#it was like eight in the fucking morning !!!!! too early for such a big scare

[nctsplug02]

Can we get a Mr. and Mrs. Jeong where Jae leaves a big hickey or handprint on Mrs. J and Jen actually gets bit concerned about Mrs. J thinking that Mr. J might have hurt her.

[9:04AM]

GENRE: smut and fluff

WARNINGS: hickeys, BDSM, spanking, kissing, rough sex, and memories of short sex scenes.

you yawn while walking down to the kitchen. you make a turn and you jump with a scream when seeing a figure.

“oh, fuck! jen, you scared the shit out of me!” you heave and hold your hand against your chest. “what are you doing here so early?”

jen softly laughs and apologizes, “it’s nine and i always get here at eight. you and mr jeong slept in so, i just let myself in with the key you gave me.”

“coffee?” jen holds up her mug with a head tilt.

you sigh with a grin and you run your fingers through your hair while nodding. “that would be lovely, jen. thank you.”

“yeah, sure thing.” jen grabs a mug and begins pouring you a cup of coffee.

you groan and limp over to the kitchen, leaning on the counter next to jen.

“here, you go— oh, my goodness!” jen gasps while sliding the mug to you. “what, what?!” you jump towards jen and hug her while looking where you once stood.

jen turns and grabs your hands, examining your purple wrists. “what happened, mrs jeong? oh, my god, are you okay?” you nod, cheeks suddenly warming up when remembering.

“holds still, baby. i’m a very hungry man and i’d like to eat my main course without any distractions.” you roll your hips, tugging on the restraints while jaehyun dips his head and laps up your juice.

“are they too tight, baby?” jaehyun asks, talking about the ropes tied around your wrists. “n—no sir.” you shake your head.

“oh, my— and your neck?!” jen gasps once more. “mrs jeong, are you sure you’re okay?” you tip your head back when her hand comes up to your neck.

jaehyun pistols his hips against yours and he groans, while nibbling on your collarbone. “you’re mine, baby.” jaehyun sighs. “i’m yours.” you cry out.

“mark me as yours, baby. let everyone know i’m yours.” you moan, digging your head back into the pillow while jaehyun sucks on your neck.

jen brushes your purple bruises with her thumb and coos.

“did mr jeong do this to you? is he abusing you? mrs jeong, you can talk to me if he is—?” you shake your head, cupping the girls face.

“jen, hunnie, he didn’t do a thing to me beside loving me.” you say with a soft grin. “i’m very clumsy and i dropped my curling iron on my neck,”

jen lifts and eyebrow. “five times?” you laugh with a nod.

“and my wrists,” you look down at your wrists. “hannie, mr jeong and i were playing cowboys and burglars and sadly i was a burglar.” jen and you giggle.

you hear footsteps come from behind you. you and jen turn to see who it is, it’s either hannie or jaehyun.

“babe, you alright? i heard screaming.” a tired jaehyun walks in shirtless and in his sweats.

“yeah, i just got a bit spooked seeing jen in the kitchen.” jaehyun stops rubbing his eyes and looks over at you and jen.

“oh,” jaehyun covers his body by rubbing his arms. “hey, jen.”

jen nods with her cheeks fully flushed. “morning, mr jeong.”

“god, it’s freezing.” jaehyun shivers and you walk over to him. “well, maybe wear a shirt then.” you wrap your arms under his. “couldn’t because look how stole mine this morning.” he says pulling at the stretchy fabric that stuck to your skin.

you giggle and look up at him. “it was the closest thing that was on the ground and near me.” jaehyun nods and leans down, pressing his lips on yours.

“um,” jen pushes herself off the counter and clears her throat. “i’m going to.. make breakfast.”

“oh, that’s alright jen. you already made coffee, i can make breakfast.”

“no, it’s okay, mrs jeong. i’ve got this and i insist.” jen says with her hand on her chest. “oh, alright then. you win, but i’ll give you a break tomorrow morning and i’ll do the breakfast making and coffee making.” jen giggles and jaehyun drags you out the kitchen.

“how do you feel, baby?” jaehyun sits on the couch and pats his lap. “well, i can tell you that i can’t sit.” you scowl and jaehyun laughs.

jaehyuns large hands come behind you and they slide up the shirt above your ass. you hiss when his hands come into contact with your freshly beat ass.

jaehyun turns you around and coos. “it’s all purple and covered in red stripes.” you turn back and toss a mean look at him.

“you’re ass is so pretty, baby.” whip. you jerk forward with a short gasp. whip. “ow, babe!” you cry out and clench around the vibrator tied to your leg. “ah, im sorry, baby.” whip. “o—ow!” you cry out.

jaehyun laughs and sits you on his lap. “oww, babe!” you jerk up and land on your feet. “i told you it hurts!” you whine and jaehyun nods. “i’m sorry, i forgot.”

“forgot? you literally looked at my ass and told me how it looked.” jaehyun laughs. “i’m sorry, really.”

“whatever, asshole.”

jaehyun then took you on the couch for calling him an asshole. he made sure to glance every few seconds to see if jen was coming in.

but what he hadn’t known was, jen already caught several glances at the two of you.

#ash talks #nctsplug02 #nct smut #nct scenarios #kpop imagines #anon #nct imagines #kpop smut #kpop fluff #nct 127 #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #nct jaehyun #jeong jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun imagines #jen the babysitter #nct dilf #nct dad au

[ryujnn]

► akuma. ﾟ｡ ⋆ i’m gonna be like you. (02)

► chapter summary ﾟ｡ ⋆ weddings can either go completely well and two newlyweds will enjoy starting a new life together— or the two getting married can dislike each other, and the bride’s mother dies.

► chapter warnings ﾟ｡ ⋆ pure angst. character death (mother). the wedding day. I SWEAR IT GETS GOOD AFTER THIS. the mother plays a big part— so more gojo and action after this chapter. reader shows some signs of depression but it isn’t heavy.

taglist. visual + character board. prev. next

“Rise and shine!” A familiar voice boomed over you, feeling the edges of your bed dip after suddenly being woken up.

You jumped, eyes flying open to see who had made the decision to not only scare the shit out of you, but wake you up so early. You swear you just fell asleep.

The beautiful, bright eyed smile that you knew and loved was from the person who had gotten you up. Your mother smiles down at you, legs bent on both sides of your resting body. She has the widest grin on her lips, and her hands were cupping your soft cheeks.

“I just finished sewing the lace sleeves on your dress, but now you have to get up!” Himari glances over to the clock, clicking her tongue at the time. “We’re gonna get facials and then we’re picking the chocolate we’re giving to people at the venue.”

You couldn’t help but be confused — utterly. Yeah, your mom had her coma, but this was an energy you hadn’t seen since you were about eight years old. You glanced over to the time… and it’s fucking 5AM.

The wedding doesn’t start until 6PM.

Himari bounced once more, dropping her hands to your shoulders to shake you. “Go brush your nasty mouth and let’s go! They’re waiting outside.”

You pulled your eyebrows together. “N-Nasty?”

Your mother inhales dramatically, immediately plugging her nose after. “Morning breath from hell.”

“Mom!” You push her off cautiously, tossing a pillow at her face before slipping out of your bed right after.

While adjusting the skimpy nightgown you slept in, you turned around and stomped over to the bathroom — cranky because your morning breath was insulted, and you wanted to desperately go back to sleep.

Himari chuckles, sitting up and pulling the pillow to her chest. “I’m sure Satoru would love to see that on you~. Is it champagne pink?”

Is this seriously your first boy talk with your mom?

“Satoru? Since when we’re you two on first name bases?”

She hums. “He’s marrying my daughter, I think I have the right to call him by his given,” Peeking over, she watches you begin to brush your teeth with a scowl on your face — one she’s seen since you were born. “I hope you’re calling him that too.”

You chuckle, pulling the toothbrush from your mouth. “How about I call him ‘asshole’.”

“Y/N.”

“No? What about ‘dumbass’.”

Himari stands up, enjoying the adrenaline running through her veins. She tosses the pillow to the side and rolls off your bed. “How about you meet me outside when you’re done.”

You quickly check over to your mother, examining her. “Mom, you alright?”

Himari looks over to you, answering with a smile, not a line on her face — not a bag under her eyes. She chuckles. “I’m perfect.”

But it’s only temporary.

No emotion. No matter how long you stared at yourself in the mirror, forcing yourself to smile more naturally, as if you’re actually excited, it didn’t work. Everytime your smile dropped, you looked dead — as if you were a corpse.

Your nimble fingers touched the growing bags under your eyes, running them down to your chapped and picked lips. Pick yourself up, is all you could think to yourself. You needed to pick yourself up— today was the big day.

Licking your lips and slapping your cheeks, you were attempting to make yourself feel better. Once you tell yourself you’re fine — you’re happy — today’s the day…! You’ll begin to feel it. Manipulate yourself.

You’re fine,

Rubbing the honey flavored beeswax on your lips, starting to solve one problem at a time— chapstick, check.

You’re happy,

A little concealer would do the trick, the makeup artists at the venue would simply go over it— never assuming you have bags in the first place. Look alive, check.

Today’s the day.

You jumped once the sound of your door opening caught up to you, causing you to spin on your socks, almost blistering your feet. One hand covered your heart, the other gripping the vanity behind you.

“You scared the holy hell out of me.”

“Apologies, thought you heard me walking to the door. The floorboards in here are horribly loud.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes. “Yeah, they’re pretty bad.” Looking away, you tried to advert your attention out of the window, looking at the green tinted lake in your view.

Nanami eyes take the same path as yours, viewing the lake, before turning right back you. All over his face was written pity— you didn’t want to see it, nor did you want to hear it. All the man could do was pull out a pen and charm, the noise of it jingling catching your attention like a cat.

You turn to examine whatever just made noise, and then back up to Nanami. He raises the charm, shaking it a bit. “It’s a good luck charm. They’re omamoris, they carry protection. Plus, it’s blue. Tradition, right?”

You took a small step forward, holding your hands out to accept the gifts. “I’m pretty sure the maid of honor provides the blue?”

“I’m still pretty offended you never asked me.”

A small smile tugged on your lips, shaking your head afterwards as you held your gifts. Nanami couldn’t help but smile back— glad to see you show a bit of emotion. Gojo told him about the situation with your mother, he even offered to cancel some of your sessions, but that was the last thing you wanted.

Go train and fight, learn something new that can save you from dying in a few months, or sit and mope about your mother’s soon to be death. God, did you have to weigh your options?

“Thank you, Nanami.” You smile, placing your gifts down on the dresser behind you before walking back towards the man, holding your arms out.

He visibly grimaces, a little dramatic than normal, but only to see you smile once more. He walks into your arms, returning the hug, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“Who’s your maid of honor anyways?”

“Thank you, again. I mean— we’ve only know each other for a little, but I think we’re gonna be good friends. Respectfully, though. Since we’re… you know… I’m young and you’re old—”

Your eyes widened, immediately looking out of the curtain that was shielding you and your dress. She catches your view and covers her mouth, shaking her head, trying to cancel out what she had said.

“Maki, I think you’re nervous than I am.”

She nods, and you quickly close the curtain. You turned to see yourself in your dress, dove white — and skin tight, fabric spreading at your knees, long enough to drag behind you. A matching veil resting on your shoulders, covering your cut and bruised arms, dragging down with your dress. You felt beautiful.

Soft and gentle makeup, your hair was out of that pesky braid and ran down your back, nice and curled. The estimate length of your hair was about 50 inches straightened— you’d never cut it before, only trimming the dead ends off. For the first time in your life, you were wearing it out, showing everyone the true length. Not the pesky braid that ran down your shoulder everyday.

It was a good feeling.

“Y/N?” Your mother walked into your dressing room with another pair of footsteps, her voice booming with energy. Those few days in a coma really gave her a jump— she had never sounded this clear or this well in years.

The sound made the hair on your body bone, sending a shiver down your spine. “Ye—” You cleared your throat, brushing your hands down the dress. “Yes, mother?”

She blew out a sigh of relief, “I thought I missed the reveal,” Taking a spot next to Maki, she claps her hands together, her energy radiating over to the teenager next to her. “Okay, come out!”

You swallowed hard, making sure your overall appearance was okay. There wasn’t a hair out of place, all of it behind your shoulders, small pieces framing your face. You’re fine. You’re happy. Today is the day.

Both of the curtains were pulled back, revealing you and your new appearance. An appearance no one has seen before. Your mother gasps, cupping her mouth with her hands, tears swelling in her eyes. Maki smiles, holding her hands together and pressing them to her cheek, never taking her eyes off you. Was she swooning?

The second pair of footsteps, revealing a man in a black suit, hands deep in his pockets, has the slightest smile on his face. You’d only be able to notice if you squint— but you did. Your father looked… proud almost. Something you’ve never seen from him towards of you, only to your brother, Ryou.

After a few moments, you switch feet, growing uncomfortable at the silence. Of course, your maid of honor would immediately shut that down.

“You… wow. Look, you.. It’s wow. You look wow.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, taking a small step towards Maki. “Thank you. You all also look wow.”

The bridesmaids dresses were a soft orange— a color you specifically chose. You begged everyone involved in your wedding to switch all accents colors to orange, even if the wedding was two days prior. Orange. Your new favorite color.

“Y/N,” Your mother catches your attention, taking a step forward closer to you. Her soft hands cupped your cheeks, her brown eyes staring deep into yours. She looked so healthy, as if she wasn’t sick. As if she wouldn’t die tonight.

“You’re absolutely fascinating, I mean it.”

You never took your eyes off your mother, you couldn’t. With a smile, tears making a bargain to escape your eyes, your hands covered your mothers. “Thank you, mom.” You respond, tears slipping back into your eyes.

Your father took a step next to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. Once you looked up to him, he delivered the smallest and the only smile you’ve gotten from him your entire life. Maybe he did think you were beautiful— or maybe he was cherishing this last beautiful moment with his wife and daughter.

“You’re beautiful, Shio.”

“Thanks, dad.”

For a quick moment, your mother clasped your hand into hers and caught your attention, a devious smirk tugging on her lips. “I added something special in your suitcase. Open it when you get to your new house.” She winks, only making you roll your eyes.

The door swung open once more, interrupting the special moment between everyone in the room. A butler stood in the threshold, huffing in and out. “They’re— Theyre ready!” He switches sides of the door, holding it open for the bride, her maid of honor — and her parents.

You peek over to Maki, smiling over to the girl. “You ready to do this, maid of honor?”

She smiles back, being the first to exit the room. With both of your parents holding your hands, you followed her out, careful of your dress, careful of your emotions.

You’re fine. You’re happy. Today is the day.

(i nightly recommend playing this song while reading this part :D )

“Please rise.”

Over 200 guests all rise from their seats, turning to the threshold you were supposed to walk through. They all smiled with excitement, all waiting in anticipation for the first wedding of a born Shio woman… ever.

Once you began walking, holding both of your parents hands, you couldn’t help but look at everyone who was attending. A chuckle left your lips— and everyone’s eyes that were on you would’ve guessed it was genuine. You were happy. You were fine. That it was your day.

But it wasn’t— and they’re just all truly gullible. Your fathers holding your hand, proudly walking the daughter he never wanted up the steps— your mother on your opposite side, walking with a smile on her face as if she wasn’t going to be dead within a few hours.

And the man— the man who you would now call your husband— who doesn’t even like you. Gojo Satoru stood at the top of the steps, waiting for you to given to him— and given away by your parents. He wore a basic suit, but it didn’t look basic on him. His glasses were long gone, bright, azure blue eyes on display.

His snow—white hair was pulled by by gel, not too much, though. Just the right amount. Not too slick, not too messy. A piece of hair lingered and rested on his forehead, completing the look. Even though you wouldn’t tell him, he looked ravishing. Arranged marriage, yes, but at least it was with someone attractive.

Once your parents reached the steps, they released your hands before bowing, leaving you to walk up the final pair of steps alone. Here you were, being given away. These few seconds, the prolonged moment of you finishing the walk up the steps, would be the last time you’d be alone.

Step.

You’re going to be fine.

Step.

You’re going to be happy.

Step.

Today’s the big day.

Gojo took your hands, helping you up the final step, and assisting you in front of him. Your eyes are stuck on his hands, feeling his pale, bloom hands for the first time. They were pretty.

And while you admired your fiancée’s hands for the first time— he was too busy admiring you. He admired the way the warm, honey orange lights kissed your skin, causing your makeup to sparkle in the most subtle way. Once you both met eyes, he realized that you couldn’t look at him for more than ten seconds. Even though you tried to play it off, he noticed. He couldn’t help but stare at your hair too— he would’ve never guessed it was that long or healthy, it was pretty.

You were pretty.

And after the rehearsed vows, the rehearsed eye contact— fake smiles and the loveless kiss you both shared, you were now put in the middle of all the tables within the venue, music playing in background.

Despite your pleas, you were forced up with your husband, your arms now wrapped around his neck as his hands lazily rested on your hips. All you could do was sway, and looking into Gojo’s beautiful eyes, you were searching for something— anything. You couldn’t. No love. No hate. No interest.

“People are watching.”

You’d been so busy searching for something that wasn’t there, you didn’t realize he was speaking to you. You simply blink, adverting your attention back to Gojo. “Hm?”

He turns you away from the crowd slyly, peering down at you. “Might want to put a smile on that pretty face. Don’t want anyone thinkin’ we’re faking this, would we?”

He’s right, you didn’t even realize you hadn’t been smiling. Like you practiced. You let out a breath, forcing your eyes to squint— forcing the smile on your face, switching the flip on. Honestly, Gojo was impressed. Seeing it for himself, seeing how quickly you can put on an act, that’s a true skill.

You heard a cough within the hundreds of people watching, and you couldn’t help but turn back around and search for whoever it had been. Anyone could’ve been coughing— could’ve choked on their water. Swallowed their spit wrong. You wanted to see anyone else coughing but your mother.

And just to your luck, she began to stand, gripping onto your fathers arm with dear life. She had her hand over her mouth, shoulders hunching as she coughed into her palm quietly. Each step she took, she stumbled, there wasn’t much Sousuke could do to keep her up except hold her hand and waist.

You continued to dance, an arm around Gojo’s neck and a hand on his shoulder, gripping the material of his suit. He noticed, he noticed the demeanor change and the hold you had on him.

It took everything in you to look away, to look at your husband — not drawing attention to your mother and worry the many people in crowd.

Once your eyes met his, you saw a look on his face. The first emotion he’d ever shown you, the first time you could search and find something. It’s what you’ve been seeing from everyone else who knew about the situation. That stupid look you’ve seen too many times.

Pity.

For the rest of the ceremony, you were on your toes. As everyone began to eat and enjoy the food made by the talented caterers, you sat at your table, staring at the piece of cake you and Gojo sliced together.

During the slicing ceremony, he jabbed his pointer finger into the icing, popping it into his mouth with an exaggerated moan, giving the family what the wanted to see. Something domestic. You laughed with faux to his little stunt, and he returned the sarcasm by wiping some fresh icing onto your nose.

Disgustingly domestic.

Once you were both sat, he went off to talk to some of your family members— exchanging greetings and learning a little about the people who attended. You were alone at the table, waiting… just waiting for…

The door opened, revealing the same doctor who’d been taking care of your mother for years now. He doesn’t cause a scene, no one barely notices him— except for you. You noticed him, you knew why he was here, and you knew it was time.

Today’s the day.

You stood from your seat, fisting your veil and running towards the doctor. As if you were running away from all your problems. Running as if your mother was chasing you when you played tag. Running as if your mother was on her knees, arms wide open, waiting for you to jump into them.

The distance from your seat to the doctor at the door felt like you had been running for an hour, when it was only just a few seconds. For some reason, your chest had been tightening as if you just bodied those six miles. You were sweating as if you ran a marathon.

The doctor grabbed your hand once you were close and squeezed it softly before walking you out of the venue.

“She’s… lucid. It takes her very long to speak a sentence, every few minuets, her heart beats less than it had before. Despite all of that she’s…”

“Smiling,” You turned to look through the little window that exposed your mother’s condition. She looked like she did before her coma— before today. Quickly, you look back at the doctor. “She’s happy.”

