#because if a story reaches someone at all it’s doing it’s fucking job!

[hazelfoureyes]

Someone nice, Somewhere safe

Angel x Virgin Female Reader

જ⁀➴ Angel x Virgin Male Reader - Someone nice, somewhere safe*

*same story, just your bits and bobbles are changed 

You let it slip to the group you were a virgin, and instead of laughing, Angel grabs you before bed to offer a friendly hand.

.<Warnings/Promises: Angel Dust x Virgin Female!Reader, smut, fingering, lubed to the gods, Angel uses four arms, Valentino is a blind bag of smashed assholes, creampie, oral, the gentlest sex I’ve ever written (probably), an alarming towel>

listen here virgins, if I could craft a perfect first time for you, this is it. Minus the lack of condoms because—it’s hell? Sex workers are tested bi-weekly?? This is still a fantasy??? Just if anything, please take from this the importance of a safe and trusting environment at all times 🙏  

minor dni (shoo! get outta here! Go on, git! 🧹)

You thought everyone would laugh when you said you were a virgin. The group awe’d and said it was cute, which was definitely better than the response you’d gotten in the overworld. But when you said you’d never actually orgasmed before, everyone just looked… sad? The conversation was quickly derailed by Angel launching into a list of wildest orgasm faces he’s seen, Charlie leaving the room entirely.

Continuing with the evening’s theme of surprise, you hadn’t expected Angel to catch up to you when everyone was filing off to bed. His hand gently reached for your wrist, “Hey ya got a sec?”

 For Angel, the epitome of smiling through the pain, you’d give him the remainder of your time in hell if he just asked. Every second, his.“Always!”

“So uh”, he rubbed the back of his neck, “about bein’ a virgin and all that.” Your stomach dropped, was the famous porn star about to embarrass you into a second death?“I think it’s real important that like— knowin’ yourself, and what makes you feel good is like super healthy. I dunno if you are interested in that kinda stuff but,” he was wildly moving his hands round, nervously stumbling over his words, “I’d be happy to help ya out.”

All of the blood rushed to your face.

“Oh fuck!” Angel grabbed your head and tipped it forward, “I would have accepted a simple no, jesus!” With one hand pinching your nose, he led you into his room just down the hall. 

What— what was happening, exactly? At all? In general? With your entire existence?

He kicked the door closed behind him and grabbed a handful of tissues, “Keep your head forward. Everyone who says tilt it back is an idiot.”

His hand was red when he drew it from your face, using his other hand to now hold tissues between his fingers as he pinched your nose shut.

“Is- is my nose bleeding??” Your voice cracked.

“Does that happen often?”

“Never.”

“Well I got to help you with at least one first, right?” Angel laughed, moving his hands away as you took over the task.

Oh, right. The offer. You glanced around the room, small but lived-in. Everything was pink and purple and soft.

“Angel, do you think because you’re a sex worker, you have to help me?” The room fell silent. Angel completely still beside you. You would love someone you could trust to take your virginity, but you would never want to use Angel like so many other people did on a daily basis.

“Ya know— a lot of people get real confused about this.” He sighed, chest heavy with the many misconceptions others had, “What I do for work, what I gotta do to get through the day, has nothin’ to do with who I am as a person.” You turned to look at him, “Why should I limit my experiences because of what other people have done to me?” The words hit you like a truck. You had unintentionally boxed him into his job, in turn into his trauma, summing him up as a warm body and incapable of any depth past that. Just a sex worker.

“No, no I didn’t mean anything like that. I just, I don’t want to ever,” you grabbed two of his hands, “ever take advantage of your kindness.” You squeezed, “or any part of you.”

His frown turned up, “We’re dead, yea, but you still exist. If you want to, you should enjoy every part of your afterlife. And I’d hate you to meet some asshole who’s too rough or doesn’t get ya warmed up first. A bad first time can be really traumatizin’.”

You nodded without actually thinking. Your brain wasn’t really processing meaning, his words were just soft and kind and your nose still stuffed full of tissue.

“Do you wanna?”

You nodded more vigorously, “Did my nose start bleeding again?”

Angel took the tissue away, giving a second to see, “Nope.”

Taking a deep breath, you said, “Okay. Yeah, I want that. Someone nice, somewhere safe.”

“It ain’t quite nice but-,” Angel looked around his room.

“It’s perfect, Angel.”

“Aw fuck, I should clean up,” he hurriedly carried trash from his nightstand, flattening out the comforter and adjusting his pillows. He placed fat nuggets on the floor with a little pat on the head.

Finally, he stood in front of you, two hands on his hips, two gesturing to you.

“Alright baby! Let’s pop some cherries! Undress~” he elongated the word, shimmying his hips a little, “-to your comfort level.” He began to unbutton his blazer, “Bare minimum, take off your pants and underwear, please and thank you. Though I have fucked through underwear…” He was momentarily lost in a memory.

You hadn’t anticipated getting naked in front of a friend tonight. But Angel so effortlessly shed his clothes, peeling off his gloves. Pulling off your pants, you paused.

“Is it weird if I keep my shirt on? Like— do you know who Winnie the Pooh is?”

“Nothin’ weird about bein’ comfortable, pookie.” He pinched your cheek, “I’d offer a modesty blanket but I kinda need to see what I’m doing.” His eyes flitted to the left, “No, wanna. I wanna see.” Angel’s laugh relaxed you, the idea of anyone wanting to see you made you feel a little less—-naked. Still, your hands seemed frozen on your underwear’s edge.

With a hum, he disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a towel. “Go on, lie down. I’ll help ya relax. This is already feeling too medical-like.”

Were you going to need a towel? Were you going to need a towel?? Were you going to need a towel!?

You sat back on his bed, and when he crawled up to meet you, all legs and arms and Angel Dust, you buried your face in your hands.

“Oh hey—,” his voice was so soft, lacking its usual sass, “Wanna just, cuddle and watch stupid shit on my phone?” You groaned, face sinking further down. This would be easier if he wasn’t so sweet. You could at least take a backseat, then.

You shook your head, and felt his hand on your ankle. It snaked up your calf, slipped down your knee and thigh, finding the waistband of your underwear. When you looked up from your hiding place, Angel was a foot from your face. His features lit only by the purple neon signs hanging beside his bed and near the door. He lifted his brows, a question he didn’t need to vocalize. You sank back into the purple and pink pillows, different sizes, different textures, gently enveloping you.

With two hands now, he slide off your underwear. You might die, again. Your heart would give out any second, incapable of handling the moment. You were manually breathing.

He lifted your hips with two hands, a third sliding the towel beneath you before setting you back down.

“Do ya-,” he was rummaging now inside the nightstand drawer, “not play with yourself? Ever?”

“Not really. Not like, there.”

“Whaddya do with all your free time?” His short but enthusiastic laughter forced a smile to your cheeks. Angel slid the drawer shut and came to rest in front of your tightly shut thighs and knees. You heard a cap pop, and found the courage to sit up and see what he was doing.

“What?” He squeezed a clear, thick lubricant onto his right hand, “Nerves can make holes dry like nothin’ else. No fun for no one, trust me. Could start a fuckin’ fire—- and spit ain’t lube!” Angel said it like he spoke from a personal experience.

Ah, the towel. That made sense now.

“Should I do something?”

“Just lie back, baby~,” he opened your knees and followed your face as you settled back down, “Do you like kissin’?”

You’d kiss a trashcan if Angel said it got him hot, so, “Yeah.”

“Good,” One hand touched your cheek, sliding to your chin as he brought your lips to his. You thought you’d melt, his hands so soft on you, lips confident and sure. He used his thumb on your chin to pull down your bottom lip and ask you for entrance. When you opened up to him, his tongue slid into yours as his sticky wet hand finally came into contact between your legs. Two fingers rubbing the lube up and a down your pussy.

You nearly inhaled him with your shock, he giggled into it, “You’re so cute.” You twitched under his hand, “Ooh, and reactive! Daddy likes.”

Stop. Stop talking. I’m going to black out.

His mouth returned to yours, tongue over your tongue, as his fingers just massaged your entrance. No attempt at entering, no prodding, just gentle up and down motions. Slowly, your felt your skin heating beneath his hand, the lubricant somewhat melting with your warmth.

At work, Angel was never the lead. Never the top, and never afforded time to ease anyone open. He had no issues with sleeping with women, it was just usually for money or a shoot. Not his preferred flavor, but he could still get it up. Watching you sigh and twitch under him felt like a treat. Such a sweet response to what so many people made unnecessarily dirty at work. He wasn’t shocked to find his cock twitching, swelling as your breathing hitched with every stroke of his hand. When was the last time he could just… slow down? Be the one in control? Not control like Val, control like—- can I get you a pillow? Is the pacing good? Let’s soften these lights.  Hold my hand, sweetheart.

His head felt a little dizzy. His middle finger pressed now, and with a slow but constant motion entered you. ‘Uncomfortable’ was the best word. Your body tensed around him, but he gently pressed passed your virgin walls. He hummed, “First one down! Atleast,” he paused, “two more to go.”

“Atleast??” You shook your head.

“It’s sex math, trust the professional in the room.” He withdrew the finger and slid it back in, starting a slow pace of long drags from knuckle to fingertip.

It didn’t hurt, to his credit. The excitement of having Angel touching you so intimately made the finger easier to relax into. Angel must have noticed, his finger leaving you. He popped the top again of his lube and pressed in two fingers. This was harder. You whined, his fingertips pushing past the tight entrance of your cunt and settling into the wet warmth behind.

Lying on your back, you stared at the now upside-down photos behind his bed. He looked so happy. Could you join that wall? Was this wall worthy?

“You still good?” He leaned over you, fingers  moving.

You nodded, “Can I have another kiss?”

Ah, you might as well have punched him in the chest. “Of course, darlin’~ Ask and you shall receive.” You liked kissing, genuinely, but were always scared you’d kiss someone too long and end up in an awkward situation having to explain you weren’t wanting sex. But that fear was all gone, you’d broken the code. Get naked first, then kiss.

You smiled into his mouth, and he smiled back, “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“I like kissing you.” You leaned up, pressing your lips to his chin. His fingers quickened, and you moaned without warning. You felt your self grip his finger, nervousness slinking away and finally letting you feel aroused.

“Ooh, now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” he leaned back, repeating the same steps and trying to press a third finger into you. His abundance of hands were a blessing, one at your entrance, one on your knee to keep your shaking legs open, and two roaming down the sides of your body. When three fingers finally entered, you could feel the burning stretch of your skin around them. He pushed in, and the skin followed. He pulled out, your sensitive hole pulling too. The hand on your knee came to your crotch, his palm pressing lightly down on your clit. You glanced up to him, his eyes focused as he watched his fingers slowly drag in and out of you. It burned still, but just past that burning was a slippery sensation that made your lap warm with the rush of blood.

He let his fingers sink in entirely, before bending and feeling inside you. Your knee jumped when he hit something.

“Bingo! Say hello to your g-spot.” He beamed down at you, gold tooth shining, “Not everyone needs it to cum but oooh boooy does it maximize pleasure,” it sounded so pornographic when he said it.

You weakly copied, “B-bingo.” 

“Three fingers means I can do this now~” he replaced his palm with his fingers,  sticky with lube. His long digits were fast and practiced as he rubbed your clit. “Sex math. Dont need your virgin pussy locking up on me.” He said quietly to himself, fingers in and out of you picking up speed. Your head was pressing into the pillows as your neck strained, you’d never masturbated while someone, something, penetrated you. Every stroke of his fingers made your body spasm, the feeling of something hard and unforgiving pushing back against your quivering walls made a pleasure you couldn’t describe.

“Feelin’ good yet?” The way he said it, he knew damn well how you were feeling.

You whimpered into one of the pillows, “Yeah, it’s starting to feel good.” A weak nod.

Angel’s grin bordered on wicked, hand slowing. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your clit. Then another. His tongue flattened against his bottom lip as he dragged it over your sensitive bud of nerves.

You moaned, a half spoken-half cried, “Oh fuck, Angel-.” Hips bucking up, his fingers kept their place and followed. You humped up against his tongue, ground down into his fingers; up, down. Soft tongue, rigid fingers.

“Like that? Watch this,” He cupped his mouth over your clit and began strumming it with his tongue. Fat and flat, then thin and sharp. His fingers slowed, now just bending to hit your soft g-spot again and again. 

One hand held tightly to the pillow, the other coming to Angel’s hair. Your body kept jumping away from overstimulation but you fought against it every time and tried to grind against his face.

He lifted his mouth off you with a deliberate pop, “Feelin’ good?” You nodded, eyes closed. “Ready for the real thing?”

“Yeah. I want to feel more, Angel.” It came out as more of a whine than you meant.

His hand came to his erection, red and leaking. Stroking himself, he returned to massaging at your entrance, fingers dipping in then out.

“You comfortable with getting on your knees? This position ain’t so conducive for what I’m tryin’ to do.”

Somehow, ass up sounded better than face to face, “You’re the expert.” You rolled onto your stomach, hips up, face resting into the sea of pillows. You paused, lifted off your now sweaty shirt, and got back into position. 

“Sexpert, but thank you!” The lid popped open again, cold and viscous lube being dripped directly onto pussy, “Finally some recognition around here.” He coated himself with what was still on his hands, and raised your hips to line himself up.

“Deep breaths, okay?” He leaned over your back, kisses falling down your skin. Two hands held your hips, one guided himself into you. You tensed when his head began to push in, “Relaaax, just like the fingers.”

A muffled, “okay” from your place in the pile. Your heart was suddenly racing, the tight coil of pleasure his mouth summoned now gone. He wiped his dick up and down your folds, swiping past your entrance. Lining up, he pushed in, getting his head firmly sunk into you.

“Breath, baby,” he moaned into your shoulder. You took a deep breath in, your body tight still. But, it didn’t hurt like you’d thought. It burned, but there was no sting, no tearing. Angel’s hands ran up and down your sides, along you ass and thighs. He gently touched everywhere he could reach, until he felt you soften, “Ready to keep going?”

“Yes please”, you turned your head to look at him.

He pulled out slightly to collect more lube on his shaft, before slowly sinking into you until he bottomed out.

You were gasping, your brain misfiring. You couldn’t feel anything but him, your body just a formless thought with Angel’s warm, solid cock reaching deeper into than you thought possible. One roaming hand reached for your shoulder, “Can I move?”

“Slow,” your hand searched for a loose fold of comforter to grip, but it was soon encased and intertwined by one of his.

He pulled out, and slowly thrust back in. A saccharine moan fell from his mouth, and it made you whimper. 

You were so soft around him, yet gripping him so snuggly he felt like he was melting into your walls. His breath was unsteady, “You feel so good on my cock, baby.” A burning blush took over your face, a rush of pleasure electrifying your clit.

“How ya doin’?” Angel sounded nervous, timid.

You had to collect saliva to get any words out, mouth running dry from panting, “S’good.” You tried again, “So good.” Your fingers tightened around his.

He adjusted his hips, watching you closely. When your eyes closed and your hand nearly broke his, he grinned down, “Bingo~,” his speed began to pick up. 

“Right there,” you whimpered, “please don’t stop, right there Angel.” You dragged out the last syllable of his name. You could feel a pressure building in your lower stomach. 

Angel took languid thrusts out to the tip and pushing back past your still resisting entrance. Every time he pulled out and slipped in felt better than before. The sensations of him opening you around his cock again and again had your stomach and thighs tensing. You brought your hand up to press at your clit, finger frantically moving. You felt something building, you were desperate to reach its climax.

Angel’s hand came down and pushed yours aside, his fingers strong and not shaking with your impending orgasm. 

“Almost- Angel pleeeease! Don’t stop- keep—” You squeezed his hand tighter, his thrusts becoming faster and shallower. His repeated pressing of your g-spot pushed you over the edge, hand slowing only slightly.

"You can do it, baby. Come on. Almost there~" His words fell apart in his mouth, his own moans getting louder, your cunt tightening in spasms as your first orgasm tore through you. Your body was so inviting, warm walls sucking his head deeper. He rarely got to feel this sensation, barely ever chosen as the one doing the fucking, let alone fucking a woman. His head rested against your back, hands running along the curve of your hips as he melted into your sweet heat.

He picked up speed, only drawing out an inch or so now with each thrust. The lube made a pop and squelch every time his skin pulled from yours, the sound making his legs weak.

“Where can I cum?” His breath was raspy, messy with the pleasure of your soft insides rubbing along his shaft. You gripped the blanket, orgasm still rolling from the feeling of Angel chasing his release with your body. You could hear the strain in his voice, “Gonna need an answer real fast, babe.” You hid your face in the pillow mountain again, embarrassed to answer.

“Inside,” you tried to say it loudly enough for him to hear.

He whimpered a, “Fuuuuck” down your spine, “Such a dirty little virgin.” His hips stuttered before he sunk into you with such force your legs gave out. Your body came down flush onto the bed. Angel was pressed into you, chest against your back as his breathing calmed. You could feel his heart through your ribs, his chest fluff silky on your skin. Your body was warm, his hot cum filling you.

Small, lazy kisses on your back, then up your neck, he leaned to kiss your cheek. He slid out of you delicately, but you didn’t move.  His weight left the bed, then returned as a warm, wet cloth wiped you clean. After a couple of minutes of gentle cleaning, you felt the throw blanket cover your back. Angel plopped down on his back beside you, pulling the blanket over his legs and unlocking his phone, “Wanna see this fuckin’ hilarious video of my boss runnin’ into a glass wall?”

You chuckled, “More than anything.” He side eyed you, “Well, not anything.”

“Right answer, toots,”  One of his hands came down and settled on your hair, he leaned in to your head and as you watched Valentino collide head first into a wall, he said softly, “Let me know if you need anything. I got a bitchin’ tub in there.”

You hummed, reaching a shakey hand up and pressing ‘replay’ on his phone. Angel’s laughter echoed off the walls, and you decided you had no plans on leaving bed anytime soon.

༻Masterlist༺

#Angel x reader smut #angel dust x reader #angel dust x reader smut #angel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #angel hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel #angel dust #hazbinhotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin #smut fanfiction #smut writing #x you #x reader #reader insert #reader fic

[tojipie]

adah imagine prisoner!toji getting eaten up by his own thoughts one night in his cell. because how can this be satisfying for you? having quick sex once every two months? a girl like you deserves so much better. so he brings it up one time during the visits, and you see how hard it is for him, but still, through gritted teeth he reassures you he wouldn’t blame you for indulging in someone else every once in a while. JUST THE ANGST!! and reader of course being like … what the fuck are you talking ab i jerk off to your pictures?

prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: hurt/comfort, angst

“and then turns out there actually was a fucking rat in his cell,” your boyfriend wheezes, his booming laughs marking the end of the story he’d been telling you for the past half hour.

the visiting hall is bustling today, packed to the brim with the wives, partners, and kids of the state’s incarcerated, all making the drive up right before new years.

you notice the sudden silence as your shared laughs die down, bemused at the inmate’s choice to not keep the conversation going.

“you okay?” you ask, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers.

except toji doesn’t squeeze your hand like he always does, letting the appendage lay limp in yours.the older man opens his mouth to say something, looking around the busy room with a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

“do you miss.. how we used to be?” he asks, voice sounding detached.

something sour stirs in the pit of your stomach at the way he’s acting. if the sudden change in ambiance didn’t give you whiplash, his vague question definitely did the job.

“i mean, of course i do,” you laugh nervously, rubbing a thumb softly over his knuckles. the inmate squeezes back this time, quelling the storm of anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“the sex i mean,” he explains, looking up from the floor to speak to you head on. “do you feel.. deprived? are your needs getting met?”

your thumb stills for just a moment as you think it over, though you doubt he even notices. the truth was yes, going from getting fucked every day to getting fucked every 6 or 7 weeks wasn’t exactly ideal. but what else were you two supposed to do? the man was serving a 7 year sentence for christ’s sake.

toji takes your momentary silence as an answer, sitting up straighter before speaking once more.

“i’m just saying if you ever found a man to fill in the gaps then i’d be open to it,” he explains. you notice a hint of unsureness behind his stone facade, catching onto the way his hand begins to fiddle with yours. what was he playing at?

“you’re saying you want me to cheat on you?” you ask, exasperated. where was this even coming from?

“god, fuck,” he sighs frustratedly, running both hands over his face slowly.

“i can’t give you what you need, can’t— not like how we used to,” his voice tapers off at the end like he’s scared to upset you. “shiu’s had a crush on you for years, i’d know he’d take good care of you.”

you step back from the table to gather yourself, pacing in front of the inmate like a woman gone mad. you’re grateful the constant circulation of inmates and visitors in the room is drawing attention away from you, otherwise an officer probably would have come over by now.

you couldn’t even believe what toji was offering to you. seeking out other men— his business partners—to “fill in the gaps”? when the love of your life was only a car drive away? fat fucking chance.

you stalk over to his side of the table, pointing an accusatory finger to his face.

“if you ever..” you pause, blinking away tears, “think that i’d give up on you just because we don’t have sex as often as we did then you’d be fucking crazy.”

you see him audibly flinch when your voice cracks, the weight of your emotions bringing him literal pain. toji’s eyes have gone wide, realizing the implications of his offer.

“i’m sorry baby, fuck, i’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling your face into the curve of his neck despite the harsh restrictions on touch set during visits. you silently thank the bustling crowd again for shielding the two of you, clutching at each other so deeply you think you might just meld into him.

“don’t want anybody but you,” you say with finality, pressing soft kisses to his pulse.

“i know sweetheart, i hear ya.”

you stay like that for the rest of your visit, breathing in each other’s warmth as calloused hands rubs circles into your back. neither of you say anything, not needing to when both do you knew you’d always find a way to make it work.

taglist 🏷️ <3

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#adah’s asks #prison bf! toji #prison bf!toji #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji hcs #toji x fem reader #toji x fem reader smut #toji x female reader #toji x female reader smut #toji smut #toji angst #toji x reader angst #fushiguro toji x reader #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro

[klipkillakai]

that ony clip gave me so many butterflies omg 😩 it lowk reminded me of a punishment like what if homegirl went out for the first time in a while and missed the curfew only gave her but he see on sasha and historia ig she’s drunk shaking her ass on the car or smthn 😭😭

ouuu girl it gave me butterflies too, but you ate so lemme walk with you rq 🤭

ony was sitting on the couch rolling his second blunt while an episode of breaking bad plays in the background, he doesn’t usually get to watch this show because you usually like to watch love island or your ghetto ass reality shows that he pretends not to be invested in—

he glances at the time on his phone noting that you should be home soon and he leans back and lights his blunt, taking a hit and throwing his lighter back on the coffee table

he ticks a hand in his sweats and mindlessly smokes and watches his show, another hour passes and he checks his phone again sending you a quick text

baby moms 💙

-wya?

he quickly leaves the text and clicks on insta checking your story but seeing it hasn’t been updated for 2hrs, he quickly scrolls and finds sasha’s and clicks through them and stopping on a video of you, drunkenly singing a song and twerking on another one of your ghetto ass homegirls, ony smacks his teeth quickly standing up

“this fucking girl man” he walks towards the door, and grabs his keys, slipping on his slides and getting in his car and speeding off while trynna call you..

“bend that ass over let that coochie breathe” you slur while slowly whining on your friend as she takes a video of you guys, your having a fucking good ass time, you haven’t been out in ages and you miss it, you begged ony to let you go.. and after days acting sweet and a few blow jobs, he let you, but with rules of course.. he gave you a curfew which you gladly accepted but quickly broke as soon as you got a few shots in you—

you were feeling bold, who was he to tell you what you could and couldn’t do, he wasn’t your daddy! well… not all the time anyway—

your standing in your section in your own world, sipping on your drink until, you feel someone behind you, and a chill runs up your spine cause you know exactly who it is, you turn around and look up at him

“didnt i tell you to come come after 12?”

your heart sinks a bit “yea but i was having fu-

“i don’t give a fuck, i told yo lil’ ass that ion fucking trust this club and you still didn’t listen”

you smack your teeth a bit “papa your being so extra right now, nobody is even-

you feel ony’s large hand wrap around your neck and he leans in a whispers in your ear

“im gon tear yo ass up when we get home” you feel tingles bloom in your lower belly and feel your face get hot—

“tell your lil friends your leaving” you softly nod and turn around grabbing your bags and saying soft byes and sorry’s, while your friends give you knowing looks and soft smiles—

ony grabs your hand and drags you out the club as fast as your heels will let you, quickly opening the door for you, and letting you get in before speeding off once again—

“im just trynna get my paper straight” you hear brent sing as ony pounds ya shit, you let out loud moans and choked sobs, “p-please” you whimper out as you reach behind trynna to press against his stomach, running away from the dick—

“nah move ya hand” he roughly says, quickly grabbing your hand and pressing it against your back, pulling your hair, and starting to drill into you—

“oh my god” you whine, pathetically whimpering letting him just man handle you, letting out his frustrations on you…

“take that shit” he grunts, pounding into you “mhm” he whispers, tightening his grip around your hair

“i c-cant” “p-pa-

he hears you he really does, but he can’t get over this shit, not this time, you need to learn, yo lil ass get real disrespectful and he’s tired of it..

“nah tell them all that shit you was saying in the camera, let them hear all this” he lifts you up and pulls you towards the camera, while still pounding into you

“i-im sorry” you sob “im s-so so sorry papa” “pl-please haaa~ ” you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, your so overstimulated and he’s so deep inside you.. too deep even, you just need a break

“b-break” you choke out.. “need a break”

“hm baby?” “you need a break” he says mockingly while biting his lips after feeling you tighten around him, “lil ass can’t even handle some dick, you think you finna go out again?” “you crazy mama”

“please!” you moan again, pathetically trying to reach down to rub your clit, to soothe some of the stretch your feeling— god it hurts so good, your eyes nearly roll back into your skull—

“you wanna break?” “here” ony quickly pulls out, breathing heavy, grabbing his phone concluding the punishment he was giving you, you lay on the bed heaving, pussy leaking more slick, your shaking and tired..

ony slaps your ass, and leaves hot kisses down your back “i bet you’ll never do some shit like that again” “right mama?” you just tiredly nod.. he slaps your ass again “let me hear you say it” “p-promise papa” “i won’t do it again” ony nods and slowly slips inside you again, this time giving you slow strokes, and rubbing small circles on your clit.. “mmm~

the rest of the night he takes care of you, ending in mind blowing orgasms, he can never stay mad at you for too long, your still his baby girl..

|a/n|

wait yall!! i’m fucking with this oneeee ouuuu, yall i love me some ony! 🤭

#black fem reader #black reader smut #onyankopon x black y/n #ony x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #onyankapon #onyankopon smut #aot smut #smut #aot oneshots #aot x black reader #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot #aot fanart #aot headcanons #black girls of tumblr #black reader #black y/n #black!fem!reader #black!fem!oc

[oikasugayama]

He F--KS You When You're Stuck pt. 2

pt. 1 *Atsushi, Fukuchi, Nikolai | pt. 2 Dazai, Ango, Oda | pt. 3 Kunikida, Sigma, Akutagawa

Disclaimer: These are works of fiction. The actions in these stories do not reflect real actions taken in the source material. I do not condone the actions some characters may take in these stories. If you are sensitive to potential non-consensual activity, do not read this series.

Contains: fem!reader being stuck/confined, sex worker, role-playing non-con

Dazai

You're one of Dazai's coworkers who he's previously hooked up with. Kunikida asks you for another box of paperclips, so you go to the supply closet down the hall. It seems you're almost out, but you do spot one box that must have fallen off the shelf and into the corner behind a stack of heavy boxes.

You decide to clear a space on a lower shelf and try to climb through enough to grab the box of paperclips from the floor, but you mistake how far they are and you end up tipping too far forward. Now your legs are in the air, your skirt is slowly shimmying up your legs, and you can't get the leverage to get back up.

"Um... Hello?" you call out, not screaming but trying to be loud so someone in the hallway or maybe the nearby bathroom will hear you. "Can someone help me out? I'm stuck in the supply closet."

You have to call out and thump on the wall a few times before the door swings open, but for some reason the person who opened it is silent. The door clicks closed again, and then you feel someone grab your hips.

"Hey-- can you at least tell me who you are???"

"Don't worry, baby, it's me."

"Oh, Dazai! Hey, I just need you to pull me out of here, I fell too far forward."

"Mmm... I can't let this opportunity go to waste though, can I? Your ass is all pretty up in the air for me..." he pulls you up just enough so that he can grind against your ass and your toes are just barely scraping the ground.

"We're at work... our coworkers are all out there..."

"I may have told Kunikida that we needed to go out and buy more supplies because you said we're out. I'm sure we have twenty minutes."

And that's how you end up with Dazai balls deep in the middle of a work day with your boss two rooms away.

"Be quiet," he hisses to you when you moan and whimper as his balls clap your ass.

"You be quiet," you huff back. "you're being too loud when you-- ohh fuck--"

"Do I have to pull you out of there and hold your mouth shut?" he grunts, pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts.

"m-maybe..."

"shut up or i'll tell kunikida i've been fucking his pretty little secretary. he'll be soooo mad."

Ango

He hates his coworkers. He hates how skeezy and immoral and degenerate they are. He hates how sometimes they convince him to go to bars and clubs in the back alleys of Yokohama. He hates himself for going along with it when one of them takes him into a back room and points at something-- he isn't sure what he's looking at at first, but then you kick your leg a little.

"Hey, is someone there?" you coo. "I'm stuck. Can you help me?"

"She's all yours," his coworker says, clapping him on the shoulder before leaving the room. Ango is stunned at first and spends several minutes standing back, staring at your bare ass sticking out from between the couch cushions.

"Are you there? I need help," you say, honestly unsure if there's still a client in your room.

Ango finally decides to use you for some stress relief since he concludes this is your job and you wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be.

He kneels behind you, gets down eye level to inspect your cunt. He can't exactly tell if you're STD free just from looking, but he's gonna try anyway, and damn you have a pretty pussy. He reaches out to feel your glistening folds and realizes you're soaking wet and plenty open for him to slide right in.

with shaking hands he pulls his cock out of his unbuttoned pants and lets himself divulge, sliding into you and starting to thrust with his eyes closed.

even as you moan and try to get him to say something, he stays silent, only giving little tiny moans and sighs every now and again. even when he cums, splashing on your back and cheeks, he only whimpers, leaving his voice mostly indiscernible. he can't let you have to ability to pick him out of a lineup later in case someone tries to blackmail him over this.

Oda

He suggests you pretend to be stuck for a form of roleplay. It's not your fault you get actually a bit stuck when you climb between the bottom tines of one of your dining chairs.

Oda comes home to you spread out on the floor in your pajamas, upper half stuck in a chair.

"Well hey there, miss. It's a good thing I came along. Can I help you get out of there?"

"Oda, I'm literally stuck," you whine. He takes a second to process that, then kneels down beside you.

"I'd be happy to help you out of there. Why don't you think of a way to repay me?" he rubs your hip, slowly moving toward your butt. As uncomfortable as you are with your chest hooked around one spire and your shoulders locked forward, you're not entirely against this right now. You'd made the plan together before anyway.

"You can use my pussy, sir," you pay politely, and Oda sighs heavily as he pulls down your shorts.

"Sounds like a perfect trade." He whistles when he sees that you're not wearing panties. "My, my, what a pretty cunt you've got."

He starts teasing, eventually fingering you as you moan and squirm. He's his usual self, praising you while he works you up, all the while pretending like a good samaritan who's just helping you out.

Before he gets his dick out he does actually help you out of the chair because he thinks you look uncomfortable and he wants to see your pretty face while he fucks you.

#bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs fanfic #dazai x reader #dazai fanfic #dazai headcanons #dazai smut #ango x reader #ango headcanons #ango fanfic #ango smut #oda smut #oda fanfic #oda headcanons #oda x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bsd headcanons #bsd oda #bsd ango #bsd dazai

[hajoon-iz-won]

Magnetic Force of a Man

smut 18+ mdni

Pairing: ceo!Jay x worker!Y/N

"Do you know why I require all of my assistants to have Masters degrees?” he asked as he stood up and began to walk slowly around his desk.

"It's because I find educated women incredibly sexy," he said softly, leaning down close to my ear.

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, dom!Jay, impregnation, dirty talk, fingering, pussy fucking, female masturbation, age gap (4 years), exhibitionism, breeding, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 5.4k

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I cursed as I stared down at the tear in my brand new sheer pantyhose. "Run-proof my ass! "

Shaking my head in dismay, I quickly looked around the large underground parking garage, praying to God that no one could see or hear me as I hurriedly positioned myself between my front door and the driver's seat of my beige sedan, hiking my lavender pencil skirt up to my ass, and then slid the ruined pair of hose the rest of the way down my legs.

Thankfully, I packed an extra pair!

I sat down on the side of the car seat and removed my violet high heels, almost like I was pulling out the replacements, taking them from the packing and quickly began slipping my feet inside.

The voice of a man said abruptly, "Yes, that's right."

My breath caught in my throat, I paused and turned to see the source of the voice. I was stunned by what I saw and halted abruptly, my new pantyhose halfway up my legs.

He had a great appearance. He was sitting at least fifty feet away from me, yet I could still see the platinum shine of his watch as he raised his left arm to check the time. He was dressed elegantly in a navy blue suit. His shiny black low-cut hair must have reached at least five eleven" in height.

With a dark satchel clasped in his right hand, he confidently walked towards the elevator labeled "PRIVATE." His broad shoulders, confident gait, and commanding presence evoked the image of a male model seen in GQ publications. His whole demeanor was confident.

I could tell that he was chatting to someone else and not about me or my pantyhose dilemma when a blue light blinked next to his ear. He never even gave me a sidelong glance.

I eventually snapped back to reality as he slid behind one of the pillars and finished pulling on my pantyhose. I tucked my skirt in and put my stilettos back on, eager to begin my first day of training as an executive assistant for Park Industries within the enormous, imposing Park Business building. (It seems the corporation required more than one because it was so large.)

I'd never seen or heard of Jay Park, the CEO of the company, before applying for this job. Even though I had looked him up online, all the pictures I could find of him included him wearing dark sunglasses and hats, which made me think he was probably a very secretive person. It appeared that he would much rather maintain a very low profile than be in the spotlight.

Nothing could have prepared me for the day I visited the Park Building for the first time, even though I had finished an internship at a Fortune 500 corporation close to my college campus.

My first interview had been with a woman named Son Eunsaem. She'd had a highly professional appearance and a no-nonsense attitude. She hadn't smiled once during the interview.

I was surprised when I got a call back for a second interview. That was where I met the other executive assistants. Park Industries had an executive assistant for each and every department in the company, and I had applied to the marketing department.

