. And I don't like the idea of being another person you can just use to get your dick wet-"

Toji cut you off with a kiss, it was soft and slow. Toji moved away from you and sighed.

"I'm sorry princess, I've been ignoring your feelings as well " Toji sighed, softly patting your head. "I meant what I said and if you're willing to.."

He was basically saying the magic words.

"Of course I will!" You hurriedly accepted, kissing him gently.

Toji smiled against the kiss, wrapping his arms around you.

You moved from his lips. "But I don't want us to go public....yet."

Toji frowned slightly but knew there was no debating it.

"Fine... I'll wait for you."

ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও ও

Side part

"Alright, pay up!" Gojo hummed.

Geto rolled his eyes.

"Told ya it'd only be 50 minutes before Toji lost control. Poor y/n though. Don't think she'll be working for a week."

Geto sighed, confirming the money transaction on his phone.

"Well, it was expected." Geto hummed. "Wanna go to the bar for a drink?"

"You know me too well."

#toji #richtoji #daddy toji #toji x black reader #businessman toji #toji x black y/n #toji x y/n #toji fic

[desertdollranch]

My Great Big List of Gray-Market American Girl Goodies!

If you're trying to build your American Girl doll's collection of clothes and accessories, and if you're also intimidated by the high prices of secondhand stuff, this post is for you! I've compiled here a list of things for sale from the gray market.

What "gray market" means is that some factories in China that previously made products for American Girl brand, continue making them for a while after American Girl stops ordering them. The factory workers then sell these things on eBay, at a huge discount.

I've bought gray market stuff before, and I've seen no difference in the quality or similarity to the stuff I've gotten from AG. It does take a little longer to arrive from China, but I've not yet had anything lost in the mail. So keep that in mind that there is a small risk of not receiving anything.

Items also come and go in availability. So something could be available for a few weeks and then stop production, and you've lost your chance to buy it, so definitely don't delay too long if you find something you like.

This is by no means a complete list. What I do recommend doing, if you're looking for something specific, is to go to the seller's profile and see what other American Girl products they're selling. There's a lot more out there than what I tracked down.

Felicity's BeForever straw hat, fichu, mob cap, necklace Caring for Baby set's 8-inch baby only Hearing aids Various foods Josefina's Navidad dress Kaya's bead necklace Courtney's bangle bracelets Kit's photographer outfit Marie-Grace's fan Blaire's tote bag and tablet Coffee shop cups Gabriela's bag and snacks Courtney's lunchbox and partial lunch foods Courtney's lunchbox only Bitty Baby's bottles Samantha's painting set Luciana's wig, meet boots, and star necklace Nanea's meet accesories Birthday celebration set Joss wig Molly's BeForever red beret and red purse Melody's stuffed elephant (set of 3) Chrissa and Nellie wigs

And this listing here has a huge list of items available:

#listings #american girl #american girl dolls