Your doctor raises an eyebrow at you, confused at your statement. You simply chuckle, resting your shoulder against the door. “Her children are alive. Her son is strong and powerful. I’m married now… I have protection. It’s the only thing she’s cared about, and now she’s happy.”

“She’s happy where she is.”

The entire time you explained, your doctor felt his eyes water. He’s had a fair share of dying patients, but he’s been with you and your mother for some time— and you were right. She’s smiling despite her condition, she always smiled. Himari Shio and that god damn golden smile.

They tell doctors not to get attached to their patients, and he’s broken that rule.

“I think you should go in there now.”

You look from the window, to the doctor. You should. Do you want to? Of course not. Do you need to? Absolutely. You held onto the cold doorknob, sweaty palms now cooling down. You took a breath out.

“Thank you, Akito.” Your words were simple, but carried much emotion. If he wasn’t crying now, he was definitely going to start once you walked through that door.

And as soon as you entered the room, it felt warm. Like a sunny day. It smelled of linen and home. It was the opposite of what you walked into a few days ago. It was comforting for some sick and twisted reason.

Your eyes scanned over to your mother, watching her chest rise and fall slowly. Within seconds you were next to her, sat on the back of your legs, holding her warm hand.

Himari stirred, opening her eyes right at you. Her smile just grew, seeing you still in your wedding dress and makeup — seeing your hair fall down your back, and seeing those sad eyes glisten once they met hers.

“Had to take the spotlight, huh?”

She laughs weakly, collarbones going prominent when her chest fell. She didn’t have to speak, you could pick up on her answers without words. Her aura, her expressions, the grip on your hand— it answered everything.

After a while, your smile dropped, staring at your mother. Every breath you took in was shaky, and all those times you wanted cry, scream, ache and sob, it’s was bubbling up. And once your mother caught the ocean rising in your eyes, her face reeked of sympathy.

“Mommy.” Was all you could muster out before bursting. You blew, forehead dropping to her hand.

“Honey,” She scoots over in her bed slowly, tugging at your hand weakly to get you up. And you obliged, you took the space next to your mother like it was made for you. Like you were about to watch a movie with her. You buried your face into her neck, allowing yourself to cry.

You felt safe enough to do it.

“It’s going… to be just fine…” Himari sniffles, pressing a gentle kiss to your head. She turns to rest her arm on your waist and hold your hand with her other, keeping you snug next to her. “I’m gonna be with you…all the time.”

The sound of you breaking down into your neck made your mother feel sadness, but she wasn’t sad. She knew you were a strong woman— a woman who’d hold her own, no matter what. This was just a bump in the road, higher than any other bumps you’ve drove over. You’d just have to be careful. Know when to pump your breaks, know when to slow down, and when you’re ready to keep driving.

“My… strong baby.”

It hurt knowing that the only person who’d ever root for you, the only person who would defend you and encourage you, even if it’s your life on the line— was about to be gone. It hurt worse knowing that it was your mother.

“I don’t want you to go.” You cried, gripping onto the covers that was shielding your mother’s body. “You… we’re supposed to see me fight. And see me… possibly get my ass kicked.” You laughed through your sob.

Himari chuckles, coughing after. “I’ll see you…fight. I promise,” She feels herself breathing heavier, eyes now vignetting her vision. “You’ll win. …You’re the strongest.”

No matter how encouraging her words were, you couldn’t ignore the beeping slowing down on the monitor. It made you feel nauseous, like you’d hurl all over yourself and your mother. You tried to ignore the sound, replacing it with the sounds of a bell ringing on a bike; like yours when you were younger.

You’ll be fine,

Your mother mustered up all of her energy, squeezing you in her arms, another kiss pressing against your scalp. She smiles against your hair, eyes following the curls down your back and off the bed like a river. She loved the outdoors.

“I love you, Shio.”

You’ll be happy,

Himari looked around the room, and objects became items of the lake you both would sit by. The lamp was now a tree, shielding you both from the heavy sun. The lights were the rays escaping through the branches— and the two extra seats were now large rocks you’d sit on if you weren’t playing with the water.

And there you were, now laying in her lap, your little braid resting against your back as you napped. Her hand was on your head, running her nails through your scalp just how you enjoyed. Your little hands fisted her pajama pants, and there was just a little drool on her fabric.

Her eyes peered up to the sky. She could see the sun without it affecting her vision— looking right into the light. Himari has heard stories about the sun not really being orange, despite how they’d color it in children’s book. It’s white. She’s always wanted to be able to look at the sun without it affecting her vision.

She loved outdoors.

She’s always wanted her children to succeed, her son to be powerful— her daughter just as powerful. They were both so determined, so young and lucky. They were strong.

All of her dreams were coming true.

Today’s the day.

The occasional ring to your bells bike now stopped, and the only thing that could heard was the never ending sound of your mothers fate. The strong grip she had around you loosened, and the cheek rested against your head became heavier.

There was that scream you’d been wanting to bubble down.

©️RYUJNN: 01/02/2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.D. do not translate, plagiarize or remake any of my work! reposting my work is allowed — likes, reblogs & comments are appreciated.

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[thebrotherscurtis]

"Brother’s Day”

Links: A03. FF.net. Wattpad.

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns all characters.

Summary: Oneshot. Four reasons Darry thinks he is a lousy father to Pony.

I. You know fuck all about raising a teenage kid.

Small children tend to their toys better than you play parent, and sometimes the day-to-day questions torment you the most.

For the sixth morning in a row, Pony shovels a giant slice of cake on his plate. Should he really eat sweets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?

"Maybe you oughta have some eggs or bacon. Look at you, you're skin and bone. People'll think I ain't feeding you. Fix yourself something else, anything else."

"You never gave a shit before." He shrugs and jabs his fork into a second piece; on purpose, too, because he usually only takes one. "Why now?"

"I mean, in addition to cake."

"If I wanted eggs and bacon, I'd've made eggs and bacon."

"Look, alls I'm saying is it wouldn't kill you to eat a little protein. My football coach would've force fed me liver if I ate the shit you do every day. Your track coach, what's-his-name, Mr. James? Jones? Jenkins?"

"Jacobs."

"Mr. Jacobs'd hate this, and you know it."

"Well"—he glances around the room and shrugs—"Mr. Jacobs ain't here, so I'm eating cake today, tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that, too."

And this is the part where you ask yourself if it's worth the fight. Pick your battles, as your old man used to say. Still, your inner critic scolds you. Maybe this is the fight that's worth it. Maybe a normal parent wouldn't give up so damn early. Maybe a real father would shove a pound of bacon in his face and keep him at the table until he ate it all.

"Cake it is then. But you're eating a real lunch."

"Uh-huh."

He won't. He'll devour the rest of the pan just to spite you.

II. You're lucky as shit he's your brother, and yet, you never appreciate it.

Curly's back in the reformatory, and your kid brother's idea of rebellion is reading all of Gone With the fucking Wind instead of cleaning his room.

"I swear on the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I'll lock you in here till I can see the floor."

"Go ahead." He turns a page. "I'm at the best part. I ain't going nowhere."

You roll your eyes and slam the door on your way out.

Soda's on the couch, laughing his ass off. "Wait. You really thought you could pull him away from his favorite book?"

"Shut up. It's your room too. Could just as soon lock you in there too."

"But you won't."

"But you won't," you mock, sinking into the armchair.

He's right, you won't.

And deep down, you know you're lucky. Compared to Curly, Dallas, Steve, Two-Bit, Soda, you—God weren't you a delight at fourteen—he's pretty damn well-behaved for a teenager.

And somehow still too much for you to handle.

III. You get so mad at him you scare yourself.

Yell over talk. Threaten over teach. React over respond. Every time he checks into the Twilight Zone, you lose your shit. If he'd just pay attention … If he'd just keep his brain on planet Earth …

"I'm working a double," you tell your brothers, and brothers plural. "Won't be back till late, so y'all are on your own for dinner."

Soda salutes you. "Aye-aye, Superman."

Pony idly looks up from his book. "Huh?"

"You tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"You tell me," you repeat, fists clenched. "Word for word, tell me what I just fucking said."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll clean my room before you get home."

"That ain't what I said."

"Sorry." His nose is already back in that damn book. "Guess I didn't hear you."

Sorry this. Sorry that. I didn't hear you this. I wasn't thinking that.

Count to ten. Like Soda says, count. to. ten. One, two … don't say anything … three, four … don't do anything … five, six, Soda heard you and'll repeat it the second you're gone … seven … but when Soda says it, he'll listen … eight … goddamn kid never listens to you … nine—

You rip the book from his hands and hurl it on the floor. "I said I won't be home till late."

"Easy, man." Soda smacks your arm and steps in front of Pony. "It ain't a big deal."

Pony retrieves the book and stomps off to his room. He flips you the bird, and you return the gesture.

Soda's right. It ain't a big deal. Logically, you know that, but the side of the brain that knows can't get the other to calm the fuck down.

It ain't Pony's fault you're pulling a double shift. It ain't Pony's fault you haven't slept a full night since the accident. It ain't Pony's fault you're an asshole. "Pony," you call out to his closed door, "if you wanna smoke more than a pack today, go ahead."

If he hears you, it's a peace offering. If he doesn't, well, good.

IV: He considers your feelings, but you can't make sense of his.

"Happy Brother's Day, I guess." Pony shoves a hand-drawn card in front of you. "I know you ain't Dad, but still thought I should do something."

You open it and can't even register or digest the words. They span the entire card, and he probably put a thousand times more thought into them than you did his birthday gift.

"Thank you." You shoot up and wrap both arms around him tight. Thank you is all you can produce. He's the wordsmith of the family, not you.

"Jesus, don't crush me. You trying to kill me?"

"Nah, not today at least." You let go and gently pat his back. "Listen, you're an all right kid, Pony. I mean that. Ignore me when I tell you otherwise."

"Yeah, okay." Now he can't find his words. "I mean thanks." Face beet red, he moves to slink away just as fast as he'd slipped the card in front of you.

"Hey, wait." You sling an arm around his shoulder and pull him back. "Wanna go to Dairy Queen or a movie or something? I mean, for Father— Brother's Day. I got the day off."

"They aren't open on Sundays."

Shit. So much for that.

"But next time you time got the day off"— he leans into the embrace—"I'd like that."

He can read you like he reads his books, and you, you'll never find the right way you say you love him.

So instead, you'll suffer through one of his movies to show him you love him.

And you do love him.

Just as a brother.

You'll never be his father.

#the outsiders #outsiders #fanfic #fanfiction #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #outsiders fanfiction #outsiders fanfic

[edactually]

Ed POV - 7.5

So that was why Stede had wanted to know what hotel he was staying at. He’d probably been sitting waiting for Ed to send the address after putting this gift basket together on the online store, fingers poised to tell them where to send it, along with expedited shipping to make sure Ed got it before checking out later today.

Stede wanted to help him sleep. How cute that his first thought had been lavender and yet he’d managed to relax Ed enough over the phone to give him one of the most peaceful nights of rest he’d had in years.

He had to make sure Stede was ok.

It was only eight am, but he knew Stede was an early riser so hopefully the phone call wouldn’t be a disturbance.

Stede sounded awake and alert when he answered the phone. “Good morning, sunshine!”

Sunshine.

It was one thing to see the cheerful message appear on his phone with a cute little emoji, it was quite another to hear Stede say it himself. His voice held no trace of anxiety that Ed could hear, just that usual chipper nature that was baffling to him at this early hour. If Stede regretted last night, his voice didn’t betray him. Ed could see three options:

One - Stede was an excellent actor. 

Two - Stede had no memory of the previous night.

Three - Stede remembered everything and didn’t regret it.

Ed was praying for option three, but was too scared to mention it. 

“Morning.” He bit his lip to stop himself from saying ‘baby’ again, even though the urge to flirt with Stede was difficult to deny. “The hotel delivered a gift basket this morning. I assume you’re Mr. Hutton?”

“Correct!” God, he could hear that beaming grin. “When you told me your fake name was Mr. Mercury, I thought signing the note Mr. Hutton would be a fun touch.”

Stede could have chosen any other member of the band - he could have signed the note Mr. May or Mr. Taylor or Mr. Deacon. Instead he had signed it with the name of the man that Freddie Mercury had called his husband.

It felt significant.

It could have been a good jumping-off point for them to discuss the nature of their relationship now, but Stede barrelled on before Ed got a chance to ask. “Did everything arrive ok?”

“Yep, all looks good.” Ed looked to the gift basket overflowing with lotions and potions. “No idea where to start with it all though.”

“Well, a little spritz of the pillow spray before you go to bed is a good start. If you’re really in need of a relaxing evening, I suggest a hot bath with the oil and salts before bed.”

Ed had never been a bath guy, but that did sound good. He wouldn’t have time today, but hopefully the next hotel would have one of those big jacuzzi tubs. “That does sound nice.” He paused, then decided to test the waters, so to speak. “Would be nicer if you were in there with me.”

He waited with bated breath for the response. Had last night just been a one-off? A fluke? Just two guys horny and helping each other out?

“I’d like that very much.”

“You would?” Ed was startled, and he tried to recover quickly. “I mean, yeah, it would be hot as fuck. The two of us in that tub could get up to all sorts of things underneath the bubbles.”

Stede laughed. “Edward, are we really doing this at eight am on a Sunday?”

“Are you not into it?” His panic was setting in again. That fear that he would cross the line that made Stede overthink and put them firmly back in the friend zone.

“I’m very into it.” Stede said. “But I’m sure you have to pack and I have to go pick the kids up, so I think our timing is off.”

So he hadn’t scared Stede off. Yet. “Doing anything fun with the kids today?”

“We’re going out for breakfast and then we’re going roller skating.”

“You? Roller skating?” Ed tried not to sound amused.

“Afraid so. It was Alma’s idea, she’s really very good at it. There’s a local roller derby team that she’s desperate to try out for but they won’t let her until she’s eighteen, so she likes to practice at the rink.”

“Don’t tell me she’s barging into kid’s birthday parties and sending people flying?”

“Heavens no. Would if she wouldn’t get banned from the rink, I expect, but no. She skates around as normal, does a few tricks, said she’s just trying to keep the skill up until she’s old enough for try outs.”

“Alma sounds like a menace.” Ed chuckled. “Takes after her father.”

“I think the two of you would get on really well. You’d probably get on with Louis as well, it’s just a challenge getting him to look up from his phone.”

“Teenager thing, isn’t it?” Ed tried not to think too hard about Stede bringing up how he could get along with his children. 

Slow down, he isn’t saying he wants you to meet them.

“I suppose, but Louis isn’t technically a teenager until next year.” Stede sighed. “They’re both growing up so fast, it’s terrifying.”

Ed swallowed. “You really dote on those kids, huh?”

“Of course I do. Every father should love their children.”

Ed could think of one who hadn’t.

“Speaking of, I had better go.”

Ed tried to conceal his disappointment. “Sure. Thanks again for the gift basket.”

“You’re welcome.” Stede paused. “If you’re amenable, I would enjoy a repeat of last night? Maybe while you take a bath and try out the lavender? I could help you relax.”

Stede’s voice had lowered, probably because he felt embarrassed but it just sounded sultry to Ed’s ears. “Fuck, I would love that but we check out today and it’s an overnighter on the tour bus. Can’t really have phone sex hunched up in one of those bunks with the guys able to hear every word.”

“Is that what it’s called? Phone sex?”

“Easiest way of describing it, yeah. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, no. It just didn’t occur to me that that was what we were doing. It feels very… sudden.” 

That wasn’t a good word. “Is that bad?”

“No, not at all! I just expected the first time I had sex to be more romantic - rose petals, candles, that sort of thing. But last night just sort of… happened.”

“Well shit, Stede.” Ed chuckled. “Kind of hard to do those things over the phone. Sex comes in a lot of different forms though, you don’t have to count that as your first experience of it if you don’t want to. If you’d rather wait for it to happen in person to count as your first, then that’s fine.”

God, Ed really hoped he was going to be there for it. The way Stede had been acting implied that, but short of saying ‘ hey Stede, am I going to be the first guy you fuck? ’ Ed really had no way of knowing if that was what Stede wanted.

But once again, Stede was focused on his own inexperience rather than clarifying what he actually wanted. “Goodness, there really is so much I don’t know.”

“Hey, it’s a steep learning curve. You’ll get there.”

“Ed, I hope this isn’t too forward…”

Forward? Ed was desperate for forward. He would chew his own arm off for Stede Bonnet to be forward. He’d had a taste of it and he could think of nothing else.

“But would you be open to being my… guide? I’m not suggesting we do anything more if you don’t want to, but you’re so patient and non-judgemental. I feel like I can learn a lot from you without feeling ashamed of my inexperience.”

“You’re asking Ed Teach to be your sex ed teacher?” He snickered. “I suppose it is in my name, minus a few letters.”

“You don’t have to decide now, and I won’t be offended if you say no.” Stede was babbling. “I’m sure you’re going to be very busy so take a few days and think about it. You said you’re doing an overnight trip tonight? When is best for us to speak next?”

Ed mentally ran over the tour plan. “Overnight trip tonight, then we’ll be spending Monday doing set ups and sound checks… Gig on Tuesday so that’ll be a busy day, then we’re leaving straight after for another overnighter, Wednesday will be another set up day then there’s a gig Thursday… I guess technically Friday would be when I have the most free time, but Stede–”

“Friday it is then!” Stede cut Ed off. “I’ll give you space until then. I really do have to leave now, bye Ed!”

And then the line went dead before Ed could do two things: 

One, tell Stede Bonnet that he could call any time, day or night and Ed would make time no matter what was on his schedule.

Two, tell him that the last thing Ed wanted from him was space.

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#edactuallysmau

[kshira]

tokrev boys leaving cute little voicemails 🥺🥺🥺

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋

+ mikey, baji, kazutora, ran, rindou, sanzu

tw: fem!reader, slight cursing, slightly suggestive? drinking mentioned(for baji) straight up fluff and super sweet boys <3

# 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘

“hey angel, you’re probably asleep right now or binging one of your shows, heh. i know i always complain when you make me watch them with you but i’d be lying if i didn’t enjoy how happy it makes you. speaking of happiness, you make me happy, i’d love nothing more right now than to crawl in the bed behind you, wrap my arms around your waist and hold you so close to me while i kiss those pretty warm cheeks until you wake up and kick me out of the bed. i’m not sure when i’ll be home but i had some spare time and you deserve more than this voicemail but it’ll do for now, my spoiled girl. but anyways, i love you—don’t ever forget that.”

# 𝐁𝐀𝐉𝐈

“hey pretty, i’m really drunk right now and the walls feel like they’re melting but holy fucking shit i love you. me and chifuyu went out drinking but all i could think about was you and how much i miss my pretty girl. and your lips, oh god—they’re so pretty when they’re wrapped around my—wait, i’m supposed to be sweet right now, haha. i’m on a smoke break and i know how much you keep telling me to stop, i promise i’m trying cause i wanna be with you until we’re old and have a bunch of babies that look exactly like you but act just like me. shit—i’m gettin’ teary eyed thinkin’ about it—anyways princess, my love, the reason i wake up everyday—i love you, gonna come straight home and kiss you so much; have i told you i really miss your lips?”

# 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐀

��do you believe in love at first sight? or is that kinda cliche to ask you—well actually i’m telling you because you’re asleep right now or just ignoring my phone call. i remember when we had our first date and you couldn’t stop staring at my eyes instead of the big fucking tattoo on my neck, or when people would glare at me you just held my hand a little bit tighter. whatever the fuck im trying to say is im in love with you, been like this ever since i met you and shit—i wouldn’t have it any other way. i regret so much in my life and what i have to suffer through is nobody’s problem but my own yet with you—i feel so safe, so fucking loved and is it too cliche now to ask you to be mine over the phone?”