And I started working on the actual job today. At nine o'clock, I had my official orientation meeting, and then I was meant to meet with Jay Park, the company's CEO.

On their first day of work, all new hires were required to meet with the CEO, who was said to like having face-to-face meetings with each and every one of his staff members. I'll admit that I was anxious, but I was also interested to see this billionaire's true appearance.

The thirty-story building housed the marketing department on its twenty-fifth floor. At the orientation, there was another new hire in addition to me. Ryu Hanbin was his name, and he had been employed in the software department.

At orientation, our ID cards were issued to each of us. We were granted entry to the elevators, break facilities, and exits reserved for employees only. My heart started to race inside my chest as the orientation was coming to a conclusion.

Hanbin and I were taken to a private employee elevator and showed how to use our ID cards to operate it. Jay Park's office was on the top floor, and that's where our orientation leader, a middle-aged woman named Won Chaerin, led us up.

As the elevator door opened at the pinnacle floor, we had been greeted with the aid of using a short, stout, but very neat and well-groomed bald guy with a cleanly-shaven face in a vibrant purple pantsuit.

"Welcome to Park Land,” he stated with a welcoming grin as he reached out to shake our hands. "That's what we name the pinnacle floor, right here." He appeared to laugh after each sentence he spoke. “My call is Jinyoung, however all of us right here calls me Jin.” Another laugh.

What a unusual guy, I thought.

He led us down a hallway that ended with a reception table and a small living room area. There had been high-returned black leather-based chairs and a large flat-display tv withinside the ready area. There additionally regarded to be a bar of a few kind in the back of the reception table.

"Y'all can simply make yourselves comfortable whilst I allow Mr. Park recognize you are right here,” he instructed us with every other laugh earlier than sashaying returned to his spot in the back of the reception table.

"Thank you,” I instructed him as I took a seat in one of the leather-based chairs and crossed my legs.

As I sat ready, my heart commenced to overcome so rapid that it felt like it'd leap up out of my throat at any second. A stolen look over at Hanbin noticed his foot nervously tapping in opposition to the carpeted floor, and I felt relieved that I wasn't the simplest worried individual withinside the room.

A second later, the telephone on Jin's table rang, and he spoke back it on speaker.

"Send Ms. Y/L/N in first,” the voice said in a deep, authoritative tone.

"Right away, sir," Jin answered as he glanced over towards me.

I stood up and accompanied him down but every other lengthy hallway, with stylish artwork lining the partitions and porcelain statues each few feet.

At the quit of the hall, there has been a fancy-searching door with a platinum door knob.

"Knock, knock,” Jin said in a singsong-like voice as he knocked on it twice before turning the knob and pushing it open. “Ms. Y/L/N, meet Mr. Jay Park.”

He waited for me to step inside the large, elaborately decorated office before shutting the door behind me.

I stood there, with my back to the door and my orientation folder in my hand, not sure what to do next. Mr. Park had his head down and was doing something on his phone, but as soon as the door closed, he looked directly up at me, and my jaw almost hit the floor in utter awe.

Jay Park was none other than the sexy, model-esque man who'd been walking through the employee parking garage earlier.

I knew I was staring, but I didn't care. The man was a real-life Adonis.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N. Come. Have a seat.”

It was more of an order than a request, but I didn't mind. He had the most hypnotizing pair of eyes. They were a deep, dark br, and I felt as if I could get lost in them if I stared too long.

He didn't smile, but he didn't frown. He was eyeing me curiously as I made my way over to the chair in front of his huge, rectangular desk. I felt as if he was sizing me up for something... something other than just this job position.

"So, Ms. Y/L/N, you are twenty-four and you have an MS in Business Management. Impressive. What are your plans in the next five years?”

I felt completely on the spot. I cleared my throat before speaking.

"Well, I'm hoping to be working a job I love, maybe get promoted, and start moving up in the ranks."

"Hmm," he said quietly.

I leaned forward a bit and noticed that he had a folder open with my resume, cover letter, and some photos of me inside.

"Do you know why I require all of my assistants to have Masters degrees?” he asked as he stood up and began to walk slowly around his desk.

My heart sped up and began to beat harder than ever. He had removed his suit jacket, and his white silk shirt hugged his toned upper body with flair, accenting the broadness of his shoulders.

I shook my head and swallowed hard as my body temperature began to rise. No man had ever had such a profound effect on me. I could actually feel heat starting to build within my core and a noticeable tingling between my thighs.

He walked around to the back of my chair and stood behind me. My heart was beating a billion beats per minute.

"It's because I find educated women incredibly sexy," he said softly, leaning down close to my ear.

I shuddered at the feel of his breath against my lobe. My body was completely on fire for this man, and he hadn't even touched me. I was at a loss for words.

I wanted to glance up at him, but I was frozen in place like a stone statue, and all I could do was sit there facing forward as I waited to see what was going to happen next. From behind me, I heard him inhale deeply and then exhale slowly.

“Ahh, your perfume is intoxicating, but I sense something else about you, Ms. Y/L/N. You are in your prime,” he stated sensuously, his voice barely more than a whisper.

His lips were so close to my neck that his breath felt hot against my skin. It caused a shiver to run down my spine, and I had to muster every ounce of strength to keep a moan from escaping my lips.

Then, suddenly, he stood straight up and walked back around to the other side of his desk, and his demeanor had returned to a strictly professional one.

"Mrs. Son was quite impressed with you and spoke very highly of your interview," he said plainly as he sat back down in his chair.

"Really? Wow," I replied.

"You sound surprised," he said with a slight grin. "I know she can come across as somewhat ‘rigid, but it's all just part of how she does her job. She's extremely professional and would make an excellent poker player, no doubt.”

He chuckled slightly at his comment, and I uttered a small giggle as well.

"Well, I'm certain you'll be a definite asset to Park Industries, Ms. Y/L/N. Welcome to the team,” he said with a smile.

His smile revealed a set of the most perfect pearly whites I had ever seen up close. While staring at them, I almost missed the fact that he'd also extended his hand to me.

"Thank you, Mr. Park,” I said nervously, returning his smile with one of my own.

"You have a lovely smile, Ms. Y/L/N," he stated softly, still holding onto my hand after I'd stopped shaking it.

“Thanks,” I said coyly, tearing my eyes away from his before I became completely lost in them.

He ran his thumb slowly across the side of my hand before finally letting it go. That small, simple touch from him only added more fuel to the fire that was already building in my loins.

“Ms. Y/L/N? ”He called out to me just as I was about to leave his office.

"Yes?" I replied, turning around to look at him one more time.

"I'm having a small meeting this evening at the Italy Garden restaurant. The dress code is semi-formal. Can you be ready by 7:00?”

"Uhh, yes. Certainly, Mr. Park,” I replied, caught completely off guard.

"Great. I'll send a car to your place at 7:00, then.”

I left his office feeling flustered in more ways than one. It had been more than a year since I'd last had sex, and my attraction to Mr. Park was anything but subtle. He had a magnetic effect on me, one that I knew I was incapable of fighting.

I walked swiftly down the hall, past the small lounge where Hanbin was still seated, and into the ladies' restroom directly adjacent to Jin's reception desk. Breathing hard, I went into one of the stalls, set my folder down on the back of the commode, hiked my skirt up to my waist, and yanked my pants down to my thighs.

Panting like an animal in heat, I sat down on the seat and spread my legs.

"Mmm," I muttered as I closed my eyes and placed my right hand on the crotch of my thin satin pants.

Yanking my pants to the side, I exposed my moist, partially-swollen bud and began to massage it. Another moan escaped my lips as I bucked my hips and rubbed my pussy faster and harder.

I imagined that Mr. Park was in the bathroom stall with me and that he had pulled my pants to the side. It was his lips and tongue against my throbbing, swollen bulb, causing sighs and moans of delight to escape my mouth and sending me into a frenzy of pleasure.

“Ohhh,” I murmured softly as I pictured him rubbing the head of his hard, pulsating cock against my slick, hot slit.

I imagined his hands grabbing my ass cheeks and squeezing them hard in a fit of primal, uncontrollable passion. I pictured him entering me slowly at first, until his rock-hard dick was deep inside my pussy, stretching me to the limit.

"Fuuuck," I whispered as I plunged my fingers as deep into my warm, wet tunnel as they would go. "Yesss! Fuck me, Mr. Park!"

I imagined his cock moving in and out of me, faster and harder, fucking like wild animals as we both got closer and closer to our climaxes. Completely and totally engulfed in how unbelievably good the sex felt, neither one of us even cared that we were fucking unprotected.

"I want you to cum inside me, Mr. Park,” I imagined telling him. “Oh fuck, yessss! Cum in my pussy! Fill me up with your cum."

I didn't even care if I got pregnant or not; I just needed to feel his hot cum inside of me.

I was right on the brink of my orgasm, and I could already tell it was going to be a really good one. As I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from crying out in pleasure, I pictured myself biting down on Mr. Park's ear to stifle my passion-filled moans.

My legs began to shake, and my hips bucked uncontrollably as a powerful climax wracked my entire body. I imagined Mr. Park squeezing my ass cheeks hard as his cock squirted into my cunt, filling me to the brim.

"Ohhh," I whispered, uttering a sigh of satisfaction as my orgasm began to wane.

After taking a moment to enjoy the afterglow, I quickly cleaned myself up, left the restroom, and headed back down to the 25th floor to finish out my workday.

I had just finished putting on my makeup when I noticed it was 6:45. The dress I had selected for tonight's meeting was a long, form-fitting silver cocktail gown I'd bought last spring. It was elegant, with a touch of sex appeal. The back dipped below the waist, and the front wrapped around the neck.

At 6:54, I heard a horn blow outside of my apartment. I slid into a pair of silver stiletto sandals, grabbed a small silver purse, and headed outside.

"Wow!" I exclaimed when I saw the pearly white stretch limousine waiting at the curb.

A tuxedo-clad chauffer opened my door for me and helped me into the back seat.

The inside of the limousine was immaculate! There was a fully-stocked bar with liquor, wine, and champagne. There were wine glasses on a glass shelf next to the bar. There was also a small fridge with fruits, cheeses, and other exotic-looking snack foods.

I helped myself to a glass of champagne and turned on the satellite radio to listen to on the way to the restaurant.

When we arrived about twenty minutes later, the chauffeur helped me out of the limo, and I walked inside. An older male host in a black and white suit was standing at a podium near the entrance.

"Good evening, Madam. Welcome to the Italy Garden restaurant. Do you have a reservation?” he asked.

“Umm, yes. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I'm here for a dinner meeting with Mr. Jay Park,” I replied anxiously, trying hard to hide how nervous I truly was.

The five-star dining facility was way out of my league and price range. I had never been in a place so upscale and fancy. There were scores of expensive-looking pictures hanging on the walls and exquisite artifacts and statues in and around the corners.

I followed the host to a luxurious VIP balcony area where Jay Park was already seated and waiting for me.

"You look amazing, Ms. Y/L/N," he said, flashing that billion-dollar smile that made me want to melt right where I stood.

"Thank you," I replied shyly, returning a smile his way.

The host pulled out my chair, and I sat down.

"I've taken the liberty to order us a bottle of the finest champagne this place has to offer,” he told me with a grin. “What are you in the mood for?”

I couldn't pronounce a single dish on the menu.

"I'll have whatever you're having," I said softly, closing my menu and setting it to the side. I didn't want to risk embarrassing myself in front of our waiter.

"This champagne is delightful," I exclaimed before taking another sip.

"Only the best for a woman as perfect as you, Y/N," Jay stated sweetly.

It was the first time he'd ever called me by my first name. I could feel my cheeks reddening as I smiled somewhat sheepishly.

"So where are the rest of the meeting attendees?” I asked inquisitively as I glanced around the area we were seated in.

"This meeting is just for you and me, Y/N," Jay said in a sultry tone of voice. "There's something about you, Y/N, that drives me crazy. Ever since you walked into my office, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind."

I felt the same way about him. He was definitely the most attractive, magnetic, and alluring man I had ever met. I was just too shy to tell him so.

Dinner was absolutely incredible. The food was delicious, and I'd probably had a bit more champagne than I'd actually intended to drink. After a perfect meal, Jay led me back out to the limousine, and we both got into the backseat.

As we talked about our backgrounds, childhoods, and future plans while drinking top shelf champagne, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't even asked him where we were headed. Before I could even form the words to inquire, the limo slowed to a stop.

"Where are we?" I asked, just as the chauffeur opened the door.

“My place,” Jay replied with a grin. “I hope that's okay with you. There's something I want to show you."

Normally, I would have thought twice about going to the home of a man I'd just met, but there was just something about Jay that made him all but irresistible to me.

His house was beyond magnificent. The outside of it took up damned-near an entire city block, and the front yard stretched out around the sides of the house. There was a huge, circular, paved driveway at the front, and the limo had stopped directly in the middle.

I couldn't even imagine what it was he wanted to show me. I felt both excited and anxious simultaneously.

Taking my hand inside his, he proceeded to lead me through his humongous residence, showing me all of the different paintings and other extraordinary decor and informing me of the countries from which they'd been ordered. Finally, we came to this nice, dimly lit room with a beautiful faux fireplace against the rear wall. My eyes widened in amazement as we entered the romantic-looking space hand-in-hand.

"Wowww!" I exclaimed, as I had done several hundred times since we'd first gotten out of the limo. "This room is so..."

“Enchanting? ”Jay stated in a questioning tone, finishing my exclamation for me.

"Yeah! Definitely!” I agreed as I looked around in bewilderment.

There was a bar counter in the far left area of the room and what appeared to be a fully-stocked mini bar behind it. A lavish-looking cream-colored sectional sofa was in the middle of the space, facing the fireplace, and there was a huge matching rug laid out in front of it.

Just as I was about to remove my shoes out of respect for the rug, the lights suddenly dimmed lower, and about a hundred faux candles all lit up simultaneously. Also, smooth, relaxing, slow music immediately began to play. The candlelight appeared to dance to the beat of the music.

I was totally speechless and utterly astonished. I had never seen anything like it before. I glanced over at Jay, who had already removed his own shoes and was filling two wine glasses at the built-in mini bar.

"Please, have a seat, Y/N,” he said amorously, nodding toward the sectional.

I sat down and continued to enjoy the ambiance of the supremely romantic setting until he soon came over to join me and placed a glass of champagne in my hand.

"So? Do you like it?" he asked after taking a sip of his drink.

"Like it? This is absolutely amazing!" I said with a huge grin.

"I'm glad you think so. I've never brought any woman into this room until tonight.

"I find that extremely hard to believe,” I said honestly."

I may be a lot of things, Y/N, but I am definitely not a liar,” he asserted. “Men like me don't have to be in order to get what we want."

“Now that, I absolutely do believe,” I replied with a grin. “So, what is it that you want with me? ”

"Ahh, the billion-dollar question," he said sultrily.

Just then, a very popular song began to play.

"Ohh, I love this song!" he said excitedly as he stood up and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

I didn't refuse. He pulled me upward and into his strong arms, and I wrapped mine around his neck. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating. I closed my eyes and pressed my body against his as we swayed to the music. Caught up in the moment, I felt like I could stay in his arms like that forever.

Then, suddenly, he pulled away for a moment and looked deep into my eyes.

“Y/N, you have it all. I adore your womanly physique, your stunningly bright brown eyes, and the fact that you are a very intelligent young woman. You are damned-near flawless. From the very first moment you walked into my office, I have had an undeniable, overwhelming attraction to you, and I know you feel it too."

I was completely speechless. I mean, what was I supposed to say? How do you even reply to a statement like that?

In all honesty, I was just as attracted to him as he was to me, but with him being both my boss and such a wealthy, sophisticated man, I think I felt a little bit intimidated. I'd never imagined myself being wined and dined with a billionaire Adonis like him.

I just kind of stood there, gazing into his tantalizing eyes like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush.

"Y/N,” he whispered as he suddenly spun me around so that he was behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Yes," I whispered back to him as the feeling of his warm breath against the nape of my neck instantly made me moist between my thighs.

I moaned as his soft lips brushed against the lobe of my him,. My body was instantaneously on fire for him and he had barely touched me.

"I want you," he whispered as his manly hands found my breasts and cupped them through the thin fabric of my cocktail dress.

The tips of his fingers found my nipples, causing another moan to escape my mouth. I felt his hand on the back of my neck, and then suddenly, my dress slid carelessly to the floor. I was braless, and this seemed to turn Jay on even more.

He groaned as I felt his manhood begin to stiffen against my ass.

"Y/N, you're fucking perfect,” he said gruffly, his voice raspy against my ear. “I want you. And you want me, too, don't you?

"Yes, Jay, yes," I moaned.

His hands squeezed my breasts, and I sighed loudly, arching my back. I felt his stiffening cock twitch in his pants.

"I'm twenty-eight years old, and I'm not getting any younger, Y/N. I've been looking for the right woman to bear my offspring, and you are the perfect specimen. I know you probably walked into the Park building today with your own plans and aspirations for your career and whatnot, but I have to be honest with you; I want you to bear my children.”

It was a lot to take in. He had certainly said a mouthful. I wasn't so sure about having kids with a man I'd just met, but he was definitely different from any other man I'd ever met, and odds were that I'd probably never meet anyone quite like him again.

His right hand slid down my midsection and into the front of my satin pants. I hissed with delight, biting down on my lip to stifle my cry of pleasure. He was applying just the right amount of pressure to my bud, and I was grinding my crotch against his hand.

"Don't hold back, Y/N,” he ordered in a breathy voice. “Let it all out!”

With that, he slid two fingers inside my dripping-wet pussy. I thrust my hips forward and let out a cry.

“Fuck, your pussy is already so wet for me! ”He declared with a grunt, pressing his erection against my ass.

Just as I was about to climax, he stopped, pulled his fingers out of my pants, and turned me around to face him. He put his fingers in his mouth and sucked my excitement out of them. My face flushed with need.

Then he pushed me down onto my knees as he undid his pants, releasing his stiff, throbbing cock. It was large—larger than I'd expected. It was definitely the biggest dick I'd ever seen in my twenty-four years on this earth. But I didn't care. I was going to try my damnedest to swallow it whole.

I caressed the shaft as I slid my tongue around the tip of his cock, teasing it gently, and then sliding it down into my mouth as far as it would go. I sucked it slowly and easily at first, and then I took my hand and used it with the rhythm of my mouth, sucking it as hard and fast as I could.

Groans fell from Jay's lips as he grabbed my hair and fucked my mouth. Then suddenly, he stopped me.

Easing the rest of the way out of his pants, he pulled me up toward him again and kissed me passionately, using his tongue to invade my mouth hungrily. I moaned as he began to trail his lips and tongue down my neck, pausing to lick, suck, and fondle both of my breasts, and then continuing down my belly until he reached the top of my pants.

With his teeth, he worked my pants down over my hips and buttocks, letting them drop to the floor near my dress. He parted my thighs slightly, using his fingers to slide my folds apart and massage my bud. Then, his lips replaced his fingers against my moist, pulsating pussy, and I cried out in sheer passion.

He was so skilled and talented—his tongue was like a fucking vibrating sex toy! He grabbed and squeezed my ass with one hand and used the other to slide two fingers back inside my pussy. I couldn't take it anymore!

"Fucckkk, I'm going to cum, Jay! I'm going to cum...so...fucking..." I couldn't even finish my sentence. His fingers pressed against my g-spot, and his tongue darted fast and hard against my pussy, sending me completely over the edge with the most powerful, intense, earth-shattering orgasm I had ever experienced.

My entire body shuddered and shook, and my legs tensed up. I grabbed his head as my crotch jerked forward uncontrollably against his face.

"Shiiiiittt! Oh fuuuuck!" I screamed loudly, unable to speak any other words.

When my climax finally began to wane, just as I was about to catch my breath, Jay suddenly lifted my legs up on his shoulders and gently pushed me down onto the soft, cream-colored rug lying me down on my back.

Not wasting a second, he slid his huge, hard cock into me slowly, with my legs still hoisted up on his shoulders.

I moaned long and hard as he stretched me to my limit, sliding deeper into my pussy than any other man had ever been.

“Fuck, Y/N, your pussy's so tight and wet! ," he exclaimed, moaning as he began to thrust in and out of me, going deeper with every stroke.

I was moaning so loudly that I could barely even hear the music playing anymore. His own groans became louder and longer with every thrust of his burly hips.

I reached up and wrapped my hands around his neck as he started fucking me harder and faster. It wasn't long before I felt a second orgasm building, getting closer and closer...

I still wasn't exactly certain about letting him impregnate me and make me the mother of his children, but the sex was fucking earth-shattering. I had never been fucked so good before! I felt his huge, stiff cock plunging in and out of me as I cried out in delirious pleasure.

Just as I was about to scream out loud, having reached my second powerful orgasm, he let out a loud, long groan, and I knew he was there, too. We were climaxing together simultaneously, and for a brief moment, it was like the two of us became one in our own world of bliss.

I felt his cock spurting his hot cum deep inside of me, filling my pussy to the brim, but it felt so fucking wonderful that I didn't give a shit. Besides, he was rich and handsome and could fuck like a damn machine.

As we finally came back to our senses, Jay kissed my lips as he slid out of me and plopped down on the rug beside me. The fake fire was still going, and the lights and music were still playing.

"That was, by far, the best sex I've ever had in my life,” I said breathily as I looked over at him.

"Me too," he said sultrily as he slid his arm beneath my neck.

With that, his eyes closed, as did mine, and we both drifted off into a satisfied slumber.

Jay and I continued to fuck like rabbits over the next few weeks, having hot, steamy, amazing sex every chance we got. And every time he came, he shot his hot cum deep inside of me.

Three weeks later, my pregnancy test came back positive. Jay was ecstatic, of course. At first, I had mixed emotions. I was going to become a mother. Was I really ready?

He immediately made me quit my job and put me in a beautiful condo with a view that overlooked the entire city. He found me the best doctors in the area and accompanied me to all of my prenatal appointments.

So I wouldn't be able to work for a while. I mean, babies don't stay babies. They eventually grow up into adults who can take care of themselves. Who knows? Once I've raised my kids, perhaps I'll still want to go back into the workforce.

For now, though, I think I'll just enjoy swelling with Jay's seed, growing rounder and riper by the day.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen jay #jay smut #park jongseong #park jay #jay park #jay x reader #enhypen jay smut #jay enhypen smut #18+ mdni

[msafterhours]

Saccharine | Act One

Male Reader x (G)I-DLE Yuqi

Act 1 (~14.5k words) [Act 2] [Act 3]

Song Yuqi (sôNG yo͞o·kē)

media darling.

an unforgettable dream, stealing fan’s hearts with silky smooth singing and sugary sweet smiles.

an idol’s ideal, image unblemished by a single hint, word, or leak implying otherwise.

absolutely spotless.

nothing messy, nothing toxic, nothing wrong with her in the slightest—

What a load of shit.

They say truth is stranger than fiction, but no story from either source could have prepared you for the things you’ve seen over your few months in this industry. Most who put pen to paper from an early age don’t dream of writing news updates, opinion pieces, or reviews for a K-Pop news site, but you’re not the type to pass up any half-decent opportunity. You’ve learned from your father, who brought this family here before you could read in pursuit of a better life than he could find in the U.S. Thus, when a family friend started up this new business and offered you a job despite your lack of experience, the thought of turning it down never even crossed your mind.

You know full well the life you’ve chosen to enter, with the lies and cover-ups and entire careers that get ruined because they didn’t smile at the right sleazy fuck. You’ve adapted fast, steeling your heart and refusing to let it bother you; after all, rules are allegedly meant to be followed. Thus, you’re happy to play their game, so long as it means you’re learning about the lone aspect that captivates you: the power of leverage. You've heard how one call from an executive can change someone’s life or how the demands of fans manifest change, but it's another thing entirely to see the human reactions behind every ripple in this pond. While you'd love to have the best seats in the house to observe from, you’re well aware of what rung you’re on—painfully aware of how low that rung sits. And as much as you’d love to catch a flight to the top, the skies remain clear. You’ll just have to grit your teeth and climb.

As you work, beginning your ascent, you hear stories. Gossip, whispers in passing, those sorts of things—things that provide context and give you power over someone. You’re constantly attuned to them, writing them down and using your contraband knowledge as bargaining power when securing opportunities. A more honest you might view your methods as underhanded, but this you knows that they’re effective. So, you keep your ears perked and remain vigilant.

Things change when you start hearing the rumors about her: some pre-debut idol who’s too small in stature and reputation to talk the way she does but too egotistical and narcissistic to act otherwise. At first glance, they’re anything but surprising and, more damningly, they’re far from fascinating, so why sidetrack yourself by investigating them? Especially since you know that in this industry, the path to the top is paved by the broken hearts of good people and tread by those willing to crush them under heel.

Then another wave of whispers reaches your ears—this second ripple even passing through some circles of importance—so you do what you do best. You start some conversations, get your contacts laughing before asking them questions—the types they won't even remember answering. Ultimately, it’s a win-win; they get to hear the sound of their own voice and you get the information you need; information that you’re more than happy to save for a rainy day.

It’s not long before you make a promise you don’t intend to keep and secure a favor from one of those contacts. You’re eager to cash in, securing an interview with one of their clients in mainland China and starting off the new year right. With an opportunity like this, you’d be a fool not to go, rumors or otherwise. That being said, there’s no reason you can’t keep an ear to the ground; a trip like this can have more than one purpose. Maybe you’ll even find a sliver of that truth people claim to tell.

The flight’s fine, the weather’s bad, and the place you’re staying is even worse, but hey, at least the food’s bearable. The night's young, so are you, and so is your career. There'll be plenty of time for penthouse hot tub parties later. For now, as the storm outside your window creates a percussive backdrop to your nightly preparations, you settle down early. You allow the night to overtake you well before your usual late hour, hoping that a rested mind will serve you well as you grab your metaphorical pickaxe and head into a potential gold mine of information tomorrow.

You dream not of the moisture outside, but of a complete lack thereof. Your dreams enthrall you with heat, flames, and intoxicating agony. With every step forward, you feel the blaze consume more of your essence, but the ecstasy that fills the void drives you ever onward. You're eager to relish the pain, letting it fuel you just as much as the pleasure as you force yourself closer. You nearly make it to the center of the inferno—getting maddeningly close to witnessing its heart—but your screams of frustration break off as your vision burns away, leaving you staring instead at the first hints of sunrise filtering into your shoddy hotel room.

Once you finish capping off this unique experience with a final, frustrated scream, you ready yourself, allowing your morning to pass by in a blink before you arrive at the talent agency. You imitate a warm smile flawlessly, tapping into some of the residual heat within as you carry a friendly conversation with the receptionist while she confirms your interview appointment.

After a quick, silent elevator ride spent rehearsing the questions you’d prepared, the bell chimes and doors part to reveal your destination. As always, you’re early to being early, allowing plenty of time to chat with the makeup artist and peruse her memories for potential ammunition. You place an attentive nod amidst one of her stories, gently touch her arm as you pretend her joke is hilarious, and allow your gleaming smile to keep the conversation lively as you perform the unspoken, crucial responsibilities your job demands of you. While her tales of past encounters barely satiate your desires, her reaction to the sudden outburst in the next room over is another gift entirely.

You can see it in how her shoulders suddenly slump, how her eyes roll with a practiced grace, and how the sigh escapes unprompted. She deflates, and you immediately ascertain that this is far from the first occurrence of its kind. She meets your gaze, and you understand that it won’t be the last. You’ve seen no face nor heard a name, but you know. It’s her.

The malice dripping off her words is matched only by the malevolence in the deep tone of her voice as it quickly grows in both pitch and volume. Her tirade berates not only the hapless victim trapped in the room with her, but also the irreparably damaged ears of every bystander in the vicinity. Even for you, someone seemingly numb to the ever-present abuse within the industry, time slows to a crawl as her verbal onslaught continues for a minute, then three, then ten.

All the while, you know full well your companion is on the verge of exploding with anticipation, wordlessly begging for you to ask what’s going on. So, when a malnourished conscience or guardian angel or maybe just a need for oxygen leads to silence, you oblige. No reason that your pursuits can’t be mutually beneficial. You wrap your words in sympathy as you whisper, wide-eyed and horrified, “Who is she?”

And as the floodgates open and the stylist tells you of the monster known as Song Yuqi, for the first time in a long time, you have to fight to keep the smile off your face rather than having to maintain the joyful facade. But that struggle quickly fades as your moment of wonderful discovery is replaced by genuine, sympathetic horror. Because she isn’t as bad as the rumors or this latest eruption made her out to be. She’s somehow worse.

And it’s not the verbal outbursts nor the sense of entitlement that makes your lip curl. No, it’s the facade she wears so well when she walks on stage. It’s the soft smile shining brightest under the spotlight’s glow. It’s who she is in the dark—who she becomes when untethered from the ramifications of her actions. It’s the diametric opposition between fact and fiction. And the worst part is, her arrogant swagger is justified. You can do nothing about it.

Yet.

The makeup artist’s story ends—as all must—and the clock mercilessly demands that you fulfill your obligations. You bid your companion farewell, surprising yourself with a rare display of kindness as you write down her name and genuinely tell her you hope to see her again someday. The distance to your destination is short; the journey is long. Each step punctuates another sentence, another line amidst the vast chronicle of misdeeds you’re currently composing. Your hands ache with a storyteller’s strain, but you bite back your desires and let the flames simmer down. It’s time to be a professional.

Your interviews tend to go well, especially whenever you control the conversation and ask the type of questions fans pretend to hate but secretly love. But whether it’s something in the water or your mind still reeling from the day’s earlier revelations, you discard the typical formula and enter the room without an agenda in mind. A pair of introductions are made, you compliment her new hair color, and she thanks you for coming all this way to conduct the interview. It’s polite and sterile and quaint—just like all the other interviews she’s done. But when you pull a pair of chairs over to the glass wall and offer her a seat with a view of Beijing, that piques her interest. And once you both sit down and get comfortable, you pull out no notebook or laptop, instead beginning an audio recording on your phone, you heighten her curiosity even further. Finally, when you begin the interview by inviting her to ask any question about you, she’s completely captivated. And you’re just as riveted as you listen to her response.

If a normal interview is a highway—carefully planned and constructed to fulfill a particular purpose—today’s is a river, naturally forming and freely flowing towards its destination. While you’re able to ask her some questions about her time on Produce 101 and her recent re-debut, you also both stray from the intended topic repeatedly, sharing tangents and truths and things you’ll never get to include. All of it should irritate you, but you know full well you’re far too invested to care. You can see how she matches your focus, see it in the way she leans closer—in the way she laughs openly and freely, unafraid of displaying her enjoyment. She sees the same, sees it in the way you join her laughter just as easily and how you intently hold her gaze as you weave a dialogue together with her. For the first time in as long as you can remember, words with meaning are spoken.

The sands of time flow far too swiftly, denying you further opportunity as your time together nears its end. You watch, noting how her eyes fall slightly at the top of the hour; you listen, ears perking up at the honesty in her hopes that you’ll see each other again. You respond, mirroring her sentiment and bidding her a fond farewell; you exit, leaving the room and finding yourself alone with only a recording and your memories to keep you company.

You know—even before listening back to the recording and transcribing her tales—that it truly is something special, something truly memorable. And it terrifies you. Because here, alone in the silence, you feel. A sensation of impending ruination creeps up your spine and shadows you through every twist and turn of this concrete labyrinth.

The vulnerability in memorability. The expectations and ramifications. The thought of seeing her again. The thought of meeting her. It all circulates through your mind, suffocating any further notions as you carefully reconstruct each particular piece of your professional persona. As the elevator descends to your level, you ponder the potential significance of this day. There’s so much to parse through, yet you’re unable to draw even a single conclusion. Perhaps later, you think as you enter the elevator. For now, you have work to do.

-x-

One step. Another. A door. A shudder. The individual pulls their jacket tight against their body, then pushes the heavy glass door open and steps out into the unforgiving Beijing winter. The wind whips through their hair, mercilessly battering their features as they exit the lobby. Many steps are taken, progressing through the journey until a turn is made. Then, a pause. Another turn, back towards the building. Their eyes climb, methodically, one floor at a time, impossibly high until they reach the top. An instant later, they’re back at ground level. Inhaling takes only a moment. Exhaling takes millennia. Their perspective drops further, to the pavement below. Another gust buffets the figure, and a sense of self-preservation sends them begrudgingly back along their way. It’s time for them to pack their things and go. The plane to Korea awaits.

-x-

You've always laughed at the idea that nothing good happens after midnight. As a seasoned writer and chronic procrastinator, you’ve thrived under the pressure of a morning deadline. Yet here you are, months later, staring at a bright screen in a dark room hours before the sun will give life to this particular Friday, agonizing over the task that you’ve been given.

Six names sit on the page in front of you. All of them “should” matter. One of them does. A fresh group has entered the arena, and their debut is as clean as their name is ridiculous. Your fingers fly across the keyboard, each pixel darkening your screen further as you sing stanza after stanza of praises. But instead of thinking of chord progressions or vocal harmonies, your focus lies solely on silence. Not the one you find yourself in now, but the one after her tirade. The one that’s remained in your mind long after your interview had ended; the one that threatened to betray the pounding hearts of every potential victim in the vicinity.

Five sections are completed, each giving well-earned praise to a deserving individual and highlighting their participation in the finished product. But that's not where your eyes fall, where the blinking cursor awaits. No, the subject of your ire is the final section, where your notes contain a few perfectly legitimate reasons to commend her contributions. A superbly safe option … if you choose to take it. But truth be told, you don’t want to. Admittedly, it’s not for the sake of her victims; you’ve never been one willing to take risks for something as worthless as the wellbeing of others. Your mind just can’t seem to disentangle itself from the fact that mere months later, she’s shining under Korea’s brightest lights. Part of you knows that it’s more petty than principled, but you honestly can’t stand the harsh reality of her getting to play by a different rulebook. So, the cursor blinks on.

Four hours remain, and you remain completely unsure of what to do. You’re stuck grasping at straws, knowing what you’d like to say, but treasuring your personal journey far too much to allow something as trivial as the truth to derail it all. You rack your mind, desperately attempting to find a compromise. Eventually, you wonder if perhaps a statement through omission rather than an overt declaration is the correct approach. It’s a risky idea, but one with great potential, especially in the name of generating clicks via controversy. Fuck it, you think to yourself. It’s worth an attempt. You crack your knuckles, lean forward in your chair, and spin gold.

Three members are chosen, highlighted above the rest for one reason or another. The justifications you give are borderline ostentatious, almost comically complimentary towards the contributions of your chosen trio. Somewhere along the way, a sense of confidence grows within you. Your decayed conscience is an entirely different story.

Two others—their praises already penned—are cast aside; forgotten and discarded in an effort to hide your disdain for their coworker and her offenses. Punished for no fault of their own. The notion would make you sick if it weren’t so damned common. At least you can find solace in the fact that you’re giving her exactly as much praise as she deserves.

One email containing your finished article is all that’s sent. Later today, the fuse will run out and your editor will be confronted by the landmine you’ve so kindly delivered to his inbox. But that’s alright. It is—quite literally—his job to deal with it.

Zero sounds pierce the stillness that permeates every nook and cranny of your apartment. Your breath halts, preserving this moment of tranquility within the ever-beating heart of the nation.

A moment passes.

Another.

The sigh that slips out is unintended, but not unexpected. It’s a deep, dejected exhalation that almost makes you wonder which decision drove you to become such fast friends with 4AM. Alas, the conclusions gleaned from that line of thinking can be drawn another day. Right now, you need coffee. It’s going to be a long day. You can only hope it won’t be an even longer night.

That night, you dream. You burn. You squint through the mess of tears protecting your eyes, trying hopelessly to catch even a glimpse of what lies at the heart of the inferno. Each tendril of flame lashes away at your essence, fracturing it into minute fragments as you endeavor to comprehend the importance of this dream and its sudden return after months of darkness. The experience seems to encompass merely a minute of enormous effort, but reality says otherwise as your alarm ruthlessly rouses you from your slumber and into the awaiting morning.

You’re covered in sweat and frustrated as hell, but that’s nothing that a shower hotter than your dream can’t fix. All throughout your morning routine, you make a conscious effort to avoid your phone. Even on a day like this, on a Saturday where most people are enjoying their weekend, you know that there’s no such thing as “off-the-clock” for you. No, on the other side of the glass screen, the ramifications of your actions—a night’s worth of reactions—await you.

The biggest departure from previous generations of written media is, in your opinion, the immediacy and accessibility of reader feedback. So, when you open a certain bird-themed app to see how people responded to your review of (G)I-DLE’s debut, you see some love. You see plenty of hate. You see … not much in between. K-Pop stans do tend towards hyperbole. Unsurprisingly, your decision to only highlight half the members is the primary subject of their ire. The comments are honestly hilarious, with many demanding an edit, others promising to block you, and one particularly invested individual threatening to revoke your access to the English language.

Might as well toss them a pacifier.

You tweet some apologetic bullshit about how you believed that highlighting all the members would diminish the significance of those who you felt contributed the most, expressing regret that the decision might have conveyed a message that you didn’t believe that all the members brought value to the debut. It’s a lovely set of lies, masking your true intentions with no plans for change. Fortunately, your sickly-sweet words and promise to include other members in future reviews seem to calm the upswell of commenters, at least for now.

And it keeps working. Once. Twice. A third time, even as (G)I-DLE nearly sweeps the “Rookie of the Year” award circuit. Then again, for a fourth time. A fifth. A sixth. Somehow, you get lucky seven times in a row. Somewhere along the path, you’re pretty sure you “should” stop this petty pursuit and play it safe. You don’t. A little further along, you realize you “definitely should” stop and realize what about her makes you feel this way.

You don’t.

There’ll be time for that later. For now, you follow the numbers forward. Along the way, among the complimentary feedback and tearful declarations of love for the group that frequent your comment sections, a slowly growing number of fans begin to notice and call you out for not including her. It adds credence to the argument for stopping, but luckily, they’re lost amongst the sea of engagement, so your growth continues unimpeded.

What isn’t lost to the passage of time are the whispers that continue to reach you, even when she retreats across the pond. The ripples reach you in rapid succession—usually a string of two or more instances where cracks start to show and her unbridled fury bursts forth, burning anyone who dares to get too close. You do your research, but you don’t have to dig very deep to unearth some terrifying truths. One cameraman is more than happy to tell you of the time he saw her punch one of the audio techs because her mic pack short circuited in the rain. A stylist shares a story of her ripping an outfit in half because it was too constrictive. A cup of coffee’s all it takes to convince one Cube employee to expose the eggshells they have to walk on around her and their internal guidelines for how to avoid her bad side. Without even trying, you amass a treasure trove of tales, just waiting to be told to someone who will listen. But you wait, because you know it’s not your time; because you know that you’re building something far too important to risk it all “doing the right thing”.

Growth’s a funny thing, and plenty of it can happen over two years. (G)I-DLE continues their upward trajectory, gaining both domestic and international fame as she becomes their most popular member. Her popularity with the general public is honestly anything but surprising, especially considering her Chinese heritage and English fluency that allow her to tap into two major media markets most groups struggle to find a foothold in. And, of course, there’s her personal appeal. If you had a thousand won for every tweet freaking out about her cute face and shockingly deep voice, you’d be retired before reaching legal drinking age. None of it particularly bothers you—if anything, you can’t help but laugh at the cyclical nature of it all. A comeback will be announced, a significant number of album pre-orders will be purchased by Chinese fans, the promotion cycle will begin, you’ll be told a story of how she lost her mind at some poor member of production, and no one outside of the industry will hear a thing. And most of the time, that’s okay. Until it isn’t.

Until you’re sitting in your apartment transcribing an interview with a nugu group—the type struggling to hit ten thousand views, let alone ten million—because that’s when your conscience crawls back to the forefront of your mind. It’s these moments, the ones where their tears streak down the window to your soul, that nearly make you reconsider your outlook on life. Their tales tug at your heartstrings as you pen them to the page, recounting how they have to work at convenience stores between promotions. It’s so painful to tell their story when they’re doing everything “the right way” while you know that one of the industry’s fastest rising stars is lounging atop a throne built of broken wills and wearing a crown made of crushed dreams. These are the moments where you’d give anything to write the happy ending these hopeful heroines deserve.

But, you know, deep down, that your conscience can’t keep you from doing anything; only keep you from enjoying it. Thus, you calm your heart and carry on. You do as you must, playing by their rules, even if they’re written in ink from bleeding hearts—you learned a long time ago that those with the best intentions leave impact craters, not legacies. So, you continue, because you know there isn’t a damned thing you can do about it.

Yet.

It’s not as if you sit idly during this time, allowing life to pass you by. No, you make the most of your time, fervently penning reviews and posting your thoughts to anyone that will listen. And, unsurprisingly, some do. You manage to carve out a minute slice of the public consciousness to fit your growing personal brand. The company grows alongside you, allowing for more video content that lets people put a face to the name as you interview more idols and grow your following. You know—in heart and mind alike—that it's ultimately just people with too much time on their hands slotting you into their empty schedule. You try not to let it affect you and succeed because they're not the ones you're looking to impress. It might not be ideal, but it’s working. For a while.

Then the world shuts down.

-x-

It’s a bit different the next time her group releases their first single. It’s a bit different when there’s only a pair of shiny new songs to capture the attention of the quarantined addicts. It’s a bit different when the responses grow larger than a vocal minority. It’s a bit different when it’s the eight-ball skirting along the edge of the corner pocket, like a threat from the universe that your luck is running out. It’s definitely different when your CEO calls and asks what exactly is going on. But his fears and fans’ frothing are both addressed with a simple strategy: silence. Less than a week passes before a new, more salacious scandal redirects the focus of the hyperactive hive mind and leaves your DMs deliciously desolate. Soon thereafter, you’re free to announce an upcoming retrospective project you’ve been wanting to start for a while, allowing you to proceed uninhibited. Well, except for your nightmare.

In this period of even further isolation, it’s been your unbidden associate, recurring far more rapidly compared to the previously infrequent incursions. As much as the sustained suffering has indisputably infuriated you, your progress through purgatory has been irrefutably illuminating. At the heart of the inferno, amidst brimstone and blaze, awaits a figure. For once, your headway almost makes you happy; for once, you’re almost anticipating the thought of heading to bed.

Unfortunately, the cruel winds of fate care little for the best laid plans, and the dream disappears less than a week after it reappears. You’re left wanting as one heat abandons you just as another rears its ugly head. It’s a brutal summer, with rising temperatures and quarantine restrictions combining to drive even the most mentally resilient members of society insane. Obviously, it’s even worse for those whose sanity slipped long ago.

Which means it hits a certain someone especially hard. Amid her group’s filming—another freedom she’s offered while you suffer alone—her multitude of misdeeds adds to the growing list of things you can’t escape. You count not one, not two, three, four, five, or even six stories of her wrath being inflicted on the poor production staff working to construct their comeback. Not a single word is whispered of her seven venomous verbal onslaughts. You’d call it unlucky, but years of experience remind you it’s just the norm for people like her.

Fall offers a welcome reprieve as restrictions are loosened, but winter’s arrival and the holiday season lead to an uptick in cases and increased countermeasures. What is often a quiet time for many is a period of ceaseless activity for you as you cover any and every award show related to the industry, capitalizing on any potential opportunity as per usual. It is, unsurprisingly, effective, and you go into the new year with significant progress made and intentions to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

It lasts all of a week before a certain group drops their latest EP.

You can’t help but chuckle at the irony of it all. An EP titled “I Burn” right as you’re on the verge of burning out. You’re too tired for innovation. Too exhausted for subtle additions. Just principled enough for a single exclusion. Your formula has driven engagement thus far; no reason to divert from it now. Somehow, some way, you manage to kindle a small spark of motivation and finish your review on time. After a few agonizing hours of anxious anticipation, your editor deems it ready to post with no significant revisions. You head to bed well before your regular hour, silencing your notifications as you pray that a soothing night of rest will revitalize you and grant you the energy necessary to deal with karma's cruel machinations.

As you slip into the silence of slumber, it’s not serenity that awaits, but sparks. An ignition. An inferno. For once, you hesitate. Instead of wading into the flames, you wait. Watch. Lethargy latches onto you, and you lament the lost opportunity as you’re forced to admit you lack the vitality to attempt this trial tonight. You sigh, turn, and begin to walk away.

A single step. A second. A third. Nine. None.

You freeze in place as you feel an icy hand capture your wrist, wrenching you back and whirling you around to face the figure. The silhouette sports a small stature, cropped black hair, and a featureless face that somehow still stares into your soul. The glacial nucleus of the inferno studies you for a moment, tilting its head curiously, then begins to drag you towards the depths of the hellfire. You fight, digging your heels in and desperately attempting to break its hold on you, but your efforts are in vain as it maintains its grasp on you and seals your fate.

You feel the licks of flame lapping away at you long before you see the damage. No, your eyes are locked on your captor and her silent satisfaction—her contentedness to bathe in the inferno as long as you crumble to ash alongside her. This incineration is nothing short of harrowing and hellish as you’re seared into cinders, but the emotion you experience most is helplessness. Your previous attempts to brave the blaze have at least been marked by your determination, your desire to uncover the truths concealed within the core, but this cremation inspires only dread. The last image that flashes across your mind is the scorching stare of a face without eyes.

For the first time in forever, you’re genuinely grateful for the freedom your alarm clock grants you. You immediately vault out of bed, jumping into an arctic shower and casting aside any concerns about doing so during the height of winter. After roughly an hour, equipped with a clear head and a cup of coffee, you confront the consequences of your choice.

Fortunately, the inflammatory comments you receive in response are primarily concentrated within the private space of your DMs rather than in the public view. You cast aside most of the messages without a second thought … until you reach one that’s a bit more interesting.

A forgettable account name? ✔

Zero comments or original posts across its entire existence? ✔

A string of likes on comments and posts singing her praises? ✔

Oh, and of course the message itself:

ASong4You: No but like seriously, what the fuck is your problem?

Check.

Literally any other idol and your mind wouldn’t be going down the path it’s exploring now. But given the rumors … given your history … even though with all those factors, it’s still one hell of a stretch …

No, it has to be her. It's too vague to be anything else.

So, you respond. Not on your main account, of course; you also have a burner. Obviously.

You compose a message to her burner in the bird app, then an identical one to her main account in the picture app, and send them simultaneously:

TurnThePage: I could ask you the same thing

You see her read it on the first account, then the second. A moment passes, allowing you the briefest bit of calm amidst the coming storm, but it’s gone in an instant as she fires another shot.

ASong4You: Seriously dude, your writer is showing, it's honestly unbearable TurnThePage: I’m sorry you don’t have poetry in your heart TurnThePage: But thank you for the compliment, I'm quite proud of my writing ASong4You: You really shouldn't be, I've seen some of the “fascinating findings” you've posted ASong4You: They make a shampoo bottle look like a New York Times bestseller by comparison TurnThePage: You'll have to send me your hair care recommendations! I love a good read :D TurnThePage: And thank you for supporting my work! It's always a pleasure to meet a fan ASong4You: Ahhh, now I see why you have to pay people to talk to you ASong4You: But yeah, before this conversation ruins my appetite, I gotta ask, what's your deal with me? I’ve literally done nothing to you TurnThePage: Like you said, people are usually paid to answer questions like that, but I'm sure we can meet in the middle here TurnThePage: What’s your deal? The people you bring to tears have done nothing but try to make your life easier, yet here you are ASong4You: Haven't you ever heard the saying “don't believe everything you hear”? Chill with the drama, I'm sure whatever you've heard is stupidly overblown ASong4You: Besides, anybody I’ve ever yelled at deserved it TurnThePage: I don’t believe you believe that ASong4You: Fuck you, who do you think you are? You don’t even know me TurnThePage: Maybe not yet, but your actions have spoken even louder than your words, and it’s been hard not to hear the echoes of both ASong4You: Do you ever talk like a normal person? TurnThePage: Maybe TurnThePage: Why, hoping I'll humor you long enough for you to find out? ASong4You: Honestly I kinda just wish you'd die in a fire, but that's neither here nor there ASong4You: Aren't there like, actual global events you could write about instead? Or did you just not make the cut? TurnThePage: Maybe ASong4You: Oh, so now that we're talking about your shortcomings, you finally shut up? ASong4You: Good to know TurnThePage: Maybe I'm trying to preserve your appetite. Unlike you, I can be considerate TurnThePage: Can I honestly just ask why? Like I've never heard anything good about you TurnThePage: It'd be impressive if it weren’t so awful ASong4You: Wouldn't you like to know? Just go ask one of the assholes that's lied about me already, I'm sure they'll make up an answer you like TurnThePage: I just figured it'd be a lot better for your members if they weren't constantly worried about the ticking time bomb standing next to them ASong4You: Don't. ASong4You: Don't bring them into this, you haven't even told me why you're being such an ass for no good reason ASong4You: I kinda think it'd just be best for both of us if you forgot about it all and started giving me the credit I deserve TurnThePage: Surely you can't think you'll be able to hide behind that cute face forever. Karma takes notes in pen, not pencil ASong4You: I'll be sure to let you know if things ever do change, but until then? Might as well just keep doing what's working ASong4You: Also thanks for the compliment ;) TurnThePage: Any time, sweetheart ASong4You: Don't call me that TurnThePage: Okay darling ASong4You: Fuck. ASong4You: You. ASong4You: Tbh I'd love nothing more than to toss a match on your greasy ass and toast marshmallows as you burn TurnThePage: Jokes on you, maybe I like to play with fire ASong4You: Then I hope you dream of something you find hotter than your reflection

You type up a couple of responses, but end up deleting all of them, each feeling inadequate to the discomfort her line makes you feel. Oh well, you think to yourself. Not the worst thing if she thinks she got the last word in, gives me more room to do as I please.

Yet you stay—sitting, staring at the screen, wondering what’s lying beyond the glass that’s captured your attention so intensely. Your gaze occasionally drifts elsewhere, but your focus remains drawn to this singular conversation and a certain someone. Someone no more than a couple dozen kilometers away, someone you should have every reason to despise and avoid, yet someone who you can’t help but wonder about. Wonder what lies behind that smile. Wonder what hides behind those eyes. Wonder if they’re staring right back.

-x-

It’s a lonely night, made even worse by the company of their reflection. Two halves of a whole, on mirrored paths with no sense of purpose or direction.

In this absence of light, all they can see is the whites of their eyes. In this moment of peace, all they can hear is their echoing lies.

Outside these walls, the world knows each as a shining star, floating through an astral sea. But deep within, each keeps their true self hidden away, trapped under lock and key.

In their heart and soul, all that is left is hurt and pain. In the years to come, all that matters is selfish gain.

But that’s a problem for another day, a problem that no storm can wash away, a problem they both know is here to stay.

So here they sit, alone again, so here they sit, wondering when. When will they meet, be face to face, and “will they cause my fall from grace?”.

A long night awaits them, one where their dreams will host a war. A routine recurrence, repeating what they’ve done before. Yet still a welcome sight because both know what they’re in for. The inferno beckons, inviting them to find out more.

And so, despite their best judgement, they each choose to proceed. They go, without a second thought, trying to sate a need.

They yearn. They burn.

-x-

A single day of anticipatory silence ages you far more than the decade of peace that’s preceded it. You can feel it in your heart, in your blood, in the way it slogs through your veins. Your fingers bear a peculiar weight as—instead of dancing gracefully over the keyboard—they stumble and crash through your draft, producing an unrecognizable, unacceptable product. Upon the page, imperfection mocks your brittle mentality, taunting you and inviting you to waste more of your time ignoring the only problem that matters right now.

A brief respite presents a far more welcome sight: a message from the girl from that first interview, asking how your holidays were. The notification grabs your attention and excites you … but not as much as it should. Maybe it's because of what lies below—what you see when your eyes drift down. Maybe it's because of the DM sitting right beneath it, where her accusation awaits. Because that message … it incenses you far more than it should. It isn’t the implication of narcissism that so clearly shines through, but something else lying just below the surface—something barely evading your grasp while beguiling your mind.

It takes the whole day and a dozen more before the thought of her finally fucks off and leaves you with the slightest semblance of some peace and quiet—a dozen nights spent in damned inferno, incinerating any chance you’d have of enjoying a rejuvenating rest. Eventually, the distractions fade and the world settles into an undisturbed quiet, the type you love to find yourself in. The type where you can shroud yourself in silence. The type where whispers punch through peaceful tranquility.

You’re not so vain to assume you’re the first to hear the rumblings, but you are shameless enough to admit you’re probably the first person excited by them. Their spread is contagious, chaotic, and anything but controllable. All that you’re missing is a bowl of popcorn as you sit back and watch the show unfold. Someone somewhere leaks the information on their socials, and you’re more than happy to spectate the storm’s rising tides from your perch atop a higher rung … and oh, what a view.

The primary benefit of being “plugged in” to the industry is, of course, the connections. So, when you receive a message informing you of tomorrow’s upcoming announcement, you thank them and plan accordingly. But then there’s another message. And another. And …

ASong4You: Don’t. ASong4You: I know you think you’re so fucking clever and you know just what to say ASong4You: But for once in your life, shut up. TurnThePage: Have you considered saying “please”? ASong4You: No.

Well, when she fires shots like that, what else is there to do but respond in kind?

The night comes. The flames rise. You open your eyes and are greeted by the gorgeous gleaming sunlight and something even more beautiful awaiting you on your nightstand.

“(G)I-DLE member Soojin announces hiatus from the group following alleged bullying accusations from former classmates.”

You, of course, wrote up your response and scheduled the tweet to be sent within minutes of the announcement. It’s nothing crazy, nothing petty, just something to farm engagement:

“There’ve been serious accusations across a number of idols, many of whom deserve judgement. But until we’ve been presented with undeniable proof, we should be patient & not assume that they’d risk years of training & passion just to demean & belittle others. It’d make no sense.”

Okay, maybe a little petty.

You set your phone down, stretch a bit, go for a short walk, and make sure to grab eye protection before checking on the fireworks going off in your DMs.

ASong4You: All you had to do was nothing, and you couldn’t even manage that ASong4You: Like the bar was so low it was literally in hell ASong4You: Yet here you are, doing the limbo with the fucking devil TurnThePage: That’s far too many words for none of them to be “please” ASong4You: I swear, if I ever get my hands on you, the bruises I’ll leave … TurnThePage: Oh good, I could use a little color in my life

And just like that, the conversation comes to a close. This pair of dialogues contains the last words you say to each other for two entire months, months best spent enjoying a world previously hidden behind doors now unlocked by the vaccinations. The heat on your face, the sounds of travel, the sight of familiar landmarks … all of it is a welcome reprieve from the societal incarceration you’ve been taking part in. You feel truly, thankfully, at peace. But while the winds carry the scents of spring, they also carry whispers of what’s to come. And there’s one whisper in particular—one that stands out. One that results in your forehead becoming warmly acquainted with the wood of your desk.

The newly formed couple aren’t allowed to enjoy each other’s company for long, as destiny arrives all too soon and ushers you into the cab. Into the airport. Into the plane. Into the sky. Into China.

Since your last visit to the country, you’ve grown. You’ve risen. You’ve worked and wrote and watched your former peers fade beneath the cloud line. Since your last visit, you’ve lost count of the dramatic declarations and sunrise submissions that define your professional life. You’ve lost track of any consistent characteristics that define your personal life. 

The journey to who and where you are today began in this country nearly four years ago.

The reflection staring back has aged forty.

Hangzhou offers no solace as you depart the airport and are met by the garish glare of the fan-sponsored advertisement for her solo debut. A grimace, glare, and grumble are all you offer in response before turning and merging with the moving mass of travelers dispersing among the city streets. While neither land nor sea seem like enough to escape her reach, maybe you can find a top shelf to hide on.

In the meantime, this’ll be a brief trip, only a couple of days dedicated to as many interviews. The first day is quick and painless—the second is anything but. Free time is to be feared when attempting to keep a mind busy, and the open space in your calendar only allows the laughter of her successes to echo that much louder. Things only worsen when an appointment with a contact falls through because of unexpected rescheduling.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry,” she says, voice crackling slightly through the tenuous connection. “It’s a shame. I was really looking forward to seeing the performances tonight—wait, do you want my ticket? I got a really good seat, great view of the stage.”

“Sure, that sounds great,” you reply, words escaping before your brighter side can block them. “Who’s performing?”

“It’s a whole bunch of acts, but there was specifically one I wanted to see … it was some K-Pop girl group member you’ve probably heard of,” she says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world; like it isn’t the reason you’re desperately searching around the room for a defibrillator. “I forgot her name, but I’m sure you know who she is.”

“Almost certainly,” you choke out, forcing out a laugh through gritted teeth. “Yeah, if you could email me the ticket, that would be awesome, and we’ll definitely have to make sure we do something the next time I come to China or the next time you visit Nayoung, alright?”

“Great, hope you enjoy! Wish me luck!” she responds, blissfully unaware as she ends the call.

Minutes later, you receive an email confirming your suspicions and your fears. It’s a festival with over a dozen acts, but there’s one that stands out: the first performance of her new solo album.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

There’s no way in hell you’re going there. You’d rather watch paint dry than watch her perform. You’ve avoided listening to her solo songs thus far and you have no intention of changing that—especially by seeing her live and in-person.

It’s a ridiculous notion, you think to yourself as you lay back on the bed, hands behind your head as you consider how you’d like to spend the rest of the day.

…

…

…

Fuck, where’s seat 239?

Somewhere amongst the hours of apathy that comprised the afternoon, some dark corner of your brain spawned the idea that this was going to be your best shot at seeing her in-person without financially supporting her. Somehow, that flimsy justification fused with the inexplicable pull you’ve felt and resulted in your decision to show up. Even as you finally find your seat and sit down—just as the lights dim before the first performance—you still don’t know entirely why you’re here.

Luckily, the first couple acts do a wonderful job of distracting you away from overthinking, allowing you to—for the first time since you arrived in the country—relax and enjoy yourself as the true fan of music you’ve always been. That delusion lasts four whole songs before the announcement comes over the loudspeaker and sends a chill down your spine.

She’s next.

You pull out your phone, desperately attempting to draw your eyes anywhere other than the stage. A pair of messages await you and, continuing the trend of bad decisions that’s come to define this particular day, you open them and reveal their contents.

ASong4You: I almost wish you were here to see me perform, hear the roar of the crowd as they scream my name ASong4You: Maybe one day you’ll come to your senses and I’ll make you do the same

The victory lap is … cute. You begin composing a response, but your inner monologue is immediately drowned out by the sounds of screaming as the crowd rumbles to life. You guess, purely based on their reactions, that she’s arrived. You continue your vain quest to refuse to pay her even your attention, instead inspecting the periphery of the stage, where you can see the other participants beginning to appear.

You see the dancers as they dart onto the stage; a dozen join her, then a dozen more. You’re too far to see their eyes, but their bodies tell a sufficient story: one of devotion, determination, and desperation. You wonder what paths their lives have followed—what choices they’ve made to lead them to this place and time. You wonder what they’ve seen, what they’ve heard, what they do when they think of her.

Do they smile? Do they shudder? Does she care if they’ve suffered?

You’ve avoided the inevitable for far too long. You allow your eyes to be drawn to her, pulled in by the magnetism of her performance. You’ve never denied her majesty—never mocked the magic she can create with a microphone. No, it’s her methods, her mentality, her malevolence that’s manifested your misery and madness. The worst part of all is the casual way she carries herself, as if her nationality alone is enough to conceal sins of days long past. It hits particularly close to home for you, especially as you sit here, in a country foreign to the foreign country you reside in. You can’t stop yourself from seething at how she adores the applause, how she cherishes the country and home she holds dear. Any rational thoughts that might have risen to the surface are drowned out by the screams of the fans as they chant her name, cheering for her arrival as she stands atop the stage and the spirits she’s broken.

It’s almost too much. Seeing her here, in her element, shining under the spotlight as she single-handedly inscribes her song into your memories, you’re so close to giving in.

It’d be so much easier to just follow the fantasy, pretend that her performance ends with the final note. It’d be so much easier to assume that her backup dancers are trained to leave the stage that quickly, that their fervor isn’t driven by an acute anxiety at the thought of meeting her eyes. For once, you wish you could do so—wish you could search her soul for the full story. Because here, in this stadium filled with her adoring fans, you can see, hear, feel the passion in her voice.

All you can do is wonder when it began its mutation into malice.

You slip out shortly thereafter, disregarding the remaining acts as you attempt to shake off the unsettling feeling clinging to your bones. It’s a short walk to the hotel, but the climb back up to where you’re staying feels anything but.

It’s somehow worse when you arrive in your room and another message arrives in your inbox. Continuing your streak of bad decisions, you open it as you flip onto the bed, bracing yourself for her latest assault.

ASong4You: Oh, now you have nothing to say? Figures

And that’s all she has to say.

… that’s it? Really?

You’re definitely disappointed and slightly surprised that she didn’t send more. Wait, no, you’re surprisingly disappointed and definitely surprised that … wait … fuck, which bag contains the cure for this headache?

You’re more than familiar with telling stories despite a tired mind—you’ve built your career upon a foundation of fighting against fatigue. The sensation sitting in the pit of your stomach is neither. It’s a weird feeling, somewhere between weariness and wistfulness, but stronger than your feelings of the former and even less justified than an appearance of the latter. A weird feeling for a weird day, one that was filled with nearly nothing except that one thing, but still so exhausting.

It’s a day you’d like to end. Your head hits the pillow, your eyelids flutter closed, and your consciousness fucks off.

And then the sun rises. But its shine paints the sand, not your sheets. You hear not the honking of cars but the crashing of waves; instead of the smell of fresh linens with a hint of lavender, the salty spray of the sea sends its scent straight into your senses. You shift, stand, shuffle, stretch, squint, and search your surroundings. And you see … the sea. Shocker.

But then, just beneath the squawking of the seagulls, you hear it; no, her. It’s the most intimate, unmistakable voice you’d swear you’ve never heard before. Her siren’s song serenades you, showing you the path, inviting you to join her beyond the veil, guiding you past the barrier separating you two. And there’s nothing you’d rather do than follow.

You step forward, feeling the grains of sand shift beneath your feet as you close the distance between you and the shoreline. As you descend the slope further and further—riding the high ever upward—her melody envelops you in its soothing, loving embrace, warding off some of the ocean's chill. You walk until the slope disappears from under your feet, then you swim until the waves settle to reveal a familiar, unrecognizable figure. You swim forth further, closing the distance until you’re face-to-face with the featureless countenance staring back. Even amidst the sway of the sea, the normally harsh pull of the waves seems harmless—almost as if Poseidon himself chose to grant you this moment of privacy.

You see no mouth, but you hear her words all the same—tantalizing whispers of sweet nothings as she asks everything of you. Your attention. Your time. Your heart. Your ambition. For the second time, she touches you. For the first time, she wraps her arms around you and pulls herself against your body. You look down at her, resting her head against your chest as she whispers these words directly into your heart, transcribing these truths upon the strands of your soul as you hold her. Then you look past her and see the endless void of darkness awaiting below the waves.

A chill runs up your already frigid spine, yet despite the overwhelming terror at the possibilities potentially lurking below, you stay. And unlike before, the figure doesn't drag you into the darkened depths, where your shared doom surely awaits. No, she does the same as you. She stays. In your arms, she finds security. In hers, you find solace. You close your eyes, drowning out any sensations other than the sound of her voice.

You open them, and in your empty hotel room, you find silence. You find solitude. And in this darkness, a depraved desire to deliver a response to her gloating drives you back into your DMs.

TurnThePage: I apologize for shattering the illusion that I'm here at your beck & call TurnThePage: But those of us with the unfortunate label of “contributing members of society” have things to do

Fortunately or otherwise, you don't have to wait long for a response:

ASong4You: Oh fuck off, I’m in a good mood this morning and don’t need you ruining it ASong4You: I’d tell you to go hug the ocean floor, but the walk there would be more than you deserve

It’s not the severity of the insult that unnerves you so significantly. It’s the specificity. It’s the timing. It’s honestly just everything about her and even the things tangentially related to her, but mostly those two. It’s an unidentifiable emotion that ends any response you might have had before it even has a chance to manifest, silencing your snark and settling at the forefront of your mind for the rest of the day and beyond, even long after you leave China.

-x-

Silence between you two is undeniably the norm, but even as other projects and commitments sweep you away, you can’t help but feel anxious. Even as you focus on other opportunities, there’s an inevitability ticking away at the back of your mind. So, when the whispers first resurface, you’re not surprised, nor relieved, nor excited. If anything, you’re just intrigued. And you plan accordingly.

This time, when you hear confirmation from your contacts, you’re not surprised to hear nothing from her. This time, there’s no tweaking of the statement—no attempts to squeeze in exactly as many characters as are allowed. This time, you don’t let even a minute pass before responding to the announcement of Soojin’s departure. No, this time, you load only a single shot into the chamber. 

This time, you aim for the heart.

"I wish the good-hearted members of (G)I-DLE the best of luck as they navigate the ramifications of their members' actions." (Posted at 8:27 PM)

The tiniest of alterations. The smallest of changes. Seemingly a mistake so inconsequential that even your editor wouldn’t catch it. But for one whose hackles were already raised, that implication of multiple members rather than single outlier is a declaration of war. So, when her message arrives in your inbox, you expect it to burn your eyes with the fury of a thousand suns. What you find is something else entirely.

ASong4You: So, how’s your day going?

Well, that’s unexpected. You know better than to drop your guard, but your curiosity demands that you play along, at least for now.

TurnThePage: Pretty good TurnThePage: Very productive, so that’s always nice TurnThePage: What about yours? ASong4You: Could be better ASong4You: Could be worse TurnThePage: Could it? ASong4You: Probably ASong4You: Not exactly looking to find out TurnThePage: Don’t you want me to at least try? ASong4You: No because I’m quite sure you could easily find a way to make it worse TurnThePage: I was talking about making it better

You watch as she begins typing, then pauses. Assumedly, she changes her mind because her next message surprises you.

ASong4You: You know what? Sure ASong4You: Make my day TurnThePage: I’m pretty confident this’ll work ASong4You: You’re pretty confident about a lot of things TurnThePage: You’re not wrong (Image sent at 8:43PM)

Another pause.

ASong4You: Okay I can’t lie that corgi is pretty cute TurnThePage: I know, right? I've been wanting one for years now, but it doesn't seem fair to leave them locked up when I need to travel for work. ASong4You: It’s nice of you to care TurnThePage: Thanks, I try ASong4You: Do you? TurnThePage: I do! TurnThePage: Sometimes I even succeed

This back and forth continues on for a while, neither of you willing to let the other have the last word. While not stated outright, you’ve realized that she’s somehow found herself with the same goal as you: burning down the walls the other hides behind. It’s honestly pretty cute, but more importantly, it’s genuinely dangerous. Now that the boiling point could be reached at seemingly any moment, you’ve realized that in this rivalry, results matter more than reason.

Thus, the dialogue never dies, ranging from carefully probing questions to mild disagreements to stories about funny occurrences but interestingly, never direct insults or aggression. If anything, as time passes, the frequency increases. The timestamps tell a story of two individuals tied up in ceaseless pursuit, with one message being delivered as the sun descends below the skyline and its response arriving as the following school day begins. The density of messages may be irregular, but the consistency of responses is far from it. Both of you adamantly add to the simmering coals, continuing to fan the flames with your words, gladly accepting the risk of joining the other as a pile of ash.

You want, no, need, her facade to fall. She’ll give anything to “expose” you as the type of villain that frequents Saturday morning cartoons. She’s desperately attempting to maintain her veil of innocence. You’d love nothing more than to see it go up in flames and let the world see the truth as the smoke clears. Neither of you is willing to reveal your hand, and folding isn’t an option. So, this cold war wages on.

It’s an otherwise unremarkable afternoon when the first piece falls into place. You’re scrolling through your timeline, seeking both idle entertainment and diamonds in the rough as you await responses from multiple people. You see one post amongst the sea of several, commenting about (G)I-DLE all getting new phones together because one of them got destroyed. Something about the screen getting shattered when dropped, something that seems insignificant. But you have two eyes for a reason, and what’s the point of having both if you can’t catch double meanings?

So, just in case, you file it away for later, maybe for a rainy day. Three days later, you venture back into your DMs, conversing with her as you hide from the downpour outside.

ASong4You: Honestly I think audio issues are the worst ones to deal with ASong4You: Because usually the people fixing them are using headsets to test everything, so we never have any idea if any progress is being made ASong4You: Like at least with lighting, it’s clear as day when it’s working like it’s supposed to TurnThePage: That makes sense, audio’s always been the type of issue I’m most scared of TurnThePage: Because for interviews, usually I just record the audio and transcribe it later. If the audio is fucked up, I’ve wasted hours, if not days’ worth of time TurnThePage: For me and the client TurnThePage: Luckily, not a very frequent issue, but a concern all the same TurnThePage: Feels like you’ve been hitting a lot of production hiccups recently ASong4You: Yeah, seems like a pretty unlucky streak ASong4You: It’s kinda whatever though, I don’t let little things like that bother me

… but honestly, when she lines it up like that, who could blame you for taking a shot?