# 𝐑𝐀𝐍

“now don’t get your hopes up, this isn’t my normal voicemails where you know—heh. i’ll leave that for when i get home pretty, you’ll really be begging to know all about it. we’ve been together a long time—what? almost five years? i remember you were the first one to see me with my hair cut short and embarrassingly enough the one to also hold me as i cried my eyes out about it. people say that you get tired of one another but that’s honestly the exact opposite with you. i always want to learn more about you even though i know everything including how much you hate listening to my alarm in the morning or the extra eight kisses you need before i can even leave. i am so madly in love with you that the mere thought of losing you makes my chest hurt, you got me angel, the ran haitani is at your beckon call until you get tired of me—which i hope is never because i know those other voicemails i do send you are pretty fucking nice.”

# 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔

“ignore that i’ve called you like five times already, i forgot you go to sleep early when i’m not there, i sure keep you up, don’t i baby? haha i’m sure that’s gonna make you all flustered and cute when you listen to this. but i called to tell you how much you mean to me, how much i love you—what you do to make me feel so alive when all i’m ever doing is dealing with death. i’ve never loved anyone before and shit—i’m scared you’ll be gone one day. can you imagine? me? being able to wake up all by myself without you there? as soon as i get to work i’m so fucking exicted to get off because i’ll be coming home and know you’ll be there—my pretty girl and all mine. i lied earlier actually, i’ve called you way more than five, and i’ll keep calling you leaving voicemails telling you in each one why i love you. got me being all cheesy and shit but you deserve it baby, deserve all of me.”

# 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐔

“this bed is so cold without you—sorry for the morning voice, i just woke up and forgot you had work early so i whined into the void for thirty minutes till i realized my princess wasn’t here. when are you gonna be back? mm, you know i get so needy and restless without you here. i’ve got so used to having you in my arms when i get up that i finally came to the realization i can’t live without you. and i just so happen to be hopelessly in love with you and i demand for you to get home as soon as possible. people wouldn’t know what to do finding out i’m so weak for you. i'm probably gonna go back to sleep soon—maybe dream about what other things we do when i wake you up for your attention. mh, i love you pretty girl—you’ll never know how much you mean to me.”

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev x reader #mikey x reader #kazutora x reader #baji x reader #ran x reader #rindou x reader #sanzu x reader #mikey fluff #kazutora fluff #baji fluff #ran fluff #rindou fluff #sanzu fluff

[heeracha]

six. / seven. — how heeseung almost got caught. / eight.

you, me and the moon. — l. heeseung

synopsis: lee heeseung is a famous frat boy who is known to be mysterious since he would always stay at the corner to observe people passing by but he does not like the fact that his eyes would linger a little longer on you than he likes to admit because who the fuck is he kidding? you're way too good for him.

pairing: fratboy!heeseung x fem!reader

content/genre: college au, fratboy au, pining, big ass slowburn (here we go again), angst, fluff

warning(s): none

note: i may or may not insert some fratboy fights,,,,, but probably not bcs i suck writing fights.

honestly, leaving you notes in your locker everyday became a routine for heeseung. he'd wake up early, take a shower, fix his things, get a note from the box on his nightstand which is named "notes for y/n" if there's no sequel note needed from the day before. heeseung leaves the house, after kissing his mom on the cheek as he tells her to have a good day, fist bumping his dad as he's asked if he needs an allowance and having teased by his older brother before he leaves.

heeseung entered the fraternity in a very impulsive manner. he doesn't even remember why he joined, probably something for fun, but he and jay did. heeseung thought after joining the fraternity, it was him and jay for now, but his friends cared more than just that and he was thankful for it.

in his first year, he used to be the frat boy that goes off to fights, always has an injury every month. but when he concluded on liking you, he started to leave notes in your locker. he wanted to see you smile because of him through these notes he left. after realizing he soon has to reveal himself to you, he uses the advantage of everyone being scared of him to get to the top and just be a leader of the sub group in the frat to look out for everyone. since he can't leave the frat until he graduates, that's all he can do for now.

with him wearing his favorite blue hoodie, he brings his hood up to his head as he enters the university with probably three students around since it was still too early in class. heeseung walks to the hall, hands in his pocket.

heeseung looks up, eyes widening to see you hiding on a corner with your head peeking out to probably look for the certain someone that leaves you notes in your locker.

oh shit.

you look at your watch, sighing as you stand up straight to lean against the wall. you glance at the side, seeing heeseung looking at you. your eyes widen as you grab on your straps, looking at him.

"i was..." you stammer, pointing at the side. "um.. i can't think of any excuse."

heeseung chuckles, smiling. "good morning." he softly says.

"morning, hee." you say with a smile.

fuck. heeseung would laugh at people saying they feel butterflies in their stomach as a sign of romantical excitement, but he's feeling it right now when you called him in his nickname.

or maybe it's because of your smile. he doesn't know. either way, it's because of you.

"so, what were you doing?" heeseung asks.

"there's this someone leaving me notes in my locker for a year already. i just wanted to know who they are." you say, chuckling lightly and heeseung nods.

good thing he doesn't leave as early as he used to. he really wants to be someone who'd be good for you, that's why he's fixing himself. just for you.

"you really want to meet them already?" heeseung asks and you shrug.

"i mean, i don't want to pry if they still don't want to reveal themself." you say, shrugging and heeseung hums as he smiles at you.

"are you not worried maybe they're.. someone that you don't expect? maybe, sunghoon?" heeseung asks and you laugh lightly.

"sunghoon said they're pretty coward to hide their identity, so it's not him." you say and heeseung chuckles, nodding.

"maybe they're just fixing themself, you know?" heeseung suggests and you look at him. "trying to be a better version of themself before they could reveal themself. just trying to make sure that they're good for you."

"they don't have to." you say, shrugging. "i just want them as they are. be themself, you know?"

you smile wide and heeseung nods, smiling at you. "well, i hope when they reveal themself, they treat you the way you deserve." he says.

"thanks." you mumble with a smile. you push yourself off the wall, walking to your locker as you fix your things inside.

"hey, y/n?" heeseung calls and you hum, looking at him. "did you have breakfast already?" he asks and you shake your head smiling. "you want to have breakfast with me? there's a diner by the side gate, it's great there."

"hm," you hum. "sure. let's go."

heeseung grins, walking towards you as you walk ahead. sneakily, heeseung slides in the folded note in your locker as he catches up with you.

au taglist [open!] : @amakumos @soobnny @jungwoniics @venusmir @dontcallme20 @ily-cuz-i @clarakyunisageek @angelicncity @jongsaengseong @rielleluvs @luvrseung @sirephines @c9tnoos @tyongsbbfish @prettysweet02 @ncityy04 @hobistigma @heelariously @sonjuyeonnie @enhacolor @arikiu @sakvas @leilaidk @jjunis @chirokookie @enhyped-up @alo-ehas @babygay-stay @lilacrosebud @sunshine-skz @ilovekflop @myvaine @rosieeyy @luvddeonu @msxflower @yeonwon @mariaantonya @bunniin @jalnandanz @mintbgyu @lhsng @nochuwastaken @mochisnlix @art-junkie-13 @asleephun @n1k1tty @magssu @mymeloem19 @httpheeseung @markleepooh

[ can't be tagged/deactivated: @robotsahi @sheepgardenenha @oreoisa @papiibuprofen @j5aker ]

#lee heeseung im so in love with you #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen socmed au #enhypen social au #enhypen social media au #enhypen smau #heeseung imagines #lee heeseung imagines #heeseung reactions #heeseung scenarios #heeseung social media au #heeseung soft hours #heeseung x reader

[softboydrew]

friends and arguments

The ocean front restaurant roared with countless tables of friends and families, waiters and waitresses zooming past tables with large amounts of food and drinks as the night buzzed around you.

Laughter and raised voices erupted through the air as y/n watched her boyfriend top off their friends' wine glasses, forgetting count, y/n took a sip of the red wine that stained her lips. The tartness of it washing down her throat caused her cheeks to flush while Maddie leaned in towards her and clink yet another glass against hers.

"This is the best wine I've ever had!" She squealed.

Y/n shook her head, pointing towards the rest of the wine bottles that littered the white table cloth, "You said that one, and the one before that were the best you've ever had!" y/n laughed causing Maddie to shrug and take another sip.

"Then its settled, they're all my favorite!" she announced to the table, friends looking towards the two of them with amused expressions.

"How many glasses did you have?" Chase questioned, his cheeks flushed from all the chatter and body heat.

"It's my birthday, you can't ask me that!" Maddie hiccuped, causing the table to erupt in chuckles and nodding heads.

Y/n watched as Chase took the last bite of his pasta and motion at your friends that it was time to head back to the hotel and take the drunk stragglers back to their hotel rooms.

Y/n looked around, noticing Rudy and Elaine slumped together, giggling at their forks and she couldn't help but burst out in laughter. It was definitely time to go back to the hotel. It's all fun and games until people wake up hungover and not able to get out of bed, especially on vacation. None of them wanted anyone to miss tomorrows early morning water spot activities.

Drew sighed loudly, wrapping his arms around Chase's shoulders, calling out to everyone that it was indeed time to head back to the hotel so the group could get enough time to recuperate before tomorrow. "Y/n aren't you glad that you landed such a teddy bear?" JD said, shoving Drew playfully.

"I know, I got pretty lucky for my first one, huh?" she wiggled her eyebrows over at the group of boys, they all laughed as she winked at her boyfriend who suddenly froze.

Drew unraveled his arms that sprawled across his friends chest and stood up, his expression showing total shock but y/n didn't notice. Y/n stood up, grabbing her clutch before pushing her chair back towards the table. Her friends sporadically following her lead as she said wrapped her arms around Drew's arm while they said their goodbye's and goodnight's.

The walk from the restaurant to the hotel wasn't a long one, but y/n realized quickly that it would be a very quiet one.

Drew wrapped his arm around her as they walked silently, their shoes scuffling against the pebbled walkway. Y/n giggled, playfully poking at his side making him scowl at her with furrowed eyebrows, y/n's eyes narrowed taken aback by her boyfriends action towards her playfulness.

Maybe he wasn't in in the mood? y/n hummed to push away her hurt feelings and snuggled her head against his chest causing him to stiffen under her touch- her heart dropped at yet another standoffish reaction. "What's wrong?" She questioned lightly.

Drew scoffed out a 'whatever' making her eyebrows furrow as she leaned her head back to glare at him, watching him roll his eyes into the night. "Okay, what the fuck?"

If y/n wasn't pissed then, y/n was definitely pissed now. She crossed her arms as Drew flew his hands up in the air and pointed at her like she knew exactly what he was apparently annoyed about. "Are you seriously asking me that?" he chuckled darkly. "Like really?"

"Obviously! God forbid I can't read your mind!" she watched him storm way from her, y/n's shorter legs hurried after him with clenched fists. "Drew!"

He couldn't help but let out an annoyed laugh, shaking his head before rubbing his palm against his cheeks. Sure, he was annoyed at her, but the added alcohol in his system didn't help his emotions and he couldn't think twice about how he reacted.

"What?!" He felt her hand clutch onto his shirt and he groaned, his legs slowing down because he knew he regularly walked too fast for her. "Think! Think about why I might be annoyed y/n, seriously?" he shouted with his arms flying up from his sides. He watched y/n put her hands on her hips in frustration as she looked at him with confusion.

"You do this every single time, why can't you just be an adult and tell me what you're so pissed off about?!"

"No I don't! Why am I always the bad guy and what? I can't be mad at you?" He yelled, his legs bringing him closer to y/n as she shooed him off with her hand, she rolled her eyes and huffed out as she looked towards the beach in the distance, wishing to be anywhere but here, fighting with her boyfriend on vacation.

"You're aloud to be mad at me! But its not fair when you won't tell me why! I mean what could have possibly happened in that restaurant to make you so-” y/n stopped mid sentence as she snapped her head towards him, his eyes wide as he caught on to why she paused.

He nodded, "yeah, yeah" he scoffed as he took off his hat and ran his hand over his newly buzzed haircut. "Now you know."

Y/n covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes tight, she never meant to not tell him, but she kept putting it off because she didn't want to scare him off early on in their relationship. He never asked. Eight months passed by and she never told him, now she wanted to find the right time and every time she thought that it would be the time, it would slip her mind. She cursed loudly causing Drew to bite the inside of his cheek, watching her shoulders fall. "I'm sorry... I never meant to not tell you-"

"Then why didn't you?"

"You're older than me and I thought it would have been awkward, or you wouldn't be as interested in me if I told you. We were new and you were so.. so you, and I was nervous and I didn't want you to think differently about me. Obviously, I- I don't know what I was thinking 'cause I know you'd never think that way or make me feel any type of way." y/n gushed.

Her eyes swelling with tears as she finally explained to her boyfriend that he was her first beau. "I'm sorry. I seriously didn't mean to keep it from you I- I promise I'd never keep anything from you intentionally... especially something important for our relationship."

Drew sucked in his breath as the salty air blew around the couple, his eyes glossing over as he watched y/n quietly break down right before him. Drew quickly stepped towards her, his arms hugging her body close into his, her body shaking against his as she cried silently. "You don't have to be sorry I- I shouldn't have been so angry." he cooed. "I just wish you told me."

"I know" y/n croaked out as she sniffled, her big eyes scanning up to his face. Drew sighed, his hands gripping her puffy cheeks to wipe her tears away. "And I feel stupid."

'Shhh" he hushed, "you're not stupid y/n." he chuckled lightly causing her to blush beneath his soft hands.

She smiled lightly, rolling onto her tip toes as she felt him lean down and sprawl his lips against hers. They simultaneously moaned into the kiss as Drew deepened the kiss, licking her bottom lip to ask for entrance. Y/n happily obliged and smiled causing their teeth to clash- his tongue finding hers, feeling like the first time they'd ever greeted one another.

Drew's hands slid down her shoulders to grip her sides and squeeze her curves causing y/n's head to fall sideways while he sponged his lips against her now burning skin. The taste of lingering wine made them both hum lowly before he brought his hand behind her back and yank her against his chest, laughter pooling around them as he rested his forehead against her forehead.

"I think this calls for a truce?"

Drew bit back a laugh and nodded, interwinding their fingers before pulling her towards the pathway back to the hotel. "You know, I'm nervous that I'm your first boyfriend." he said bringing y/n to snort out- squeezing his hand as they began walking, "Let's make me your only."

-

taglist: @pogueslandia @carolineworld

#rafe cameron blurbs #drew x reader #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron imagines #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey insta post #drew starkey concept #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey #this one is is short but v sweet #obx concept #obx spoilers #obx moodboard #obx blurb #obx imagine #outer banks #obx

[kingsuckjin]

Company Policy -JJK

- Pairing: coworker Jungkook x reader

- Genre: established relationship? Sort of

- Rating:18+

- Words: 5k

- Summary: Eight months. Eight months you have regretted breaking off being fuck buddies with your hot coworker. You were so afraid of being caught with him but now that you’ve had time to think, would it really be so bad as long as you could have him all to yourself again? Does he even like you anymore? Has he moved on? All you know is it’s been eight months since you’ve had sex, he’s been all you could think about. Now he’s looking pretty hot at this office party.

- Warnings: pining, explicit content, public sex, they fuck on a coworker’s desk, public sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, heavy dirty talk, brief mention of oral sex and a ton of other past sexual acts like thigh riding and hair pulling, kind of jealous tattooed kook, not voyurism but someone else is there at some point, and finally a dash of fluff.

- A/n: This post is a commission for the ARMY for AAPI Justice and Advocacy Event. Please click >here< to find more resources and consider donating to the cause! Thank you so incredibly much to the donor @lcksndkys​ for donating and commissioning this, you are an absolute angel, I hope you know that. I might’ve gotten a bit carried away and wrote a few thousand more words than planned, but you deserve it. 

“Morning,” 

“Morning.” Was the greeting between you and Jungkook every morning when you stepped into the elevator, coffee in hand.

That was it, that was all you ever said to each other anymore. His smell always floated around the confined space making your mind flashback to what once was before you quickly pushed it away from your brain.

Neither of you ever said anything about it, it was like it had never even happened and sometimes you wonder if it even had or if your brain had made up everything that had happened eight months ago from your frequent dirty thoughts of your coworker. It felt like a lifetime ago. The familiarity of him, his smell, his smile, his voice along with the cold distance, avoidance to even look at you, and the constant wonder of him having someone else made you a little sick at your stomach.

You had decided to break things off… as if either of you were any more than fuck buddies. You knew that if anyone at work had ever found out about the two of you, you’d most likely both be fired. No banging other employees was a pretty strict policy there and you remembered the two nice ladies that were fired last year for it, you remembered it because your boss had made such an example of it.

You had been more than paranoid when you and Jungkook were boning for a whole month, you both had been so secretive even going as far as to have each other park down the street from your houses when the other came over. It didn’t help that you lived with your sister and didn’t want her to know you were sneaking someone in the house and screwing them. It also didn’t help that his roommate worked there too and didn’t get along at times. It didn’t seem like all the effort to sneak around was worth it at the time, but now you felt like you had a mistake.

As you took your seat behind the reception desk and began to put away your things for the morning, you just kept stealing glimpses of him doing the same at his cubicle. Every morning he would put his black messenger bag under his desk, turn on his computer, and roll the sleeves of his white button-up shirt up to reveal one very tattooed arm. His wavy hair was usually put back into a half ponytail for professionalism and probably so he could see, but there were always strands that managed to escape his hair elastic throughout the day. It was painful mentally at times having a view of him but trying not to look, it was painful knowing he wouldn’t look back at you anymore. You could still feel what it was like when he had glanced at you and smiled at you, your heart sped up at just the thought. 

“Ugh why are you always here so early, you leave before I even wake up.” his roommate,Jimin, had walked in, looking great as usual but a bit tired in the face. He was lingering around Jungkook’s desk with his things still in hand.

“I like to be prepared, unlike you.” Jungkook joked back with a smile but you knew it was just more than a joke, Jungkook really didn't care for Jimin, he was a bit too spiteful towards him sometimes.

He had always come in early, you both were typically the first ones here besides the janitor. You had to be, your boss liked you here nice and early to greet everyone as they walked in.

“You coming to the thing tonight? The boss is letting us have booze.” Jimin asked him.

You felt like you really shouldn’t be paying attention to the conversation so you went back to sipping your coffee and getting ready to start the day.

“Hey.”

It nearly scared you to death as you rummaged through your bag under the desk for your chapstick. Your body jolted up to see Jimin leaning one arm on the reception counter.

“What?” you asked in confusion, wondering what he was now doing hanging around you with such a sly smirk.

“Well good morning to you too. Are you going to the party tonight? Boss is having a thing to celebrate meeting our yearly product sales goal.”

“I… haven’t thought about it, why?” you were honest, it didn’t mean anything to you.

“I know we have this policy, but you should think about going with me.” he gave you a wink that made you raise your eyebrows in surprise. “We could come here and have a few drinks and a good time, then we could go back to my place and-”

“How about we don’t? We could just not do that.” you gave him a very fake smile.

Sudden loud coughing erupted through the room making you both look over at the source.

Jungkook was doubled over with his coffee still in his hand.

“You good?” Jimin asked him casually and Jungkook gave a thumbs up to show he was fine, even though his big eyes were slightly teary before holding up his coffee cup to signify he had strangled on his coffee.

“Anyway, if you’re worried about someone saying something about us, you could just come separately and we could just see what happens…”

“I’m not worried because there is no us, Jimin. I’ll come, but let’s not see what happens, and let’s not even speak.” 

“Your loss. At least I’ll have Jungkook there with me.” Jimin responded along with a shrug to your savage words before walking away.

You looked over to Jungkook to make sure he hadn’t died because he was no longer choking, you just wanted to make sure he was still breathing but your eyes were met with his. He was giving you this gaze before he raised his eyebrows at you with a slight momentary smirk, it all only lasted less than a split second before he adjusted his black tie and turned back around to face his desk. 

How could he be so casual with a look like that at you? How could he be so casual with everything that had happened between you? You had no idea what that look was about but it had your brain so frazzled. It could’ve been nothing, but it was the most interaction you’ve had with him in so long, all it had done was remind you how starved for him you were.

You looked down at your desk feeling your face get a little warm.

Images of that very shirt he was wearing right now, being unbuttoned rapidly with those tattooed fingers in some dark, sketchy hotel room ran through your mind. 

“I wish you knew how much I’d go through to be this close to you, to be inside of you.” The memory of his words and hushed voice into your skin gave you goosebumps.

The same man who had said that now sat right over there, not even having tried to flirt with you in the past eight months as you sat here and wondered why you do this to yourself. 

Did he still feel that way or had he just meant it at the moment? There were plenty at the moment things that he had said that would flood into your mind just to hurt you when you saw him.

You glanced at him throughout the day as you often did.

You avoided each other on your lunch break, stepping around each other to get to the vending machines in the break room.

You ate at your desk alone while he ate with Jimin in the break room.

Things were the same as they had been, the look he had given you earlier meant nothing, maybe nothing that had happened in the past meant nothing to him too.

Maybe it was all just fun like you both had planned for it to be, if so, why were you still so stuck on it? Why were you stuck on him? You told yourself it was just because he was attractive, the most gorgeous man in the office, but there were just these little things about him you couldn’t get over. The way he stretched and grunted in the morning, you knew the way he liked his coffee, you knew his parents’ names. You had both shared so much of your lives for an entire month almost constantly until you ripped it away from yourself so stupidly. You had both agreed to delete each other’s numbers, but the truth was, you still kept his name in your phone with little hearts by his name. You needed this to end, you needed to stop being so hung up on him because he wasn’t with you. You decided to go to this thing tonight and at least hope for some answers, if you failed to get any you would do your best to stop thinking about him.

------------------ 

You had talked yourself out of this more than five times already, but you had gotten dressed and ready and made the drive over.

You now sat in the office parking lot just picking lint off of your black dress, not looking forward to how awkward this might be. In your years of working there, you had mostly just kept to yourself… until the thing with Jungkook happened.

“Are you nervous? You look nervous” he gave you a little smile from across the table from the coffee shop. He had asked you to get coffee after work and he could see right through you

“A little.” You had admitted.

“Don’t be shy, it’s just me. It’s just Jungkook, we work together every day.”

“Don’t be nervous.” You found yourself saying out loud to yourself as you gazed out your windshield at the building. “I shouldn’t be. I work with him every day and nothings going to happen anyway.” You hurt yourself a little with the last part. You put a lot more care into how you looked tonight than you wanted to admit.

“It’s just a stupid office party,” you grumbled to yourself before unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car, if it was horrible or boring then you could just go home.

-----

You didn’t know what you had expected, but it wasn’t this. You had followed the signs to the floor that had held a large meeting room, but it didn’t look like a meeting room now.

It was just a room full of people with a snack table and alcohol. The room was dimmed but there were some cheap party effects lighting things happening. People were laughing and talking over some pop music that wasn’t eardrum-bustlingly loud but you still had to strain to hear over. You spotted a lot of coworkers you saw every day, more that you didn’t know from different departments though. You kind of just went and stood by a wall with your eyes searching faces, not stopping too long on any just in case they might think you were staring at them. Before you had left you wondered if you had been too dressed up, but now you were glad for your little black dress as you saw what the others were wearing. Everyone looked so nice and not at all what you were used to them wearing. 

While your eyes were going over who was talking to who, you found him.

In the corner of the room on the opposite end, talking to some girl you had only seen a handful of times. She was touching her hair and smiling at him. He looked so dressed down in his ripped black jeans and a black t-shirt. His tattoos were freed as you had always liked seeing and his hair wasn’t being held back. You had seen him like this multiple times, but had anyone else? He had always looked so good like this, so himself. 

Just seeing his hair down reminded you of all the times you had grabbed at it while moaning his name. Seeing him in those black ripped jeans reminded you of all the times he has made you ride his chiseled, hard thighs until you came multiple times. 

You felt like you had been kicked in the heart as your brain went back to the present moment and saw her placing a hand on his shoulder.

He laughed at something she had said but took a step back out of her grasp smoothly before giving her a small wave. A few more words were exchanged before she apprehensively walked away from him, heaving him alone to stand at the wall on the other side of the room.

Your eyes darted away from him and over to the snack and drink table, you weren’t planning on getting any, but you wanted to make it look that way.

You felt nervous, he looked good and at least one other person had noticed. You told yourself that the lady who had just spoken to him didn’t know him as you did, she probably just saw a hot guy dressed in black with tattoos… just like you had when you both had started whatever happened. He was more than all of that, to you especially now after you had a lot of time to think about it all.

Although you didn’t want your eyes to, they had darted to him for a split second to see he had his phone out… until he looked up from it at you.

He had seen you, he had seen you looking at him from across the room, but he didn’t react. Instead, his eyes went back down to his phone, and yours went back to the table.

Your phone buzzed in your bag and you decided to fish it out thinking it could help you look busy.

“Hey, it’s Jungkook. I see you :)”

Your heart nearly jumped out of your mouth as you read the text. 

He hadn’t deleted your number just like you hadn’t his.

You felt his eyes watching you but you didn’t look up. He was waiting for your reply, but you just stood there dumbfounded that he had just sent you a text from across the room.

“I know.” you had nervously typed different versions of this reply over and over only to erase each time before settling on the most simple reply.

“You look good.” it had taken him no time to reply in comparison to you. You stood there in shock and lost as to what to say to him. You were taking too long because he sent a second text.

“I know that dress. I remember it.”

You had been hoping he would. You had worn this dress on the first night you both had ever done anything. You made out in his car after your coffee date. He had just kept telling you how pretty you looked even with his hand in your underwear. It was hard to resist him from even the first date, you had no idea how you had made it eight months now.

“You look nice too, you always have.” You typed and sent it quickly before you could change your mind.

You watched him run his inked fingers through his hair as he read the text. You could swear you saw a flash of a smile on his face before his thumbs went to work on his phone.

“I miss you.” Popped up on your screen.

Part of you felt like crying a little. You felt his eyes on you once again and you looked up away from your phone to see that your feeling had been correct. You were sure your mouth was open as you locked eyes from across the room. Your phone vibrated again in your hand.

“We should talk.”

“Hey, gorgeous!” Jimin stepped in front of you making you lock your phone. “I know you said let’s not talk but-“

“Then why are you talking to me?”

“How could I not? You’re the prettiest one here.” He smirked but you could smell the alcohol on his breath. You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes.

“Oh hey! I’ve been looking for you!” Jungkook now walked up with a smile at you. “You found her for me and didn’t even know I was looking, thanks, man.” Jungkook seemed to be thanking an equally confused as you Jimin.

“Sorry to bother you about work stuff at a party, but I forgot to earlier. I need the contact info to a client I’ve been working on to sell more products to. It’s wild, it’s like I went to the bathroom one day and the info to this big buyer just kinda… disappeared I guess. So weird, almost like someone has it out for me.” Jungkook gave the fakest joking laugh you had ever seen and Jimin looked a bit wide-eyed. “Anyway, You’re the receptionist so I know you have the contact info for everyone anyway so I was wondering if you could maybe help me out and get it for me? It’s kind of really important and I need it ASAP. Already asked the boss and he said it was cool.” 

Jimin had just kind of slinked off silently, but you knew what Jungkook was doing.

“Yeah, Uh of course.” You nodded.

He tilted his head in the direction of the door before you followed him out.

He led you towards the elevator in absolute silence and even as he pushed the button for the floor you both worked on he said nothing.

You were beginning to think he was wanting your help. And then you thought about it more in the silent ride and you felt so stupid. Of course he was wanting your help, he had never said he actually didn’t, not even when Jimin had walked away.

“I can’t believe that asshole sabotaged me like that. My roommate sabotaged my sale.” He mumbled before scoffing as the elevator door opened.

“I-I’ll help.” You said but he passed right by your desk.

“I’m glad you said that.” He replied as he walked over to Jimin’s cubicle.

“What are we doing?” You finally asked.

“Depends…” he raised an eyebrow as he looked back at you. “What do you want me to do?” 

You swallowed the lump of nervousness in your throat to speak as you looked into his mischievous-looking dark eyes.

“Whatever you want I guess.”

He lifted you in almost an instant and sat you on Jimin’s desk.

“You know he’s always liked you, right? He would tell on us if he ever found out. You were willing to risk it, right here right now?” He dared.

Instead of speaking you grabbed a fist full of his t-shirt and tugged him down until his lips met yours.

God did you want it. You have wanted for eight long months. You were willing to risk everything after so long without his lips on yours.

You were still nervous but his kiss brought it all back for you and how natural it felt.

“Fuck me.” You pleaded against his lips.

“You need it? Tell me you need it.” His lips moved to your neck as he ran a hand through the back of your hair.

“Ah, fuck I need it. I haven’t fucked anyone since you.” It slipped out of your mouth and got a second your body went rigid.

“Me neither.” He nipped at your neck.

The second thing he had done tonight that had stunned you.

“Wait.” You stopped him and he backed up to look at you.

“I missed you too. Not just… not just this, I missed you. I don’t know if you feel the same but-“

“What did you think I meant by I missed you? I didn’t just mean the sex or your body. I meant you as a person.” 

“I-why didn’t you just say?” You wondered out loud. 

He dropped to the floor on his knees between your legs.

“Cause you dumped me.” He let out a snort “you told me to delete your number, which surprise, I didn’t. You wouldn’t look at me. Plus this went two ways you know. You didn’t contact me either.” He stated as he looked up at you while ghosting his fingers over the skin of your thighs as he spoke.

“I dumped you?” You were surprised by this news. You know neither of you had had the relationship talk before.

“I mean, I like to think we were together.”

“Then we should be again,” you decided. You were tired of wanting him and not having him and something told you that he felt the same.

“I think so too,” he whispered, inching his lips closer and closer to yours before smashing into them.

His hands squeezed at the meat of your thighs before trailing them up the sides, up under your skirt, and hooking them in your panties. Your tongues whipped together in each other’s mouths. You managed to move so that he could get your panties down, but he only pulled them to your knees. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the table, so close you thought you might fall off if he wasn’t right there between your legs. 

His fingers now slowly ran from your inner thighs to your folds. As soon as he touched you, you unlocked your lips from his and let out a shaky breathed whine.

“I can tell you missed me. You're so wet for me,” he whispered so quietly just for you to hear even though no one else was in the room.

You did your best to stay quiet as his fingers teasingly and slowly ran over your clit and back down to your cunt.

He lifted his slick fingers to his mouth and you watched with a slightly open mouth as he let them slide past his lips and then out of his mouth altogether, coming out more glossy from his spit.

“I missed the way you taste”

His even more wet fingers that now teased at your pussy were making you want to grab his hand and force it to do something more. You were practically shaking under even the slightest of his touches. You were nervous for someone to walk in at any given moment and all he was doing was drawing things out and letting his fingers kill precious time playing in your folds.

“I'd love to make you cum right now with my mouth” he pressed a kiss onto your neck where his face had been camping out while his fingers tortured you. “But I know how that makes you scream and we have to be very…” another kiss to your neck “very” his fingers finally slowly slipped into your cunt “very quiet.” his whispers tapered off to quieter and quieter, so much so that your shaking breaths felt loud between the both of you.

You were doing your best not to break out into full-blown moans so that maybe if someone walked in you could play it off as just talking or something else, as long as no one heard your moans on the way up the both of you could have time to look normal. 

His fingers curled inside of you with his palm grinding down onto your clit slowly.

“Oh God.” you breathed not knowing how you were supposed to survive this. He was all you wanted for months upon months and now that you had him here, tattooed hand knuckle deep in your pussy, his lips on your skin saying nothing but filth, you felt like you couldn't even let go as much as you wanted to, but you were trying.

His hand sped up its movements as you could feel how hard he was now in his jeans against the inside of your thigh.

Your lips squeezed together but it couldn’t stop the small whimpers he forced out of you. You could hear him breathing in your ear along with the wet sounds of your pussy. You were close but so scared. Doing this out in the open was such a thrill but it also made you paranoid. 

“Cum for me. I hear the way you’re whining, you’re so close I know it. Just cum for me. Cum around my fingers, no one will know.” 

You couldn’t stop it now.

You grabbed a hold of his shirt and forced his chest harder against yours, you wanted him closer, impossibly close as you came undone, clenching around his fingers rhythmically as each wave of pleasure pulsed through your body. 

He let out a little moan at the sound and feel of you coming. 

“I missed that too.” He whispered to himself before pulling his fingers out of you slowly.

He reached between you and you felt him quickly yet nervously fiddling with his button and zipper with his hand that wasn’t soaked in your wetness.

He made a show about taking his thick, veiny cock out of his pants and rubbing your juices from his hand over it. 

In seconds he was back in your ear.

“Can I fuck your brains out?” The whisper was soft, his voice was sweet but the words themselves were as hard as his dick he still stroked in his hand.

“You're always allowed brains out.” You whispered back “just do it.” 

You felt his head run over your folds teasingly as he continued to play with you and himself.

“Do you still think about me fucking your brains out?” He asked. You could hear how much wetness had spread from you to his cock with each pump of his hand.

“Every time I need to get off.” You admitted. “So give it to me so I don’t have to keep wishing anymore.” 

He pushed into you slowly, letting out a deep sigh and throwing his head back for a moment so you could see his perfectly sculpted throat.

You missed how full he made you feel while he was inside of you. 

He pulled out almost entirely, the head of his cock was the only thing left inside of you, pushing on your g-spot before the thrust back in hard. This was the way he fucked, pulling out almost entirely so his head hit where you needed it. You had experienced guys that just flopped around, but he knew you, he knew your body, he paid attention, he had a very special handcrafted way to get you off over and over until you were shaking.

One of his hands grabbed your hip while the other went to your clit to play with using his thumb.

“You miss this, baby?” You miss my dick between your legs?” His lips brushed with your parted and panting ones as he spoke.

You let out a whimper as you focused on your second orgasm, his hips were not letting up and neither was his lips that whispered pure filth.

“Want me to cum inside of you, make you not want to forget me and who you belong to? Right here on Jimin's desk.” 

Your eyes squeezed shut and you clutched at the fabric of his shirt as you were once again thrown into pure pleasure.

You couldn’t help it this time. The way he touched you, the way he felt inside of you, his grunts and words were all too much.

“Please, fucking cum inside of me, I want it all fuck you feel so good.” You cried out way too loudly. 

“Oh my god, fuck.” He breathed through pants as his hips pounded into yours. You felt him release inside of you. Your walls clenched around him upon hearing his long deep guttural moan. 

“I haven’t cum like that in…” he panted before letting out a little chortle of laughter “well in eight months.” 

“So,” there was a loud voice in the room making your heads turn and your stomach’s sink. “You fucked on my desk.” Jimin looked beyond angry as he sat in an office chair across the room with his phone in his hand, pointing it at the both of you. You had no idea when or how he had come in, but you knew you were both beyond physically fucked.

Jungkook had already scrambled to pull out of you and zip his pants back up as you jumped off the desk, pulled your underwear up, and smoothed out your dress.

“That's fine, I have you both on video. I really liked you y/n. Jungkook, Looks like I’m moving out.” he stood from the chair and headed towards the direction of the elevator. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to speak to our boss about this. He probably won't be too happy to see you two are breaking company policy.” 

“Fuck company policy and fuck you! You were an awful friend, roommate and you've always been jealous of me!” Jungkook yelled at him back.

“Not anymore, jobless.” Jimin turned back to give Jungkook a smirk before he stepped into the elevator.

With that, you were both just left there.

“I… I am so so sorry…” Jungkook began apologetically and just as stunned as you were.

“Don’t be, we’re too good for this job anyway, we can find new ones. It looks like you need a new roommate now though.” 

You watched his face as a small smile grew on it.

“Yeah, looking for someone prettier and nicer, maybe someone willing to be my girlfriend? I don't know though, I don’t want to make too many demands.” 

“Well I could meet all of those demands.” you played along. “We won't have to sneak around anymore.”

“Yes, please, yes. I uh- don't want to ruin the cute moment, but I think we should get out of here before Jimin brings the boss up.”

“Oh fuck, right. Uhh, we should probably just never come back too. Let’s just grab our stuff from our desks and make a run for it.”

“Let's go. You know, this is simultaneously the best, worst, most exciting, and most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me,” he said and you couldn't help but laugh and agree.

Maybe the both of you had made a big mistake, but perhaps there could be good that came from it. You had him back and honestly you didn’t feel too bad about trading your dumb job with its dumb company policy for him.

#armyadvocatesaapi #bangtanarmynet #armywriterssupport #jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook angst #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook established relationship #bts smut #Jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshot smut #park jimin #jimin

[vivakyuh]

stirring the pot (ushi x fem!reader)

by vivak

general warnings: smut. face fucking, some masturbation, dirty talk!

interested in reading it on ao3? check it out here! i’d appreciate any kudos and comments! <3

chapters: ch. one, ch. two, ch. three, ch. four

chapter three: eyes wide open (face-fucking)

Very early on, you two decide to split up your ‘explorations’ with one-day wait periods. Sure, you’d do anything to fuck Wakatoshi every night, but from a real, logical point of view you both figure it’ll wear you both down quick. While you have no doubt in your mind Waka would fuck you straight into oblivion everyday if you just as simply asked, you want your new experiences with each other to be something not so muddled together, not just thrown together in a mess of lust filled drive. Something that pushes your relationship even further. To build off your sexual trust.

The process should be slow and methodical; but in all seriousness, you all but pulled a long list of things you want to try out of your ass while you were on lunch break at work. All scribbled down and messy with a red ballpoint pen. You run it by Waka during dinner that very same night, cross-checking to make sure he’d be interested in every single one.

Tonight, second on the list, Face Fucking.

You’re waiting on the couch, you had just gotten off work about forty minutes prior, changed into a comfy pair of pajamas and turned on a show that you weren’t taking the time to pay attention to.

A quick look at the clock beside the TV tells that it’s almost eight and Wakatoshi will be home soon.

Tonight, you decide you’ll give Toshi most of the control. Think it’s a good idea to flip back and forth between the two of you. You know how Wakatoshi sometimes wants to take control, but stops himself. Always worried of hurting you, always so scared to go too far. You want to push him a little bit; push yourself, want him to use you for his own personal pleasure.

When the door opens and reveals a very hunched over, tired Wakatoshi, you can’t stop the little look of surprise as he walks into the living room with heavy steps. He discards his work bag right next to the front door, not even moving to put it on it’s usual spot on the dining table chair and begins to slip off his shoes.

You frown, “You okay, love?”

He nods his head, pushes his fingers to ruffle up his hair, and turns to walk to you on the couch. Your arms are already outstretched, fingers curling and uncurling in a sort of come hither motion, inviting him in for a nice, long embrace together. Right when he’s in reach, you wrap your arms around his waist, the only thing you can grab from your place on the couch, and bring him to sit down next to you.

Kicking the blanket out with your legs, you toss it over his lap and cuddle closer to him.

“Missed you.” he rumbles.

“My big baby,” you joke. “I’ve just seen you this morning, but I missed you too, honey.”

He lets out a deep sigh and lays his head over yours. So content, so loved in your arms. So happy about the small little circles you rub into his lower back.

You both sit there, silent in each other’s embrace. At some point, you even watch as his eyes nearly drift shut, just to rest for a moment, before jerking open again. Wakatoshi lifts his pretty, tired face, looks down at you with soft eyes. Eyes always so soft when he looks at you. Just you.

Carefully, you say: “Want to let off some steam?” This is your way of asking him if he wants to carry on with tonight, to ask if he’s not too tired or too spent from work; this is his out.

His eyes squint, just slightly, like he’s thinking it over. Finally, he nods, “I’d like that a lot, honey.”

You lift the blanket off your bodies and quickly slide to hover his knees on the couch, looking up straight into his eyes as you put a hand on either one and push them apart. Wakatoshi leans further back into the cushions and let’s out a deep sigh.

He’s still wearing his business attire, even his blazer, and it looks uncomfortable. “Take off your clothes, baby. Want you to enjoy this.”

Toshi grunts in frustration, leans forward to shrug his shoulders until his blazer falls down his arms and proceeds to undo his button up. Right when he gets it off, he moves to tug off his tie, but you stop him mid-way. “You think you can keep that on?” you smirk.

He blinks, gods, he looks so tired. Then he nods.