TurnThePage: Pretty sure your old phone would say otherwise, but go off ASong4You: Fuck. ASong4You: You. ASong4You: Actually, you know what? Fine. ASong4You: It's been obvious for a while now that you're desperate for attention, so here. I'm listening. ASong4You: What the fuck do you want from me?

It’s such a shame, especially since the conversation was going so nicely. Oh well, you flew too close to the sun and ended up reigniting the blaze between you two. Guess that leaves you with no choice but to fight fire with fire.

TurnThePage: The truth would be too rich for your blood, wouldn’t it? ASong4You: That’s a bit rich coming from you, don’t you think? ASong4You: Considering you’ve never even met me and are just going off of what you’ve heard from rumors TurnThePage: I mean, what else am I supposed to go off of? TurnThePage: We’ve barely talked, but even just based on that, I’m pretty sure meeting you would be detrimental to my health ASong4You: Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re gonna let a little danger get in the way of a date with destiny ASong4You: Aren’t you the type who likes to play with fire? TurnThePage: Aren’t you? ASong4You: Now you’re getting it ASong4You: If you didn’t already have a reason to be backstage at Gayo Daejeon in a few weeks, now you do TurnThePage: What, you’re just expecting me to drop everything and dance with the devil on Christmas of all days? ASong4You: Yes. ASong4You: Come on, it’ll be fun! What’s the worst that could happen?

As much as every part of your mind is screaming that this is a terrible idea, you know that it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up.

TurnThePage: Alright, I’ll be there. Just for you TurnThePage: Think of it as an early Christmas present ASong4You: Only if you come gift wrapped with a little bow on top TurnThePage: Only if you ask nicely ASong4You: In your fucking dreams ASong4You: Speaking of, I have to go contribute to society. Until then, enjoy dreaming of me!

You pause, processing the statement for a moment before sending the last thing you'll say to her for quite some time.

TurnThePage: You too

You close the app, discarding your DMs at least for the moment as you allow yourself to reenter the real world—the world where silence awaits, having settled in long before you did. It’s a comfortable silence, the norm you’ve come to rely on when composing messages and emails and blogs and messages and reviews and tweets and captions and messages. It’s an intentional sensation, amplified by the thick walls and specific location away from the chaos of the city you so desperately sought. It’s the warm blanket that wards off the chills creeping in the darkness as you chase the early morning sun. It’s the friend that helped you find yourself.

It’s deafening.

You stand and grab your keys, intent on grabbing some coffee and a bite to eat before the night steals your last chance to do so. As you wait in one line and then another, you plan out your upcoming days, noting openings in your calendar and marking them down for future opportunities. After all, your schedule might already be busy, but that’s no reason it couldn’t be busier. How else would you want to spend your free time?

-x-

The year’s end heralds many things, chief among them the year-end award ceremonies and the annual echoes of insanity you’re forced to subject yourself to once more. One would think that after four iterations of the same song and dance sweeping the circuit, you’d have found a better way to congratulate the usual suspects on their trio of triumphs. While you manage, it’s a slog like nothing you’ve had to fight through since your rookie campaign. The motivation you need to excel always seems to be one cup of coffee or one more procrastinated hour away, yet you continuously fail to muster the energy to snatch it out of the fog afore you.

You somehow manage to write just enough and post it just soon enough to drive the engagement numbers you need to remain ahead of projections for the year. It’s a sigh of relief that’s followed by one of the few exciting traditions amidst an industry filled with formulaic procedures: music festivals.

The KBS Song Festival is a breath of fresh air for you as you go, in-person, for the first time. You’re able to translate your experiences onto the page flawlessly, and the reception to your piece is one of the best yet. It simultaneously excites and pressures you to pay close attention to the next festival you go to in the hopes that you can recreate or even exceed that piece’s success. There’s only one issue.

SBS Gayo Daejun is next.

It’s been complete radio silence since your last message. Two months since she read your response and you each retreated to your bunkers. The war might have grown colder alongside the changing seasons, but you know it’s no less flammable than before. You dress warmly, enough layers to ward off the cold winter air, yet light enough to have options. Just in case.

You arrive early, hours before the event’s 6PM scheduled start time. The Namdong Gymnasium is a massive venue, easily able to seat thousands of rabid fans eager to shake its foundation with their roar. You probably have a press pass somewhere in your email, but you can see the recognition in the eyes of the security when you walk up without a shadow of a doubt; you’ve been to enough of these kinds of events over the past year or so that they’re happy to welcome you in.

Once inside, it takes but a handful of quick conversations over warm handshakes to get a lay of the land and create a mental catalog of where different idols will be waiting and, most importantly, where people won’t be. After all, in life—not just in K-Pop—privacy is priceless. Later, when you find yourself alone, you begin to ponder and plan. You have plenty of time and endless amounts of patience, but not as much of either as you’d like. So, you pull out your phone and do something seemingly detestable. You shatter the silence.

TurnThePage: Tell me when and I’ll tell you where

For once, you’re happy to be swept up into a conversation as the earliest performing groups begin to arrive and greet you warmly. Your ambitions are far too grand to fit within a niche, but as you’ve actively fostered relationships with the brightest rising stars in the business, you’ve kindled a kind of camaraderie over the couple of conversations shared. You wish IVE the best of luck with their upcoming Olympic send-off stage, discuss the remix STAYC will be performing later, and make bets with Aespa whether “Got the Beat” will be weird or wonderful. Of course, the bet ends up being mostly metaphorical since it’s kinda hard to place a wager when all five members of the discussion agree it’ll be the former.

A few hours pass until there’s three until showtime. Your phone vibrates, which could mean many things, but you know what just arrived in your inbox. You allow two more hours to pass before you dip off to the side into a small alcove, allowing you to preview her response in peace.

She sent you a window of time, almost exactly when you’d expected based on the schedule of the performances. You read the message, allow the checkmark to turn blue, then put your phone away. You continue to wait, letting a whole nother hour pass until the broadcast begins, at which point you finally send her your location of choice. It’s an unutilized dressing room about a minute away from where the performers are preparing to go on stage; the perfect spot to find some priceless privacy, leaving you with roughly 10 minutes with which to enjoy it.

As the various artists claim their positions for the opening performance, you decide how best to utilize the upcoming forty minutes. You scope out the scene and develop a plan, starting by targeting those who appear to be anxiously waiting. Those who have a minute to spare, but whose lips are loosened when the second comes around and you’re still asking them to share their story. The hunt pays off, rewarding you with information about Itzy’s upcoming Japan promotions, Oh My Girl’s second album, and Red Velvet’s upcoming concert. You file the information away for later, at the ready just in case it could result in a potential opportunity.

Eventually, your internal clock informs you it’s time. You slip away from the outskirts of the main preparation area, taking a wide berth as you avoid being seen on your way to the intended location. On the way there, you grab a pair of bottles of water, mind already kicking into overdrive as you plan how you want to handle this encounter.

Once you enter the room, you’re pleased to see the mostly bare walls and lack of furnishings aside from a row of mirrors on the far wall and a trio of couches placed around a small table. You note them but disregard them for the moment, instead leaning against one of the smooth concrete walls as you pull out your phone and attempt to respond to a couple of emails. You barely get through one before the turning of a latch and a shock of recently bleached blonde signals her early arrival.

“Hey, glad you could make it,” you say, as if this whole situation were the most casual thing in the world. “Here, catch.”

She deftly snatches the water bottle out of the air, checking the seal immediately as she peers past the plastic with suspicion blatant in her stare. “Thanks, I guess?”

You’re not sure if it’s the room’s acoustics or the unfamiliar lack of a screen or microphone for separation but hearing her voice up close and personal for the first time hits. The sound waves slowly waltz up your spine, sending shockwaves through your synapses as they encircle and entrance your eardrums, then shoot down to the rest of your body and share the sensation. While you smell skepticism coating each third of her trio of words, you also catch something beneath the surface. Intrigue. Amusement. Annoyance. Excitement. And then something else, hidden amongst the huskiest tones of her exhalations. Something even you can’t catch.

You take slow, measured steps as you walk parallel to her, claiming one of the couches as your own as you sit down on one side of the table and she seats herself across from you. “But of course!” you declare jovially, creating an illusion of welcoming even as you reinforce your mental walls. “I can promise it’s not poisoned. There’s far too much I’d love to ask you.”

“Is that so?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow as she puts her feet up on the table. “You seem awfully confident that I’m willing to answer.”

“Can’t help it,” you admit with a shrug, refusing to break eye contact even for a moment as you take a swig of your water. “Side effect of a never-ending streak of successes, I suppose.”

“You’re adorable,” she coos, eyes catching fire for the first time. You watch, gaze unwavering as she leans back, closing her eyes as she takes her own drink of water, then wipes her lips with the back of her hand and holds your eyes once more. “You’re also avoiding the topic at hand.”

“Oh, am I?” you ask, knowing full well what she means but too intrigued to voice the topic yourself. “Please, do tell.”

She leans forward, blowing through any pretense as she demands to know, “Why are you so obsessed with me?”

“Ah, 6:42, starting right on schedule,” you think to yourself, smiling as you shake your head and place your water on the table. “Darling, I love me some self-centeredness, but I think you’ve misunderstood. As much as I refuse to diminish the significance of your sins, I’m nowhere near as invested in your failure as you seem to think. Honestly, if anything, dragging out this ‘drama’ has been great for engagement.”

“Oh, come the fuck on,” she says, hints of a chuckle hidden amongst the darkness in her tone as she stands and uses all 163 centimeters of her figure to barely look down at you. You almost find it ironic that here—in the midst of an argument—is the closest you’ve come to seeing each other eye to eye. “Are you really trying to tell me that the soapbox you preach from was built by the likes, comments, and subscriptions of my stans?”

“I’m not denying that (G)I-DLE’s been a major contributing factor in my growth,” you say, struggling to subdue the smirk attempting to tug at the corner of your lips. “But genuinely, you are just a stepping stone and I’m moving up. It’s nothing personal.”

“Nothing personal?!” she repeats, laughter fully unleashed as she stares at you incredulously. “Stop, it’s so much worse when you lie to both of us.”

“Listen sunshine,” you begin, feeling the smirk seize control as you watch her eye twitch in loathing. “We could have a nice therapeutic conversation where you lie on the big couch between us and I chronicle your odyssey of misdeeds.” You stand, making your way towards the same spot on the wall where you’d waited for her. “Or we could just leave and go back to the silence. Not sure what else we’re here for.”

As you turn and your back hits the wall once more, you see the intensity and intent in her eyes as she closes the distance. You see her muscles tense, you see her arm raise, and you know full well the slap is coming long before it makes contact. But you need no omniscience to identify the most interesting outcome, so you present your left cheek and enjoy the echoes as they reverberate throughout the enclosed space.

“You know, that wasn’t personal,” she says, shaking out her hand like the force of the impact caused her pain too. “Only deserved.”

“Probably,” you admit, savoring the sanguine sensation slowly seeping out behind your smile. “There are probably a couple dozen legitimate reasons to slap me—it’s just a shame that none of them are the one you chose.”

“God fucking damnit,” she growls, low voice dipping even deeper as she clenches her fists. “What do you want from me?”

"What do I want from you?" you repeat, letting the question linger in the air for a moment before meeting her fiery gaze head-on. Your heart pounds at a frantic rate, yet you keep your voice steady and unwavering as you continue. “I want you to drop the act. I want you to stop pretending like you’re some sort of hero when you’re the villain in every story told about you.” 

“What did I say about believing everything you hear?” she purrs, bits of that casual confidence resurfacing even as you see your words shake her to her core.

“Then tell me something different,” you demand, teeth grinding as the conversation goes nowhere. “Tell me something I can believe, even better if it’s the truth. Look me in the eyes and tell me—from the heart—that I’m wrong.”

“I … I can’t,” she admits, hints of vulnerability creeping into those eyes that burned so bright mere moments ago.

“God fucking damnit,” you growl, voice dipping lower once more. “Then why should I care about anything you have to say?”

“Why do you care in the first place?” she snaps back, voice rising with anger. “I don’t remember asking you to stick your nose into my life and threaten everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve!”

The silence weighs heavily on you both, growing more and more deafening as each passing second leaves an impact crater on your eardrum. You have so many reasons—all these puzzle pieces within your mind—yet you can’t seem to assemble a decent response. You’re both just stuck here, with all this emotion and no fucking answers to show for it. Instead, you search, staring into those blazing eyes as if the darkness within hides the truths you’ve been searching for. But in this hell you find no revelations, only the pain you’ve only ever found in your reflection. All you see is the slow infusion of crimson into her visage, the part of her lips as her pained exhalations batter your heaving chest. Your eyes never leave hers, and hers nearly mirror yours. Nearly. She cracks for a single moment—a mere second where her stare flicks down unconsciously. And it’s all the signal you need to capitalize on your chosen position.

With her frame, it truly is as easy as playing with a doll to flip your positions, pinning her against the wall as you tower over her. Her eyes widen with surprise, then narrow with expectation. You slam one hand against the wall, granting you additional leverage and knocking her even further off guard as you lean in, cupping her chin with your other hand and tilting her head up. When your lips first meet, there’s no cliches—no fireworks going off and no chorus accompanying the moment. There’s only friction and the insistent sensation of her pillowy lips against the firm control of your own. The kiss is far from gentle; passionate, yes, but not the sensual, romantic passion that others who use that word would think of. Emotions—ones that are similar, not identical—clash against one another as your tongues find each other and she tastes the metallic tang of the blood she’s spilled.

You thank whoever’s listening for well-tailored clothes as your hand leaves her chin and begins to explore, tracing her collarbone before gliding your fingertips across the bare skin of her arm. You leave goosebumps in your wake as you venture further down to her waistline and under her shirt, nails gently dragging across the toned muscles of her abs and the taut skin concealing her ribcage and hammering heart. Your hand doesn’t even have to slide under her bra for you to earn a moan, slipping past her inhibitions and feeding directly into your ego as you graciously decide to grant her request for escalation. You take advantage of your already slightly bent knees as you raise one between her legs, slipping your thigh past her own as you grind it against her sex and send her pleasure receptors into overdrive. So needy, you whisper, lips ghosting over her jawline as your breaths carry the words into her very soul. We’re barely in the opening measure, and you’re nearly ready for a crescendo.

The resentment in her eyes would hit much harder if she could maintain even a modicum of control, but with the way your knee’s grinding against her sopping heat, you almost manage to muster a miniscule smidgen of sympathy. Almost. Maybe you’ll find it elsewhere. You begin your brazen search, sending your second hand under her shirt and beginning to knead at her hints of breasts as you elicit moans so sinful they'd make Lucifer blush. Even as your knee rises further—its grinding growing in intensity as it pushes her onto the tips of her toes and you send her head above the clouds—you can’t seem to ensnare her stare. Despite her delirium, her gaze instead darts literally anywhere else, inspecting the bare walls of the austere dressing room as if they're the adorned walls of the fucking Louvre as she desperately avoids meeting your eyes. Desperately avoids confirming what her moans have already spoiled. Desperately avoids giving you the credit you know damn well you deserve.

“Come on baby, don’t be like this. You should know it’s so much worse when you lie to both of us.”

Her moans morph into growls as she desperately attempts to catch her breath, trying in vain to fuel her fire while still finding a way to respond. Anything to smother your smugness and wipe out the whispers. “F-fuck off, aren’t there more important things that mouth should be doing?”

Your wild smile widens—nearly to the point of lunacy—as you continue to lead her towards the edge. “Maybe if you ask nicely. A princess like you should know how to speak properly.”

“Fuck off you—fuck!”

Any eloquence remaining within her addled mind is whisked away alongside her scraps of breath as your teeth latch into the crook of her neck, biting with just enough force to mark her without actually breaking the skin. Her mewling in response is both maddening and mesmerizing, magnifying both her mania and magnetism as you devour another sensitive area and amplify your assault on her psyche. Simply continuing your current misdeeds is enough to heighten the tension even further, allowing you the freedom to do as you please. You give her everything she wants, and then a bit more. You give her what she didn’t want, remaining silent for countless seconds as you mark her skin and allow her the opportunity to speak. All she can offer in response are gasps and hiccups and moans—anything to stay coherent enough to experience this ecstasy. Interwoven amongst that need is her want, fragments of phrases and fuck and I and you and oh God and I’m and OH GOD and OH GOD FUCK.

“Yes sweetheart, I know just how badly you wish this could last forever, but we’re on the clock for a reason,” you drawl, dragging your incisor along her throbbing vein up to her jawline. “So why don’t you drop the act and be the good little slut you’re dying to be?” The lightest of kisses placed upon her jaw, the type a fool could misinterpret as affectionate. “Babble whatever you like, but we both know that the truth is already stained into my slacks.” Another—upon her cheek this time. “So just do it.” On her earlobe. “Give in.” Behind her ear. “Cum.” Into her heart.

Her eyes flare with fury for the briefest moments before her tremors tell all and her nails dig into your arms. You hear the desperation she’s been choking back this entire time finally break through as her grip on you tightens, her world goes dark, and she sinks her teeth into your shoulder. She sobs, shaking like a lone leaf amidst the storm as you waltz into her vault of core memories and claim your rightful spot atop them all.

In the following moments, the only thing stopping silence from settling in is the intensity of her breathing as she desperately attempts to calm her thunderous heartbeat and collect her thoughts. As for her pride ...

"Fuck."

The lone word lingers in the air, only heightening the tension as mental fog and fatigue prevent her from relighting the fire that had recently burned so bright. You wait as her breath catches once more and she chokes down oxygen, savoring the silence in the interim. While your patience has often paid off, that’s not why you refuse to speak up now. No, it’s because you know the truth that she’ll never admit—the truth that each moment of recovery acts as further recognition of your performance. So yeah, you’re willing to wait. You may be rock hard and yet to be pleasured, but your ego has been stroked sufficiently enough for seventy centuries, so why not bask in the afterglow?

Once she musters enough mettle to match your gaze, you can’t tell whether she wants to murder or mount you immediately. Likely both. She opens her mouth to speak, but you cut her off with a response, showing her the truth—the higher priority. You show her the time: 6:52. Two minutes until she needs to be back. She immediately understands, and you allow her the room to escape the wall she’s been pinned against. As you make sure the room is in order, she utilizes one of the mirrors to craft her best impression of composure. This time, both of you finish simultaneously, and she turns to leave unceremoniously.

“Wait.” Despite having every reason not to, she stops, listening to your command and turning to face you. You have no words that need to be spoken, but you toss her your scarf, just in case. She nods in understanding, then sighs in realization. Because you’ve helped make sure that no one else will find out. But you’ve also reminded her that she’ll never forget what happened here.

“Daejejeon?” she asks, curiosity peeking through as she references the upcoming music festival.

“And the afterparty,” you affirm, confirming her intrigue and your New Year’s Eve plans.

“I’ll see you then,” she declares as she turns to depart.

“I’ll see you then,” you call out to the retreating form. “You’ll see me much sooner than that.”

A lone finger is her only response. The singular nature of the gesture elicits a chuckle as you begin your own exit down a different path, knowing full well that you’ll be monopolizing her dreams for at least a few nights. And as you exit the building to view the vast darkness overhead, you can’t help but wonder what secrets await you in the silent hours of the next six nights.

Only one way to find out.

Continued in Act Two …

(Special shoutouts to @braaan and @passingnotions for their insights and the time they chose to invest into this fic, I will always be so, so thankful for your support. To you, the reader, I offer both my sincerest appreciation for your patience and a promise that there’s much more to come if you’re willing to continue forth. Yuqi shows up far more frequently moving forward, and there might even be a pretty little powder keg to add in a bit of extra color. Only one way to find out.)

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #idol x reader #idol x male reader #yuqi smut #yuqi fanfic #gidle yuqi #gidle #yuqi #song yuqi #slow burn

[chocochipsushi]

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!

🌸Word count: 7.8K

🌸AU: The story of how the new bodyguard fucked his hot-headed CEO

🌸CW: humiliation, bratty reader, brat tamer! Toji, mean! Toji, face slapping, name calling (mainly 'bitch' and 'brat'), use of 'Princess' and 'little doll', unprotected sex, daddy kink, age gap, almost predatory vibes from Toji, hair pulling

🌸A/N: Sorry this took so long! I'm currently working on the last chapter of Uncle Toji as well, so you can expect that in the coming weeks!!!

Main story🔞>>

No one told you that you were going to have a change in bodyguards. You only found out when Bora came in to remind you of a meeting so you left your office, only to see a taller, less pudgy— actually, ripped man standing by Bora’s table. He was staring at you quietly with a dark gaze, his green eyes sharp and analytical. You glanced at Bora, who was smiling at the man with such an adorable blush on her cheeks that you had to turn back to him and take a better look. 

This guy had dark, black hair that was styled up, but you’re not sure if it was considered neat or messy. Maybe both. It suited his sharp face and his beady eyes that seemed to bore right into you. He had a scar at the corner of his lips, which made him look scary. Even more so when his lip twitched. You’re not sure if he was trying to smile at you, or if he was showing discomfort in seeing you. 

Whatever it was, you’re not the type to have emotional connections with your employees anyway. So you rolled your eyes to the front and walked forward to the lift. The man followed a few steps behind you, together with Bora. It was only until you were standing before the elevator and the new bodyguard had stepped forward to press on the ‘down’ button, that Bora finally introduced him to you. 

“Oh! This is Toji Fushiguro and he is your new bodyguard.” 

You turned to look up at the tall man, who simply dipped his head in a silent greeting before staring back at you. You dropped your gaze down his body and up again, giving him a once-over. Then, you turned away to Bora without saying a word to him. 

“What happened to Shino?” 

Bora actually looked nervous as she mumbled, “Um… he quit yesterday.”

“Why?” 

You already knew why. 

You weren’t the best boss ever. You had a temper. You were uncontrollable. Everyone was afraid of you. You had never mistreated any employee, but that didn’t mean you were a favourite. No employee had ever gotten close to you, or even tried. You were just too good at chasing people away with your personality. 

So when Bora hesitated to answer and the lift finally arrived, Toji held the door open and you headed straight into the box, not caring to hear the lousy explanation Bora would give. Toji had to check his phone for the floor level of your next meeting, so you muttered, still facing the closed doors of the elevator. 

“Level 17.”

You were walking while answering an incoming phone call when Toji suddenly took your folder and your handbag from you without being asked. He had never done this before, because you never asked for your handbags to be held for you, or your confidential documents. And honestly, you didn’t actually need someone to do these things for you. But as you listened to Mr. Jung on the phone, you watched Toji carrying your things like they weighed nothing, like this was the most natural thing for him to do. You decided that he wasn’t so bad afterall. 

Well, not like you thought that he was bad, at all. Apart from being so broody and quiet, he was great at his job. People were afraid of your guard dog and he was doing a good job at keeping you safe the past week. You didn’t think you’d lasted so long without screaming at a new employee before. 

When you got off the phone with Mr. Jung, you reached out to Toji for your things. “Thanks,” you muttered. 

Toji only glanced at you for a split second before turning back to the front. “I got it,” was all he said. 

You were taken aback by his answer to say the least. The both of you hardly talked but whenever you did, they were short and straight to the point. This time wasn’t an exception. What was shocking to you was that he basically went against your instructions. Never had an employee directly under you ever done this before. 

Yet somehow, his confidence and his firmness made you feel that it was okay. You’re not sure what the logic was behind it but you let it slide this time. 

And the time after that. And the time after that. And all the other times after that. 

Now, you didn’t even have to pick up your handbag because Toji proactively did it for you. And you let him. You had to admit that you enjoyed being taken care of like this. Aside from this act that he did, he would also help you into your coat or hold his arm out for you to grab onto if you were on uneven terrain. 

Despite the short and professional conversations that you shared, you were getting along well and fine. That was until you received bad news on the phone, about one month into his time working for you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!!” you screamed the moment you put down the phone.

You got off your chair and started pacing the office. Your mind was racing and the blood in your body was boiling. You stood by your floor-to-ceiling windows in hopes of the city view giving you a bit of comfort. But nothing about you was calm. You didn’t notice Toji quietly entering your office with the cup of coffee you asked for. You were blindsided by your anger as you spoke to yourself. 

“How did we lose two big investors today?! God! Fucking incompetent shits. Fuck!!!”

Your pacing was getting more frantic as your footsteps turned into stomps. Feeling uncomfortable in your heels, you let out a frustrated groan and bent down to take your shoe off. You sent your left heel flying to the wall, where you missed Toji by just a few centimetres. You flickered your gaze to him staring at you with a certain glint in his eyes. Feeling somewhat peeved by that look he was giving you, you bent down again to take the other shoe off, leaving you barefoot now. Just as you brought your hand up to get ready to launch it at the wall, you glanced at Toji again, only to catch a quirk of his eyebrow. 

“What?!” you snapped. 

The corners of his lips were turned down as he shook his head. “Nothing.” 

He kept your gazes locked, however, not blinking once, not looking away even after a few seconds. And something in those steely green eyes of his made the fire in you die a little. So, instead, you ripped out another groan and threw your heels on the ground before squatting in your place. You cradled your head in your hands as you despaired silently. 

Your tough act broke apart when angry and frustrated tears found you. You didn’t hear Toji picking your heels off the floor but you were surprised when you saw a piece of tissue in front of you. You looked up and saw Toji squatting in front of you, looking unbothered as ever. You accepted the tissue from him and started dabbing at your tears. Toji stayed there with you, his elbow resting on a knee, his other hand holding onto your pair of heels. 

“Go away, Toji,” you muttered without looking at him, feeling quite embarrassed. 

“Let me bring you to the couch, at least. You can cry there.”

You raised your head to glare at him. Why did he have to state the obvious to a prideful and egoistic woman? “I’m not crying!” 

Toji’s eyebrow lifted but he turned the ends of his lips down and nodded. “Okay, you’re not.” 

“I really am not!” you whined and threw your tissue at him. 

This time, he looked like he stopped breathing. He tilted his head down just so slightly so that he was staring at you with a certain look in his eyes. He licked his lips. 

“That’s very rude,” was all he said. 

He was definitely admonishing you for that. And you should feel degraded and mad that an employee was speaking to you this way. But maybe it was the way he was postured, so calm and collected, or perhaps it was his dark green eyes glaring at you like a scolding father. Either way, you felt yourself backing down. You dropped your gaze and apologised. 

“Sorry,” you whispered. 

You must have forgotten when the last time you said the word ‘sorry’ was. It felt so foreign rolling off your tongue, and it made you feel so embarrassed. You didn’t even know why you had to apologise to him when you had never done so to any of your employees before. 

“You’re alright, Princess.” 

The irrational annoyance at having to apologise to your bodyguard was immediately washed away when you heard the last word of Toji’s sentence. You immediately lifted your head to look at him, only to see him picking up the wet tissue on the ground. He turned to you and saw you staring, which made him quirk an eyebrow. 

“Wanna get up now? And wear your shoes you so nicely threw at me?” 

You immediately flushed red. God, no one had ever had the balls to speak to you like this. Not even your love interests because you were just too proud. You never would have let anyone speak down to you like this. Yet for some rhyme or reason, Toji made it so easy for you to accept it. It’s like he just naturally turned you into this submissive little girl. 

“I’m sorry for throwing my shoes at you,” you whispered guiltily. 

Toji hummed. “Come on. Up.” 

He stood and held out his hand to you. You took it and let him pull you to your feet. Then, he squatted down again and actually lifted your foot to slip your heel on. You leaned down to hold yourself up by resting your hand on his shoulder. When he had helped you into your shoes again, he stood up and looked down at you. 

“Your coffee is on the table. I’ll be outside if you need me.” 

You nodded your head but grabbed his sleeve when he turned to leave. He looked back with furrowed brows. “I didn’t cry,” you told him. 

It was the first time you saw a hint of a smile on his lips. Toji nodded his head and, without another word, left the room. 

Ever since then, you had been on your best behaviour around Toji. You never threw a fit when he was around, although he would have to clean up after you whenever he came into your office after a good thrashing session. 

You’d gotten comfortable with Toji in the few months he had been working for you. Maybe a bit too comfortable. Because while he took care of you as a bodyguard at work, that didn’t mean that he was responsible for you outside of your working schedule. Which was why it was the stupidest decision to call him after a drunk night out with your friends. 

“Is everything okay?” Toji’s rough voice sounded so quiet and confused. 

You let out a big breath. “Toji. S’rry for calling but—” You hiccuped here. “Can you bring…me home? I’m… I’m not in the capacity—”

“Send me your location. I’ll be there.”

And then he hung up like this. It took you a while to do what he asked and when you finally did it, he simply replied with “17”. So while waiting for him, you went back to sit with all your rowdy friends, who were obviously not as lightweight as you were. 

By the time Toji was escorted to your table, you were already close to passing out. You barely even heard your friends openly and loudly flirting with him because you were being lifted up to stand. You frowned at the assault but when you saw that it was Toji, you immediately melted into him and let him bring you out of the restaurant. 

You’re stumbling in the lobby of the hotel, leaning into Toji while he had one arm around you securely and his other on his phone. You groaned as you nearly slammed your cheek on his broad shoulder. 

“Wh’re is Iro?”

“It’s two in the morning. Iro is off duty,” Toji grunted. 

You huffed and glared up at him. “What about your car?” You supplied every one of your bodyguards with a brand new car each time just in case Iro wasn’t available and you required them to use it. 

“I didn’t drive.”

“Why not?” You groaned and rolled your eyes, pushing away from him. He managed to grab hold of your wrist before you stepped back too far. You were frowning at him as you scolded, “I gave you a car for a reason, Toji.”

Toji’s gaze hardened. “I was out with some friends for drinks. I wasn’t planning on working tonight.”

That immediately shut you up and sobered you up. “Oh,” you mumbled in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

He didn’t say anything but simply turned back to his phone. He managed to get a cab to your place. The entire time the both of you were quiet and the awkward tension was hanging over you like a heavy rain cloud. Toji was still holding onto your handbag, even when he walked you up to your apartment. 

He knew the passcode to your place and got you home safely. He placed your handbag on the coffee table before turning to you and breaking the silence. 

“You’re going to be okay alone?”

You didn’t respond to that question. Instead, you took a step closer to him and asked, “Are you mad at me?”

“For what?”

You shrugged and looked away. “For being a stuck-up bitch,” you mumbled. 

“Doesn’t matter if I am or not.”

You lifted your head to frown at him. “What do you mean?”

Toji shrugged. “You can be a stuck-up bitch all you want and I can’t be mad at you.”

“You can,” you argued. “And you should.” He raised an eyebrow here so you explained, “I mean, you’re the only one… I mean… I deserve it for being a bitch to you.”

Here, his lips pressed together as he shrugged. You knew he was agreeing with you. But he didn’t say anything else. So you walked over to him and grabbed his black shirt that hugged his body so nicely, tugging on the cotton material. 

“Sorry, Toji. For making you work when you shouldn’t, and for being a bitch.”

Toji finally sighed and nodded. “Alright.” When you didn’t let go of him and continued giving him the puppy eyes, he frowned. “What?” 

Your lips jutted into a pout. “Say you forgive me.”

“I forgive you,” he repeated in a deadpanned tone. You continued pouting at him, making him a little impatient. “What is it?” he grumbled. 

“You didn’t call me Princess. You’re still mad at me.”

This surprised Toji to say the least. He didn’t think you cared, or even liked being called that. He only used that term once because he was annoyed, to say the least, that you were throwing a tantrum at your age. He meant it as an insult, and he hadn’t planned on doing it again. He wanted to keep his good paying job, even if it meant having to put up with your princessy attitude. 

Toji awkwardly patted your little fist on his shirt. “I’m not mad at you, Princess.”

Something in your eyes changed when he said that and Toji caught it. His brows furrowed as he focused on your features, trying to understand what he was really looking at. The moment he saw your bottom lip push out in another pout, he immediately knew what he was dealing with. 

Just to make sure though, he wanted to gauge your reaction when he patted you on the head lightly. “You have a good rest, Princess.”

And you gave him the very reaction he was expecting. Your eyes rounded even more and your cheeks were flushed. You let go of his shirt and dropped your hands to your sides. Toji thought you looked so small like this. He waited for you to say something and when you didn’t, he nodded and took a step back. Just as he turned on his heels to head for the door, he heard you breathe his name. He turned to frown at you. 

You were nervous for some reason. You’re not sure why. Actually, you didn’t even know why you were stopping him from leaving. You could blame it on the alcohol because you would never do this sober. But you knew you would definitely think about doing this when you eyed his veiny, rough hand lifting to his face, his finger scratching his chin. You just needed the push from the alcohol to act on it. 

“You’re not mad at me?” you asked again. 

Toji shook his head. The both of you continued staring at each other; Toji waiting for you to speak while you tried to think of something else to say. He raised an eyebrow, getting a little annoyed now. You pursed your lips and looked away. Toji gave you a few more seconds before he sighed. He was about to walk away when you spoke up again, your voice the softest he had ever heard. He wondered if he imagined the slight tremble in your voice. 

“Are you going back to find your friends?” 

He turned back around to see you just so slightly pouting at him. He ran his hand through his hair as he looked at his watch. You couldn’t help your eyes roaming to his broad shoulders and muscular biceps. 

“Not sure.” Toji looked up at you. When he saw you nibbling on your bottom lip, he quirked an eyebrow. “Is there something you need?”

You shook your head quickly. He knew you wanted to say more but when you didn’t, he decided to turn away again, this time in the pretense of leaving. He knew you were going to call out to him again, which you did. He swiveled around and threw a hand up in exasperation. 

“What do you want?” Toji saw the kicked puppy look on your face and immediately regretted his actions. He took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Princess,” he started gently but frustratedly. “You want something from me. And until you tell me, I won’t know what you want.”

You hesitated again. But when you saw the lift of his scary eyebrow, you mumbled something under your breath. There was no way Toji could hear you because you’re not even sure what you actually said. Yet Toji knew. 

“What?” he muttered. You knew he was teasing you now from the way he crossed his beefy arms and his lips curled slightly in a smirk. “Come closer and let me hear you, Princess.”

You hesitated moving forward. You shuffled a little closer to him and only stayed staring. Toji lifted a sharp eyebrow again. Hanging your head, you mumbled your request again. You stopped breathing when the man bumped your chin up with his rough hand. You were staring up at him with unblinking eyes now. He was so close that you could see the light shadow of his stubble. 