You slide your hands up his thighs, feel his muscles tense and move under your fingers and his slacks, unbuckle his belt and tug it off in a fast, fluid movement before leaving it to lay somewhere on the floor. His dick’s already so hard against his pants, lets a tiny gasp out when your fingers just ever so slightly brush over the top. Unbuttoning his pants, you don’t even have to ask Waka to lift his hips into the air, because once you put a finger under the waistband he’s already doing it, cants his hips up for you to drag them down his legs and leaving them to drop at his ankles for him to kick off.

“You want this, Honey?”

He nods his head against the cushions, already breathless, “Yes. Want it so bad.”

His cock’s pressing against his boxers, a small wet patch right at the head, so fucking big and ready. In your horny haze, you pull them down, marveling at the sight of it. You’ve seen it a million times over, but god, you’ll never get enough of how pretty it is. It takes so much of your energy to not jump up and ride him til’ he’s breaking, but this is about him. This is his chance to let out his frustrations, his tiredness.

Wakatoshi humps up into the air, wants your mouth so badly, but you want to take it slow— just for now.

“Touch yourself for me, baby.” you whisper.

He groans. “I want you, honey. Want that pretty mouth.”

“I know,” you say. “But do it, baby. Do it then I’ll suck you off.”

He nods, fists his hand around his cock and moans at the feeling of it; but it’s not enough— not nearly as good as your mouth. But he needs something, anything to relieve himself, so he moves his hand up and down, fucks up into the warmth of his own fingertips. The sound alone makes you wet, makes you feel like you’re gonna die from the lewdness of it all. The squelch of his pre spreading across the skin of his dick and his hand, his quiet whimpers. The speed of his hand picks up, determined to reach his high, hand clenched so tight around his cock his knuckles are white— and he’s whining, uses his other hand to fondle his balls, whole entire body shaking.

You can tell he’s about to cum when he starts breathing heavy, muscles on his stomach start tensing, so you grab his hand mid stroke, and good lord, he lets out the most beautiful cry, thighs instinctively moving to shut closed, but you use your shoulder and other hand to keep them open.

“Fuck,” he growls. “I need it. Fucking god, I need it.”

“I know, my dirty boy, I know.”

He sighs dreamily.

“You wanna come?”

“Yes,” he grunts, brings his hips up into the air, looks down at you to beg for you to suck him off with his eyes. “Honey. Need you.”

“You gonna fuck my throat?” you hum, moving his hands, that were still on his cock, away to lay flat on the couch. “Wanna fuck this pretty mouth?”

“God,” he grunts. “So lewd. You’re so fucking lewd.”

“Love when you talk dirty, Waka.” you grab the bottom of his dick, “Wanna talk dirty to me, baby? I love it when you lose control.”

His mouth gapes open in pleasure, chest moving up and down in frantic movements.

“Come on,” you stroke his cock slow. “Treat me like your slut, Toshi. Treat me like a whore.”

He grimaces for a second, looks like he’s in pain, so conflicted. You notice how much he doesn’t want to treat you that way, how he doesn’t want to run off that cliff and insult you, even if it’s during sex.

“Hey, hey,” you catch his attention. “Color, baby? You want this right?”

Waka nods, clears his throat, “Green, fuck, green. Yes. Just—“

“Let go,” you urge. “Roughen me up a little. I want it, I promise.”

He nods, then moves his hand, the one he was fucking his cock with, into your hair and closes it into a tight fist. “Suck my cock. Know you want it, naughty fucking girl.”

Shuddering in absolute delight, you let him guide your mouth to his cock and presses you down to push the head of it into your mouth. He lets out a loud groan, throwing his hips up into the warmth of your mouth and you choke on it, the entirety of his dick shoved far into the back of your throat; you let out a disgusting gag— and he immediately brings his hips down, eyes wide. “Shit, honey, tell me if you’re—“

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath through your nose and bring yourself to completely deep throat him, loving the way he moans, face dipping into the hair at the base of his cock.

Wakatoshi’s fingers tighten further around your hair, begins bobbing your head up and down over his dick, quivering at the sound of you choking over the thickness of his entire length. “Shit, honey. So fucking good, so fucking sexy.”

Humming, he almost doubles over at the feeling of the vibrations, dick flying up as he fucks himself deeper into your throat— “Take it, fuck, fucking take it. So fucking naughty,” he grunts, loud. “You love my cock, baby? You want my cock down your fucking throat?”

You moan, legs twitching, thighs shaking at the need for some fucking friction, so you bring your hand to slip under your pajama shorts, under your underwear, and dip a finger into the wetness pooling at your pussy.

When you feel like you’re about to pass out, he rips your head away from his dick, a long, thick glob of saliva and pre-cum connecting the head of his cock to your lips— the back of your head stinging at the force he used to yank you back. Panting, you whimper out as your finger brushes against your clit, shaking in anticipation.

You must look so fucked out, because Toshi can’t help but moan out at the sight of you.

“No fucking idea how sexy you are, honey.” he brushes his other hand against your cheeks, plays with your bottom lip with his thumb, gasps when you eagerly take it into your mouth and suck on it.

“Fuck, fuck. Love you so much,” he sighs, waits til’ you catch your breath to lead you back to his cock, shoves you down on it again, hits the back of your throat and bobs your head— only this time, he’s rougher with it— desperate for his own release. “Please, fuck, baby. My naughty fucking honey.”

He gathers your hair together into a ponytail, twirls it into a make shift bun around his fingers and really begins fucking into your mouth, the harsh, wet slap of his balls hitting your face as your drool and spit fall out of your mouth and slide obscenely down his cock. He moans so loud, throws his head back against the couch, legs twitch and tense, wanting so badly to close, but he doesn’t want to crush you, so he forces them open.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, and it’s so fucking feral. So gritty. So beyond anything you’ve heard from him. “Sucking that cock, sucking my dick like a fucking whore, fuck.”

He tips his head down, forces your head up just to look him straight into his eyes— and god, Jesus god, you’ve seen him look exactly like this when he was in an intense game of volleyball. You know now, this is how people feel when Wakatoshi’s playing on the opposing team; finally understand why people are so terrifyingly intimidated by him— his eyes, so fucking dark, so demanding it hurts. He looks positively evil. It makes you so turned on, you can feel it dripping and wetting your panties, you slip two fingers inside, start thrusting up into yourself knuckle deep.

“Gonna cum,” he warns. “Fuck, fucking whore. My beautiful fucking whore. Gonna cum. And you’re gonna fucking enjoy it, won’t you? Want my cum so fucking far down your throat, oh, fuck yes you do.”

With the way he’s talking, you won’t be able to last long.

His cock throbs in your mouth— so fucking lewd, so fucking amazing; and the friction of your fingers against your clit feels so amazing, you’re gonna—

“Baby, cumming,” he groans, so fucking loud. “Cum, fuck, cumming— I’m gonna fucking—“

You move your tongue over his slit, hollow out your cheeks and suck as hard as you possibly can.

“Cumming!” he shouts, slams his cock up into your mouth, and explodes. His eyes shut closed, flings his head back, arches his back off the couch. Your met with the warm jets of cum hitting the back of your throat, swallowing them down as soon as they hit your tongue, not wanting to miss a single drop, not wanting to waste anything.

Continuing to fingerfuck yourself, you keep on bobbing up and down, even after his hand falls from your head and he begs, tells you he’s too sensitive, and after a couple more deep thrusts, you fall into oblivion. Moaning around his cock, he whimpers at the mere feeling of it, cock softening against your tongue; until you finally, finally let him fall out your mouth.

Wakatoshi’s staring straight up into the ceiling, mouth hung open in a deep intake of breath. You pant, lift yourself up by his thighs, pull up his boxers when he lifts his hips and lean over to take his lips in a nice, soft kiss, so gentle in comparison to your shenanigans seconds before. You sigh into his mouth, pull back, and settle your face into his neck.

“Good job, baby.” you push back his hair, “You’re so good to me, Wakatoshi. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you,” he returns, grabs your face between his hands and strokes the stray hairs out of your face, tucking them behind your ears. Eyes soft, just as normal. “Was I too rough? Honey, please tell me if I was too rough.”

“No,” you giggle, “No, Waka. Not at all. I loved it, I loved it so much.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief, watching as you bring your fingers down to tug at his tie until it falls loose.

“Looked really sexy with only a tie on, you know.”

He quirks up a eyebrow, “Oh, really?”

You hum, and laugh. “Yeah, really. Gods, how’d I get so lucky, huh?”

He shakes his head, presses a soft kiss to your temple. “I should be asking that, honey. Don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Jokingly flinging your hair over your shoulder, you shrug. “Well, I am all that.”

He chuckles, leans forward on the couch and brings you close to his body before muttering out a quiet, “Tired.”

Nodding your head, you bring your fingers into his hair and massage the nape of his neck. “Wanna race there?”

He laughs again, but this time’s it’s a little more forceful. “I do not think you’re in the best shape to race there.”

“Me?” you ask, disbelieving. “I’m not the one who screamed all about how I was gonna cum.”

“Oh, shush.” he stands and wraps your legs around his waist, beginning to walk toward the bedroom.

He sets you down on your side of the bed, tugging on the bed sheets until you move your legs up just enough for him to tuck it over you. Toshi rounds the bed and lays down on his side, pulling you closer until you’re face to face with each other.

You sigh in content and let your eyes close.

A long five minutes pass by. “I love you, honey.” he says, and it’s so full of admiration, and love, and happiness. It pulls at your heart strings.

“I love you too, Wakatoshi. My Wakatoshi.”

He embraces you into a tight, warm hug. Rests his head on top of yours.

And together, you fall asleep in total bliss. You’ll be sure to deal with his clothes sitting in the living room tomorrow.

#fanfic #haikyuu!! #hq x you #smut #ushijima fluff #ushijima smut #ushijima thirst #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x you #wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushiwaka #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #switch ushijima #switch reader #hq ushijima #haikyuu ushijima #yum

[bloody-bee-tea]

Wedding Days

Inspired by this prompt from @mingcheng-prompts

Jiang Cheng groans when he hears Wei Wuxian’s excited laughter and then he mentally curses himself for it, because it’s Wei Wuxian’s wedding day. He’s allowed to be excited and happy. Required even.

It doesn’t change the fact that Jiang Cheng got dumped a day before the wedding happened and he had to show up alone to this, but it is what it is. Jiang Cheng wouldn’t even change it in hindsight and he’s kind of glad that relationship ended, but still.

He deserves to get another drink, right?

Jiang Cheng is just about to knock back another shot when a hand settles on his arm.

“What the hell?” he snaps out, ready to tear a new one into whoever dares to interrupt his drinking, but the words die on his tongue when he locks eyes with the most gorgeous man he has ever seen.

“Drinking alone is no fun,” the guy says and lifts his own shot to Jiang Cheng. “Want some company?”

“Depends on why you are drinking?” Jiang Cheng gives back, because he could never simply take anything that was offered and the guy huffs out a laugh.

“I was dumped. Like, ten minutes ago. It feels like a good reason to drink,” he says with a shrug. “You?”

“Dumped yesterday,” Jiang Cheng mutters and clinks his shot against the other. “It’s a perfect reason to drink,” he says and then downs the shot, watching the man do the same.

Jiang Cheng is absolutely not itching to get his teeth into his throat.

“Nie Mingjue,” the guy introduces himself once he swallowed and it takes Jiang Cheng an embarrassing long moment to tears his eyes away from his throat.

“Jiang Wanyin,” he replies and he wonders if he can pretend that his voice sounds rough like this because of the alcohol.

“Wei Wuxian’s brother, right?”

“And you’re Huaisang’s brother,” Jiang Cheng gives back, distantly wondering how they went all these years without meeting even once, but he shrugs it off. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Nie Mingjue says and then waves the barkeeper down for another round of shots.

~*~**~

Jiang Cheng feels pleasantly warm, a tingling spreading out from his stomach to all his limbs and he likes to pretend that it’s the alcohol finally putting in some work. It has nothing at all to do with the way Nie Mingjue kisses a scorching hot trail down his throat.

“No, stop,” Jiang Cheng breathes out, because this is monumentally unfair. He wanted to kiss Nie Mingjue’s throat, not the other way around.

“What?” Nie Mingjue asks, pulling away immediately and Jiang Cheng takes that opportunity to get his own lips on Nie Mingjue’s skin.

“Wanted to do that since the first shot,” he says between kisses and Nie Mingjue makes a noise in his throat that Jiang Cheng can almost taste.

“Gods, you’re so unbelievable hot,” Nie Mingjue says and reaches around Jiang Cheng to grab his ass in his huge hands.

“You’re one to talk,” Jiang Cheng groans out when Nie Mingjue simply lifts him up the ground and Jiang Cheng is quick to sling his legs around his waist. “Fuck, you’re one to talk,” he repeats as he grinds into Nie Mingjue.

He doesn’t get to say much more when Nie Mingjue claims his lips into a searing hot kiss and Jiang Cheng doesn’t quite remember how they end up in his bed, but he surely won’t complain about that.

Not that Nie Mingjue gives him a chance to even form a coherent sentence now that a mattress is below them.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng wakes up alone. There’s no note to find anywhere and Nie Mingjue doesn’t contact him, even though it would be easy for him to get Jiang Cheng’s number from Nie Huaisang.

Jiang Cheng tries to not let that get to him and he goes on with his life as usual.

~*~*~

It keeps happening. They keep meeting at weddings of their families or friends, always alone, sometimes recently dumped and sometimes not, but they somehow always drift to the open bar, where the other is usually waiting.

Drinks lead to kisses, which lead to making out, which lead to them leaving the reception early to put their booked rooms to good use.

Jiang Cheng normally wakes up alone. Nie Mingjue still hasn’t contacted him.

~*~*~

It’s the ninth wedding in the last year and a half and Jiang Cheng finds himself in the same arms that he always finds himself in during these things.

“Why didn’t you drink tonight?” Nie Mingjue asks between kisses, because of course he had picked up on that and Jiang Cheng tries his best to shrug, while also not to dislodge Nie Mingjue’s lips from his skin.

“No reason,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and hopes that Nie Mingjue will just drop the issue.

It’s the ninth wedding in one and a half years and Jiang Cheng is scared that it will be the last for a while yet. Their families and assorted friend circles are big, but not that big and the next wedding will be a while off yet.

So Jiang Cheng decided to do something stupid and he can’t afford to be drunk for that. Well, drunk on alcohol. He’s perfectly drunk on the hot feeling in his gut, on the kisses Nie Mingjue presses into his skin, on the feeling of his arms around him.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t think there will ever be a way to not get drunk on this, but then his head hits the pillow on his bed and like always Nie Mingjue makes thinking impossible for him.

Jiang Cheng leans fully into it. No matter how his plan works out, it will be the last time for a while, after all.

~*~*~

When Jiang Cheng wakes up, he is not alone. He takes a moment to let out a relieved breath and then he spends long, long minutes simply staring at Nie Mingjue.

It’s the sole reason he didn’t drink even a drop of alcohol yesterday; he tends to oversleep when he is intoxicated and for once he wanted to wake up before Nie Mingjue.

He has a plan, and no matter how stupid that plan might be, he has to try. Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to wait an undetermined amount of time before he sees Nie Mingjue again, and simply reaching out for him seems strange, especially with all the time that has already passed.

But for now, Jiang Cheng enjoys waking up to Nie Mingjue still in his bed. He’s breathing softly and evenly, his face turned towards Jiang Cheng and he has to fight the urge to reach out and trail his fingers over the slope of his nose or his cheekbones.

He doesn’t want to wake Nie Mingjue yet.

Jiang Cheng is pretty sure that he will never get to watch his fill of Nie Mingjue, but he tries his best now anyway. If this goes wrong, it might be the last time he gets to do this, after all.

He is aware that he could be labelled a freak for staring at Nie Mingjue like this, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t care much about that right now. He settles back into bed, head propped up on one hand, so he gets a clearer look of Nie Mingjue and then he stays that way until Nie Mingjue shows the first signs of waking up.

Jiang Cheng is never going to admit to it out loud, but the way Nie Mingjue scrunches his face right before he wakes up is the cutest thing he has ever seen.

“Morning, sleepy-head,” Jiang Cheng whispers as Nie Mingjue blinks his eyes open, and then he decides to fuck it all and he leans in and brushes a kiss over Nie Mingjue’s cheek.

“Wanyin, you’re—awake,” Nie Mingjue says, his voice still sleep rough and while that sends a shiver of heat down Jiang Cheng’s spine, his words make a pit open up in Jiang Cheng’s gut.

“I feel well rested,” he lightly says, untangling himself from the blanket to get up. “Maybe you didn’t put enough work in yesterday,” he tries to joke, but he knows it falls flat, especially when Nie Mingjue sits up and immediately covers himself with the blanket.

Jiang Cheng already knows that he made a monumentally big mistake here, but he’s in too deep now to simply call it quits.

He would rather Nie Mingjue tells him to his face to not be stupid than to live with this uncertainty for longer.

“Stay for breakfast,” Jiang Cheng says, his back turned to Nie Mingjue as he puts on his pants. “There’s no rush to leave, right?”

Jiang Cheng tries his best not to think about the last eight times when Nie Mingjue clearly couldn’t get away from him fast enough, but he soldiers through it.

“Your stomach grumbled in your sleep, you surely must be hungry.”

He turns around, once he buttoned his pants and Nie Mingjue’s face is answer enough for him. Bitterness sweeps through Jiang Cheng, and he can do nothing to stop it.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nie Mingjue says, much like Jiang Cheng expected, and turns away from Jiang Cheng to get dressed.

It looks like he’s in a real rush to get away from Jiang Cheng and he didn’t expect that to hurt so much.

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng bitterly says. “I’m good enough for a drunk fuck but not for breakfast. Got it.”

He feels bad for his words afterwards—it was always clear that this was no-strings attached sex and nothing more—but he can’t take them back and he’s not going to apologize either. Nie Mingjue can deal with that, while Jiang Cheng deals with his stupidly broken heart.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue starts, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to hear his excuses or his explanations.

“No, that’s—” he can’t bring himself to say ‘alright’ because it’s not and he doesn’t want to lie to Nie Mingjue but he can’t find any other words, so he simply trails off.

He’s glad he booked a bigger room for this wedding than he normally does, because it lets him step away from Nie Mingjue and the bed, even though the distance is barely anything.

Jiang Cheng busies himself with his phone, but in all honesty he is listening for Nie Mingjue gathering his things, wondering if he’ll even say goodbye to him or if this is just going to be it.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Nie Mingjue simply walks out on him after Jiang Cheng’s stupid and clearly unwanted attempt.

What he didn’t expect was for Nie Mingjue to step up behind him and pull him into his chest, his arms tightly around his middle.

“It won’t just be breakfast, if I stay,” Nie Mingjue whispers into the space at Jiang Cheng’s throat. “If I stay for breakfast, I will want to stay for lunch and dinner and movies and dates and sleeping together and every second of every day that comes after. If you ask me to stay for breakfast, I’ll never leave you alone again.”

It sounds like a confession and Jiang Cheng’s eyes immediately feel hot with tears.

He turns around in Nie Mingjue’s embrace to sling his arms around Nie Mingjue’s neck and he hides his face much like Nie Mingjue just did.

“Stay for breakfast,” Jiang Cheng croaks out, hating how his voice breaks with hope and happiness and a shiver runs down his spine when Nie Mingjue presses kiss after kiss into his skin.

“I’ll stay forever,” Nie Mingjue gives back and Jiang Cheng nods his head.

“Please,” he says, beyond caring that he’s basically begging Nie Mingjue and even that thought leaves his head when Nie Mingjue pulls away just far enough to be able to kiss Jiang Cheng.

“You never said,” Jiang Cheng breathes out when they part and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“Well, you didn’t either, and I thought—you could have reached out. And then every other time I met you you just came out of a relationship so I didn’t know what to think to be honest.”

“You didn’t reach out, either,” Jiang Cheng gives back, just a tiny bit angry over that. “And I didn’t—I haven’t been in a relationship since that very first time. I made them all up, because I thought I needed that excuse for you,” he admits, hiding his face in Nie Mingjue’s shoulder when he can feel himself blush. “But you always recently broke up before a wedding, too.”