“You asked if I could bring you to bed?” Toji repeated, except it sounded like he was mocking you. 

You gulped and nodded your head. Drinking had never made you so submissive or timid. Ever. And no one had made you such a docile girl before. Ever. 

You felt your heart steel when Toji scoffed. “I’m not your babysitter, sweetheart. Why would I bring you to bed?” Your lips parted slightly to say something but you stopped when he challenged, “Just get to the point and tell me you want to be fucked, why don’t you?”

You gasped. “Wha—!”

Toji let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. “And now you’re acting like that’s not true?” 

It was. But that wasn’t the point. 

“This is very unprofessional of you, Toji,” you snapped, your face heating up now. You just hoped he would pin your blush on your anger. 

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m wrong?” You continued glaring at him. “So you don’t actually want to be fucked by my big cock?”

Your heart was pounding now. You wanted to be dicked down so bad. Especially by your hot bodyguard. But you were a prideful person. 

So you crossed your arms and announced, “You’re an asshole. You’re a fucking piece of shit, Toji. I’m your boss!”

Toji crossed his arms and shrugged. “My boss that wants me to fuck her.”

“Fuck you, Toji!” you swore as you held your hand up to swing at him. 

Toji caught your wrist in midair and quirked an eyebrow. “Little girl going to hit me for speaking the truth?” You continued glaring at him and sucking on your inner cheek. Why was your heart flipping at the disrespect you were getting from him? “This is what you wanted, huh?” 

“What—”

“Being a needy little girl who needs to be tucked into bed when you just want to be fucked good?”

“Fuck you,” you spat at him. 

Toji narrowed his eyes on your angry expression. “Do not curse at me, Princess.”

You were throwing a fit now as you stood your ground and said slowly, with more emphasis, “Fuck. You. Toji.”

Your heart jumped when Toji threw your hand to the side. He took a step closer, towering over you like a huge wall. You gulped at the proximity and the dark look in his eyes. 

“You’re a spoilt brat, you know?” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Your tantrums and your shitty attitude. I put up with all of that just fine. But being a needy bitch with that attitude of yours is just distasteful.”

You felt your throat swell up and your nose prickling. Did he have to be so brutally honest with his words? 

Toji saw your eyes glistening over with tears now. He might have gone overboard with his insults. He wouldn’t be surprised if he lost his job tomorrow. Especially when he saw the first teardrop fall from your eye. He cradled your cheek with his calloused hand and roughly swiped his thumb over the tear streak. 

“Stop crying.” 

You only sniffled as more tears fell. Toji let out a loud sigh, now engulfing your face with both hands to wipe your tears away. 

“You’re such a brat,” he grumbled under his breath. 

“You’re mean,” you retorted in your wobbly voice. 

Toji looked amused by your response. “What?” He chuckled softly. “I’m mean? Have you heard yourself curse at your employees?”

“Behind their backs though,” you mumbled quietly. You did say some mean things about them. 

Toji scoffed out a laugh. He pushed your face away, causing you to gasp and glare at him. He clicked his tongue. “Good night, brat.”

Upon hearing that sentence, you immediately dropped your tough act as you gaped at him. “You’re leaving?” You sounded like such a kid. 

“Yep.” He was slowly walking backwards now. 

“So you’re not actually going to fuck me?” 

This made Toji stop in his tracks. You just had to say it. Dancing around the issue was not going to get you anywhere. He lifted an eyebrow.

“I only fuck good girls.”

You craved his approval. You perked up and wiped your tears quickly. “I’m a good girl.”

“And I don’t fuck young girls.”

“I’m not that young!” 

“We have at least a 15-year gap between us. You’re plenty young, sweetheart.”

You whined. “So? You hate young, tight pussy?”

Toji squinted at you. He made sure to look you in the eyes as he said, “No. Little girls just can’t take my big, daddy cock.” Your heart slammed against your ribcage and was almost going into overdrive. “You’re not going to be able to handle me, Princess.”

“Try me.”

“Try you?” he repeated in a chuckle. He glanced away as he ran his palm over his mouth. When he looked back at you, his eyes were dark and dangerous. “I’m not going to fuck my boss and ruin her with my cock, Princess.”

You levelled eyes with him. “What if your boss ordered you to fuck her?”

Toji didn’t look away or blink. “Doesn’t work. I want to hear her beg.”

You paused. He was going to degrade you into a begging whore. Knowing that you were too prideful for this, Toji blew air out his nose and smirked. He had thought you were done arguing until you walked forward and hooked a finger on his belt loop. 

“Please, Toji? Fuck me?” He kept staring down at your puppy eyes and your little pout. You slid your hand down to tug on the buckle of his belt. “Please fuck me with your big cock, Daddy,” you mewled. “I’ll be a good girl for you.”

Toji licked his bottom lip as he reached out to cup your face. You tilted your head and nuzzled your cheek into his palm. He lined your bottom lip with his thumb, which only made you slither your tongue out to meet his digit. You gave him a sultry look as your tongue played with his thumb before enclosing your lips around it. You could hear Toji’s low groan. 

You reached your other hand out to start unbuckling his belt, only for Toji to pull his thumb out of your mouth and engulf your small hands with one of his. You gaped up at him, holding your breath. 

“Brats don’t deserve my cock,” he said slowly and quietly. 

Immediately, you slid your hand out from under his and tipped your toes to be closer to him. It was a very small action but you caught Toji pulling back a little, as if trying to put some distance between you. So you reached up to cradle his nape and try to pull his head closer to you, although he wouldn't budge. 

“I’m sorry!” you apologised, giving him the most desperate look ever. “I won't be a brat to you anymore, I swear!” 

Toji scoffed and turned his head away. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Impatient that he was just brushing you aside, you let go of his nape and stepped up on your couch so that you were facing him again. Toji was glaring up at you now. So you leaned forward and circled your arms around his neck, pressing your face to his cheek. 

“Please,” you whined into his skin. You even gave him whispery kisses in between words as you pleaded, “You’re the only person that I will let dominate me.”

You could feel the tension in his jaw as he clenched down on his teeth. As you continued kissing and licking a trail down his neck, you were aware of Toji going very still. So, in one last attempt, you tried pulling him closer again to whisper in his ear with a hand on the back of his head. 

“Daddy Toji,” you purred in the sultriest voice you could have ever made. 

Almost at once, you yelped and clenched your arms around his neck as Toji’s strong arm wrapped around you and swooped you towards his body. You were suddenly carried like a baby, sitting on Toji’s hip with your legs and arms around his body like a koala bear. You realised belatedly that you were moving, and only then you found out that Toji was walking in the direction of your room. 

The moment he entered your bedroom, Toji threw you on the bed so roughly that your hair was all over your face. You swept it all away just in time to watch the silhouette of him undoing his belt at the foot of your bed. It was dark but you just knew he was staring back at you. Wanting to see the expression on his face, you flipped around and started crawling towards your bedside table to turn on the lamp, only to gasp when a strong hold catches you by the waist and reins you back. 

“Running away, little doll?” You shivered at how rough Toji’s voice sounded next to your ear. With his other hand, he curled your hair behind your ear and moaned into your neck. “You’re not about to turn me on and leave, are you, Princess?”

You shook your head, turning your head slightly so that you could feel the tip of his nose brushing your cheek. “I wanted to turn the light on,” you noticed your quiet voice shaking a little. 

If Toji heard the nervous tremble of your voice, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he easily picked you up and started walking around the bed to reach your bedside table. “Good. Daddy wants to see the look on your face when he fucks you,” he muttered into your ear. He let go of you and landed a big slap on your ass. “Go on, then.”

Twisting your body, you tried to reach for your bedside table. Your arm was a bit too short to touch the lamp, so you pushed your ass out to lean against Toji’s crotch and used his erection to steady yourself as you reached out for the lamp. 

The moment you managed to turn the light on, Toji grabbed your hair close to your scalp and fell forward so that you were laying on the bed beneath him, your ass still glued to his groin, your cheek smushed on your bed, his other hand holding himself up on your bed so his big build doesn’t crush you. Your heart was pitter-pattering at this point. No one had ever had the balls to be so rough with you before. You were incredibly turned on. 

“Mm…” Toji groaned into your ear, the tip of his nose pressing into your hair. “So eager for my cock, huh?” 

You nodded your head almost desperately. “Touch me, Toji.”

The man tugged on your hair. “That’s Daddy Toji to you, little girl.”

“Touch me, Daddy Toji,” you breathed. 

At once, he pushed himself away from you. Your breath was stuck in your chest when he flipped you around roughly and pulled on your legs to bring you closer to the edge of the bed. Toji was a tall man. As you stared up at him, you were once again reminded of how physically huge and tall he was. And suddenly you were getting cold feet. Because he definitely should have a size that would match his physique, and you just knew he was going to be huge. 

You guessed that he saw something on your face because he clicked his tongue and gave you a light smack to the side of your thigh. “Don’t go backing out now, sweetheart. You’re going to take this dick inside of you and you’re going to be having the best time of your life.”

You swallowed and shook your head. Of course. Yes. You could do this, you were mentally hyping yourself up. 

It’s weird because of how tough Toji was normally but he must had seen how scared you looked. You felt his rough hands on your thighs, dragging your dress up as he caressed you. You held your breath as you watched him lean down to nose your stomach, the only thing between you being your silk dress. Your eyes shut and you felt your body relax as he trailed his nose up your chest, leaving kisses in his wake. 

When he got to your neck, he glanced up to see that you had your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes shut in bliss. He wasted no time in dipping his head into the crook of your neck, giving you light bites and open-mouthed kisses. Toji moved around your throat like he was forming an invisible necklace. 

When he got to your other ear, he moaned in a voice lower and way huskier than his ever was, “You’re good, Princess. You’re going to love my cock.”

As if you were in a trance, you immediately nodded your head. And like you were under a spell, you turned your head to meet his lips for the first time ever and you swore that he tasted like everything you needed and wanted. His kiss was somehow so him; he showed dominance yet was careful with you in his kiss, treating you like the princess that you were. 

As your tongues danced, you felt Toji’s hand sliding higher up your thigh where he met your underwear. You weren’t wearing much in order to look good in your dress, and Toji appreciated it with a low moan. He easily slid his thumb under the thin string of fabric. Your lips lost contact with Toji’s as you let out a pitched moan the moment he started sliding the back of his thumb up and down your lips, spreading your wetness everywhere. 

Toji chuckled quietly. “So wet, someone must have waited a long time for this.”

You couldn’t say anything as he continued to tease you like this, letting the sound of your wet lips smacking against his thumb dirty your room. Toji, knowing that you were finally loosening up again, leaned away and this time, pulled on the crotch of your g-string to slide the back of his pointer and middle fingers against your lips instead of his thumb. He did the same motion and when his fingers were wet enough, he bent them so that his knuckles were being dragged up and down your pussy lips. 

The moans and mewls slipping out of your mouth were pornographic. Your hips were moving in tandem with his knuckles, your back was arched in pleasure — these reactions were happening without you even knowing. You couldn’t even hear the unzipping of Toji’s jeans or the clang of his belt buckle when he pulled his briefs down, not when he was rubbing circles on your clit with his knuckles, sending jolts of pleasure to every fiber of your body. You had never felt such euphoria in your life. 

Toji’s voice was nothing but a rasp when he asked, “Where do you keep your condoms?” 

Your brain was still foggy with pleasure from his ministrations that you were unresponsive. You were knocked awake when you felt a smack to your cheek. The slap stung enough to pull you out of your fervor, but light enough not to actually hurt. You blinked and focused on the gruff man towering above you. He’d stopped touching you at this point, not wanting to lose you again. 

“Condoms. Where?” he asked again, this time with more enunciation. 

You swallowed and shook your head. “I don’t keep any.”

Toji was visibly troubled now as he looked to the side. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. 

Slowly, you raised yourself up on your elbows. “What’s wrong?”

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration as he faced you. “I don’t have one on me.”

You sat up now so that you were closer to him. Your voice was airy but sure when you said, “Fuck me raw, Toji.” You could see him staring at you, wondering if this was a prank. So you reached up to grab a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer so that you could kiss him. Then, you breathed against his lips, “Now, Daddy.”

That was all he needed. 

Toji brought his hand to your neck and pushed you away roughly, causing you to fall back on the mattress, one side of your dress strap falling off your shoulder. You were excited now as you watched him pull your g-string down your legs. Pressing the tip of his cock to your wet lips, he flickered his eyes up to meet yours. You bit down on your bottom lip, moaning as he moved his hips slowly, sliding his length up and down your slit, lubricating his cock with your juices. You were undeniably getting wetter. The sound of your lips kissing and smacking against Toji’s meat was turning the both of you on. You were mewling and he was groaning in pleasure. 

“Fuck,” Toji cursed. He had never enjoyed foreplay this much before. He was sure he was going to nut the moment he entered you. 

Darting his eyes up, Toji found you already watching him with half-lidded eyes, already looking so fucked out. The fact that he had his prideful, arrogant boss in this position just made his insides burn with a kind of desire he never felt before. He wanted to see you like this all the time; under him, being toyed with at his mercy.

Making sure to keep his eyes locked on you, on a downward stroke of his cock, he slyly positioned his tip at your inviting hole so that when he thrusted his hips again, his cockhead would slip through your lips. You let out a painful shriek the moment you felt your pussy widen, trying to fit something unfamiliar and thick. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit down on your lip, your hands now grabbing at Toji’s muscular arms, your nails piercing into his flesh. He slid further into you, giving you a pleasurably painful stretch. 

A whimper slipped past your lips and you felt a hot tear drip down the side of your face. Toji stopped, but he might as well had still been entering you because your head was throbbing and your body was burning up. All you could feel was his huge dick that was barely even inside of you and how tight your pussy was clenching around him. 

Toji brushed his hair away from his face, trying to distract himself from plunging the rest of his length inside of you. The look of pain and pleasure on your face, accompanied with your goddamn sloppy, tight pussy was going to make him sin more than once tonight. But he had to hold himself back. He was not a foolish and rash person, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be one now. 

“Sweetheart.” Toji’s voice was faraway. He placed his hands on your knees and pushed down on them to bring them closer to your body, successfully getting your attention this time. “You alright?” 

You blinked several times, blankly. He reached forward to stroke your chin, only to accidentally slide another centimetre of his cock into you, causing you to groan and shut your eyes. Toji froze and waited. When you finally had your eyes open, you saw that he was looking worried. 

“Painful?” 

You swallowed and confessed, “A little bit. But it’s okay. You’re just the biggest I’ve had.”

Toji hummed and stroked the side of your thigh. “And you’re about the tightest pussy I’ve ever had.”

You giggled breathlessly and relaxed yourself, trying to get your walls to unclench around him. Toji leaned back a little, staring down at where barely even half his cock was buried in your pussy. He could feel you pulsing around his cockhead, trying to will yourself to loosen up. So to help you, he started churning his saliva in his mouth. He dropped his head and spat directly on your clit, the warm fluid coating your engorged bud. Using it as lubrication, Toji stroked your spit-covered clit with his thumb almost in a gentle caress. 

Your insides fluttered at his ministrations. Inch by inch, he slid slowly inside of you, distracting you with the swirling of his thumb on your sensitive pearl, easing the pain of his thick girth widening your tight pussy. He suppressed a groan, actually enjoying your mewls and whines that he just wanted to be quiet to hear them. But you felt so tight and warm that Toji cannot help but moan when he was completely sheathed inside of you. 

The image of his mouthy, ill-tempered boss at the mercy of his cock, paired with your wet and tight pussy around him, Toji had to take a moment to breathe. He didn’t want to cum yet. He couldn’t. He wanted to enjoy this while it lasted. He might actually be fired tomorrow, so he needed to make the most out of this. 

Blowing out a big breath, Toji steadied himself. He looked down at you, your face still contorted in pain and pleasure. With his hands on your knees, he spread your legs apart. He started thrusting slowly, waking you up from your daze. His pace quickly sped up until he had your tits bouncing so hard that they were out of your dress. He watched you arch your back and grab a fistful of your duvet, trying to futilely ground yourself. But he was going so fast, and so hard. You were breathless and almost seeing stars. 

Toji felt your pussy clamping up when he smacked the side of your thigh. He groaned. “You like being treated like a whore, huh?” You whined, unable to say anything as he continued rutting his hips into you. “You like being put down and degraded like the stupid little bitch you are.”

You were blabbering incoherent words now and it made Toji chuckle. He reached forward and slapped your cheek. 

“Feels good, huh?” You could only nod as you gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes. He landed another slap on your cheek, eliciting a loud mewl from you. Toji groaned. “Fuck. I could fuck you all night, baby.”

You reached up to hold his wrist, placing his hand on your neck. “Choke me, Daddy,” you plead. 

“Shit.”

Toji was incredibly turned on. To have you begging and asking to be choked, his cock felt like it was going to explode. Wrapping his fingers around your neck, you tightened your hold on his wrist. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he continued to fuck you while suppressing oxygen flow to your brain. The pleasure was so good. Toji could feel your pussy clenching on his cock at longer intervals, signalling how close you are to climaxing. 

Releasing his grip on your throat, Toji grunts, “You’re going to cum, aren’t you, Princess?” 

You could only nod your head in a daze. Toji’s stamina was incredible. He kept fucking you hard and fast, not slowing down once, just building up your climax higher and higher. 

“Good. Make some pretty noises for Daddy when you cum,” Toji cooed. 

Tightening his grip on your airway again, he sped up his fucking once again. Each time he entered you was a resounding wet slap of his hips against yours. You felt a knot forming in your stomach when Toji touched your clit, rubbing the pearl up and down like it was a joystick of a video game controller. Toji let go of your throat just as you were about to see white. 

You were a mess under him, moaning and whining like the needy little girl you were. You felt a heady pleasure when his palm struck your cheek, then the back of his fingers caressing the assaulted flesh like he regretted that decision, only to receive another slap to your face. 

Toji was relentless. He could watch you all day, just being degraded by him, thrashing about from the pleasure. But this was riling him up too. He was so close. And judging by your frequent moans and the fluttering of your pussy walls, he knew you were close too. Toji wanted to please you first but he knew that he couldn’t fuck you any longer or he would cum before you did. So he stopped his fucking and stayed buried inside of you. Now, he used his thumb to pull the flesh of your crotch upwards, exposing your clit. With his other hand, he rubbed harshly on the sensitive button, at the same time sheathing in and out of your pussy at a steady pace. 

“Oh, fuck!” you screamed, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you could only hear ringing and see white. 

Toji groaned, quickly pulling out of you. Still rubbing your clit to prolong your orgasm, he stroked his cock as he watch you wreath and cry out, your body spasming at the waves of pleasure crashing down on you. 

“Fuck,” Toji cursed under his breath as he stopped abusing your clit to focus on his own pleasure. 

His hand slid up and down his length faster now. And the moment he noticed a glistening trickle spilling out of your cunt, he let out another string of curses. He brought his cock to your clit as he came on your pussy, his white cum soaking your sex even more. You mewled at how warm the fluid was, feeling it drip along your lips. 

The room was now filled with pants and heavy breathing as you calmed down from your high. It took him a while but Toji was the first to move as he let out a deep breath and took a step back. You fluttered your eyes open to see him staring down at you, at his masterpiece, all fucked out and spent. 

Without a word, he turned away and walked off in the direction of your bathroom. You were surprised to hear the water running. After a few seconds, Toji came back and wordlessly scooped you up in his arms, bringing you to the toilet. He set you on your feet and took your dress off of you before pulling the shower door open and nudging you in. 

You were a bit uncomfortable at his silent treatment, wondering if this had made things awkward, especially when he left the bathroom to leave you to wash up. Wanting to talk to him before he left, you took a quick shower and left your bathroom without even drying yourself. You found him still in your room, sitting on the edge of the bed respectfully. He glanced up when he noticed your presence. He raised an eyebrow at your hastiness. 

“You’ll still be my bodyguard, right?” you murmured softly.

Toji hummed and stood up. “For as long as you keep me around.”

You nodded. The both of you just stared at each other, a bit awkward now that the sexual tension had been dealt with. “Are you going to stay?”

He shook his head. “Probably not a good idea. I’ll just see you on Monday.”

You nodded your head. You didn’t want to seem too needy. He was already starting towards the door when you blurted out, “Do you think we could keep doing this?”

Toji stopped in his tracks and faced you. His eyebrows lifted slightly in amusement. “What? Fucking?” 

You couldn't help the blush that crept up on you. But your pride and ego were back now that the heat of the moment was over. “Something like that,” you muttered. 

Toji laughed under his breath. “We’ll see. I only fuck good girls, remember.”

“Toji—!” 

He interrupted your whining with another quiet chuckle. You were starting to think you liked hearing his laugh. 

“Good night, Princess.”

Main story🔞>>

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© chocochipsushi 2023 all works are mine, please do not rewrite/plagiarise

#bodyguard toji #toji fushiguro #toji #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji smut #toji x you #toji x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk x y/n #jjk fic #jjk x oc #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x y/n #toji x oc #jujutsu kaisen x oc #smut

[thetrashywritingwitch]

Despite his parents' success in fashion and design, Katsuki just doesn't get it. That kind of visual creativity isn't something he naturally inherited like his quirk or how he annoyingly is the spitting image of his mother. It never seemed important. What benefit could he get out of art that would help him as a Hero? To him, jack shit.

Yeah, someone designed his suit and support items. Or rather, brought his shitty doodle idea to life. But that's their job, not his. He still remembers being scolded for folding one of his dad's client sketches into a paper airplane and sailing it out the second story window.

He barely remembers the middle school field trip to an art museum. Didn't pay attention to whatever the guide had to say, and didn't much care. Katsuki and his lackeys friends just joked around the entire time. All the weird, abstract stuff was ugly. All the realistic stuff was boring. No painting was gonna prove important to meeting his goal.

... However, it pissed him off that the stupid art classes he had to take caused him so much grief. He could easily get an A in every other class, but the string of B's in every art class from middle school up through UA felt like a stain on his good record. Why the hell did he need to draw vases and shit anyway?!

Katsuki Bakugo sucked at art, and he hated it. It was the one thing he couldn't figure out. He could study and memorize for a test, easy. He could practice and train to perfect his quirk, strength, and endurance. But all his drawings were rough and sloppy. His lines were shaky and uneven. Painting was messy, and if he fucked up, he couldn't easily erase it or start over like a math problem. Whatever, he didn't need to know this stuff anyway. Waste of time and energy when he had more important things to worry about.

So it comes as an uncomfortable shock when a friend sends him a DM of some art they found. "Hey it's you!! Saw this on my feed." And it's... Yeah, it's him. The tags at the bottom confirm it. Of course, his actual account wasn't tagged because he goes out of his way to actively avoid people begging for his attention so badly.

But it's weird. It's not some high impact action shot. Or copy of his unsightly mug screengrabbed from an interview. He's calm. Serene, almost. He never saw himself as "pretty" or whatever the weirdo fan clubs call him. He's got scars on scars and a scowl deep enough to reach the Earth's molten core.

He never considered the difference between how artists see the world vs how he sees it. Or how he sees himself. Is that why it never clicked? He lacks an ability that can't be acquired by training or studying harder than everyone else?

It makes him grimace.

Clicking your profile, he scrolls the gallery to see that it's all art. His portrait isn't the most recent, either. There's this confidence in the mark-making, like you know how it's gonna look before the brush hits the paper. And he knows something about confidence - that to back it up, you gotta work for it.

He knows the bubble of jealousy, too. But that's stupid. This stuff doesn't do him any good. It's not useful. It doesn't help him. So why does he absentmindedly push the "Follow" button before hiding his phone in his back pocket?

The notification ding vibrates your phone as you're eating lunch. Another spam text to block? Surprisingly, no. "New follower on Instagram: Dynamight_Official"

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha headcanons #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #dont ask i've had artist au's in my head for many ages #living vicariously through this like no one's business lmaoooo #many thoughts probably too many

[tojiswhore-nanamisslut]

Can I Show You?

pairing: Toji x Reader

warnings: vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, Toji calls reader "good girl"

synopsis: Toji wants to show you how much he loves you in the only way he knows how.

word count: 5.5k i went off lmfao

a/n: This was so hard for me to write because I felt like the sex scenes were just so empty. I've been going back and forth with this fic for a month and I'm just gonna post it bc fuck it. Also I love Toji dearly and I really wanted to write something that showed a softer side to him.

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You're reading Megumi a bedtime story when you hear the front door open and close. 

“Papa!!” The little boy exclaimed excitedly. He quickly jumps out of his covers and slides off the bed backwards, his legs not quite long enough to reach the ground yet. He was only 3 after all. 

You smile warmly at your son's enthusiasm and can't help your own giddiness at your husband coming home. 

You close the book and follow Megumi's path out to the front room. 

“Hey son,” Toji picks Megumi up in his arms, “did you take care of Mama while I was gone?” Toji asks, glancing over at where your body was resting against the wall. 

“Yes!! I always take care of Mama!” Megumi replied. 

“Good, I'm glad.” At that Toji walked over to you, a small smile on his face as he bent down to give you a quick kiss on the lips. 

You looked up at him, “Welcome home. We missed you.”

His eyes softened as he looked between you and Megumi, “I missed you guys too. I'm happy to be home.” 

Normally, Toji was home in time for dinner, but since the holidays were coming up he'd been picking up extra shifts to afford gifts. 

“We were in the middle of reading a bedtime story if you'd like to join?” You ask. 

Before Toji could reply Megumi was bouncing excitedly in his arms, “Yeah!! Want Papa too!”

Toji smiles, “All right.” 

Once Megumi is settled back in bed with the both of you sitting on either side of him, you begin to read. As you do, Toji can’t help but to take it all in. A wife. A son. A job. A home. He doesn't know how he got so lucky. 

He looks over at you as you read, his loving wife, with a soul so pure he felt like he tainted it just by being near you. What did you see in him? How could you love someone like him?

He looks down at the little boy tucked under his blankets. His son, who has your eyes and kindness. How could something so perfect be half of him? He didn’t think he was good for anything but ending lives, but here sat a life that he helped create. His blessing. 

Looking between you both, Toji felt like he didn't deserve either of you. He never imagined in a million years that he would have this. A normal life. Not with the way he used to live. And he especially never thought he'd be a father. With how shitty his upbringing was he was afraid he would fuck up whatever kid he had. But with your guidance, and a lot of self-help books, you were both making it work. He would do anything for this family. It was his only one, as far as he was concerned. 

After you finished the book you both gave Megumi a kiss goodnight and retreated to your own room. 

As soon as the door closed, Toji's hands were on you, gently cupping your face. You gazed into his green eyes and in them you saw nothing but adoration and devotion. He's come such a long way since you first met him. 

“Do you know how much I love you?” He asks. 

You giggle, “Yes, you love me a lot. You say it all the time.”

At that he rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, “I love you more than that. I don't...I don't know how to convey how much I love you.” Toji didn’t know love until he met you. All he knew was abuse and hatred and resentment. How could he properly express how much love he felt for your family and what you've built? He could tell you he loves you every hour of every day for the rest of your lives and it wouldn’t be enough. You and Megumi meant everything to him. He doesn't know what he would do, who he would be, without the two of you. 

His eyes open again and your heart aches at how desperate he looks. “The both of you mean everything to me. Everything.” 

You can feel how hard he's trying to get his feelings across to you, pleading with his eyes for you to understand. 

You respond by gently placing your hand over the one he has on your cheek, and placing your other hand directly over his heart, “I know, Toji. I know. We both know and we love you too. So very much.”

You both gaze into each other's eyes for a second longer and you hope he believes you. He's never felt worthy of your love. You knew about his past, he didn't hide it from you, but he changed his ways. For you. He started working on himself and got a regular 9-5 working on HVAC systems. He puts his entire self into your little family, or at least as much as he can. You can tell he's still hesitant about being a father. Like he's afraid he'll break Megumi. But you believe in him. 

“What did I do to deserve you.” He says and starts planting kisses all along your face. 

You giggle at his affection, “I could be asking myself that about you.”

He stops kissing you for a second and looks at you, “I definitely got the better end of the deal here sweetheart let's not kid ourselves.” And he goes back to kissing your jawline and down your neck. 

“You make me happy and feel loved. I couldn't ask for anything more.” The end of your sentence comes out breathy as Toji starts nibbling at a certain spot above your collarbone.

“Can I show you? Please, can I show you how much I love you?” He murmurs against your neck.

You nod. You know Toji has a hard time expressing himself with words, but his feelings are always evident in his actions. He likes to surprise you with flowers on random days of the week, with your favorite breakfast in bed on the weekend, with a foot rub or a back massage when you’re sore. But most telling of all is how much he’s changed. He went from being closed off and dangerous to a hard-working family man. It took a lot of work, but he met you at every step of the way in trying to better himself. You know him showing his love for you in this way is as much for you as it is for him. He needs you to know how he feels and this is one of the ways he knows how to do it.

With one last kiss to your forehead, Toji picks you up effortlessly and lays you gently on the bed, hovering over you as he brushes his lips against yours, looking into your eyes. This close you could see just how green they were. A dark green, like a dense forest lit up only by the light of a full moon. 

He planted a light kiss on your lips, not breaking eye contact, “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Toji”

He finally broke eye contact as he trailed light kisses down your jaw and to your neck and then across your collarbones and back up the other side of your neck and jaw. He was slow and thorough with his kisses, like he had all the time in the world. 

You closed your eyes to focus on the way his full lips felt on your sensitive skin. He hadn’t even really touched you yet but you were already feeling hot. Something about how slow and deliberate he was being was getting you worked up.

His lips were on yours once again, moving against them slowly. You felt his tongue lightly trace your bottom lip and you opened your mouth wider for him. His tongue in your mouth immediately found your own and circled it before licking the roof of your mouth and inside of your cheeks. 

Your hands found their way into his hair, holding him to you as he continued to move his lips against yours. You couldn’t help the light moans that were escaping you, you wanted more, and you could tell he wanted more too by the way he looked at you after disconnecting your lips to breathe. His pupils were wide and his breath was warm against your swollen lips. 

He stroked your rosy cheek with one hand before pressing one last kiss to your lips and then hooking his arm behind your back, pulling you into a sitting position. 

He grabbed your shirt by the bottom hem and pulled it over you, followed by unhooking your bra and throwing them both to the side. 

He looked at your bare torso, your nipples beginning to harden from the sudden cold, “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.” 

You couldn’t help but blush. 

“Lay back down for me.” He whispered to you and grabbed your hand and held your back in his other one, guiding you back down. 

When you were situated he got to work on removing your leggings and panties, leaving you naked.

He laid down next to you and kissed you softly, hand cupping your face, but then slowly running down the length of your body, his featherlight touch making you shiver. He passed his hand over your sternum, then down your stomach before angling towards your hip and then rubbing down your thigh towards your knee before retracing his steps up the other side of your body. He was avoiding your erogenous zones which was starting to drive you crazy. You wanted him to touch you goddamn it. You could already feel the wetness gathering between your thighs as his languid movements made your pussy pulse. 

“Toji I ne-”

“Shh, sweetheart, I’ll get there.” He whispered, cutting you off with a thick finger to your lips.

Despite his words, though, he did finally give you some relief. He moved down so he could take one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth while his hand played with the other one. 

His tongue licked circles over your areolas, occasionally flicking your nipple. He moved to the other one to repeat the process. Each flick and roll of his tongue sent sparks of pleasure running through you. Toji was a master with his tongue and knew exactly what to do to make you feel good.

You ran your fingers through his hair as he continued to suck and lick and massage your breasts, squeezing your thighs together to get the stimulation you were desperate for. 

You let out a breathy sigh, holding his head close to your chest, enjoying the feel of his lips sucking on your nipple. He finally paused to look up at your relaxed face, “You’re beautiful.” He said as he caressed your cheek. 

You smiled and he leaned forward to kiss your lips again. As they moved against you, his hand once again traced down your body, but instead of deviating at your navel, it traced straight down to your mound. At the feeling of his hand trailing lower you opened your legs for him, eager for his touch to soothe the ache you felt. 

His middle finger traveled right over your clit, causing you to moan lightly, until it rested right at your entrance, with his ring and and index fingers right next to it on your pussy lips. 

He let out a sigh upon feeling how wet you were, his cock aching against his pants. But he wouldn’t give in to his own pleasure. Not yet. He needed to show you how he worshiped the ground you walked on. How he would do anything for you, no matter what it cost him. 

Looking at you through half-lidded eyes he gently pushed his finger into you, making you arch your back and moan. 

Finally you thought. 

His lips continued moving against yours as he started to move his finger, pumping it slowly in and out. You sighed against him, his thick finger giving you some relief but also making you want more. As if he could read your mind, he added another finger, scissoring them inside of you. 

“Ohhh” You moaned, arching your back again. The extra friction you felt from his added finger was just what you needed. 

Toji broke away from your lips and moved back down to your breasts, hooking his fingers inside of you at the same time he took a nipple into his mouth.

“Fuck” You let out a breathless sigh, burying your hands in his hair. 

He moved his fingers faster, hitting that sweet spot each time he pushed his fingers in.  A squelching sound filled the room as his fingers easily slipped in and out of you and he sighed against your nipples. Your pussy was drenching his fingers, he needed to taste you.

He gave your nipple one last suck before kissing his way down your body until his head rested between your legs. 

He saw how wet you were, the puddle forming under you as you squirmed and moaned from his ministrations. He bent his head down and breathed in your scent, letting out a low groan. What a perfect pussy, he thought. So wet and so beautiful and all his. His cock twitched at the thought of sliding into you, but he had a ways to go before he allowed himself to find any pleasure. He needed to make sure you understood how much he loved you first. 

With that he removed his fingers, sucking on them to taste you before peppering kisses on the inside of your thighs, causing you to whine and thrust your hips up. 

“Toji stop teasing me.” you said breathlessly. 

He looked at you through half-lidded, lust-filled eyes, “Anything for you.” 

And then his eyes fell back onto your dripping cunt before he dragged the tip of his tongue from the bottom of your entrance all the way to the top, licking up the wetness overflowing from you. 

“Haaaaah” you gave out a breathy sigh, relishing in the delicate touch of his tongue. 

He licked the length of your entrance a few more times before he moved up slightly to lick your clit.The light circles he was making had you stuttering. 

You once again put your hands in his hair, trying to hold him in place so you could grind your clit on his tongue. 

He let you, holding his tongue out flat and against you, giving you the stimulation you desired. 

“Oh Toji” you moaned as you moved your hips on his tongue. 

But before you could get carried away he closed his mouth, wrapping his arms around your thighs and holding you still so you couldn’t move anymore. You were about to complain until his lips latched around your clit and he started sucking, causing you to gasp. 