“Ah,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and then he laughs. “Same lie here, to be honest,” he explains before Jiang Cheng can get really angry at him and Nie Mingjue takes his face into his hands.

“Let’s exchange numbers now, so that this misunderstanding can never happen again,” he says and Jiang Cheng leans up for a soft kiss before he nods.

Breakfast is much more comfortable than Jiang Cheng dared to hope for, but that’s probably because Nie Mingjue keeps him tucked into his side and Jiang Cheng can hold his hand all morning.

He’s not inclined to ever let go of Nie Mingjue again, so the fact that he wants to stay, too, fits perfectly well.

(Jiang Cheng was right; there were no more weddings for a terrible long two years. He would have died if he hadn’t gotten to see Nie Mingjue at all during that time, but when they are told that they can kiss now, Jiang Cheng figures it’s better to attend a wedding with his husband now, anyway. Especially his own.)

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #mingcheng #the untamed #mdzs #modern au #hook-ups #getting together #hurt/comfort #fluff #marriages

[stargazing-enby]

“I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé” + Drarry 😘

Thank you @stavromulabetaaa @secretlycrazyhummingbird and anon for your prompts! I turned them into a New Years story, I hope that's all right 😁 

Thanks @april-thelightfury115 for betaing!

Drarry | 2k | Teen and Up | Fake Fiancés, Auror Partners, Locked Down Together, Love Confessions | Read on AO3

“...And we’re still unsure whether the situation will be safe enough for us to marry in spring, so that’s why we haven’t organised much yet. Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know as soon as we have a date.”

Harry, mind still fuzzy with sleep, empty mug in hand, stopped in his tracks by the living room door. Had he heard right?

“We understand, Draco,” came Narcissa’s voice from the Floo. “But you must understand our concerns, too.”

“I do, mother. But you know this was necessary.”

“We do,” Lucius said. “The most important thing is that we’re all safe right now, even if we missed having you home last night.”

Harry didn’t hear the end of the conversation—didn’t notice Draco walking into the kitchen a minute later; he was too busy frowning at the kettle. 

“Morning,” said Draco from behind him. “Didn’t know you were up.”

“Didn’t know you were engaged,” Harry said without thinking—without turning around, without even understanding why he didn’t want to turn around; didn’t want Draco to see the whirl of emotions unravelling in his chest.

“Oh,” Draco said, voice low. “You heard that.”

Harry shook his head, eyes still fixed on the kettle. 

“Not on purpose.” His words came out strained, and he cursed himself inwardly. Why did he even care? It wasn’t like Draco’s personal life was any of his business. Sharing a flat didn’t make them friends, now did it? No matter how much Harry had grown to enjoy having the git around all the time, and watching him fall asleep while they watched telly together at night, and getting to see Draco’s tousled hair in the mornings—

Draco sighed—a slow, heavy sound—and leaned against the counter beside him. Harry did look up at him then, and the maelstrom of emotion probably still all over his face came to an abrupt halt when he realised Draco was holding back a giggle.

“I’m not engaged, Potter,” he said, grin widening. “You look really upset at the idea, though. It’s a cute look on you.”

Draco’s mirth was beautiful, and so, so good at softening Harry from inside out. Still, Harry crossed his arms over his chest with an indignant huff, grumbling, “Sod off, I thought you were keeping an engagement from me!” When Draco only laughed at him, he added, “Why on Earth do your parents think you’re engaged, then?” 

“I’ll tell you,” Draco said through another giggle, “but don’t murder me. I’m the best Auror partner you’ll ever have.”

Harry just raised his eyebrows at him—curiosity and concern mixing with a subtle hint of betrayal that refused to fade away just yet.

“My parents are…very traditional,” Draco started.

“I’d gathered that much, thank you.”

“Shut up, you giant prick. The thing is, they firmly believe people must live with their parents or on their own until they marry. Sharing a living space with anyone other than your spouse is…improper to them. I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail as to why.”

“You really don’t,” Harry said, grimacing. 

“So when I told them I was moving in with you temporarily, I sort of…kind of…had to tell them we were engaged, and the only reason I was moving in with you before getting married was that we wanted to wait until the pandemic was over to have a big wedding with all our loved ones.”

To Harry’s credit, he didn’t drop the mug full of piping hot coffee all over himself.

He did gape at Draco for a good three seconds, though.

“Your parents think we’re engaged?”

“That’s what I said, yes.” Draco had the decency to look sheepish, at least. “If it’s any consolation, they also trust me to remain chaste until my wedding night, so they don’t think you and I have—”

“Oh my god.”

“I would never, anyway. They raised me well.”

“Stop. Shut up.” Harry rested the mug on the kitchen table—sat heavily on a chair, gaze unfocused. “But didn’t you explain—”

“I did explain to them I was moving in with you because we work together and it’s safest to have you as the only person in my bubble so I don’t put them at risk, yes. They argued I had enough money to rent a place for myself, and I panicked and told them you and I had plans to marry anyway, so it wasn’t all that bad, since they trust me to wait until my wedding night to—” 

“Yeah, yes, got it.” Harry pressed his eyes closed, desperately trying to will images of a virginal Draco Malfoy draped over a white king-sized bed from his mind. “Were you planning on telling me any of this? You’ve been here for weeks…” 

“I was, of course.” 

Harry side-eyed him.

“It’s just—I guess…I was waiting for the right time to tell you, and it never really came up. And don’t give me that look! Remember how long it took you to tell me you weren’t dating Ginny anymore?” 

“That’s different!” Harry said. 

“Potter, you let me send both of you a Christmas card as though you were a couple and replied to it with her because it felt too awkward to tell me you’d broken up!” 

Harry took a sip of his coffee to avoid Draco’s gaze. 

“That may be true,” he muttered eventually, when he looked up at Draco again and found him still looking expectantly at him. “But this involves me directly. I mean, what if I’d answered a Floo call from them while you were in the bathroom and they’d brought up the engagement?” 

“Excuse you, I never schedule anything at bathroom hours!” 

“I...don’t want to know what that means.” Would it be too much for him to bury his face in his arms and fall right back asleep? “What are we going to do now?” 

“We wait until lockdown is over and pretend we’ve broken up and are no longer engaged, of course.” 

“What, so your parents hate me forever?” Harry asked. “No, thank you!”

“What do you mean, no thank you? The alternative, in case you hadn’t noticed, is to marry me, Potter!” 

“You’re making my year start with a headache,” Harry groaned. “I hope you’re happy.” 

“Very much so, actually,” Draco said. “Because you will pretend you’re my fiancé over Floo, won’t you? My parents have been asking to talk with you directly, and if it doesn’t happen soon, they’re going to start thinking you’re a bad husband…” 

“Fiancé! I mean—flatmate. Colleague. Ugh. Fine. Fine. I’ll do it,” he said when Draco just pouted dolefully. He couldn’t resist those puppy eyes, dammit. “But I’ll be cursing you to hell and back in my mind the entire time.” 

Draco’s grin was definitely not worth the sacrifice. 

***

“Harry! What a delight to finally be able to talk to you. Draco says you’ve been busy with work matters lately.” 

“Y-Yeah, it’s been chaos,” Harry said, resisting the urge to glare at Draco and hoping Narcissa couldn’t see the puzzle sitting on the coffee table or the stack of movies by the sofa through the Floo. “I’m really glad to see you, too.” Fuck, that’d sounded awfully awkward. “Happy new year, by the way—let’s hope it’s a better one.” 

“Oh, I’m sure it will be. The year an offspring gets married is always among the best of a mother’s life.”

“Right. Of course.” Add ‘upsetting Narcissa terribly’ to the list of reasons to curse Draco. 

“And I imagine it will be an even happier year for you two, especially if a future heir is in the picture by the end of it!” 

ADD ‘ALMOST CHOKING TO DEATH ON MY SALIVA’ TO THE LIST OF REASONS TO—

“Mother, please, I think it’s a little bit to early for that—” 

“I know, I know, sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. “I’m just really excited for you, my Draco. You’ve wanted this for so long…”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Harry, you are one very lucky man, I hope you know that,” Narcissa went on, oblivious to the look Harry and Draco were sharing—the colour drained from Draco’s cheeks, a breath caught in Harry’s lungs. “I do hope you will be taking the Malfoy name, too! It would be an honour to have you as a part of our family tree…”

She went on about the Sacred Twenty-eight for what seemed like forever, and Harry was only vaguely aware of Draco interrupting her with the excuse they had to get back to work and ending the call after a round of good-byes. 

For a moment, they both stared into the faceless flames. 

“You’re not going to buy it if I tell you I really do need to get back to work, right?” Draco said after a moment, voice low. 

“You know the answer to that.” 

Draco huffed. 

“Well, then, go ahead and ask what you want to ask. Don’t make me suffer for longer than necessary.” 

Harry sneaked a glance in Draco’s direction. Unlike a few moments before, his face was a dark shade of red, hand clutching the edge of the carpet, knees drawn close to his chest. 

“I don’t want to ask if you don’t want to tell me,” Harry murmured, looking back into the flames. 

“It’s not like I can Obliviate you,” Draco retorted. “You heard what you heard.”

Harry nodded. 

“That you’ve wanted me for a very long time.”

Draco didn’t reply. 

Harry glanced at Draco’s hand again, now playing nervously with the fringe of the carpet, and, after a moment of hesitation that faded with his next exhale, he reached out and rested his hand on it. Draco’s fingers stilled under his touch, and Draco’s eyes found his—wide, scared, vulnerable. 

He dared run the tips of his fingers over Draco’s knuckles, and his own breath caught when he heard Draco’s hitch. 

“Draco…” Harry started, not knowing what he was even going to say. “The past few weeks have been… they’ve been—”

“Don’t,” Draco said, voice strained. “Don’t. Just—” He looked away again. “Just tell me you just want to be colleagues and be done with it, please.” 

“Maybe that’s not what I want.” He slipped his fingers between Draco’s soft own; squeezed them gently. “Maybe what I want isn’t so different from what you want. You don’t know what’s going on inside my mind. You have no idea what the past few weeks have meant to me.” 

Draco didn’t move under his touch—didn’t seem to move at all, except for the quick, uneven rise and fall of his chest. When he talked, the words came out quickly, in a whisper, as though he was terrified to hear himself say them.

“What are you saying, Potter?”

“What I’m saying is I want more of this. More puzzles, and movies, and more of your way-too-salty chicken soup, and more evenings and mornings by your side. I’m saying I hadn’t realised until very recently how much I want more of you, Draco. But I do. Merlin, I do.” 

A sound somewhere between a whine and a choked cackle came out of Draco’s throat.

“You sound like I’ve actually proposed to you, you idiot,” he groaned. Harry rolled his eyes at him, squeezed his fingers yet again.

“I’m being serious!” he said, unable to hold back a laugh. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not! I’m just—this whole situation, it’s…”

“I know,” Harry murmured. “But it doesn’t have to be. Things don’t have to be so different now. I mean, we already work together and we’ve been having movie nights every Saturday for, what, three years now? And now we live under the same roof, we cook meals together, we fall asleep together on the couch…Merlin. We’re already like a married couple, aren’t we?” Harry said, horrified. “No wonder your parents bought the engagement story!”

“Wait till I tell you they were actually surprised it hadn’t happened sooner…”

Harry buried his face in his knees to stifle a groan.

“Come on,” he said after a moment, and stood up still holding on to Draco’s hand. “Let’s make some lunch and pretend like this wasn’t the most embarrassing conversation we’ve ever had.”

Draco’s fingers were still comfortably hooked around his as they made their way to the kitchen.

#otpshipper98 #drarry #harry potter #drarry squad #drarry fic #pining drarry

[t-o-m-hollands]

Chapter eight

Summery: Tom is part of the Firm, a fearless London gang. You knew each other as children, before everything changed. Now your paths cross again.

Pairing: Tom and female reader.

Themes: Mob!Tom, Peaky Blinders inspired, period piece – this is set in 1961, London.

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, one hit to the head. Smut. I mean, it’s a mob!AU so generally just a lot of talking of murder, fighting and violence. THIS IS A +18 STORY. 

Word count: 5k. Sorry, but this is an eventful chapter so got a bit long. I didn’t want it to end in a cliffhanger so I sort of had to go on a bit

An absolute massive thank you to @plantlungs​ for being an amazing editor and for having the patient of a saint and correct all my misplaced commas and confused word choices. 

READ PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE

Recap of the story so far: Tom is part of and working himself up in the Firm; the feared London gang. Its leader is a certain Fabien Towner. After an attack on Harrison it’s clear that they have a traitor in their midst who is also working for the rival gang created by a man called Jack Flanagan. While Tom is trying to bring the attacker in for questioning he meets you; his old school love (and unfortunately for him, the daughter of the home secretary who has spent most of his career trying to put an end to organized crime).  After an interesting night where you end up as a witness for a murder Tom essentially has to kidnap you until he knows what to do with you. Ending up deciding to let you live, and in doing so risking his own life, he lies to Fabien about there being no witness to the crime.  

Some time later you and Tom meet again at the club Romantique, as Tom has gone there to negotiate with Jack Flanagan. You go home with Tom that night and the two of you begin an affair. Fabien, finding out about the affair and of who your father is, is delighted, thinking that he can use you as leverage to the home secretary.  

Not many days later Tom is attacked by Flanagan’s gang, and he flees to your house where you patch him up. He tells you of Fabien’s plan, and asks you to work with him in order to bring the traitor in – the only thing that can possibly distract the Firm’s leader from you. You agree to help him.  

***

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

arsonist's lullaby - hozier

***

You wake with a kiss to your forehead. Opening your heavy eyelids, you’re met with a smile, and a pair of sparkling brown eyes.

“Morning” Tom says quietly. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed for the day in his usual suit, hair fixed and the outlining of a gun showing underneath his suit jacket. 

“Good morning,” you respond, voice soft and full of sleep. Sitting up in the soft bed and pulling the sheets around you, you lean closer towards him. Gently you place your hand on his cheek, stroking his skin you feel the faint trace of stubble. He smells of his lemon and cedar soap and faintly of cigarettes. Pressing your lips softly against his other cheek, and then on his jawline,  you whisper against his skin, “Do you really have to go?”

You can tell he’s focusing on his breathing, and as you lean back his dark eyes, glossed over and pupils dilated, are focused on your lips. His own mouth is slightly opened, and he’s leaning in towards you. Just as he’s about to press his lips against yours he murmurs, “Afraid so, darling.” He leans back and winks at you, a devilish smile on his lips. 

“Don’t worry, angel, I’ll give you everything you want soon enough.”He stands up and moves towards the door. “I’ll be back before you know it, just doing some collecting today; shouldn’t be more than an hour. I’ll come back and we’ll have lunch, yeah?”

He’s leaned against the doorway, hands in suit pockets, the stolen Rolex on his wrist glistening in the early morning light coming in through the window. He’s all wicked smiles and dimples and his eyes are gleaming as he looks at you; sitting in the middle of the bed, white sheets pulled around you and hair loose, your skin kissed by the sun streaming in.

You smile back at him and letting go of the sheets you let them fall around you. Leaning back against your elbows you slowly spread your bent legs; looking at him all the while. He’s got his dark eyes fixated on where your spread legs meet. Slowly walking towards you, like a hunter approaching its prey. Reaching the bed he leans over it, grabs hold of your thighs, and pulls you towards him until he’s pressed up against your naked crotch. Leaning over you, hands resting on either side of your face, he whispers in a low voice against your lips, “Such a devious little temptress, aren’t you?”

He leans back and falls down on his knees. Kissing the soft inside of your thigh he bites the sensitive skin, leaving a wet and burning spot, he blows cold air on it and you shiver. He looks up at you, wicked smile in place and eyes sparkling with pleasure. “You could tempt a saint you know?” he says, voice thick with bewildered wonder as he presses his soft lips against your cunt, before licking up your slit, eagerly. “How’s a poor devil like me supposed to stand a chance?” 

***  

There’s a flickering light above your head and the hallway smells of something rotten. The dark medallion wallpaper and crimson-coloured carpet make it feel like the room is spinning slightly around you. 

You’re just about to carefully lock the door to Tom’s apartment, having decided to go home and change before lunch, when you hear a creaking on the floor behind you. Something like alarm bells go off in your head, and you turn around only to be hit with something heavy and sharp right by your mouth.   

A ringing in your ear, and the whole room seems to change perspective, turn on its side somehow. It takes you a second to realize that it isn’t the room that has fallen; it is you. Something above you moves, but you can’t see clearly, just the outlines of a blurred shadow coming closer and closer and a smell you can’t place but is stronger than the rotten smell of the hallway. And then a wet cloth covers your mouth.

Memories of when you were a child, swimming in the municipal pool, flash before your eyes and you can’t understand why.

Only, just before everything turns dark, does it hit you.  

Chloroform. 

*** 

The first thing your mind registers as you wake is a sore neck. A sore neck and a stinging nose and a back that feels uncomfortably stiff. You try to open your eyes but find the world just as dark as when you had them closed. Trying to move your hands you realize that they have been tied behind the uncomfortable chair you’ve been placed in.  

Panic rises like bile in your throat and you want to scream, but the sound refuses to leave your lips, as if the panic itself is blocking it from leaving. Trying to kick your legs you realize that they too have been bound.  

“She’s awake,” someone mutters behind you and you freeze, heart beating so hard in your chest that it’s hard to hear anything but the blood rushing through your system. “Go tell Jack,” the voice orders, and a pair of heavy footsteps move across the floor and soon a door opens and shuts.  

Laying all your focus on your breathing, trying not to hyperventilate, you try to keep in control of yourself, though you can feel sweat begin to form on your forehead. You feel hyper- aware of your own body, of the rope digging into the fragile skin of your wrists, of the hard chair underneath you, of your own mortality and the dangerous situation you are in. You had been in a situation like this before, in a now very familiar apartment in Mile’s End. But even though you had been frightened then, it is nothing compared to the terror that grips hold of you now.

Soon a door opens, and footsteps move across the floor again.  

“Now boys, is this the way you treat a lady?” A deep voice roars in an Irish brogue. “Have I taught you no manners?” The footsteps move closer and closer until they’re standing behind you.  

“You big lads so scared of a girl you need to tie her up?” You hear how the man fiddles with something, only to realise that he’s untying the rope around your legs. Soon you feel the rope loose; but you are too frightened to even try to move them out of their uncomfortable position.   

“Now unless you think this tied- up wench will overpower me, I suggest you get a fucking move on, yeah?”  the man continues, as he frees your wrists as well.  

No verbal answer follows, just the sound of a dozen of boots moving across the floor until eventually, the door shuts; leaving the room in silence apart from your ragged breaths and rabbit heart; pounding so hard in your chest you’re sure it’s clear for anyone to hear.   

Then there’s a sudden movement by your head and then – you can see again.   

Disoriented you blink into the light. The man, Jack you presume, pulls a chair across the floor, the scraping noise almost alarmingly loud to your panicked senses, and he sits down opposite you. Carefully you move your stiff hands from their position behind your back, slowly moving them to your front and placing them on your knees. 

“There we go,” Jack says in a low, gruff voice that tells of years of smoking.  

 He’s probably in his early fifties, with blond hair that has begun to turn white and a neatly trimmed beard. A long scar is etched across his cheek. Wearing a rather worn grey suit he’s leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed and comfortable; the very opposite to how you are feeling. There’s something both harmless and, at the same time, absolutely terrifying about him. He’s almost disarming in his lack of threats, his slow, low way of talking and the patient, curious way he’s looking at you. You can’t get a read of the man, and that frightens you.  

The room you’re in doesn’t help to make you feel more comfortable. It looks like an abandoned old apartment, wallpapers half torn down and a broken chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It’s dark outside the dirty window, and you wonder for how long you’ve been unconscious. An entire day must have passed since this morning.  

“Now girl, you and I are gonna have a little chat about an old friend of mine,” he starts. 

You don’t respond, waiting for him to reveal his hand before you make up your mind about how to play your cards with this unknown man. 

“Now, child,” he continues, “what do you know of Fabien Towner?” 

You’re taken aback at that. Somehow, subconsciously, you must have assumed that this kidnapping by this evident gangster had something to do with your father and his work as home secretary. That you had been picked out to provide information about a man you had never as much as laid eyes on had not occurred to you.  

“All I know is what’s written in the newspapers.” You answer, only somewhat truthfully, since Tom has told you a few things about the feared London mobster as well.  

“Sweetheart,” he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound, “do I look like the sort of man who reads the papers?” He’s smiling at you, though it seems malignant. You are reminded of a cat, playing with its food before it eats it. “I know better than to believe a word that's written in them,” he adds and grins, “after all, they write that I’m a bad man.”

“But alright then, let’s play that game,” he snaps, and the sudden change from almost playful to deadly serious has your heart faltering in your chest. “What do you know of a young mister Tom Holland, hm?” 

If your heart was faltering in your chest before, it positively stops beating now. Your first instinct is to deny your knowledge of Tom’s existence. To say you’ve never heard that name. But you must keep your head cold, be calm and clever. This man knows very well that you know who Tom is, you were after all attacked when leaving his apartment.  

“Not much,” you say, and your voice is frailer than you’d hoped. “He’s just a man I’ve been seeing”.  

Jack’s hard, blue eyes are fixed on yours. He observes you for a while before saying, “You seemed very cozy with him at Romantique. I’m the owner of that club, I damn well know who frequents it, and what they get up to in it.”

It hits you then, and you want to groan at how slow you’ve been. This is Jack, the Jack Flanagan, the owner of club Romantique and Fabien’s sworn enemy, who has infiltrated the Firm with a traitor. 

“Yes, I met Tom there, but I don’t know anything about Fabien Towner.”  

Jack keeps his intense eyes fixed on you, as if he’s trying to read any slight change in your face. He scratches the roughened skin of his scarred cheek almost absentmindedly. “Come on now, I know how young men work when they’re trying to impress a pretty girl. They boast about how big and bad and ballsy they are. He’s told you about his,” and there’s a slight pause and a wicked grin before he continues, “profession, I presume?”

“All I know is he’s part of the Firm,” you say and sniff, “do you think he’d tell me anything? I’m just some girl he fucks. I don’t think he cares at all about me.” Your voice breaks as you speak, and two tears fall down your cheeks as you lie. They aren’t hard to fabricate in your current state of mind. You need to make him believe that Tom would never spill any secrets to you, because if this man in front of you,; his entire aura shouting of danger, finds any hint of the secrets stuck in your throat he’s bound to beat them out of you. 

“Now that’s not a very nice thing to do,” Jack says in a low voice, and a smile spreads over his lips. “How would you like some revenge?” 

Fear holds such a hard grip on your heart then that you are sure it’s bound to stop beating altogether. “What do you mean?” you ask, trying to hide your terror.  

Jack smiles even wider, and something like a shiver moves up your spine. “You see,” he starts in his broad brogue, “old Fabien is not a man of many weaknesses. He’s a, well, I guess you can say a friend of mine. I know him well. I know what makes him tick.” He leans forward, resting his arms on his widespread legs, his intense eyes still fixed on yours. “Now I want him to stop ticking.”

Trying to swallow down the panic you answer in a cool voice, “and how could I possibly help with that?” 

“Like I said, Fabien is not a man of many weaknesses. But he’s got a blind spot when it comes to that lad. I’ve heard the rumours; the Devil’s Boy, that’s what they call him, and that’s the way Fabien sees him. I’ve met Tom, on the night you danced with him in my nightclub in fact. And he's brought up by the devil alright,” he pauses, a grim smile on his face. “In order to get to Fabien, I need to get to the boy. And that’s where you come in, miss. See, Tom is Fabien’s weakness, so I’m gonna need you to become Tom’s weakness.” 

“And how do you expect me to achieve that?” you ask, voice shaking slightly despite all your efforts to keep it under control. You feel like you’re trembling all over, like your very soul is rattling inside of you. Nothing seems real, nothing in this nightmarish scenario or in this strange room; nothing except for those bleak, intense eyes looking at you, and that low, gruff voice speaking of betrayal of the worst kind.  

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Like a little bird. I’m sure you could convince him to stick around, to open up; to trust you. Then all this little bird needs to do is fly to me and sing her song, and I shall see to the rest, and you will have your revenge.” 

You feel ice-cold all over, as if the blood itself in your veins have frozen. “And what kind of song does the bird sing? What is it that you need to know from me?” 

“For now, I just need you to make him trust you. When the time is right, when everything is ready to be set in motion, I shall tell you the plan. What do you say?”  

You don’t know if he’s honestly offering you a choice or not, if he’d even let you live if you refused him, but slowly you nod your head, and the smile grows bigger on his face, and his cold, blue eyes sparkle.   

 “Good,” he says, and rises from his chair. “Now it’s time for this little bird to be set free.” 

*** 

Your legs feel unsteady and unsure underneath you as you make your way up the familiar steps to your house. You can hear the car that dropped you off drive away, but you don’t look back, you don’t ever want to look back again but it feels like you will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder after this. You feel heavy all over, every limb slowly moving forward underneath the weight, burdened with a terrible secret.   

Letting yourself in, you quietly make your way through the hall, wanting to avoid seeing anyone since that would mean you’d have to explain your split lip and your sore wrists. The skin of your lip pulses uncomfortably. You must have attained the injury this morning as you got attacked outside of Tom’s apartment. 

With quiet feet you move up the stairs to your bedroom, needing only to change your clothes and leave a message for your father to let him know you will be sleeping at a friend’s house for a night or two. You jot the message down in spidery letters, so unlike your normally neat handwriting; your hands refusing to collaborate with you as they keep shaking. You leave the message on your desk, knowing that Mason will find it later and pass the information on to your father. 

You fill the bathtub with water and scented oil, needing to wash the reminders of today off of you before you are ready to face Tom. Quickly ridding yourself out of your dirty dress, you step into the lukewarm water and start the process of scrubbing your skin clean. After having washed up, you change into another dress, feeling great relief in feeling the freshly washed fabric against your skin.

Looking at yourself in the mirror you cannot help but be taken aback at the sight. You have a split and swollen lip, your hair is a mess and your eyes seem bigger than normal; as if you are a frightened animal. Knowing there is nothing to do about the lip you try to smooth your hair, before giving up, deciding instead to pin it up into something a little more respectable.  

In your new dress and hair, you look a little more put together, though your eyes remain frightened.  

Packing a small bag with some essential clothes and hygiene products you creep out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind you. Your father’s voice booms out from the library, as he’s speaking on the telephone with someone. Passing the door on your tiptoes, as not to make a sound, a name caught your attention.  

“Yes, Fabien’s boy.” 

You stop dead in your tracks, listening carefully as your father goes on. “He’s been causing uproar in all the underworld. He set fire to a pub in Camden this afternoon, one of Flanagan’s places, and he’s been involved in a dozen fights all over the East End.”

Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to be quiet as your father keeps talking. “No, apparently he’s looking for some woman. A kidnapping they say.” Your father listens as the voice on the other side of the phone speaks before he keeps going. “Yes, of course, but if this means we have another gang war on our hands there needs to be readjustments. 

You walk away, as quickly and quietly as you can, and step back out into the night. Never have you been in such a hurry to find a taxi in your life.

*** 

After having paid the driver, you rush up to Tom’s apartment, all four stairs, never slowing for a moment. You’re not sure of what you’re about to meet in the apartment but as you push the door open and rush inside you are relieved to see the figure of a man standing there.

Only to soon realise that it is not Tom. 

The man is blond, and about the same age as Tom and dressed much the same in a dark suit. One of his arms is wrapped up in bandages. You recognize him as the man who came to pick Tom up the morning after you spent your first night at his place. A friend then, and not a foe. 

He stands up from the sofa when he sees you, and smiles, seemingly relieved. “Thank fuck,” he mutters, moving closer. Standing in front of you, impressive in his length and stature, he observes your wounded face with a frown. 

“Any other injuries?” He asks, voice collected but underneath his calm stature, you think you can sense a wave of anger. 

You shake your head, unsure of what to say. 

He nods, takes a gentle hand on your arm and leads your numb body to the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down. After you have done so he moves across the floor to the phone, his long legs taking wide strides. Dialing in a number he stands there, leaning against the wall, still observing you as he waits for the number to go through.

“Yeah, Harry? It’s Haz,” he says into the phone. “She’s here.”

There’s a loud voice on the other end of the line but you can’t make out what it is saying. “Yeah, yeah, well you need to let him know then, don’t you? Before he causes any more damage.” More silence as he listens to the other man. “No, apart from a split lip she’s unharmed,” and he looks over you again as he speaks, “she looks pretty fucking shaken though so get a fucking move on, yeah?” He hangs up. 

In your wild haze of suffocating numbness, it strikes you how unlike Tom this Haz is, despite your first confusion. His accent is polished and posh despite his attempts to hide it. His back is almost impossibly straight as he’s holding himself upright and his young face looks taut. You wonder how a young man like this ended up within the ranks of the Firm. 

He crouches down in front of you as you sit on the sofa, his knees bent until you are at eye level.  “Have you had anything to eat?” He asks in a soft voice that takes you with surprise. 

“No,” you mumble, only realizing now that it’s the case. But you’ve been so full of terror the entire day you’ve hardly even noticed. Haz has a frown on his face and a worried look in his eyes as he scans you over. 

“Alright,” he sighs and gets up, moving across the room to the kitchen. You keep your eyes ahead, fixated on faded wallpaper in front of you, as you hear clattering and muttered swears coming from the kitchen. 

Some while later Haz is back, a plate of sandwiches in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other. “Sorry,” he says, placing it down on the table in front of you, “fucker hasn’t got any milk.” 

You tell him you don’t mind, and thank him for his kindness, before tucking in. Only after having nearly devoured the first sandwich do you fully realize how hungry you’ve been. Haz sits down on the worn leather armchair, leaned forward and resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped in his lap. It is as if he’s ready to jump into action on the first sign of danger. He watches as you eat. 

“Hungry, ey?” He asks with a smile, as you swallow the last of your sandwich, reaching for the tea. 

“Famished,” you confess. 

For a few moments everything is silent in the darkened room, only lit up by the dim light coming from the kitchen. Outside you hear a car drive by. 

“How did he know of the abduction?” You ask in the end. 

Haz’s mouth tightens into a grimace, as if remembering something unpleasant. “The landlady saw as they carried you out to the car. She recognized you as Tom’s girl and let him know as soon as he came back.”

“How did he take it?” you ask, with reluctance. 

Haz looks away from you, avoids your eyes; the frown on his face growing deeper. “Let’s just say the boy’s got a talent for destruction when he puts his mind to it.”

“Where is he now?” 

“Well, last I heard he was,” he pauses, edits himself in the search for the right word, “he was interrogating someone in Hackney, trying to find a lead of where they took you,” he sighs. And then in a bitter tone, he adds, “I would have gone with him,” another sigh, “but out of combat, unfortunately. So I was put to stay here and wait to see if you’d return. Harry was placed in the pub, much to his indignation; ever the boy of action, while Fabien made Sam and a few others go after Tom. To try and reel him in a little.”

A bang, and then Tom comes crashing through the door. Harrison is on his feet, almost before you’ve registered the sound of the door slamming against the wall, gun in hand and aiming at the man in the hall. When he sees who it is he lowers the weapon and breathes out. 

Your eyes remain fixed on the man striding over to you. It’s like he’s unable to look away from you and as soon as you get within an arm's reach he pulls you towards him. With a hand carefully cupping your chin, he inspects your face, eyes glued to your split lip, a deep frown on his face. 

He turns to Harrison, who just nods at him; the taut frown relaxing and a smile pulling at his lips. “Alright, that’s me done for the night.”

“Harry’s sulking at the pub if you feel like cheering him up,” Tom tells him, still holding onto you. 

Harrison moves to the door, snorts loudly, and says in a voice that sounds done for, “You fucking Holland boys and your goddamn sulking.” And then he’s out, the door closing behind him.

Tom rests his forehead against yours, breathing slowly. “Hi,” he says, voice a quiet whisper. His fingers don’t stop stroking your cheek for a second. Then, “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.” It’s a savage kind of remorse, real like a physical presence in the room. To think that on this very morning you had laid in bed, wordlessly tempting him into staying there with you for a while.

You should have stayed in that bed forever with him.  

“Is it not your fault,” you tell him, knowing that it’s useless, and true enough, he shakes his head at the idea. 

 A deep sigh escapes him, as if he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding for a long time. You breathe him in, the familiar lemon and cedar soap; the faint trace of smoke. 

“Tonight I’m going to take care of you,” he says, stroking your cheek with his long, ring- clad finger, “gonna make sure that you’re alright.” He presses his lips softly against your temple. “And tomorrow,” he continues, voice hardened steel now, “tomorrow I’m going to take care of him.”

 “No,” you say softly, looking at the floor.  

 Dead silence wills the room for several heartbeats. Then, voice bewildered, “What?”

 He’s leaning away from you, though his big hands are still covering your jawline, your throat. “You can’t go after him,” you say, taking a slow breath, staring at his shoes. Slowly you take in Tom’s appearance for the first time. When he had crashed into the apartment all your attention had been on his face, but now, now you see the state of him. The once white dress shirt he wore this morning is stained with blood and dirt and the sleeve on his jacket has a burn mark. 

Tom pushes your face up to meet his eyes. Reluctantly your eyes follow. “And why can’t I do that?” he asks slowly, through gritted teeth. 

“Because I’m working for him now,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. For a moment he goes completely still and before he can react you keep going. “He is going after Fabien, he wants to bring him down. He thinks you are Fabien’s weakness, so he’s hired me to become your weakness. He wants to use you against Fabien, and use me against you. I told him yes.” 

Tom lets go of you, takes a step away from you, looks at you with big, wounded eyes. “What have you done?” he asks, sounding almost defeated. 

“I could play this to our advantage, we could -” but he interrupts you with a roar.

“Have you lost your fucking mind? You don’t know these men! You don’t understand what they’re capable of. They’d enjoy murdering you if it comes to that. Jack Flanagan’s the sort of man that would kill over an insult, do you have any fucking idea how badly he’d take a betrayal?” 

“Don’t you understand?” I am working for him now, just as the traitor does. I can find out who it is and once we know, Fabian will kill the traitor and once he is gone he can go after Jack with full force. We can play them against each other, don’t you get it?”

Tom is stunned silent for a moment, thinking over what you’ve said with a horrified expression on his face. “Does he know, does Jack know who your father is?”

You are silent for a long time, biting your lip in worry. “I don’t know. But I think so. I didn’t have to leave my name or address and they still knew where to drop me off.”

Tom looks pale. His eyes big and glossy as he looks at you, shoulders tense as he’s holding himself together. “I see,” he says, trying to remain calm, “so the two most dangerous men in London are aware of your relation to your father and are both more than capable at using that as leverage if needed.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you whisper.

And he’s in front of you again, holding onto your face, his body pressed tightly against yours, and maybe it’s imagination, but you think you can feel the drumming of his heartbeat underneath his chest; can feel your heart drum back to the beat of his. He’s breathing hard, slowly in and out, and his strong body is rigid, every nerve tense. You know that he’s trying to calm himself down; trying to get a hold of himself and all his fear and anger. Can feel it radiating off his body in waves. 

“I can do this, I can play them against each other.” You don’t know why you are whispering, except that maybe you want to make something in this whole situation gentle, in any way you know how. 

“I don’t like this, angel,” he says, his voice also a whisper, as he breathes slowly through his nose. “I really fucking hate this.”

You know that the road you have begun walking is a dangerous one, no doubt full of menace and doom. But you have chosen your road. “I know,” you whisper back, “but it’s the best shot we’ve got.”

You know, as you stroke his cheek, that you would do anything for him. Because it turns out that you are made up of the kind of never yielding devotion that is bound to end in tragedy, but as you look into his sad, brown eyes, tender as they look at you, you wonder if he isn’t made of the same. 

#tom holland #mob!tom #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine

[thirstyandbeautiful]

Can’t Make a Hoe a Househusband Fuckboy!Michael AU

the hoe council has been soooo excited to bring this series to life. It’s gonna be short, only a few parts but you know hoe fairy had to fuck up that wholesomeness babe cause my brain can’t handle it. 

Part one: Bad Luck on Yachts

part one ~ part two ~ part three ~ part four ~ part five ~ part six ~ part seven ~ part eight ~ part nine ~ part ten

(SERIES COMPLETED)

You sighed, scrolling passed yet another shitty job description. You didn’t understand why there couldn’t just be something interesting, something you could find that wouldn’t be so soul sucking, something that you could enjoy. 

Instead, all you found were waiter jobs, which were great for money, but shitty on hours, and odd admin jobs at places that you just knew you would be the only one under 40 and the only female there. Those were a hard pass. 

You’d been bouncing from job to job for a while now, and enjoyed the challenge and the pride you felt when you always landed on your feet. A little voice in the back of your head kept telling you that your luck would run out, and as much as you kept squashing it, you began to believe it. 

It’d been two weeks and you couldn’t find a thing. 

You did keep some jobs, side hustles for local businesses that included kick starting their social media presence, etc. (it really paid to be a millennial). But it would be nice to be able to a get full paycheck from somewhere before your rent was due at the end of the month. 

You jumped and cursed when your vibrating phone scared you, quickly putting your friend on speaker so you could scroll hands free.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hi. So,” your friend’s voice was way too bouncy for this early morning time, “I met this guy, and he’s so cute, like really cute, and he’s so sweet, and he’s just- he’s amazing- and-”

“Take a breath, you’re gonna run out of air.” You laughed.

Your friend laughed too, still sounding breathless, “He’s really great and ImgonnagotoSpainwithhim-”

“You what?” You yelped, “No, no, no, how long have you known this man?”

“It’s been like two weeks, but-”

“No. I’m gonna have to mothergoose this one and say no. You are not going to another country with some random guy.”

“He’s not some random guy.”

“He is.” You answered sternly. 

“You don’t get it. If you would give a guy a chance, maybe let one approach you-”

“Don’t start with me.” You warned. 

“Listen! I’m going. But I need someone to take my Saturday shift.”

You sat up a little straighter. Your friend worked for a very exclusive, very expensive catering company that paid her very well. It always paid to be a part of the party life Monaco had to offer. The company had let you fill in for her before, not really caring who was working as long as they had the bodies for the jobs.

“Saturday?”

“Yeah! It’s supposed to be for this big party, supposed to kinda drag from sunset to probably like 3am, or whatever.”

“I’m listening.” You giggled.

“It’s on a yacht on the harbor.”

You felt your smile drop. “You know I have bad luck on yachts.”

“You fell off one yacht when you were drunk, that’s not bad luck, that’s you being drunk.”

“It wasn’t just one time! I’ve fallen off of two yachts and I’ve been dumped on one. I’m telling you I have a yacht curse.”

“It’s just one job, please.”

“It’s not just taking your place, I have no problem filling in for you- it’s the whole you’re going to another country with a man you just met!”

“Oh my god. You see, this is what I’m saying, you have to be spontaneous sometimes! Live a little. When’s the last time you had sex? And I don’t mean with yourself.”

“Goodbye. Consider your Saturday night shift taken.”

“Thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, send me the details, okay? And don’t forget to email them to let them know to expect me, don’t make it awkward for me again.” 

“I will, I promise!”

You chuckled as you tapped the red button on your screen. 

-

Michael had been finishing his morning coffee, his foot already tapping in anticipation for the run he was going to go on. He was a bit of a creature of habit, at least for small things. His life didn’t allow much of a schedule, but it did allow him his morning runs consistently. 

He nodded at his father as he came into the dining room, sitting across from his son and waiting patiently for one of the wait staff to bring him his breakfast. 

“Good morning.” 

Michael felt his shoulders drop, he knew that tone. “Go on, get on with it.”

His father huffed, “I know you’re having another one of your parties.”

“Dad, please-“

“No, no, you’re going to listen while you’re at my table.” His father paused, lowering his voice before gently lifting his hand to motion to Michael, “I’ve been very lenient with you-“

“It’s just a party.”

“That’s all you do is party! You work hard, you’re a smart man, but you’re fighting so hard not to settle down. Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want more for yourself?”