He alternated sucking and licking, making you moan loudly, “Oh Toji it feels so good.” 

He detached from your clit, “I know sweetheart, yer moans sound so good.” His voice was thick with desire.

He moved back down to your entrance, licking up the mixture of his saliva and your juices that were staining the bed. But this time, he kept rubbing your clit with his thumb while he prodded you with his tongue. The feel of his soft tongue against your folds had you moving your hips, desperate for more. He obliged, sticking his tongue in you and licking your walls. 

You moaned loudly, “Oh babyy, oh Toji, fuck.” You were gasping at how good it felt. His tongue started thrusting in and out of you as he continued rubbing circles on your clit. His lips were pushed up against yours, trying to get his tongue as deep into you as he could. You tasted salty and sweet. It was a taste he could never get tired of.

You could feel that familiar sensation building up in you and you arched your back, gasping and moaning, pulling his hair. He moaned in response, feeling your walls begin to tighten around his tongue and doing his best to maintain his rhythm with how much you were squirming. He tucked your thighs further against him to stabilize you.

The lewd noises of his moans and the wet sound of his tongue lapping into and against you pushed you further to the edge. 

“Toji, oh, oh Toji I’m gonna cum I’m gonna-”

You got cut off by your own release. Waves of pleasure wracked your body, causing you to buck your hips up in time with each one. 

Toji continued working you through your orgasm, never once disconnecting his lips or thumb, and moaning as his tongue was coated in your orgasm. 

When it was finally over you were laying there, limp and breathing hard with a layer of sweat on you. 

He finally looked up from your cunt, his chin and lips shimmering with your essence and then he licked his tongue around his mouth, all while keeping eye contact with you. You couldn’t help but blush. 

“Did you like that? Yer pussy tastes so good I could eat it every day for every meal and never get tired of it.”

You giggled, “I mean you already try almost every day so I don’t doubt if you didn’t have work that you would try for multiple times a day.”

Seeing your smile made a small one paint his own face. He kissed his way back up your body and as he came to be parallel to you, you slid your hand down to feel the thick bulge in his pants. 

He groaned at your touch, closing his eyes and putting his forehead on yours. 

After a second he gently grabbed your wrist and brought it to his mouth, lightly kissing from your wrist to the crook of your elbow, leaning over you to kiss up further to your shoulder and then your neck, sucking gently on the spot above your clavicle that caused you to tilt your head and moan. 

Your hand traveled up to hold his head as he sucked and nipped at your neck, your other hand traveling up his shirt to feel his muscled torso. His boner was pushed up against your thigh and you wanted to touch him. To give him some relief. So you trailed your hand back down his stomach, going for the waistband of his jeans before he once again grabbed your wrist and brought it to his lips, mimicking what he had just done to your other side. 

“Toji, I wanna touch you.” You pouted.

He pulled his face back to look at you, “I know sweetheart, but I want this to be about you right now. I want to focus everything I have on you. You come first. Always.” The deeper meaning behind his words was not lost on you, and your eyes softened, bringing your hand up to caress his cheek as your eyes landed on the scar on his lips. 

You trailed your fingers over his lips to trace it. You knew Toji endured a lot of trauma as a child. The fact that, despite it all, he could be so loving and tender, was amazing. 

You looked back into his vulnerable green eyes, “I love you. So much.”

His brows furrowed every so slightly, “I love you too, y/n. More than I could ever explain or even show you... But I’m trying.” And he looks at you with those pleading eyes again. 

You hold his cheek and lean in to kiss him, your lips moving to the harmony of your love. It’s slow and familiar. These lips have danced together a thousand times but still manage to leave you both breathless and lightheaded. Trying to convey with motion what you can’t with words. 

You break briefly, both panting against each other, and you’re once again squeezing your thighs together for stimulation. You wanted to feel him in you, to feel his body on yours as he moved with you. 

You look at him, “Toji.” And he can see what you want in your eyes. What you need. So he pulls back from you, allowing you to unbutton and unzip his pants as he takes off his shirt. He then helps you pull his pants off along with his boxers. His thick length springs out and your mouth waters. How badly you wanted to taste him, his tip coated in precum. But before you can bend your head down towards him, he’s pushing you back so he can hover over you, caging you in with his hardened, muscled arms. Your hair spread out on the pillow under you.

You can feel his dick resting on your mound, and then he starts moving back and forth, the friction making you moan. 

“I love you.” he says again, and you run your hands along his arms and torso before wrapping them around his neck, pulling him close to you as you simultaneously wrap your legs around his hips, “I know Toji. Now show me.”

His eyes widen slightly, and then he’s slowly pushing his tip into your entrance, causing you both to moan into each other. 

He takes it slow so you can get used to him, pushing just a little bit in at a time, each extra inch going in causing you both to moan, until he’s finally bottomed out, both of you breathing hard. 

He plants kisses all over your face, keeping himself still so you can adjust to him. He stretches you out in the best way. You feel so full, like you couldn’t possibly take any more.

He plants one more kiss on your lips before he slowly pulls out and thrust back in. You can’t help the loud groan that escapes you. This is what you’ve been wanting. His dick is so perfectly suited to hit you in all the right places and the way he moves his hips is divine. 

He does it again. And again and again until he’s built up a rhythm. In and out in and out. Slow but deep. A familiar squelching sound filling the air every time he pushes back into you. 

“Oh god Toji, oh fuck.” You moan as he continues his tender assault. 

“Yes sweetheart I know,” he breathes, “I know I know it’s so good.”

And he bends his head down to suck on your nipples again while one of his arms slips under your hips to angle you up slightly, allowing him to go deeper and hit that perfect spot that has you panting. His slow, long strokes allow you to feel every vein on his cock as they rub against your gummy walls. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through you.

You look down to watch his hips connect with yours, and when he pulls out you can see your slick glistening on his shaft. The hard muscles of his body tensing each time he pushes back in. 

He lets go of your nipple as he sees you watching, “Do I make you feel good?” he asks, moving to suck on your neck.

“Yes” you moan in response. 

“Good” he gives a shaky breath, kissing up your neck to connect back with your lips, “I love you” he says against them, thrusting in again and grunting. 

You can barely gasp out an ‘i love you too’ as you feel your high approaching. The way he’s making love to you, he’s telling you he loves you with his lips and his hips in unison. He’s going so slow but every stroke hits you in just the right spot and you can feel your body tensing. The slow build up coiling to an almost painful tension. 

“Oh, oh, mmmm Toji i’m, oh i’m gonna cum again Toji.” You cry. 

He keeps thrusting languidly into you, “Cum for me baby girl. Let me feel you.” He says, watching your face. He wants to see exactly how you look when you cum for him. 

At his words your body is wracked with its second orgrasm of the night. His thrusts slow down to an almost full stop as your pussy clamps down on him and he groans, doing his best to keep his own orgasm at bay.

You rock your hips up into him as your orgasm passes through you, nails biting into his back. You can’t help how loudly you moan, the tension finally releasing from your core and spilling all over him. You hold him tightly to you as you ride the waves of pleasure and milk his cock, crying out his name over and over the whole time. 

He has to bury his face in your neck so he can focus on not cumming but the way you’re moaning his name and spasming on his cock is testing his ability. 

When you’ve finally settled down, he pulls back from the crook of your neck to look at your fucked out face, “I love you.” he says as he plants a kiss on your cheek. But before you can respond he’s moving inside of you again, causing you to groan because you’re still feeling the lingering pleasure from your last orgasm. 

“I love you.” he says as his pace picks up again. Except he goes a bit harder this time and he bends your knees to your chest, putting you in a mating press. You let out a lewd moan at the new angle. He’s going in so deep you can feel his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. 

“You’re so beautiful y/n. I love you so much. So fucking much.” he whispers in his ear as he fucks you harder. You can hear his balls slapping against your ass, adding another sound to the symphony you were both creating. 

“Oh fuck Toji” you whine. 

“I know, baby. You take me so well. So goddamn well.” He grunts in your ear. You can barely focus your eyes, your mouth perpetually open as your breath is pushed out of you with each deep thrust. He’s bottoming out each time, using his body weight to keep your knees to your chest while his arms are on either side of you to hold himself up. Your cunt feels so full. There isn’t a single spot inside of you that his dick isn’t touching. That combined with his balls slapping against your ass have you panting again, the pleasure once again building in your core.

“Fuck Toji. Fuck, f-fuck.” you pant out as your finger nails dig into his back, trying to deal with the intense sensations and the rapid tightening as you climb towards another orgasm. 

Toji hovers over you, hips rutting against yours and watches your tits bounce with each firm thrust. You were a sight to behold. Such a beautiful woman and all his. All his to love and adore. 

“Cum for me again, y/n. Let me feel you again.” He breathes, moving to suck on your neck. After a few more deep thrusts you’re quickly cumming on him once more. Body tensing but unable to properly release the tension because of the position, causing you to just feel the full brunt of your orgasm. You start screaming his name when his lips find yours, swallowing your pleasure while your body convulses under him and he does his best to fuck you through it, moaning deeply into your mouth. Your pussy spasms around his dick, tightening and causing him to groan. The pleasure is blinding, you don’t feel anything except your orgasm as you body shakes and your pussy gushes and pulses around him. It takes a minute for you to finally come back to your senses and you realize Toji had released your legs and stopped moving inside you. 

“Did you cum?” You slur, breathless and fucked out. 

He looks at you, panting and pupils blown, “No. You told me to show you how much I love you. You think my love amounts to only a few orgasms?” And at that he lifts you up so you’re straddling his lap, dick never leaving you. 

You put your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself as he starts moving once again. 

“Tojiiii.” you whine, starting to feel overstimulated. 

“I know you have one more in you sweetheart.” He says as he takes one of your arms from around his neck and kisses and licks at your wrist. You groan because it does feel good but fuck you’re so spent already. 

“Don’t worry,” He puts your arm back over his shoulder, “Let me do everything.” And he grabs your hips in his big hands and lifts you off of him before bringing you back down. The angle with which he brings you back down causes your clit to rub against him and you moan at the spark of pleasure it ignites. Maybe you did have another one in you. 

“That’s my girl. Let me make you feel good, let me show you what you mean to me.” 

You moan at his words and lean against him, arms loosely wrapped around his neck as he fucks you onto him over and over, rubbing your clit against him each time. 

The new position isn’t as deep as the last one but the stimulation to your clit is making up for it. Your breathing is erratic and you let out quiet curses as the pleasure builds inside you.

Toji moans in your neck, feeling your tits dancing against his chest with each thrust and the fat of your ass jiggling under his hands. He won't be able to hold out this time and picks up the pace, pulling you down onto him harder and faster.

Both of you start moaning louder as you get closer to your final release. 

You’re like a ragdoll hanging against him, all you can do is moan as you begin to feel that tightness again. 

“Toji...Toji...” you moan weakly. His pace picks up even more as does his breathing, and your clit is getting even more friction now. Your body starts tensing and Toji’s moaning against your shoulder.

“Come on, y/n. One more. Mmm, y/n let me give you one more.” He grunts out. Trying to hold back. 

He moves you a few more times, sucking on that spot above your clavicle that you like and it leads to your undoing. You cling to him as you cry out, pussy spasming around his dick as you climax. The tightness along with your screams of pleasure and your body wrapped around him cause Toji to reach his high as well. 

He’s thrusting into you once, twice, three more times, cumming into you as deep as he can, whispering “I love you I love you I love you” through his whole orgasm, crushing your body against his as he holds you tight.

You both stay like that for a little bit, just holding each other and breathing hard. 

Toji catches his breath first, kissing your shoulder, “You okay?”

You couldn’t help but giggle, this man just fucked you senseless in the most tender way. You were more than okay. “Yeah.”

He pulled back, “What’s funny?” He asks with a small smile on his face. 

You look into his green eyes, “Nothing. I just love you.”

His eyes soften, “I love you too, y/n. So much.” And he kisses the inside of your arm that’s still resting on his shoulder. 

Toji starts leaning back to lay down on the bed, holding you close to his chest as he does. You lay there on him, listening to the sound of his heartbeat while he strokes your back. 

“Thank you.” Toji says quietly. 

“Huh?” You sit up slightly to look at him. You weren’t sure if you heard him correctly. 

He clears his throat, “thank you” he says a little more firmly. 

You sit up more now so you can look into his face, “Why are you thanking me?”

His hand continues to lightly stroke your back, “I wouldn’t have any of this if it wasn’t for you. This job, this home, Megumi...Everything that makes me happy is because of you.” He looks directly into your eyes as he says it, and you see how much he truly believes it. You wish Toji thought better of himself. You wish he could understand how much he meant to your family. That he could understand and see just how much Megumi and you loved him. You were thinking about how to get through to him when an idea crossed your mind.

You ran your hands up his chest and to his cheek, moving forward to kiss his scar, causing his soft cock to finally fall out of you. 

“I know you love me, Toji. And I know you love Megumi and our family and everything we’ve built together. It wasn’t all me though. You’ve grown into a man I’m proud to call my husband and become a father that Megumi adores. We love you, Toji. I love you...” You trail off briefly before meeting his eyes again, “Can I show you how much I do?” You ask, leaning forward to pepper kisses along his jaw. 

His eyes widened at your implication and he laughed, pulling you back to look at you, “How did I get so lucky?” And his lips were on yours again, dancing to the next song. 

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fics #jjk smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader smut #my writing #soft!toji #soft!toji fics #soft!toji x reader

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 1,542

Warnings | +18, smut dubcon(?), somnophilia, pussy worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, fingering, male masturbation, Jungkook is desperately horny, cumming on her, body worship, breast/nipples worship, explicit language and descriptions, kidnapping, Jungkook is absolutely obsessed, this is not for minors.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Third chapter of Happy Ending arrived, enjoy your reading, my dears 🥰❤

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

That same night, a shadow wandered around the young woman's apartment. It had not been difficult to get there, as he had already thought, those windows were too old and easy to force, he could not allow Y/N to live in such a place. If a novice like him had managed to open the window facing the kitchen so quickly, then an experienced thief would have been able to do even better. He looked around, scrutinizing every nook and cranny, being very careful not to make any noise, noticed a pizza box on the table, with Coke cans scattered around, was very careful not to step on a single one - mentally cursing at the girl's mess - and headed for what he guessed was her room.

He opened the door slightly, which squeaked faintly because of rust, but that was not enough to wake the girl who lived in the apartment. Y/N must have been a very heavy sleeper, the boy thought. Jungkook was there for one simple reason, to take Y/N away and make her live a better life with him. Normally an art professor would not have made that much money, but professor was not his only job, he thought with a grin. The school's principal, Kim Seokjin, had his hands in everything, and someone like Jungkook was right for him. He then looked around, studying the environment to get an idea about his beloved's tastes, finding a variety of references to anime and manga, as well as books and flowers. Nothing that hinted at a passion for fashion, but of that Jungkook did not worry, he would see to it that she was dressed cute and perfect, just for the pleasure of his eyes.

Reaching just to one side of the single bed, he stared at Y/N sleeping blissfully with only part of the blanket to give her warmth, the tender lower lip protruded invitingly and Jungkook felt the urge to squeeze it between his teeth, tasting its softness. He shivered slightly when he took a flap of the blanket, pulling it aside. He slowly uncovered Y/N's body, revealing something that made the man's brain go haywire. Y/N slept in only a tank top and panties even in winter. It was a comfortable habit for the girl, but for Jungkook it was like a wedding invitation, literally. His eyes did not break away from the bare skin in the slightest while enough light filtered through the window to make that vision heavenly for him.

He slowly knelt down, a hand flew within inches of her calves, he did not know whether to touch her that way or not, she was not conscious, it would not be right, would it? The boy found himself gritting his teeth, it would only be a caress, a gentle caress. He gently laid his fingers on one calf, held his breath at the smooth sensation of her skin against his fingertips and continued with the slow ascent, felt his lips dry up when, having reached her knee, Y/N decided of her own volition to spread her leg wide, leaving a wide view of her intimacy covered by the blue panties, at which point Jungkook's blood concentrated in one spot. He took that sign as a Y/N response to continue. He climbed onto the bed gently, positioning himself right on top of the young woman, his hand opening on her inner thigh, the softest and most tender part of her leg, felt that buttery texture under his fingers and did the same with the other, thus bringing both legs apart for him, he sent down watering at that scene so erotic that it nearly drove him mad.

He felt powerful as never before in his life, he could do anything he wanted to her and she would continue to sleep blissfully. The young girl's tightly closed eyelids cast lash shadows across her cheeks, she was so serene in sleep that Jungkook found her enchanting, so much so that he leaned over her, stealing a sweet kiss on her cheek, in love with that pure little fairy of his. His. He watched for a possible reaction, but she continued to sleep. Not content, he descended lower, to the tender breasts enclosed in that wide camisole, lifted the pale fabric finding himself face to face with what, he knew, would become his favorite damnation, studied with hungry eyes the perfect color of those still soft and relaxed little buttons, barely touching with a finger the velvety, graceful circle of an areola. He trapped the tender nipple with his lips, sucking it tenderly inside his warm, moist mouth, felt it plump under the strokes of his tongue and found himself nibbling on it without too much pressure, sending small, sweet twinges to the young girl's sleeping body. Y/N, for her part, turned her head slightly, opening her mouth slightly in a moan that her brain could not fully register.

Jungkook cupped the other breast, stimulating it with the tip of a finger, squeezing it lightly before devoting his mouth to it as well, and the more he engulfed that tender flesh, the more his cock throbbed uninterruptedly in search of its dose of forbidden caresses. A pop resounded from the room as he let go of his grip on the young girl's now abused nipple, went down with moist kisses all along the girl's chest, with his sweet prey's breathing rising in response, thus reaching the lower abdomen licking a small trail around her navel, moaning silently at the taste of that skin that he would also have gladly bitten into, but he could not risk waking the girl up in the midst of his fun, so he merely descended lower and lower, reaching to the fabric of her panties. With the tip of his nose he pressed against her covered pussy, ecstatically inhaling the natural scent of her essence, he felt himself salivating and his own boxers got a little wet, he pressed his erection against the mattress moving slightly to give himself some relief, not satisfied he peeled back the fabric of the panties and almost thought he would come there on the spot. The rosy flesh of the folds opened under the pressure of his index finger, revealing the swollen clitoris and the sweet slit from which sweet transparent liquid was already leaking.

Jungkook gave a long lick that from the young woman's narrow entrance reached up to her clitoris, encircling it with the tip in a tender and insistent caress; on another occasion the boy would have cried out in the most bewitching pleasure, but he forced himself to enjoy that taste in silence. Y/N unknowingly thrust his hips into the man's ravenous mouth in a soft, slow rhythm that delighted Jungkook. That to him was the ultimate proof that the girl accepted his intimate attentions without regret. He used two fingers to stimulate the young woman's lit and pulsating clitoris, continuing with the tip of his tongue to penetrate the tight and wet slit, sucking the small quivering lips together with the unconscious girl's legs, continuing to poke and pull at that pearl now stiff and ready to explode between his index finger and thumb, teasing the soft flesh ever more insistently. "Mm... Ah...!" the girl's back arched slightly, exposing more and more of her intimacy to the boy, her body tried to keep up with that forbidden pleasure, in her mind Y/N was dreaming, dreaming of Jungkook and in her dream the boy was doing to her just what the real Jungkook was joyfully enacting in reality.

He willingly swallowed the young girl's fluids with yet another tongue caress, then replaced his fingers with the latter, cradling the pulsating clitoris in velvety lashings, penetrating the now-soaked entrance with his fingertips, the girl rigidly propped her feet up on the mattress, opening her mouth wide and frowning in a shrill howl, which was prolonged when her clitoris succumbed to extreme pleasure following a light bite from the boy, his teeth weakly crushing that taut pearl, now at the 'extreme and that gesture was enough to release its violent contained pleasure. Jungkook detached himself from Y/N's quivering body, lowering his pants and boxer shorts, took his already dripping cum cock in his hand and leaned over Y/N beginning to pump himself several times, ran his thumb over the scarlet tip increasing the speed of his thrusts, before pouring out a large amount of cum with a choked cry, smearing the girl's breasts and panties with the sticky white liquid. He looked at his work of art with devotion and affection, stroking his cock in an attempt not to let up again on those gentle discharges of pleasure, until it became completely soft again. He adjusted his clothes, retrieving tissues from the girl's bedside table to wipe off his semen, silently praying that the sweet, spicy taste of Y/N would never disappear from his tongue.

God, he would have taken her again and again on that bed, but he shook his head to himself , Y/N deserved better and wanted her awake when it happened. He wanted her to see with her own eyes how much love he would be able to give her.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #bts yandere smut #yandere bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 9

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of pregnancy, not edited word count: 2.1k authors note: i am back with a little less brain!! (literally) it took me a bit to start writing again cause I had some slowness on my right side so I wasn't quite up to writing. BUT i hope you guys like p9 and thank you so much for the continuous love on this story <3 the first bit is marlee's POV and after the * it's back to readers pov. hope u all like & pls lmk what you think <3

masterlist masterpost ask box

MARLEE

Marlee Jones loved her job. It was something she took pride in; helping bring new lives into the world and being there for all the mamas. Of course there were always the hard days, the days that made her hug Stella a little tighter when she got home from a shift. Her job had its ups and downs, but at the end of the day, she wouldn’t want to do anything else. 

So, her panic is warranted when she comes across a certain patient file. She wasn’t looking for it, but when her eyes caught the name and there weren’t any other people nearby, she couldn’t help herself. It’s against HIPAA, and if anybody found out, she would be fired without question but she slipped the file in between a couple others and walked to a random supply closet. She closed and locked the door behind her before pulling the file out and opening it. Her eyes quickly scanned the pages, the words Hysterical Pregnancy making her heart race. She had to double check the name on the file twice, before believing it. 

She knew that someone would notice the missing file, so she quickly found a printer and copied the pages, tucking them in her tote bag and putting the file exactly where it was. 

Nobody would know.

*

Your first instinct is to calm Marlee down. Her panicking is making you panic and at least one of you needs to keep a straight head. You’re trying to let her words sink in without letting your mind go down a rabbit hole. You need to see all the facts before letting yourself do that.

“Marlee,” you reach out to grab her shaking hands. “What happened?”

She looks up at you and takes a deep breath. “I can’t- I can’t tell you the details but she’s not pregnant. She lied, and it’s already caused so much damage between you, and Mat and Liana… and Nora.” She pulls her hands away from yours and buries her face in them.

You decide not to remind her that Mat already fucked things up before Calista dropped the baby bomb on him because she knows that. Focus on one disaster at a time. 

Calista lied about being pregnant. Mat doesn’t know this, and even if you try to tell him, you have no idea how he’ll react. Really, it’s none of your business and you can very well go on with your life because Mat has let you know loud and clear what his feelings are. He wants Calista in his life despite you not wanting her in Nora’s life. He technically has no rights, no say in what happens but when he first found out about her and asked to be in her life, you’d so desperately wanted to let him. 

“How long can she pull off this lie until he finds out the truth?” you ask quietly and she lifts her head from her hands.

“Depends,” she mumbles.

“On what?”

“How deep she has him pulled into her fantasy.”

. . .

You let Nora spend a little more time with Stella, mainly wanting her to burn as much energy from the sugar high she’s on from the ice-cream. She’s sleepy when you buckle her in her carseat and you’re pretty sure she’s asleep but she mumbles something and you look to see her looking at you with droopy eyes.

“What was that?” you ask softly.

She looks down, avoiding eye contact with you which is worrisome. 

“Do you think Mat would want to see me?” she whispers. “Without her?”

She obviously doesn’t need to clarify who she's referring to and it breaks your heart that a six-year-old has to worry about things like this. 

“I can ask,” you tell her, unsure why she wants to see him suddenly. “You don’t have to go see Mat if you don’t want to, baby.”

By now, you’re pulling into your driveway so you can turn the jeep off and turn to give her your full attention. She still won’t look at you so you reach out and tap on her leg until she looks up. 

“I want to,” she says but doesn’t elaborate so you don’t push. 

“Okay, I’ll call him tomorrow.”

She just nods and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt so you get out and help her. She doesn’t complain when you carry her inside, helping her change into pajamas and brush her teeth. When she asks if she can watch a movie before bed, you don’t have the heart to deny her, even though it’s close to her bedtime so you set her up on the couch and put her favorite movie on. She’ll be out like a light in less than twenty minutes so while you’re waiting, you grab your phone and pull up Mat’s contact. Your finger hovers over the call option but you’re not sure you want to talk to him over the phone so you go into your text messages instead. The last messages between the two of you were when you last met up and even then they were short and to the point which makes this text easily simple.

To Mat: Nora wants to see you.

You lay your phone on the counter and get a glass of water while waiting for his response. You’re unnecessarily nervous, mainly because you are expecting him to start an argument the moment you tell him that Nora doesn’t want Calista to be there. You don’t even feel comfortable letting Mat see her because of what he said, but you can’t turn her request down. Not when she was so adamant about not wanting to see him, and out of the blue deciding that she does. 

When you check on Nora while waiting for a response, she’s asleep so you pick her up and carry her to bed. You spend a minute just watching her after you’ve tucked her in. You’re desperate to see what’s going on in that little head of hers.

Just as you walk back to the kitchen, your phone buzzes and you freeze. Maybe messaging Mat tonight was a bad idea, and you should’ve just waited until tomorrow. It’s too late now though so you walk over and look to see Mat’s name and an unread message. 

From Mat: ok

From Mat: when?

It bothers you, how nonchalant he’s acting after everything that’s happened. This is about Nora though, so you take a breath and try to decide on a date.

To Mat: Sunday?

From Mat: ok

You want to scream at him and take back the offer but remind yourself again that Nora explicitly asked to see him and it’s her decision to make. 

So, you set up a place and time and tell him that she doesn’t want to see Calista. You expect him to argue, but he responds with another simple ok, and that’s that. 

. . .

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Marlee asks, crossing her arms and glaring at Mat who’s sitting on a bench at the park you agreed to meet at. The two of you are standing outside her jeep, stalling a little before going over there. 

Nora asked if Stella could come to the park too and Marlee was pulling out of her driveway before you could finish asking. You’re a little worried that she’s going to yell at Mat, but you figure with the kids there, she will contain herself unless he says something out of line.

“Nora asked to see him,” you remind her but she just grumbles something under her breath. 

You’re ready to get this over with so you open the door and let Nora and Stella climb out of the jeep. Normally, they would race to the playground but Nora is hesitating, glancing over to where Mat is. He hasn’t noticed that you’re here yet which is good, because you are about five seconds away from just putting the kids back in and driving away. 

Nora sighs quietly before walking over to Mat. You and Marlee hang back a little but Stella grabs her hand and sticks close to her. 

When Mat sees her, his face lights up and for a second, you want to forgive him so everything can go back to how it was before. You can’t though, not when what he said is still so fresh and not when you know about Calista’s lies.

“Hey peanut,” he says softly, staying seated while Nora stands in front of him, looking down and scuffing her shoe on the gravel. He looks at you when she doesn’t say anything but you just shrug even though you’re confused. You’re about to ask Nora if she wants to just go to the playground when she breaks her silence.

“Are you not my daddy?” she asks quietly and it takes you off guard. You had this conversation with her, assuring her that Calista was lying but she must want to hear it from Mat.

“What?” he asks, looking at you before turning his attention back to her.

“Calista told me that you’re not my daddy,” she says more firmly, finally looking up at him. Her arms are crossed and she’s glaring at him. You’d be impressed if you weren’t so worried about what Mat may say.

His mouth opens and closes a couple times and he looks like a fish out of water. He looks at you again, as if he’s expecting you to step in but you just raise an eyebrow at him as if to say I told you so.

“I think she was confused-” he begins to say which is absolutely the wrong thing to say because it sets Nora off. 

She stomps her foot and her glare hardens. “No! She said that mommy lied and that you’re not really my daddy. She told me that I don’t have a daddy.”

Before he can say anything, she’s storming off toward the playground, Stella chasing after her. 

“Do I need to say I told you so?” you ask sharply, now that the kids are out of hearing range.

“You just did,” he mumbles and Marlee, who has been quiet up until now, steps towards Mat.

“You’re a piece of work,” she snaps and Mat looks at her confused. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Do I need to repeat myself?” she says, and you’re more than happy to let her say what’s on her mind. 

“You’re letting your girlfriend tell your daughter that you’re not her father, and instead of comforting Nora, you’re trying to defend your girlfriend!” 

For a moment, you’re scared Marlee is going to get angry enough that she’ll tell him the truth about Calista, but she takes a deep breath and turns away to go to where the girls are playing. You watch her walk over until she reaches them before turning back to Mat. 

He’s staring at the ground and you don’t know why you’re still standing here but you guess you’re just waiting for Mat to say something.

“I fucked up,” he eventually mumbles and you scoff. 

“When did you come to that brilliant conclusion?” 

There’s the tiniest part of you that wants to bring up Calista, just to see if he’ll tell you anything but you’re not sure you’re in the mood to hear about her. Not when you know the truth. 

“Liana is mad at me,” he tells you, which is news, because you thought she was just angry at you. 

“I can’t imagine why.”

You look back at Nora, smiling when you see her laughing. She looks more like herself, rather than the gloomy kid she’s been the past couple days since she asked to see Mat. Like she got what was bothering her off her tiny shoulders. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mat doing the same but his smile isn’t as real. If you weren’t still angry at him, you’d feel bad but you can’t let go of what he said and the fact that he tried again to defend Calista. 

“She’s a good kid,” he says softly and you hum in agreement. 

“Did you know?” he asks, “that she was going to say that?”

“No,” you tell him. It’s not a lie - she didn’t tell you why she wanted to see Mat, and you didn’t want to push. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you shake your head and look directly at him.

“Sorry isn’t going to fix it this time. Marlee was right, instead of apologizing to Nora, who deserves to hear that more than me, you won’t stop making excuses for Calista,” you tell him. “I don’t know what you’re expecting from Nora and I, but sorry isn’t the answer.” 

He frowns, but nods, seemingly accepting your response. You leave it at that and walk over to where Nora, Stella, and Marlee are, grinning when your daughter reaches for you. She hugs you when you pick her up and when you look back at the bench Mat was sitting at, he’s already gone.

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @barzyblogbabe @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @lovinbarzal @whatthepuckisgoingon @teapartydreams @alilstressyandlotdepressy @keiva1000 @hischiershoe @bellstwd @alwaysclassyeagle @brrbrina @nonsensical-nonsence

@love-like-woaah @cycy9 @swift-sos

if you want to be added or taken off the tag list please let me know! & if you asked to be tagged and I didn't it's cause your @ didn't come up when i searched

#allies writing #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fanfiction

[hazelfoureyes]

Someone nice, Somewhere safe

Angel x Virgin Male Reader

જ⁀➴ Angel x Virgin Female Reader - Someone nice, Somewhere safe*

*same story, just your bits and bobbles are changed 

You let it slip to the group you were a virgin, and instead of laughing, Angel grabs you before bed to offer a friendly hand.

<Warnings/Promises: Angel Dust x Virgin Male!Reader, smut, fingering, lubed to the gods, Angel uses four arms, Valentino is a blind bag of smashed assholes, creampie, oral, the gentlest sex I’ve ever written (probably), an alarming towel>

listen here virgins, if I could craft a perfect first time for you, this is it. Minus the lack of condoms because—it’s hell? Sex workers are tested bi-weekly?? This is still a fantasy??? Just if anything, please take from this the importance of a safe and trusting environment at all times 🙏  

minor dni (shoo! get outta here! Go on, git! 🧹)

You thought everyone would laugh when you said you were a virgin. The group awe’d and said it was cute, which was definitely better than the response you’d gotten in the overworld. But when Angel made a joke that your toys must be worn to the base, you felt the need to clarify. Total virgin, never used toys or your hands for, you cringed, penetration. Everyone just looked… sad? The conversation was quickly derailed by Angel launching into a list of wildest orgasm faces he’s seen, Charlie leaving the room entirely.

Continuing with the evening’s theme of surprise, you hadn’t expected Angel to catch up to you when everyone was filing off to bed. His hand gently reached for your wrist, “Hey ya got a sec?”

 For Angel, the epitome of smiling through the pain, you’d give him the remainder of your time in hell if he just asked. Every second, his.“Always!”

“So uh”, he rubbed the back of his neck, “about bein’ a virgin and all that.” Your stomach dropped, was the famous porn star about to embarrass you into a second death?“I think it’s real important that like— knowin’ yourself, and what makes you feel good is like super healthy. I dunno if you are interested in that kinda stuff but,” he was wildly moving his hands round, nervously stumbling over his words, “I’d be happy to help ya out.”

All of the blood rushed to your face.

“Oh fuck!” Angel grabbed your head and tipped it forward, “I would have accepted a simple no, jesus!” With one hand pinching your nose, he led you into his room just down the hall. 

What— what was happening, exactly? At all? In general? With your entire existence?

He kicked the door closed behind him and grabbed a handful of tissues, “Keep your head forward. Everyone who says tilt it back is an idiot.”

His hand was red when he drew it from your face, using his other hand to now hold tissues between his fingers as he pinched your nose shut.

“Is- is my nose bleeding??” Your voice cracked.

“Does that happen often?”

“Never.”

“Well I got to help you with at least one first, right?” Angel laughed, moving his hands away as you took over the task.

Oh, right. The offer. You glanced around the room, small but lived-in. Everything was pink and purple and soft.

“Angel, do you think because you’re a sex worker, you have to help me?” The room fell silent. Angel completely still beside you. You would love someone you could trust to take your virginity, but you would never want to use Angel like so many other people did on a daily basis.

“Ya know— a lot of people get real confused about this.” He sighed, chest heavy with the many misconceptions others had, “What I do for work, what I gotta do to get through the day, has nothin’ to do with who I am as a person.” You turned to look at him, “Why should I limit my experiences because of what other people have done to me?” The words hit you like a truck. You had unintentionally boxed him into his job, in turn into his trauma, summing him up as a warm body and incapable of any depth past that. Just a sex worker.

“No, no I didn’t mean anything like that. I just, I don’t want to ever,” you grabbed two of his hands, “ever take advantage of your kindness.” You squeezed, “or any part of you.”

His frown turned up, “We’re dead, yea, but you still exist. If you want to, you should enjoy every part of your afterlife. And I’d hate you to meet some asshole who’s too rough or doesn’t get ya warmed up first. A bad first time can be really traumatizin’.”

You nodded without actually thinking. Your brain wasn’t really processing meaning, his words were just soft and kind and your nose still stuffed full of tissue.

“Do you wanna?”

You nodded more vigorously, “Did my nose start bleeding again?”

Angel took the tissue away, giving a second to see, “Nope.”

Taking a deep breath, you said, “Okay. Yeah, I want that. Someone nice, somewhere safe.”

“It ain’t quite nice but-,” Angel looked around his room.

“It’s perfect, Angel.”

“Aw fuck, I should clean up,” he hurriedly carried trash from his nightstand, flattening out the comforter and adjusting his pillows. He placed fat nuggets on the floor with a little pat on the head.

Finally, he stood in front of you, two hands on his hips, two gesturing to you.

“Alright baby! Let’s pop some cherries! Undress~” he elongated the word, shimmying his hips a little, “-to your comfort level.” He began to unbutton his blazer, “Bare minimum, take off your pants and underwear, please and thank you. Though I have fucked through underwear…” He was momentarily lost in a memory.

You hadn’t anticipated getting naked in front of a friend tonight. But Angel so effortlessly shed his clothes, peeling off his gloves. Pulling off your pants, you paused.

“Is it weird if I keep my shirt on? Like— do you know who Winnie the Pooh is?”

“Nothin’ weird about bein’ comfortable, pookie.” He pinched your cheek, “I’d offer a modesty blanket but I kinda need to see what I’m doing.” His eyes flitted to the left, “No, wanna. I wanna see.” Angel’s laugh relaxed you, the idea of anyone wanting to see you made you feel a little less—-naked. Still, your hands seemed frozen on your underwear’s edge.

With a hum, he disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a towel. “Go on, lie down. I’ll help ya relax. This is already feeling too medical-like.”

Were you going to need a towel? Were you going to need a towel?? Were you going to need a towel!?

You sat back on his bed, and when he crawled up to meet you, all legs and arms and Angel Dust, you buried your face in your hands.

“Oh hey—,” his voice was so soft, lacking its usual sass, “Wanna just, cuddle and watch stupid shit on my phone?” You groaned, face sinking further down. This would be easier if he wasn’t so sweet. You could at least take a backseat, then.

You shook your head, and felt his hand on your ankle. It snaked up your calf, slipped down your knee and thigh, finding the waistband of your underwear. When you looked up from your hiding place, Angel was a foot from your face. His features lit only by the purple neon signs hanging beside his bed and near the door. He lifted his brows, a question he didn’t need to vocalize. You sank back into the purple and pink pillows, different sizes, different textures, gently enveloping you.

With two hands now, he slide off your underwear. You might die, again. Your heart would give out any second, incapable of handling the moment. You were manually breathing.

He lifted your hips with two hands, a third sliding the towel beneath you before setting you back down.

“Do ya-,” he was rummaging now inside the nightstand drawer, “not play with yourself? Ever?”

“Not really. Not like, there.”

“Whaddya do with all your free time?” His short but enthusiastic laughter forced a smile to your cheeks. Angel slid the drawer shut and came to rest in front of your tightly shut thighs and knees. You heard a cap pop, and found the courage to sit up and see what he was doing.

“What?” He squeezed a clear, thick lubricant onto his right hand, “Don’t let anyone tell you ya don’t need lube. No fun for no one, trust me. Could start a fuckin’ fire—- and spit ain’t lube!” Angel said it like he spoke from a personal experience.

Ah, the towel. That made sense now.

“Should I do something?”

“Just lie back, baby~,” he opened your knees and followed your face as you settled back down, “Do you like kissin’?”

You’d kiss a trashcan if Angel said it got him hot, so, “Yeah.”

“Good,” One hand touched your cheek, sliding to your chin as he brought your lips to his. You thought you’d melt, his hands so soft on you, lips confident and sure. He used his thumb on your chin to pull down your bottom lip and ask you for entrance. When you opened up to him, his tongue slid into yours as his sticky wet hand finally touched you. Two fingers rubbing the lube up and down your ass.

You nearly inhaled him with your shock, he giggled into it, “You’re so cute.” You twitched under his hand, “Ooh, and reactive! Daddy likes.”

Stop. Stop talking. I’m going to black out.

His mouth returned to yours, tongue over your tongue, as his fingers just massaged your entrance. No attempt at entering, no prodding, just gentle up and down motions. Slowly, your felt your skin heating beneath his hand, the lubricant somewhat melting with your warmth.

At work, Angel was never the lead. Never the top, and never afforded time to ease anyone open. He had no issues with topping, it just wasn’t his normal role. Watching you sigh and twitch under him felt like a treat. Such a sweet response to what so many people made unnecessarily dirty at work. He wasn’t shocked to find his cock twitching, swelling as your breathing hitched with every stroke of his hand. When was the last time he could just… slow down? Be the one in control? Not control like Val, control like—- can I get you a pillow? Is the pacing good? Let’s soften these lights.  Hold my hand, sweetheart.

His head felt a little dizzy. His middle finger pressed now, and with a slow but constant motion entered you. ‘Uncomfortable’ was the best word. Your body tensed around him, but he gently pressed past your virgin walls. He hummed, “First one down! Atleast,” he paused, “two more to go.”

“Atleast??” You shook your head.

“It’s sex math, trust the professional in the room.” He withdrew the finger and slid it back in, starting a slow pace of long drags from knuckle to fingertip.

It didn’t hurt, to his credit. The excitement of having Angel touching you so intimately made the finger easier to relax into. Angel must have noticed, his finger leaving you. He popped the top again of his lube and pressed in two fingers. This was harder. You whined, his fingertips pushing past the tight ring of muscle and settling into the wet warmth behind.

Lying on your back, you stared at the now upside-down photos behind his bed. He looked so happy. Could you join that wall? Was this wall worthy?

“You still good?” He leaned over you, fingers  moving.

You nodded, “Can I have another kiss?”

Ah, you might as well have punched him in the chest. “Of course, darlin’~ Ask and you shall receive.” You liked kissing, genuinely, but were always scared you’d kiss someone too long and end up in an awkward situation having to explain you weren’t wanting sex. But that fear was all gone, you’d broken the code. Get naked first, then kiss.

You smiled into his mouth, and he smiled back, “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“I like kissing you.” You leaned up, pressing your lips to his chin. His fingers quickened, and you moaned without warning. You felt your cock twitch, erection growing as nervousness was slinking away and finally letting you feel aroused.

“Ooh, now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” he leaned back, repeating the same steps and trying to press a third finger into you. His abundance of hands were a blessing, one at your entrance, one on your knee to keep your shaking legs open, and two roaming down the sides of your body. When three fingers finally entered, you could feel the burning stretch of your skin around them. He pushed in, and the skin followed. He pulled out, your sensitive hole pulling too. The hand on your knee came to your crotch, his palm pressing lightly down on your growing erection. You glanced up to him, his eyes focused as he watched his fingers slowly drag in and out of you. It burned still, but just past that burning was a slippery sensation that made your cock jump under his hand.

He let his fingers sink in entirely, before bending and feeling inside you. Your knee jumped when he hit something.

“Bingo! Say hello to your g-spot.” He beamed down at you, gold tooth shining, “You don’t really need it to cum but oooh boooy does it maximize pleasure,” it sounded so pornographic when he said it.

You weakly copied, “B-bingo.” 

“I can do this now~” he replaced his palm with his fingers,  sticky with lube, and they wrapped around your cock. His hand slowly pumped up and down your shaft. “Sex math. Don’t need your virgin ass locking up on me.” He said quietly to himself, fingers in and out of you picking up speed. Your head was pressing into the pillows as your neck strained, you’d never masturbated while someone, something, penetrated you. Every stroke of his hand made your body clench, the feeling of something hard and unforgiving pushing back against your quivering hole made a pleasure you couldn’t describe.

“Feelin’ good yet?” The way he said it, he knew damn well how you were feeling.

You whimpered into one of the pillows, “Feels good.” A weak nod.

Angel’s grin bordered on wicked, hand slowing. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your cock head. Then another. His tongue flattened against his bottom lip as he dragged it over your sensitive slit.

You moaned, a half spoken-half cried, “Oh fuck, Angel-.” Hips bucking up, his fingers kept their place and followed. You humped up against his tongue, ground down into his fingers; up, down. Soft tongue, rigid fingers.

“You can fuck my face, baby,” He opened his mouth, tongue out, and looked up at you from your stomach. “I ain’t got a gag reflex anymore, popsicles slide in like— well, cocks.” He lowered his mouth onto you, leaving room for you to move. His fingers slowed in you.

You thrust up slowly, testing the sensation. His mouth closed around you, tongue moving along you shaft as you rutted into his face.

One hand held tightly to the pillow, the other coming to Angel’s hair. Your body kept jumping away from overstimulation but you fought against it every time and tried to grind against his face.

His fingers slipped out of you, your body closing back around the space where they were. That feeling of your hole tightening made you hungry for his fingers to spread you back open. His hand came to cup your balls, feeling the weight in his palm.

He lifted his mouth off you with a deliberate pop, “Gettin’ close already?” You nodded, eyes closed. “Ready for the real thing?”

“Yeah. I need more, Angel.” It came out as a whine, shocking you a little.

His hand came to his erection, red and leaking. Stroking himself, he returned to massaging at your puffy and swollen entrance.

“You comfortable with gettin’ on your knees? This position ain’t so conducive for what I’m tryin’ to do.”

Somehow, ass up sounded better than face to face, “You’re the expert.” You rolled onto your stomach, hips up, face resting into the sea of pillows. You paused, lifted off your now sweaty shirt, and got back into position. 

“Sexpert, but thank you!” The lid popped open again, cold and viscous lube being dripped directly onto your ass, “Finally some recognition around here.” He coated himself with what was still on his hands, and raised your hips to line himself up.

“Deep breaths, okay?” He leaned over your back, kisses falling down your skin. Two hands held your hips, one guided himself into you. You tensed when his head began to push in, “Relaaax, just like the fingers.”

A muffled, “okay” from your place in the pile. Your heart was suddenly racing, erection now gone. He wiped his dick up and down your ass, swiping past your entrance, dragging the edge of your hole with the crook of his head. Lining up, he pushed in, getting his head firmly sunk into you.

“Breath, baby,” he moaned into your shoulder. You took a deep breath in, your body tight still. But, it didn’t hurt like you’d thought. It burned, but there was no sting, no tearing. Angel’s hands ran up and down your sides, along you ass and thighs. He gently touched everywhere he could reach, until he felt you soften, “Ready to keep going?”

“Yes please”, you turned your head to look at him.

He pulled out slightly to collect more lube on his shaft, before slowly sinking into you until he bottomed out.

You were gasping, your brain misfiring. You couldn’t feel anything but him, your body just a formless thought with Angel’s warm, solid cock reaching deeper into than you thought possible. One roaming hand reached for your shoulder, “Can I move?”

“Slow,” your hand searched for a loose fold of comforter to grip, but it was soon encased and intertwined by one of his.

He pulled out, and slowly thrust back in. A saccharine moan fell from his mouth, and it made you whimper. 

You were so soft around him, yet your entrance was gripping him so snuggly he felt like he was melting into you. His breath was unsteady, “You feel so good on my cock, baby.” A burning blush took over your face, your erection jumping back to life.

“How ya doin’?” Angel sounded nervous, timid.

You had to collect saliva to get any words out, mouth running dry from panting, “S’good.” You tried again, “So good.” Your fingers tightened around his.

He adjusted his hips, watching you closely. When your eyes closed and your hand nearly broke his, he grinned down, “Bingo~,” his speed began to pick up. 

“Fuuuuck, Angel-,” you dragged out the last syllable of his name. You could feel your orgasm returning after dying down earlier. 

Angel took languid thrusts out to the tip and pushing back past your still resisting entrance. Every time he pulled out and slipped in felt better than before. The sensations of him opening you around his cock again and again had your stomach and thighs tensing. You brought your hand up to stroke your own pulsing dick, slowly pumping. 

Angel’s hand came down and wrapped around your cock, taking over your own attempts. The feeling of him in you and around you was overwhelming.

“Cumming,” You hissed, squeezing his hand tighter, his thrusts becoming faster and shallower. His repeated pressing of your g-spot pushed you over the edge, hand slowly milking you of every drop of cum.

Angel’s moans got louder, your body tightening in spasms as you emptied your balls onto the towel. Your body was so inviting, warm walls sucking his head deeper. He rarely got to feel this sensation. His head rested against your back, hands running along the curve of your hips as he melted into your sweet heat.

He picked up speed, only drawing out an inch or so now with each thrust. The lube made a pop and squelch every time his skin pulled from yours, the sound making his legs weak.

“Where can I cum?” His breath was raspy, messy with the pleasure of your soft insides rubbing along his shaft. You gripped the blanket, dick jerking from the feeling of Angel chasing his release with your body. You could hear the strain in his voice, “Gonna need an answer real fast, babe.” You hid your face in the pillow mountain again, embarrassed to answer.

“Inside,” you tried to say it loudly enough for him to hear.

He whimpered a, “Fuuuuck” down your spine, “Such a dirty little virgin.” His hips stuttered before he sunk into you with such force your legs gave out. Your body came down flush onto the bed, towel sticking to your stomach and thighs. Angel was pressed into you, chest against your back as his breathing calmed. You could feel his heart through your ribs, his chest fluff silky on your skin. Your body was warm, his hot cum filling you.

Small, lazy kisses on your back, then up your neck, he leaned to kiss your cheek. He slid out of you delicately, but you didn’t move.  His weight left the bed, then returned as a warm, wet cloth wiped you clean. After a couple of minutes of gentle cleaning, you felt the throw blanket cover your back. Angel plopped down on his back beside you, pulling the blanket over his legs and unlocking his phone, “Wanna see this fuckin’ hilarious video of my boss runnin’ into a glass wall?”

You chuckled, nodding, making no effort to get up. One of his hands came down and ruffled your hair, he leaned in to your head and as you watched Valentino collide head first into a wall, he said softly, “Let me know if you need anything. I got a bitchin’ tub in there.”

You hummed, reaching a shakey hand up and pressing ‘replay’ on his phone. Angel’s laughter echoed off the walls, and you decided you had no plans on leaving bed anytime soon.

Sweet smut inspired by HunnyPaint on pornhub and fansly! 🍯🎨 If you like femboyxfemboy, I highly recommend. They make love look hot. Their fansly is also priced well! 10/10 (again, talking to legal adult humans here)

༻Masterlist༺

#angel x reader #angel dust #angel x male!reader #Angel dust smut #angel dust x reader #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin angel dust #smut #smut fanfiction #fanfiction #smut writing #smut writer #x you #reader #x reader #reader insert #reader fic

[rusquared]

orv neuron got activated again:

dokja read a story for 10 years. that was almost a third of his life (i believe he is 28 at the start of the story). 10 years. graduating high school, making it to university, doing military service, landing an entry level job. imagine something being your constant across such a long stretch of time. i myself can't name any interests that persisted that long.

and his comments. god. hsy canonically didnt read very far but imagine if she did. a decade of a little boy's life shared in the comments section of an obscure, unpopular webnovel. (and another man's entire existence condensed into the 3149 chapters of that very novel.)

one of the extra stories reveals that sp has a book from the 4th wall library of all his comments (or perhaps a portion of them?). imagine reading that!!! its not expanded on v much in that story but jesus christ. 10 years of someone growing up with your story. 10 years of their own story. he grew up with his hero, his never-aging, immortal hero. he reached 28 while yoo joonghyuk remained frozen in time. AGH.

also sangah likely read it too. which makes me lose my mind even more. i need to make doksang art someday because what the fuck man. that's his best friend in the whole wide world who loves him.

#crying crying #orv spoilers #the side story in question is the Dumplings made by others story released (FREE) for yjh's birthday #go read it for a good cry

[novthewolf]

Two's company, three's a family - Part one

Summary: As a cupid, an angel of love, your mission was to make sure everyone was paired up with the right person. Yet you couldn't get your two most ancient clients to finally end up together. And despite the 6,000 years spent on the case, you couldn't bring yourself to give them up, not oblivious to the reason.

Pairing: Aziraphale x Crowley / GN!Reader x Crowley / GN!Reader x Aziraphale (polyamorous relationship).

Masterlist : Here

Warnings: foul language, alcohol use, slow burn, english isn't my first language.

Words : +3k word

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You were mopping around, wondering how the fuck you still hadn't managed to get those two sugar-rotten bird brains to get together ! You ran your hands through your hair and went down to rub your face. You reached for your glass and drank down every last drop.

6,000 bloody years you spent with them, and nothing !

So much work for no true result.

And, just for the record, you wanted to insist that you are really good at your job.

No, you weren't bragging; you really were ! A lot of cupids were cruel little things, and it had to do with the fact that you feed on the love a person feels for another. And since it didn't have to be reciprocated, most preferred to work less—well, smarter—rather than harder. But you just loved love stories. Of any kind, really ! Motherly, fatherly, between siblings, friends... Nevertheless, being able to form a perfect match and seeing the joy you brought to others always filled you with joy.

A cupid is just a specific type of angel meant to spread love all over the world. Which included humans, animals, and supernatural beings such as demons and angels. However, your peers weren't your favourites. They were too focused on their jobs, being either neutral towards each other or straight-up hateful. And hate tasted too bitter to your liking.

Which was probably the reason why you were so interested in Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship to begin with. They were so friendly and caring that something inside you just clicked. Even if their love story was the slowest burn you ever encountered, you couldn't bring yourself to give up.

Hell no ! Mmh, no. You were too stubborn to accept your failure. Yes, failure. Because despite spending every moment with them (well, when they were together) and using so many arrows, those two just wouldn't come together ! And to make sure your bow and arrows worked, you almost paired up every goddamn duck at St. James Park.

Nothing worked ! Nothing !

Ugh, so annoying...

In your case, the only connection you seem to have in this vast universe is with the pub and your drink... And to the generations of barmen you complained to.

"How can someone be so oblivious ?" Your drunken words slipping out of your mouth without anyone to talk to.

"Tell me about it." A voice said next to you.

Oh, you recognised the voice alright; you just didn't feel like engaging in a conversation with anyone right now. Still, you were polite enough to acknowledge their presence.

"Hi Mihael." You mumbled.

"Good evening to you too, Y/N !" She chirped, her voice too positive for you to appreciate right now. You groaned and rested your head on your arms.

"What do you want ? It's not your type to be staying down there once your shift's over," you said before looking up at her.

Her dark pink eyes were scanning the pub warily. You rolled your eyes, her attitude reminding you how atypical you've become. Being among humans, eating food, or even walking on earth was something Cupid didn't do. Flying around was the most common attitude, as was having really limited contact with humans, or "clients," as Archangel Chamuel calls them. But you loved your time on earth with every creature, though eating ex-living animals isn't your thing. And being a freak was actually something you were doomed to be. You knew you were different from other mystical beings, and it was really fucking lonely.

"You're right ; I don't know how you can stand all the smells and, ugh, sensations." She shuddered.

You sighed, waiting as patiently as you could in that moment.

"But I guess you should enjoy as much as you can while you can."

What ? Why would she say that ? Did you do something wrong ? Did they realize you... No. And they never noticed that you spent your time with a demon (angels were obliviously okay) and tried to match up said demon with Aziraphale. Did they finally catch up ? Or were they upset that you mostly lived with humans ? No, you are almost the best cupid, producing so much love, as proved by how many ducks you shot.

"M-Mh.. sure.. but, mmh.. I didn't know my time on earth was on a timer." You tried to joke lightly, which was heavily ineffective in calming your nerves.

"Of course not silly," she beamed. "Armageddon is coming !"

"Wha-" you sat up, almost tumbleling down. "Already ? Are you sure ?"

"Affirmative ! The anti-Christ is being delivered as we speak."

"Oh, great..."

You just wanted to cry right here and now, but you really couldn't afford to. It would be crossing a line.

It wasn't fair. You still had so much to experience on earth and so many love stories to create, and you wanted to spend so much more time with Crowley and Aziraphale. They still needed to be together ! You couldn't let the End begin before you even saw the beginning of their love story. No, uh-hu! You will go down with this ship!

"How long before Armageddon ?" you asked.

"Oh, I would say around ten years."

Alright, you could do it. You just had to help two opposite beings, who spend almost all their existence together without technically being a couple, become one. Because how thing should be. And you had ten years to do so, even if you hadn't succeeded in the last 6,000 years. It could work ! You knew them and their love for humankind and their world. They would certainly team up to prevent the war and apocalypse from happening. And you were there to help. In every way. You scratched your itchy right arm.

"Right, sure... well, thanks, Mihael. Send my regards to Adriel."

"I will, thank you ! Oh, and Chamuel ordered that we lay off all the workers during the last week before the war, so we could be ready to fight."

"Mmh-hm." You nodded. Alcohol was messing up your communication skills.

"Great ! See you at the war."

When you turned, she was gone, leaving you wondering how you'd end up like this.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

(4004 av-JC)

In the beginning, you were in the Garden of Eden. You were here to supervise Adam and Eve's love development; you didn't shoot the arrow, though. They would have never let you do it anyway. Actually, every creature in the Garden had been paired up, but you didn't get the chance to create any of them. As disappointed as you were, you were not the type to overstep and you couldn't express anything. So you decided to be patient and walk around the garden discretely.

You suddenly came to a stop when you spotted something unusual slithering around the diversity of plants. You walked up to a 'lilac' tree, which looked more like a bush than anything else, and you saw an animal that was crawling on the trunk among the beautiful purple flowers. The creature was so long yet flexible that it didn't have any problem staying on such a small platform. His colours intrigued you too—mostly black with touches of red—and you had never seen anything like this quite yet. Your eyes widen, and you slightly rush to observe it further. The snake, while taken aback, didn't move and instead glared at you. His eyes were so beautiful and golden, and his scales were spotless and sleek, but touching the poor thing would certainly scare him away.

"What a beautiful thing you are... I'm glad God decided to make you !"

The creature started to retreat as soon as your words passed your lips, looking flustered. Declining his embarrassment, you chirped hapily. And with a glimmering smile, you resumed roaming around the paradise.

The wall was growing bigger and bigger as I approached one of the gates of Eden, curious to see the border and maybe get a peek on the other side—a glimpse of the barren and dry land. You were an inquisitive thing; your curiosity was way stronger than your fear. Despite anyone says or believe. But as you gently approached the door, someone called you.

"Mh, excuse me ! Little cupid ?"

Oh ! You weren't that small ! Pff, guardian angels could be so strict sometimes.

You rolled your eyes, soared up in the sky, and let yourself turn upside down to see who was interrupting your investigation.

"Yes ?" you sighed. "Mh !"

You weren't acquainted with lots of angels outside your group, but you were sure that you had already seen him before. His appearance was so welcoming, despite the raging, flaming sword that carefully remained in his firm grip. His hair was white and as fluffy as a cloud. You couldn't quite grasp his eye colour, though, which was always changing between blue, brown, and green. His human body was round and large, a body type you'd never seen before. Yet you smiled at his soft appearance. His tunic seemed to be slightly covered with bright purple petals here and there. You turned over, lying on your stomach in midair, looking at him expectantly.

"Hello." He smiled, then took a ragged breath, looking for words. "Mh, I'm afraid I must request that you not go closer to that gate."

You looked away, apologetic.

"Oh, I see... Sorry."

You were conscious of how leaving your station could get you in trouble, and being so close to the door could bring him problems as well. You sensed how agitated he was and went on to leave him in peace.

"Well, mh, good luck with, huh, guarding the door," you said, trying to look less churlish than the way you acted merely seconds ago.

"Oh well, that's kind of you." He smiled, touched by your words. "Good luck with all the love."

Seeing how thrilled he seemed made you happy. Your body was taken over by the intense emotion in your heart, and you began to fly while looping and spinning vigorously.

Suddenly, you stopped. You've never experienced anything like it. Your primary role as a cupid was to make matches between creatures by shooting them with arrows. Your vision allowed you to perceive the chances of happiness and love each creature could produce while bound by the other. There were hundreds of possibilities, and your job is to make sure your "client" finds the perfect match. In order to do so, you had to be able to identify each emotion with clarity and precision. Minimising your own emotions to work in the most efficient way possible Thus, you shouldn't feel too much emotion despite the satisfaction of your good job and all the love you could eat. And in your case, anything...

Feeling such a rush of emotion shouldn't be something you're capable of doing. You shouldn’t be feeling anything. You observed your right hand, confused and visibly shaking. Closing your eyes, feeling irrated at yourself, you marched back to where you came, hoping to find new animals to shoot to occupy your mind.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Adam and Eve were gone. Apparently, a snake—well, a demon—tempted the first human, and now they had to leave the garden. Just because they wanted answers to their questions. Needless to say, you weren't very keen to try and look beyond the wall without permission.

So you were simply floating in the air right next to the wall, waiting for an order from your Boss. Gazing up at the sky, you noticed how its blue colour darkened as the first rain approached. You sighed and decided to just go back to Heaven, hoping you'd finally get the chance to shoot at someone. Some may call you obsessive; you prefer the term persistent.

As you were sitting up and flying up. And the moment you saw the tall structure disappearing in the corner of your eye, you kept going up. But, afraid you might regret not gazing back, you dared to dart your eyes down to the rest of the world.

"Huh?" you softly gasped.

You saw the desert spreading from your heart to the horizon, arid and lonely, with the clouds darkening the land. Your heart ached as you watched what lay ahead. And as you felt your eyes water, you lowered your gaze. And the sight that welcomed me was so out of this world yet felt so... right.

An angel and a demon stood next to each other, talking and fraternising. You didn't really fight the war, but you knew how both sides hated each other. The metallic taste was already way too familiar in your mouth. But the premise of their relationship already smelled so sweet, despite a wisp of sourness.

A wave of euphoria struck you in the most unexpected way, and the sensations it brought you were simply too delightful to feel queer. You saw their bound, so precise and distinct, that you nearly thought you were a part of it. It just felt so real. So good.

You were so excited ! You beamed with all your might as you desperately tried to manifest your bow and arrows as quickly as possible.

As a novice in archery, you wanted to correctly seal the bound, so you decided to place three arrows because, like no one has said yet, "Three times' the charm". You aimed leisurely, breathing deeply and checking the quality of your multi-coloured arrows. The grey head of it is silently hurrying you to shoot.

And so you did. With a faint whistle, the arrows raced towards their target. The first one landed right in the back of the demon, on his left side. The second was pierced lower, in the calf of the angel. It didn't even hurt them; it was a great shot, really.

You retracted your arm, proud of yourself.

Then, you simply went straight back to Heaven. Still, the sky looked so dark, and the rain started to pour down on your cheeks.

And you don’t know why, but a profound need to seek comfort made you look down one last time. The guardian had stretched out his wing for the demon to hide under. So thoughtful, so caring, so warm...

You left after your first match was a success.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

(Present days)

You later learned that matching an angel and a demon was strictly forbidden. You blushed at the thought, embarrassed. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to abandon the relationship. Well, now you had to be super efficient if you wanted that ship to sail at all.

You drank down your last glass of your favourite alcohol, paid for your decent amount of beverages, and wobbled yourself towards the Aziraphale bookshop.

You weren't always invisible when you dealt with them; you gave yourself plenty of time with them along the way. They were aware that you were an angel, just not the exact type. You don't think they mind your company, but you prefer to limit your interactions.

However, you were running out of time, and you really didn't want to miss a thing. You hummed the song that sneaked into your head on your way. Once you arrived in front of the door, you tried to stabilise yourself by resting your whole weight on it. And you tumbled down into the shop. In your defence, the door was always closed !

Aziraphale and Crowley both looked towards you, shocked. Well, Crowley was more amused than anything. You rasped into the carpet and pivoted your head to greet them profusely.

"Hellooo !" you exclaimed, your tone drowsy.

"Y/N ? Why, dear, what are you doing here ?" Aziraphale promptly came to your side, helping you up.

"On the floor ? Well, I obviously just fell," you jested. You felt weightless as Crowley joined you two to carry you somewhere other than the dusty floor.

"So, you heard about the End of the world, I presume?" Crowley asked. They both let you down slowly on your assigned divan. You felt a hand brush a lock of hair out of your eye.

"Mmh." You rolled on your side to face them as they sat down on the opposite side. You'll have to work on that too.

"Yeah, someone mentioned it..." you waved. A few moments passed in silence. You guffawed when you noticed the bottle settled on the table.

"Sorry, it seems I had a bit of a head start, but go on!" You laid down on your back. "I'll wait for you to catch up"

Aziraphale shot a slight disapproving look in your direction, pouting a little, while Crowley reached eagerly for the bottle.

"Don't mind if I do," he said as he poured himself a large drink.

Shortly after, the angel followed you two. Alright, setting up the mood... This silly matter is going to be settled in a matter of hours now! You were perfectly capable of doing so. Aziraphale raised his glass to you, and you flashed your teeth. They don't know what's going their way.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

And they didn't, because your smartass decided to evacuate all the liquor from your body by sleeping.

Now, as you wake up, they're talking about dolphins. Oh, sure, what adorable and romantic sociopaths they are. It's obviously the best choice of conversation !

"Everything will just turn into bouillaba-bouil... bouilla..."

You sat up, pushing away a blanket, and listened to those dorks trying to pronounce bloody "Boui-...llabai...." Well, that dish !

"Fish stew," you concluded.

"Anyway," Crowley said with a weary tone. "It's not their fault. And that's the same with gorillas! They'll say : 'Woop, the sky's gone red! Stars crashing down ! What do they put in bananas these days ?!'" His drunkenness struck you, and you realised what Armagadon really meant.

"All the creatures..." you started.

"Whether they'd be great or small..." Aziraphale ended.

You both looked distraught. You loved all those little things; you spent countless hours discovering every one of them. The first time you saw a whale, you got so emotional that you cried. Thankfully, you were underwater, so Aziraphale, who came with you that day, didn't see your unusual sensitivity.

"And there's worse ! When it's all over, we're going to have to deal with eternity !" he yelled, his voice squeaking like that of a chipmunk.

"Eternity ?" Aziraphale wondered, disoriented. He didn't quite understand why on earth Eternity would be worse than the End itself.

"You're just upset you won't be able to listen to musicals, while we will," you teased.

"And you'll miss my very constructive critics, especially on The Phantom Of The Opera !"

"You utterly roasted it !"

You were ready to argue your arse off, but Aziraphale had his own things to say.

"I don't like it more than you do. I can't disobey... I've got to do what I'm told... right Y/N ?" He asked for your support.

"Mmh nh.. Yes, sure, but I don't think they pay attention to these sorts of things." You suddenly gagged. You weren't sure that giving back the liquor to the bartender was such an idea, but you couldn't afford to throw up.

"Maybe we should sober up."

They both agreed and quickly got sober.

"Listen, even if I wanted to help you, we just can't." Aziraphale explained while glancing at you, once again to encourage him.

"It's true, Crowley, we're angels. We cannot interfere with God's plan," you said, lying back on the couch.

"But what about Satan's plan, mh ?" His red hair framed his head, and your eyes focused on his, snake-like and wide. His whole face was encouraging you to listen further.

"It's your job, right ? Thwarting the demonic plan. Encouraging humans to be "good", mmh ?"

"No need to quote..." you sulked.

"That's broadly what we do, indeed." Aziraphale conceeded.

"With that in mind, it would be totally reasonable for you to act on the birth of the Anti-Christ. To thwart my demonic influence on the child while he grows up. I'm the only one managing his evil upbringing. Against two angels with such pure hearts, I would highly struggle to stand my ground."

Wait up, two angels ? Uh, you were getting way too involved for the two of them to easily seal the deal. You needed a way out. Aziraphale was considering the idea, giving you enough time to hastily prepare a counterargument.

"M-mh, so much good energy would change the boy too much. Everyone will realise it. I think it's too much of a risk. No, it would be best if the two of you took care of him. You know, like, uh, godfathers !"

The pleased and hopeful look on the fluffy angel's face caused you to sigh in relief. Crowley, however, was frowning. You just grinned, gathering all your charm to erase any suspicion.

"Still, he's made to be evil; surely the influence of two angels wouldn't hurt."

Think of something. You had to get those two together !

"I'll be your safety net ! Assuring the Heavens that Aziraphale is doing an excellent job !" You gestured towards him, nervous and frantic. The angel flinched slightly but didn't say anything. You nodded and smiled before turning to Crowley.

"And ! I'll mess with other people's demon jobs ! Giving them plenty of things to keep their minds off the Anti-Christ's childhood." You clapped your hands and tied your lips together, praying it would be enough.

The demon was scanning your face, taking in what you just said and your attitude. Aziraphale then faced his friend and supported your plan by taking a place beside you.

"It would be safer and less noticeable." He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him. When he noticed, he smiled in his reassuring way.

Meanwhile, Crowley had closed his eyes tightly, exhaling more air than normal humans actually had in their bodies. The dude's a balloon, apparently. His eyelids opened abruptly, and he offered his response.

"Ngh... fine."

Yay, victory.

"I can't believe I have to convince you to agree to a plan you created," you teased him.

"Er."

"It might work !" said Aziraphale happily. You hoped everything would go smoothly and that you could prevent the Earth from boiling, causing the destruction of either Hell or Heaven. You felt the angel almost wriggle next to you, and the demon smirked his way. Maybe it would be easier than you thought.

"Well, I'll be damned !" he exclaimed quietly. His brighting up the room.

"It's not so bad when you get used to it," Crowley answered mischievously.

And there it is. Hardships. Aziraphale lost his smile and looked at him with a warning. It really stuck in his craw.

"Crowley, don't they say thingz like that !" he scolded vigoursly.

"It's just a joke; don't make a big deal out of it." Crowley finally sat back, waving off Aziraphale's arguments. The angel took a step towards Crowley, standing in front of you. While he continued his rambling, the red head peeked your way and winked, obviously amused.

You rubbed your face with your hand but grinned as well. Easy ? Yeah, right.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

This is the first chapter of this series : "Two’s company, three’s a family"

I hope you enjoyed it and will stay around to see how all of this will play out.

Bye !

Parts : Next

#good omens #good omens s2 #crowley x aziraphale #crowley x reader x aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #polyamory #david tennant #neil gaiman #micheal sheen #ineffable husbands #lgbtq #twoscompanythreesafamily

[tonyspank]

CHAPTER THREE | GET ME

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

Warnings: Jenna’s husband being a dickhead. And I think that’s all?

Words: 5.7k

A/N: I’m going to try and get chapter six out for the party and the after party tonight or tomorrow!

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Two weeks. Fourteen and a half days, or three hundred and forty-eight hours. That's how long it's been since you've held a conversation with Jenna, and it feels like an eternity. You've been wanting to talk to her and apologize, but she's been avoiding you. And she's doing a wonderful job at it, but you can't lie and not act like you're making it any harder for her to do so.

Instead of waking up at your usual time, you've been waking up thirty minutes earlier, and getting a ride for Eli. After practice, Eli drops you off before heading home himself, and then you'll grab a snack from the fridge, check for towels before you shower, sleep, and then repeat.

On the days you don't have practice you're out with Olivia, doing whatever comes to mind. Again, she's a very sweet girl, kind and loyal, and you can't help but admire her. You've been spending a lot of time with her and it's been great because you both enjoy each other's company.

She's been telling you about how she's started writing songs and they're mainly about her ex-boyfriend. She says her songs are a way of healing, and letting go of her past. You have been supportive and encouraging her to continue writing, and you've been there to listen to her stories while she works through her feelings.

Eli thinks you should stop and hurry up and apologize to Jenna. For someone who wants Jenna for himself, he was so keen on you two being on good terms. Eli was over at your place since it was an early dismissal at school today, and also a Friday.

"I still can't believe you're not talking." You open your mouth to speak but Eli beats you. "Just apologize and be done with it, man." You feel your neck flush. You open your mouth to reply but it only comes out as a stutter. Eli shakes his head and sighs, "All of this because she saw your lil Jimmy John."

You take a bite out of your apple sending a slight glare while doing so. Eli laughs and you swallow your bite before speaking, "Shut up. It's not that simple."

Eli smirks and shakes his head. "You know it is," he says. "You just don't want to admit it." You glare at him, not wanting to give in. You take another bite of the apple, savouring the sweet crunch. "No, it's not," you say firmly.

"Yes, it is. You're avoiding her, she's not avoiding you." You sigh in frustration. You know he's right, but you can't admit it. You set the half-eaten apple down, "Because it's awkward!" He shakes his head and smiles. "It's never going to be not awkward if you don't talk to her. It's better to just go for it and get it over with." He reaches for your apple and takes a bite. "Trust me."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Keep the apple, bitch." He grins, taking another bite of the apple. "You started avoiding her after she saw you naked and then she probably took it as a hint that you didn't want to speak to her, which you don't and started to avoid you herself." You sigh and roll your eyes. He takes another bite of the apple. "She's just as embarrassed as you are."

"So why not just apologize and move on?" He shrugs, taking the last bite of the apple. "It's not that hard. Just be honest and it'll be over in no time and don't walk around naked knowing you have company over." He wipes his mouth and stands up throwing away the apple.

"Where is my wife anyway?" You stare at him blankly at the nickname, "She's out."

He looks around the room for a second before he sighs. "Alright, I guess let's just order pizza and finish the movie you fell asleep on." You throw your head back groaning, "Fuck no! I'm not watching that movie. I fell asleep on it for a reason." He laughs, shaking his head. "Fine. What do you wanna watch then?" You smile, "Puss N Boots."

He raises an eyebrow, but agrees, "Fine, Puss N Boots it is." He pulls out his phone and orders a pizza, and you stand up from the bar stool, heading into the living room.

Thirty minutes later, Jenna was heading home with her friend Emma. She had no idea you were home, and she definitely didn't know Eli was over with you. "Am I about to meet the too attractive for her age, Y/N?" Emma asks with a smile, repeating Jenna's words from earlier today. Jenna sends Emma a glare, unlocking the front door.

Emma giggles, stepping inside and turning to look at Jenna. "So, is it a yes or a no?" She asks with a smirk. Jenna rolls her eyes and walks inside, closing the door behind her. "No. She's at school." Emma's face falls and she sighs. "That's disappointing." She turns away and walks towards the kitchen. Jenna follows but stays silent.

"It smells like pizza," Emma says and looks back at Jenna who nods in agreement.

You pause as you hear sounds coming from the kitchen. You snap your head at Eli who's too invested in the movie to hear anything. He chews his cheese pizza letting out a laugh before taking another bite. "Eli." Eli turns to you and sees the worry in your eyes. He slowly puts down his pizza and turns down the TV. "What is it?"

"I think Jenna's home." His face lights up and he holds his pizza in his mouth jumping up happily, you follow the boy who nearly jogs to the kitchen. Jenna and Emma turn around at the sound of something falling to the floor. It's the pizza that slipped from his mouth.

"MY PIZZA! NOOOOOOO!" Eli yells out as you stare at the two women in front of you. Jenna and Emma smile, amused by the boy's dramatic reaction.

He quickly picks up the pizza and takes a big bite. "Dude, that's so gross." You mutter, squeezing past him and further into the kitchen. Eli continues to eat the pizza off the floor. "It's not that bad," he says with a mouthful. You shake your head in disbelief and watch as the blonde woman whispers something into Jenna's ear.

"I thought she was at school, hm?" Emma whispers, a smile on her lips. Jenna's cheeks flush and she quickly avoids eye contact with everyone in the room. You frown, wondering what that was all about, but it soon disappears as you examine Jenna's outfit.

She was wearing a cropped white button-up, a black tie and a long grey split colored skirt. One side was darker than the other, her socks matching it perfectly. Her shoes were black loafers that matched the tie. A pair of glasses sat on top of her head while her headphones hung from her neck. She really does always have a pair of headphones on her.

She had a unique style, one that blended modern and vintage elements creatively. It was eye-catching and inspiring, and it seemed to suit her perfectly. She looked amazing in it, and it was clear she had a lot of confidence in her own style.

The blonde woman smiles at you, "Hi. It's so nice to meet you. I'm Emma, Jenna's friend." You smile back, holding out a hand for her to shake. "Nice to meet you too—" Eli steps in front of you, shaking her hand himself and introducing himself. "Hey beautiful, I'm Elias Cooper the third." Emma looks taken aback, laughing in shock and surprise as she shakes his hand.

"He's not a third." You and Jenna both say in sync. You and Jenna exchange a glance, and Emma laughs again. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Elias," she says. Eli raises her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto her hand while not breaking eye contact. Emma giggles looking at Jenna, and Eli lowers her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, too," he says, his voice low and rich. Jenna clears her throat, and you place a hand on his shoulder, rescuing Emma from the situation.

Eli stands up straight again, and you quickly shake Emma's hand. "I'm Y/N. Sorry about him." Emma's face lights up with a smile. "It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N." She turns to Jenna with a mischievous glint in her eye, mouthing, "Sexy indeed." Jenna turns a deep shade of red and averts her gaze and Emma grins even wider.

"Don't you two have school? Why are you home?" Emma asks. Jenna sighs in relief at not having to ask herself. You nod and Eli speaks up for you, "We had an early dismissal."

"Oh, I see," Emma said. Jenna's eyes roam over you, taking in your white tee that fits your biceps just right. Or your black sweatpants that sag just enough to show the Calvin Klein band in your boxers. Jenna's gaze lingers for a moment before she looks away, blushing. She quickly turns her attention back to Emma, trying to focus on the conversation.

But Eli noticed it all his eyes widening as he stopped himself from letting his jaw drop in shock. He quickly regained his composure and tried to act as if nothing had happened. Eli glanced at Jenna, who was still blushing. He smirked, his lips turning up into a mischievous grin.

"— home safety." Emma finishes off, and you and Eli nod. "Yeah, I'm leaving as well. I just wanted to hang out with her since she's been spending all her time with Olivia." Eli says, staring you down at the last part.

Emma laughs while Jenna's lips twitch downwards. Who's Olivia? "Who's Olivia?" Emma asked with a hint of curiosity. You shake your head, "She's just a friend." Eli sends a quick look to Jenna before throwing an around your shoulder and placing a hand on your stomach. "A friend who wants to be more than friends!"

He tells Emma and you sigh at the boy. Emma's eyes widen, and Jenna scoffs quietly. You roll your eyes and move away from Eli, hoping to avoid any further conversation about Olivia.

"I should get going," Emma announces to everyone with a small frown. Jenna nods and Eli feels his pockets for his keys, "Me too." Eli begins walking into the living room and you follow behind him.

While that happens Emma and Jenna are making their way to the front door, Emma gives Jenna a hug pulling away with a smirk on her lips. "I saw those glances at Y/N." Jenna blushed, trying to deny it. She was about to say something, but Emma just laughed and shook her head. "Come on. Just admit it."

"Em, I'm married." Emma rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. "Unhappily. When's the last time you even got laid?" Jenna opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. She looked away, trying to hide the blush that had spread across her cheeks. "That's what I thought," Emma said smugly.

"Y/N is my best friend's daughter and not only that but she's eighteen," Jenna exclaims. There were a lot of reasons this was a bad idea, but these were her main concerns. Along with being engaged of course. She didn't want to get caught up in a scandal, and she didn't want to make your parents mad. Especially since she was already getting married.

Jenna knew she had to put a stop to this before it even began. She had to make it clear to Y/N that there was nothing more between them than friendship. She had to make sure that Y/N understood that she needed to focus on her future and not on Jenna.

But the way you looked, the way she felt, she couldn't help but think about what if? Her husband was barely home and he barely even called. And here you are, giving her kisses on her temple and sending photos of her to your best friend. She knew it was wrong but she couldn't resist the temptation. She wanted so badly to feel alive again.

"She's an adult. She can make her own choices. Plus, she seems respectful." Emma says, shrugging slightly. Emma looked away, embarrassed. She knew she was wrong in encouraging her friend, but she couldn't help it. She had been in her friend's shoes not so long ago and she wanted her to be happy.

She was trying to be supportive, even if it was misguided. She wanted her friend to be able to make the decisions that she thought were best for her, regardless of the consequences.

While they spoke, you and Eli were as well.

Eli searches the couch for his keys, tossing a few pillows to the side. You cross your arms, "They're on the table." He turns his head, and they indeed are on the coffee table. "Oh, shit. Thanks."

Eli grabs his keys, "Thank you, baby girl." You scrunch up your face, "Shut up." Eli laughs and throws his keys in the air. He catches them and gives you an exaggerated bow. "My humble thanks to you, my lady." You roll your eyes and Eli grins. "You better talk to her."

You uncross your arms, sighing. "And say what exactly? Oh, sorry Jenna. I didn't mean for you to see me naked, I was just heading to get a towel. I thought you were asleep." Eli pauses then gives you a single nod, "Yes. Say exactly that. It's not rocket science." You take a deep breath, then exhale. "Okay, I'll apologize."

Eli plays with his keys. "Good." He turns to leave but immediately turns back around. "Also! You can keep Jenna for yourself. I want Emma." You raise an eyebrow and look at Eli, confused. He smiles and rolls his eyes. "Just kidding. Hashtag Jenna for life." He laughs and starts to walk away. You watch him go, still trying to process what had just happened. You shake your head and laugh, deciding it was best not to question it.

Jenna opens her mouth to reply to Emma but closes it, turning around as Eli enters the room. He stops short when he sees the two and quickly puts on a smile. "Hey, ladies. Looking even more gorgeous than earlier." He says, Emma grins and Jenna shakes her head. "Hey Eli, leaving?"

Eli nods. "Yup, I'm headed out. See you around." Eli gives a small before walking out of the room, leaving Emma and Jenna alone. "He's cute as well," Emma whispers, smiling. Jenna laughs. "We'll talk later, yeah?" Emma nods and follows Eli out the door.

Jenna watched them leave, a small smile on her face. She shook her head and went back to the kitchen, slightly jumping when you were already there, waiting for her. A sad smile was on your lips as you leaned against the counter. "Hey, Jen. Can we talk?" Jenna hesitated before nodding. "Yeah, of course."

"I uh, I just wanted to apologize for--" You motion with your hands trying to find the right words. "For walking out without a towel, I honestly thought you were asleep." You look away, feeling embarrassed. You take a deep breath and look back, hoping for a response. "I'm sorry," you say again, hoping your apology is accepted.

There's a long pause, and you can feel your heart racing. Suddenly, your Jenna breaks the silence and says, "It's okay. Don't worry about it." You let out a sigh of relief and offer a weak smile. "Thank you," you reply.

Jenna smiles back and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You feel a sense of calm come over you as you look into Jenna's eyes. You give her hand a gentle squeeze in return, "Can we hug?" Jenna smiles and pulls you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around her and exhale, enjoying the feeling of being so close to her. A soft hand rubs up and down your back gently.

The warm feeling of connection between you and Jenna slowly dissipates as you pull away. You look at each other, a mutual understanding in your eyes. Jenna reaches up to caress your cheek before releasing you and stepping back.

Your face tingles from her touch and your face begins heating up. "There, um. There's still a box of pizza left if you want some." She hums, "What's on it?" You stutter in response, "Uh, cheese and pepperoni."

"I'm a pescetarian."

"Oh, um, sorry about that. I didn't know." You fumble for words, trying to think of what to say next. She laughs softly and says, "It's okay. I'll just have the cheese." You furrow your eyebrows, "Wait. Didn't you have chicken and rice that one day?" You refer back to the day she cooked for you.

"That was for you. I had eaten something beforehand." You feel guilty for not realizing it before. "I'm sorry," you say, "I should have known that." She smiles and shakes her head, "It's alright. I'll just order something else."

"That's why you ordered that veggie sandwich." You mumble loud enough for her to hear. She laughs, "Yes, that's why." You look down at the ground, thinking a bit before letting out a, "Huh." She stares at you, her eyes twinkling. She smiles and says, "It's good for you. You should try something new every once in a while." You nod, shrugging.

"Maybe." She gives you a knowing look. "Just trust me. I think you'll like it." You reluctantly agree, moving to sit down on the bar stool and continuing to talk to Jenna until Midnight comes. You can't believe you spent two weeks avoiding the older woman when the apology was so simple. You mentally groaned at the fact Eli was right.

Instead of being in bed Saturday morning, you found yourself in the school gym, your team and the opponent team warming up. "So, she just said it's okay and moved on?" Eli asks, dribbling the ball in behind him. As you sit down, you hum as you search through your gym bags for your shoes. "See! I told you, she probably thought you were upset. She's grown, I'm sure she got over it the next hour."

You pause for a moment, considering the situation. "I guess so," you finally reply. Where the fuck are your shoes? You glance behind you, looking for them. "Eli, do you have my shoes?" Eli frowns and shakes his head. "No, I don't. I thought you had them." You groan in frustration and turn away, searching the gym for your missing shoes.

You stop looking and take a deep breath. You know you must have left them somewhere, but you can't remember where. You retrace your steps, going back to the locker room and searching around the benches. "Fuck! I left them at home." You glance around the locker room one last time, just in case they were here after all.

You sigh and start heading toward your back. Eli is now sitting down with the ball in his lap. Eli notices your distress and offers to help you look for them. You tell him that you remembered they are at home, "I'll look in lost and found for another pair before Coach starts the huddle."

You nod, sitting down and reaching into your bag for your phone, dialling Jenna's number. Hopefully, she can bring your shoes in time.

Jenna pulls away her phone away from her ear, seeing an incoming call for you. She cuts off the man on her phone sighing, "Jacob. I have to go." Jacob stops her, "Jenna! I'm talking about something important."

Jenna takes a deep breath and clenches her fist in anger. "Suggesting an open marriage is important?! Are you fucking kidding me?" Jacob's voice rises on the phone, "Yes! Don't you think I have needs too?" Jenna's voice tightens, "No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying that's not the way to solve this problem." Jacob pauses for a moment before stammering, "Well, what do you suggest then?

"Oh, I don't know? Maybe coming to see your wife every now and then? Taking some time off to build a family like you said you were the past ten times." Jacob clenches his jaw on the other side of the phone, "You're not my wife."

Jenna's heart sinks. She swallows the lump in her throat and says, "No, I'm not. Because someone is too fucking busy to officially marry me. You don't understand how embarrassing it is. We've been fiancées for so long that my family has stopped asking when the wedding is."She takes a deep breath and resigns herself to the fact that it's just not going to happen.

She feels tears welling up, but she quickly composes herself. "Then you have the audacity to suggest an open marriage? You're an asshole."

She places down the phone, putting it on speaker before speaking again. "Fuck you! And fuck this ring!" She takes off the ring, roughly setting it down on the kitchen counter. "Jenna--" she quickly hangs up, not wanting to hear his voice anymore.

She begins to sob, her hands shaking as she covers her face with them. Her phone starts ringing, and it's you calling her again. She takes a few deep breaths before collecting herself and wiping away her tears. She takes a moment to compose herself before answering.

"Jen! Thank God, I forgot my shoes at the door. Could you bring them to me? I'm at school and I have a game." She sniffles into the phone, about to reply but you interrupt her. "Jenna? Are you okay?" She takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'll be right there with your shoes." She hangs up and quickly grabs the shoes before rushing to school.

She arrives at the school and sees Eli, already on the court playing, but no sight of you. The woman recognizes your last name on your jersey, your back is turned towards her while you sit on the bench. Jenna takes a deep breath, smiles and jogs over to you, calling your name.

You turn around, surprised to see her. You jump up making your way to Jenna, a huge smile on your face. She hands you the shoes, and you bring her into a side hug. "Thank you so much," she nods in response. "Of course."

You stare at her, taking in her sad face and you can tell she has been crying. You set your shoes down, a slight frown on your face. "Are you okay?" Jenna nods her head, her lip trembling. She was doing a horrible job trying to convince you she was okay.

You wrap your arms around her and pull her close. You can feel her body shaking as she sobs into your shoulder. You squeeze her tighter, trying to offer her some comfort. You whisper reassuring words in her ear, letting her know she isn't alone. You stay there, hugging her until her body stops shaking.

She pulls away, wiping her eyes and shaking her head as she forces a smile on her lips. "Shit, I'm so sorry--" You interrupt her. "Don't apologize." You whisper softly, "It's alright, I'm here for you."

"You have a game to play." She whispers back, you shake your head. "You're more important than a high school game." She looks up into your eyes, her own still glistening with tears. "Thank you," she murmurs, and she takes a deep breath as her shoulders relax. You smile at her, and take her hand in yours, squeezing it gently.

You pull her back into a quick hug, pulling away and placing a kiss on the top of her head. You don't know why but you just wanted to before you let her go. She looks up at you, a small smile forming on her lips. "Go play," she says. You pick up your shoes nodding before asking, "Are you gonna watch?"

She shakes her head and pushes you away gently. "I'm more of a soccer fan but I'll support," she says. You take a few steps back, watching her for a few moments before turning away and running toward your coach. She smiles before finding a place to sit on the bleachers. Your coach calls a timeout, discussing a game plan to sub you in as your team is trailing 15 points.

Eli pats your back while you bend down to tie your shoes, looking away from your coach's whiteboard to spare a look into the crowd. His face lights up when he sees Jenna, waving at her.

It is Olivia that is seated in front of Jenna, and she thinks Eli is waving at her and her friends, so she reciprocates. Jenna smiles and waves back, but Olivia's face falls when she realizes Eli was not waving at her. Olivia turns away, trying to hide her disappointment. She forces a smile back onto her face and turns to her friends, pretending nothing had happened.

The ref informs your coach that his thirty seconds are about to come to an end, you all break out of the huddle and prepare to step onto the court. The whistle blows and the game begins. Both teams battle it out, and the crowd cheers as the energy of the game fills the air.

As Jenna's anxiety creeps up at the scoreboard, she reaches for her ring only to remember it's not there. Jenna quickly shakes her head and refocuses on the game. Clapping loudly as you steal the ball from your opponent.

You quickly pass the ball to Eli, who dribbles it to the basket and makes the shot. The crowd erupts in cheers for your team. You give Eli a pat on his back as he jogs back down the court.

It's the fourth quarter and your team is trailing by two points. Twenty seconds left on the clock. You walk up the court, calling out a play. Eli sets a screen for you and you run to the basket. Jumping off one foot, you go for the layup only to get fouled badly. You land hard but still manage to make the layup.

The crowd goes silent at the loud smack that could be heard around the arena. You stay laying on the ground, the pain coursing through your body. Jenna stands up from the bleachers, worry on her face. "Don't be hurt," she mutters to herself, repeating the three words to herself.

Chris, your teammate along with Eli jog over to you, helping you onto your feet. You take a deep breath and smile, letting your teammates know that you're okay. You give Jenna a wave and a thumbs up, and she visibly relaxes, sitting back down. Chris and Eli give you a pat on the back and the crowd cheers, relieved that you weren't seriously injured.

"Come on, make the free throw baby," Eli says, patting your back. You nod and make your way to the free-throw line. You take another deep breath, focus on the rim, and take the shot. The ball sails through the air and you hear the swish of the net. The crowd erupts and you turn to Eli who is grinning and giving you a thumbs-up. You can't help but smile back, proud of yourself for making the shot.

The opposing team is left with nine seconds on the clock, inbounding the ball and rushing it up the court. The opposing team takes a desperate shot, but it hits the backboard and rebounds out. The buzzer sounds and the game is won.

The home crowd erupts in cheers and the players on the winning team rush the court to celebrate their victory. The players hug and rejoice, thankful for the hard work they put in to secure the win. The losing team stands in silence, feeling the disappointment of the loss. They shake hands with their opponents, showing respect for the other team's effort. The game is over, and the winners bask in the glory of their victory.

As the other team walks into the guest locker room, you walk to the bleachers with a jolly smile on your face. You're staring at Jenna who smiles at you. She blows you a kiss and you dramatically drop your jaw holding a hand over your heart. She laughs, her eyes twinkling with delight. You can't help but feel your heart swell with joy, knowing that she understands your silly gesture of affection.

You jump as you feel a pair of arms wrap around you, Jenna's smile disappears as she watches you hug back the brunette girl. "Olivia! Hey," You say, pulling away from the hug. She smiles in response, resting a hand on your bicep. "You did so well!" Olivia laughs, her eyes twinkling in the arena lights. You glance back at Jenna, who watches you with a frown. You give her a small smile, and she tentatively smiles back.

Eli walks past the two of you, making his way up the bleachers to Jenna. You nod at Olivia's words but your eyes are on the two, Eli and Jenna embrace in a hug, and Eli whispers something in Jenna's ear that makes her laugh. Olivia notices your gaze and follows it. She turns back to you and raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable.

You look away, feeling embarrassed for having been caught staring. "Are you going to the party tomorrow?" You ask, and Olivia nods. Before she could speak your excuse yourself, joining Eli and Jenna at the bleachers.

The three of you chat for a while, and when you turn back to look for Olivia, she's gone. "Hey, Jen. Enjoy the game?" Jenna grins. "Yeah, it was very intense." You smile in response, "Well, I had to keep you on your toes somehow."

Jen laughs, "You definitely did. I think I'm going to go grab a snack before heading home. Do you need a ride home?" You shake your head. "Yes, please." Jen smiles at you, "Okay. I'll be at the front entrance." She says and heads off to get a snack. Eli turns to you, smiling. "Did you see her ring?"

You furrow your eyebrows, not remembering as you weren't paying attention. "Uh, no?" Eli's smile widens, "Exactly! Oh my god, this is one of the best days of my life!" Eli claps his hands and jumps up from the bleacher. He looks around, noticing the stares they were getting from the students in the stands. He leans in and whispers, "Come on, let's get out of here."

They quickly make their way down the bleachers and into the locker room. You try to remember if Jenna actually wasn't wearing her ring, but you can't remember. You follow Eli out of the locker room, still wondering if you were wrong. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," Eli says, parting ways with you. You send him a nod, seeing Jenna walking toward the main entrance, you follow her, and the two of you walk toward her car.

Jenna gets to her car and you place your bags in the back before entering as well. Jenna puts on her seatbelt and looks at you. "Hungry?" she asks. You shrug, "Not really. I'll just eat something at home." Jenna starts the engine and pulls out of the parking spot. She turns to you and smiles. "You scared me when you fell."

You laugh and look away. "It was nothing, I'm fine. Just a way to get the ref to actually call it." Jenna nods and puts her attention back on the road. You glance at her hands on the steering wheel. She wasn't wearing her ring. Would she mind if you asked? You take a deep breath and decide not to bring it up. You turn your gaze back out the window, watching the scenery pass by. It's probably better to just let it go for now, especially since she was crying earlier.

"Are you feeling better?" You ask, turning your head to her. She quietly nods her head and you let out a relieved sigh. You both sit in silence, the only sound being the hum of the engine.

"I thought you didn't have a girlfriend." Jenna randomly says as her mind reminded herself of the girl hugging you after the game. You quickly look away, not wanting to make eye contact with her. You clear your throat, not sure how to respond. "It's complicated," you finally say. "Well-- it's not. She likes me but I don't like her. Remember what I said when we were out for lunch?"

Jenna looks back at the road in front of her, feeling a little embarrassed. She nods silently before clearing her throat. "Yeah, I remember," she says softly. She takes a deep breath and continues to drive, her mind racing with thoughts. Some of them are about you and the others are about Jacob.

It was obvious she wasn't happy in her marriage, but she was too afraid to take the next step and leave. She knew it would be hard and she wasn't sure if she was up to the challenge. She was also thinking about what Emma said. She's an adult. She can make her own choices. Plus, she seems respectful. Respectful? You were more than respectful, she thought. You were selfless and more mature than the adults she knew in her life.

Yes, it might have taken two weeks but at least you apologized. You didn't exactly do anything wrong, it was just a lack of thinking and communication. And the way you were ready to prioritize her over your game, her husband couldn't relate. You showed that you can put other people's needs before your own. That you can be considerate and thoughtful. It's a good sign that you're growing up and learning to think of others.

When she arrived at a red light her eyes looked at you. Your head turned toward the window. She shamelessly examined you, your jawline, your nose, your eyes, your hair. Everything about you was attractive. She felt a connection between the two of you like she had known you for a lifetime. She couldn't help but smile, her cheeks blushing from the warmth she felt. She wished the light wouldn't turn green, so she could keep admiring you.

The light changed its color unfortunately, she had butterflies in her stomach as she realized what she's been thinking about. She was infatuated by you, and badly. No more denying it.

taglist - @raven-ss @godsfavouritelesbiann @jennasslut @niqmandu @amburntfreeman @returnnofdamac @starry-night17 @get-the-fuck-outta-here @morganismspam23

#reader insert #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wattpad #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna x reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna x y/n

[beanmachine69]

can you write a fake dating situation with lance stroll??

Now and Later | Lance Stroll

Fuck, not this again. 

This was one of the reasons you avoided hanging out with this particular group of friends back at home. Sure, they were great fun and all, but they all still had your stupid ex on instagram and were quite fond of posting stories- location tag and all included. They weren’t super close to you, but since you landed that fancy job in the media management department for Aston Martin, they just loved to pretend like they gave a damn about you or your life. Clubbing with them was fun though, and you needed a distraction from the stress your home-life had sprung at you. God, how you missed your old friend group, you were happy for them, but you really missed hanging out with them; they were fun, sweet, supportive, and were fully aware of how obnoxious your ex-boyfriend was. 

You had moved away from the dance floor when you saw him, hiding your face near the bar. He saw your group and was slowly advancing towards them, so as to not raise any alarms. You reached the bar and ordered another drink, if you were going to talk to that bastard, you were going to do it drunk. You downed the first drink faster than you expected and were ordering the second when you felt someones’ hand on your shoulder as they sat next to you on the bar. 

Welp, this was happening. 

You turned, adorning the most annoyed expression that you could, only to see your much loved (by you) colleague. His smile dropped when he saw your expression, confusion washing over his face. 

“Uh, hey is this a bad time?” He asked hesitantly. 

“Oh my God Lance, I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else.” You apologized, expression dropping immediately as your face turned bright red.  

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, just some old problems that won’t fucking leave me alone.” You mumbled into your glass as you brought it to your face.

Lance laughed, and there began another problem which you’d been desperately trying to avoid. He looked so ridiculously adorable when he smiled, and even more so when he laughed. The way his usually intense eyes would soften and crinkle on the sides, and how cute he sounded when he laughed. God, having a crush on Lance was terrifying, not just because of the power dynamic, but also because you could never be sure if he actually reciprocated anything. You had caught him staring a few times before, but sometimes you’d also seen him completely zone out and stare at things, and so, for the sake of your own sanity, you brushed it off as that. 

“What type of problems are we talking about here?” He laughed, politely gesturing for the bartender to bring two of what you were having. 

“Oh y’know, I don’t wanna bore you.” You replied, almost embarrassed to be talking to him about this. 

He seemed to not have heard you, so he leaned in, allowing you to get a pretty good smell of his cologne. Sure, you’d been in accidental close proximity before, but this was so much more different. You both were out of the green Aston-Martin apparel you were accustomed to seeing each other in, and you were certain that he lingered a moment too long after you had repeated what you said. 

“Oh, you’re not boring me at all, I’d love to know more about you, we barely get to talk at work.” He replied, bringing his stool closer to yours, “Plus, I’d love to see what's got you drinking like this.” 

He had to have been drunk, or at least a little tipsy. You two had joked around and had your laughs before, but this just felt so different, he suddenly seemed so much more comfortable and confident. Maybe the lack of cameras and the general stress of the job was doing its magic or maybe it was your low-cut top that had him acting differently. Either way, you weren’t complaining. You liked it when Lance would talk to you, even more so when it would be a one-on-one conversation between you two. It always felt natural almost, like you two were great friends in the past or something. 

“Oh Lance, y’know how it is,” You tried stalling, there was no way you were going to dish about your ex with him, nope it was far too embarrassing, “This and that..”

“This and what? Come on, tell me already.” He laughed, determined to find out why you looked so stressed at a bar and why you had managed to finish your drink this fast again.

“I-” You were interrupted when you spotted your friend pointing at the bar, directing your ex towards you. Panic set in, and you knew you didn’t want to have this conversation, especially in front of someone who was technically your boss. 

Luckily for you, Lance was quick to read your eyes, following their direction and understanding that the man slowly approaching you two was definitely coming there with a purpose; considering the look in your eyes, he also understood that you weren’t particularly excited to be at the receiving end of this supposed purpose. He was slightly tipsy, and you looked really pretty tonight, so he decided to take a barely calculated decision. He knew he had to act fast, considering the man was barely a few feet away, Lance grabbed your face, turning it in his direction. Your eyes widened at the unexpected physical contact, barely managing to process it before he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips felt soft in contrast to how heated the kiss was, his lips passionately moving against yours as one of his hands slipped down to your waist, hooking his finger in the loop of your jeans and pulling you onto his lap. You were surprised, to say the least, but you reciprocated it nonetheless, leaning onto him as you straddled his lap, surprised at the stability of the stool you were seated on. And for a moment, when you two pulled away for air- and you locked your eyes into his- you forgot about the reason for the kiss, melting as his eyes looked in yours before he pulled your face in again, thumb stroking your cheek as he deepened the kiss. 

If it wasn’t for your ex clearing his throat, you two would have probably gone at it for longer, with neither one of you having any objections at all. You turned your face at the man who stood half a foot away from you two, staring angrily at you. You readjusted yourself in his lap, leaning into the facade, you brought a thumb near your lips, cleaning the slight smudge of your lipgloss.

“Hey.” He said, glaring at Lance. 

“Hi.” Lance smiled, both hands now on your waist. 

You could cut the tension with a knife if you wanted to, your ex-boyfriend had no right to be this annoyed, especially not at Lance. His anger was unjustified, and almost annoying, who was he to get mad if you were dating someone? It's not like he knew it was fake. 

“Who’s this babe?” Lance asked, looking at you with the sweetest eyes imaginable, making you melt momentarily. 

“I’m her ex-boyfriend.” He replied, inching closer to the two of you.

“Do you have somethinggg to say?” Lance asked, turning to him.

He opened his mouth for a minute, surprised at how direct the question was. This was definitely not what he was expecting.

“No?” Lance asked, barely allowing him to answer, “Alright, cool.” 

He turned back to kiss you, his hand finding its way back to your cheek that was now currently bright red. Sure, you thought Lance was pretending, but to him, he just saw this as an opportunity to act out on something he’d been feeling for a while now. He’d thought you were cute the moment he saw you, but it wasn't until he talked to you separately did he realize the fact that he liked you. He was way more than excited when he saw you walk into the club with your sexy little top on, and he was more than glad when you came towards the bar. Sure, he’d have wanted to ask you out in better circumstances, but he was definitely not going to complain about his current situation with you on top of him, slightly grinding on him as you two were making out infront of your bloke of an ex. 

You were the one to pull away, coming to your senses when you thought the room was clear to drop the pretense. You were flushed, your breath uneven as you fixed your top that hiked up slightly because of Lances’ exploring hands. 

“Uh,” You weren’t sure what to say, “Lance, I-” 

“I’m sorry for not asking, I just thought it’d be better than talking to that loser.” Lance chuckled. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or if it was how cute you looked when you were flushed, but he really did get an urge to drop all possible formalities. If you could have given that guy a chance, then maybe Lances’ odds weren’t so bad at the moment. Plus, at one point, he was certain neither of you were pretending. 

“No no, I didn’t mind that at all.” You replied, dipping your head down a little to hide the blush that was painting your face.

“Good girl.” Lance whispered, face close to your ear. 

You didn’t think you could blush any harder than you were at that moment. You felt like you were going to explode, everything had happened so fast, and you ran through so many emotions, you were practically feeling lightheaded. Chugging all those drinks didn’t help either, because now you were certain that you had passed out and this was all a dream. Snapping yourself back to reality, you became aware of the fact that you were sitting on Lance Strolls’ lap in a busy bar. You hopped off him, fixing your hair and lip gloss as you stood next to him, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed all that happened. Luckily your friends were too busy dancing and your ex hadn’t seemed to recognise Lance, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Uh, thanks for saving my ass right now,” You mumbled, barely able to look at him, “I really didn’t want to talk to that guy.”

“Hey,” Lance stood up, towering over you as his arms got a hold of your sides, prompting you to look up at him, “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, just uh, a little surprised, that’s all.” 

“Surprised in a good way or a bad way?” He asked, eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

“A good way.” You smiled, entranced by his eyes enough to not care about how hard you were blushing.

“Good, because I was hoping I could make this pretense a reality, and uh take you out for dinner tomorrow?” He asked, a small spark of hope in his eyes.

“Uh, yeah that sounds great.” You replied, almost needing to pinch yourself to accept the reality of the situation. 

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 8.” He smirked, “Why don’t you go tell your friends that you’re going home and I’ll drop you home right now.” 

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A/N: Hi! sorry I got carried away, thank you so much for the cute request anon! I loved writing this, hope you liked it! <3

Also, I don't know if this was cliche? like I thought of a plus one to a friends wedding type of fic, but that was also kinda cliche? idk, I hope I didn't disappoint haha

As usual, my ask box is open for requests and criticism, lmk how you like it!!

#lance stroll #lance stroll fic #lance stroll fluff #lance stroll one shot #f1 blurb #f1 fic #f1 fluff #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll x reader