“Dad, come on.” Michael sighs, he hated this conversation every time it came up, “I’m young, let me be young.”

“I just wish you wouldn’t be young so wildly. It’s like every day the press officer is knocking on my door.” He rubbed at his temples, “You know we have a fund set up just to pay people not to sell pictures of your little parties.”

“Really?” Michael laughed.

“That’s what I’m talking about, you’re getting too old for these antics of yours. I just want you to slow down.” His father sighed heavily, making guilt settle uncomfortable in Michael, “Can’t you grow up? You’re so much better than this young and dumb act.”

Michael felt the anger in him overcome the guilt, squashing the fleeting apology that had been on his tongue just moments ago. No, he would not give into his father. This was his life, and he was going to live it as he saw fit. 

“No can do, maybe if you think hard enough, you’ll remember what it was like to be young and dumb.” He winked at his father as his father scoffed.

“You are unbelievable, you know I want grand children that aren’t accidents, preferably from a nice girl.” His father hissed, his words aimed to hurt.

“Uh huh.” Michael called over his shoulder as he headed out of the room and towards the front corridor, “I’m going for a run.” He didn’t wait for a response before he slammed the front door shut behind him.

Michael wasn’t the type to be held down, he was a wanderer, an explorer. He wasn’t ready to anchor in and set roots. Hell, he even loved running cause he was moving and pushing himself for that too.

Sure, the day would probably come when he would be forced to slow down, but until that day really came, he wasn’t going to force it to come sooner. He just wanted to have a good time.

-

You’d ended up arriving to the pier a couple minutes earlier than your assigned time, easily finding some familiar faces to chat with as the other catering personnel arrived. You were all ushered aboard a massive yacht, and ushered to your respective crew rooms. The crew rooms were all the same on every yacht job- they were mainly empty rooms, usually three to cover boys, girls and gncs, where you could all quickly change and leave all your stuff.

And really, the outfit wasn’t even a thing. It was a simple black skirt with shorts under it, and a button down black shirt, with standard black heels on your feet. 

It could’ve been much worse. You’d been a cocktail waitress in clubs where you were practically dressed for a porno. 

You could hear some of the girls around you chatting as you slipped your feet into your heels. They all sounded excited, their conversations ranging from quick low whispers to loud cackling laughs. 

“I hope I get to talk to him-”

“He’s so pretty-”

“Did you see his post yesterday?”

Your ears picked up on bits and pieces of the conversations around you, enough to peak your interest. 

“Who’s boat is this?” You asked casually, your voice a little louder so at least one of the little cliques around you would hear you. 

“You don’t know who’s yacht this is?” 

One of the girls around you froze, turning on her heels to face you. She titled her head, her shiny, long hair framing her face like a doll. She was pretty, but the way she was sneering at you and using a tone like you-should-know, was not. 

“No?”

“It’s Michael Italiano’s. Please tell me you at least know who he is.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen him online and stuff.”

The girls around you all looked at you confusedly, before returning to their gushing like you’d never been heard at all. You rolled your eyes, checking your phone one last time before turning it off and shoving it into your bag in the corner of the room. 

Of course you knew who Michael Italiano was. He was some thirst trap on IG, who just so happened to be loaded with a shit ton of his Daddy’s money and legacy. He was a typical Monaco boy- rich, privileged, gorgeous and reckless. This man had a job, sure, his family’s engineering firm was a big deal around the world, and that’s how his family kept all their riches coming-

But Michael Italiano was also one of the biggest fuckboys you’d ever seen. It was so obvious to you. You didn’t need all the tabloids and stan accounts to prove to you that he was a complete player. It was in his demeanor, at least the one you saw online, and in newspapers. You’d even been in clubs at the same time as him, and witnessed the hoards of girls running after him like he was some boy bander. 

You could admit that he was pretty. But pretty didn’t mean that he could hold a conversation. 

That’s what you repeated to yourself as the latest thirst trap the girls had mentioned kept bouncing around in your mind. 

I probably won’t even serve him, the other girls will probably be flocking.

And you were right, flock they did. You didn’t have to worry about even catching a glance of the attractive man cause all the girls went in a constant stream to and from him no matter where he moved on the yacht. If there was a high concentration of workers in a particular sector, you steered clear of it. Content with doing your job than trying to bag an unobtainable bachelor. 

Hours passed, and you found yourself actually happy you took this shift from your friend. Even if she was potentially getting murdered by her stranger boyfriend in another country. 

You were getting paid, this was an easy job, and the sun was setting on the harbor in the most beautiful way that made you miss your phone. It would’ve made a gorgeous picture. You’d managed to lean against the bar and watch it for a while before you were disrupted.

“Hey! Go check on that center table, will you?” 

You lifted your head as your manager for the night gestured across the deck towards where there were tables and little groups set up amongst a couched seating area. 

“Yup, got it.” You nodded, grabbing a tray and turning on your heel.

“And do me a favor, don’t harass the man.” 

You shot the guy an odd look, not knowing what he meant until you stepped up on to the higher deck. The table in the center was unavoidable, both in focus and in physical location. It was large, and there were a gang of men sitting around the circular table, with Michael sitting in the middle. 

He was leaning back in his chair, comfy with his drink in his hand. The table in front of him was littered with empty glasses, evidence that the girls had been quick to bring the drinks coming to him, and too keen on chatting to pick up after themselves. 

You kept your eyes down as you approached the table, setting your tray against your hip as you began grabbing bottles and glasses off the table. Being ignored by clients was a usual when you were in catering, and you were kinda grateful for that small detail. It made the jobs go by quicker, without being bothered. 

“Can you get me another?” 

You lifted your gaze to Michael, who was holding up his empty glass. His voice was deep, and smooth, but gruff with an edge of tipsy. 

He looked exactly as you thought he would, lounging in his chair with some random girl smiling, sitting on the armrest of his chair. You were almost sad watching the way she laughed at nothing and pawed at his shoulder for attention that he wasn’t giving. 

“Sure.” You replied.

You reached for his glass, and almost lost balance when he pulled it away from you just as your fingers were closing around it. 

“First, tell me your name.” He smiled at you, his eyes unseeable because of the large aviators on his face. 

“I’ll get you a fresh glass.” You replied cheerfully.

He put his glass down in front of him and leaned forward, holding up two curling fingers to you, “No, no, come here.”

You couldn’t help but freeze, so caught off guard by the gesture and that he was acknowledging you so directly. You briefly looked at the girl who was now glaring at you, who huffed before she climbed off the armrest she had balanced herself on. 

“What can I get you, Mr. Italiano?” Be professional.

“Mr. Italiano is my father, babe, you can call me Michael.” 

You exhaled deeply as the boys around the table all started making ridiculous sounds, egging Michael on.

“I can also get you a drink if you tell me what you want.” You kept the smile on your face, your tone bright, even if the words were biting. 

Low whispers went around the table, and you were disappointed when Michael chuckled. 

“What if what I want isn’t on the menu?” His tongue licked at the corner of his mouth. 

His friends once again came through with the sound effects, hyping their friend up. I’m going to throw all these bottles at these guys if they don’t stop making those stupid sounds. 

“Then I can’t help you.” you replied, turning on your heel and walking away before he could get another word in. 

“Ah, come on, baby, don’t run!” 

Michael’s voice boomed behind you with the combined laughter of him and his friends, his friends even yelling ‘Boo!’ at your back as you retreated back to the front of the deck where you would remain for the rest of the party.  

-

“Fuck, I’m tired.” You whispered into the empty air in your kitchen.

You threw your bag on to the counter and absentmindedly reached to fiddle with your necklace, your fingertips shocking you by finding nothing but skin. 

“No, no, no.” You lifted both hands to your chest and neck, feeling around for the necklace that was always there.

You ran to your bathroom and slapped the light switch on, pulling at your shirt and realizing that your neck was bare. Your necklace was not on you.

“Fuck!” You yelled. 

Storming through your apartment, you grabbed your phone off the counter and bounded down the stairs, pushing your door open and running before it could even slam shut behind you. 

Losing that necklace was a complete nightmare. You always had it on, never had it off your neck for longer than a day the few times a year you’d get it cleaned. It was a dainty gold chain, about 16″ around to keep it close not close enough to be a choker. A little pendant hung off of it, a small overlap of four aces with the card on the outside being the ace of hearts. 

The harbor air was cold by the time you reached it a few minutes later. The cold, salty air swept against your bare legs, your shorts not sparing them the brunt of the sea chill. The thin t shirt you had on didn’t help any either. At least you’d still had your sneakers on when you ran out, your feet would’ve froze to death by now. 

It was dark, and still. The ocean sounded even louder at this early hour with no people around. It made it super easy for you to bound down the docks, heading straight for the yacht with no interruption. A voice joked in your head about how easy it would be to steal one, before you realized you lived in Monaco, if anyone’s yacht was stolen, they’d probably just buy a new one. 

Not to mention, these yachts are so big they need a crew, a captain with a special license, this isn’t a one woman job.

You were able to finally crack a smile as you let your thoughts ramble on in your head and you saw the yacht docked at the end of the pier. 

“Find it, and get the fuck home.” You mumbled to yourself.

You climbed on and slowed your steps, almost holding your breath in your attempt to be quiet. You didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean the ship was empty. If you were caught, that would require some explaining, and while it was an innocent reason to sneak back on, you bet that whoever found you would probably complain to the catering company. 

And then they’d never let me catch a shift ever again.

You sighed, you didn’t need to have second thoughts now when you were already half way to the crew room. 

When you did reach the crew room, you slid the door open and slipped it shut behind you, waiting until it was shut before even turning on the lights. You blinked, disoriented, as you waited for your eyes to adjust to the bright lighting. You dropped to your knees and began crawling around the room, looking for where the chain might’ve fallen. You’d crawl all over this ship if you had to. But starting here seemed good, it was more likely that it fell off while you were changing in here than when you were walking around the ship. 

When you finally caught a glint of gold, you squealed happily and grabbed at it. You leaned back on your knees and looked at the pendant, checking it for damage before realizing that there was none. You must have not had it clasped correctly. 

You screamed as the door unexpectedly slid open.

“Jesus Christ!” you yelled, “You scared me.” You clutched your chest as you caught your breath, still gripping your necklace in one hand. 

“Funny, pretty sure you’re the one sneaking on to my boat.” 

The deep voice made you do a double take, and you realized with dread that Michael Italiano was standing in front of you, his large body taking up the whole doorway. He was still dressed as he was during the party, dark jeans and a white button up, except his sunglasses were gone now, letting you see those mischievous brown eyes of his.

He was pretty. 

“You gonna tell me why you snuck back on here and why you’re on your knees in an empty room?” 

His voice was still held a bit of a waver, like he was still fighting off the alcohol in his system. You looked around you before pushing yourself to your feet, dusting off your reddened knees before straightening up in front of him. You wondered what the chances were of you not ending up getting in a cursing match with this man. 

“I was here before-”

“I remember you, babe.”

You blinked at him and stayed silent a moment before continuing, your annoyance simmering to the surface “Okay, I was here before and when I got home, I realized that I was missing my necklace, so I came back to look for it and I found it.” 

You held up the necklace, letting the pendant dangle from your hands for a moment before you pulled the two ends behind your head and experimentally tugged to make sure the clasp was properly closed. When you looked back up, Michael was still in the doorway, and his eyes were not on your face. 

Is this guy for real?

Your body burned with his gaze, and you cursed your choice in shorts as he smirked at the same time your thighs clenched. You couldn’t help it, he was gorgeous and he was looking at you in a way that you hadn’t let a man look at you in a long time. 

“Wanna stick around for a bit?” He offered, the stupid smirk still on his face. 

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ and walked towards him, only to stop short two inches from him when you realized he wasn’t moving.

“No?” He asked again, his tone still teasing, 

“No, I got my necklace, so I’ll be going.” 

He was still smirking down as you as he moved out of your way, forcing you to go left into the corridor instead of right towards the exit. 

“I’ll lead you off my boat.” 

“Lead away.” You replied. 

You realized he’d meant to let you step towards the wrong way. He wanted to lead you out. That was fine by you, it gave you time to look at his shoulders from the back, ogle a bit at the broadness without the risk of getting caught. This man didn’t need his ego jacked up any more than it was already was. 

“You know, it’s not often people are in a rush to get off this thing, I’ve been told it’s quite nice, especially at night.”

“Yeah, I bet.” you answered clipped.

He chuckled at your response, “You been working all day?”

“No, why?”

“Just thought maybe that’s what’s got you in such a bad mood.”

You felt your face scrunch. “I didn’t expect to get propositioned by the owner of the boat I just worked on, that’s why I’m a little eager to get going.”

He stepped aside as you reached the end of the narrow corridor, the boat opening up to the deck where you could see the pier, could see your way home. 

“Ouch,” he replied, “you make it sound like I’m one of those gross old men.”

“Give it a few years.” You winked at him as he scoffed. 

“Hey, let me help you,” Michael reached for you as you lifted your leg over the edge of the deck, “it’s slippery near the edge.”

“I got it, thanks.” 

But the moment you got the ‘thanks’ out of your mouth, Michael’s hand clasped your arm. He was trying to help, but out of instinct you twisted to pull your arm from him, which was a complete and utter mistake- cause Michael was right. The deck was slippery, and it was a hazard and you slipped just as he thought you might. 

Except this time, your yacht bad luck decided that slipping on deck wasn’t enough. No, no, you were gonna slip right off the deck and into the water-

and take Michael Italiano right with you. 

You both gasped as you broke back to the surface for air, curses flying out of both your mouths as your teeth began chattering, the cold settling in quickly. The water was freezing, and you felt chilled to your bones. The water was so cold, it felt like you wading through broken glass, rather than any soft soothing waves of water you’d known. 

Michael was first on deck, pulling himself up and over easily. You moved your legs and arms, struggling to swim but still doing it as you shivered. To your surprise, he reached over and gripped under your arms, effortlessly lifting you out of the water and on to the deck. His wet white shirt accentuated the curve and flex of his arms as he placed you on the deck gentler than you thought he would. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Cold!” you bit out, your whole body letting out a violent shake. 

“Come here.” 

He pulled you up, his body trembling against yours as he tucked you under his arm and dragged you back towards the couches you saw him lounging on earlier in the night. He pressed a few buttons on the counter, and the deck was illuminated with soft lighting and one of the couches lifted, exposing a storage space underneath. He reached in and pulled out two large blankets. 

He threw one to you. “We need to get out of these clothes and warm ourselves.” 

You watched for a moment as he pulled his shirt open, exposing the milky skin of his chest and the clenched muscles underneath it. When he glanced at you, you quickly turned and pulled your shirt over your head. You moved quickly, pulling your shirt over your head and your shorts down while wrapping yourself in the blanket that was so big you probably could’ve wrapped it around yourself three times. Your clothes were already frozen against the ground, the cool air having dried them as cold as they were from the water. 

The fuzzy red blanket wrapped around you felt good, and you sat down, lifting your knees to your chest to try to keep your body heat closed around you. With your immediate danger cleared, your eyes lifted to Michael, who was throwing his clothes down the corridor you’d just come from.

Okay, I see the appeal. 

He was gorgeous. Like stupidly gorgeous. He was tall, dark haired and handsome. His body was stupidly ripped, but not overly so, and you couldn’t be blamed for licking your lips as your eyes traced his adonis belt. He really just had to have a towel wrapped that low on his hips. You looked further down and caught the slight curve of where his dick was hanging. 

“See something you like?” 

His voice broke you out of your haze, and you looked up to see that smirk was back. You were quick to recover, reminding yourself who was in front of you. 

“Not at all. Just amazed that you really are as shameless as they say you are.”

“What do I have to be ashamed of?”

Your laugh makes the smile on his face drop. “I can think of a few things.”

“You’d be lucky to have me interested in you.” His smile has dropped and his tone changed.

Uh, oh, I hurt his fragile feelings. You ignored the fact that he’d kinda hurt yours too. 

“As if I’d ever want community dick.” You responded pettily. 

“I don’t have community dick.” Michael’s voice raised, “the only reason why everyone wants to ride this,” he grabs himself through the towel, making your eyes take in how big that bulge looks and wonder if he still was soft or, “is cause they’ve heard how good it is.”

“Yeah I’m sure every girl has enjoyed faking an orgasm on it.”

Michael scoffs and takes a step towards you. Not one to back down, you stand up and take a step towards him, looking up at him with your chin raised.

“Everyone cums when I fuck them.” He spoke matter of factly down at you. 

“Sure, honey, sure.” You patronizingly nod your head at him.

“You know what, I can see what’s going on. You haven’t had any good dick, so it’s hard for you to understand what it’s like.” Michael nodded his head sympathetically and turned away from you so he was no longer standing over you. 

You gasped. “I’ve had very good dick, thank you very much.” You rolled your eyes, “not all of us need sex to survive!”

“It’s a shame too, cause you’re beautiful.”

Your head tilted back a little as you’re caught off guard by the compliment. “Excuse me?”

“You’re beautiful.” He repeats in a much sweeter tone, “and fiery,” you can’t help but stare at his lips as he bites them, “with those gorgeous lips,” his voice drops a few octaves as he leans towards you, “I bet your other lips are just as pretty.”

“You’re drunk.” You reply, cursing how breathless you sound.

“I’m not drunk, I’m kinda turned on.”

Michael’s hands grab your hips and pull you so your hips press to his, the hardening length against your stomach boasting that, okay, he might actually have some serious equipment that he’s working with.

“Are you? Or do I need to tell you what that unfamiliar feeling is deep inside you right now?”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I can tell you my dick will get just as deep. If you let me.”

You look between his mouth, his cherry red lips, and his brown eyes, something in you snapping.

Fuck it.

“Prove it.” You mumble before his hands grip your ass and hoist you up, his lips attaching to your neck. 

Michael squeezed your ass before he turned and sat on the couch you were just on, settling you on his lap with your legs spread straddling him. He nipped and sucked at your neck as you let your hands roam the muscles that stretched across his shoulders. Letting go of your blanket, it fell around your waist. You whimpered at the sensation of his fingertips pressing to your bare back, and you both moaned when he pulled your chest firmly to his.

“Why do you still have this on?” He mumbled as he unclasped your bra faster than any other man had before. 

“Getting slow, old man?” You teased. 

He choked on a laugh before he sucked on your nipple, making you gasp. You leaned back as he went back and forth between sucking the tip and sucking the whole of your nipple and the puckered skin around it. Your tits ached as he ravished both of your nipples, giving the other equal attention to the last. 

You pushed your hips down, but whined when all you could feel was all the blankets between you two. You shoved off your blanket, leaving you in just your panties in his lap, the cold ocean air you’d been trying to escape just moments ago felt like electricity with the combined sensation of Michael’s touch. 

“Get this off.” You grumbled, pulling at the folded part at the corner of his hip that held the towel up. 

“I don’t think I’m slow, I think you’re impatient.” Michael kissed at your collarbones as you struggled with his towel, “Been a while, huh?” 

“Shut up.” 

He laughed before standing with you still against him, shucking the towel off before sitting back down. “Figures you’d be the type to wanna be on top.” 

You ignored the comment, all of your attention on the length whose heat was radiating through the briefs he had on. He was big, thick and hard, and it had been a while. You could feel yourself getting wet as you continued to grind down on to him, your lips parted as the friction pleasured you. 

You whimpered when he pushed you against the couch and got on top of you. When he leaned in towards your face, you covered his mouth with your hand.

“No kissing.” When he nodded against your palm, you lowered it.

“Whatever the lady wants.” 

“The lady wants you to get on with it.”

“Patience.” He told you, his hands feeling like fire on your hips, “I gotta get you ready, not many people can just take me without any foreplay.” 

You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead you just whined. He grinned at you as he peeled your panties off and threw them across the deck, pushing your inner thighs apart so you were spread on the couch. One of your feet dangled over the backrest, while the other’s toes skimmed the floor.

“I knew I’d be right.” 

“About what?” 

“This pussy is pretty.” 

Your body jolted when he playfully tapped your clit. Your thighs were already shaking, and he made it no better with how heavily he pushed on the soft skin, parting your lips until they couldn’t spread anymore. 

“Calm down, you’re so tense.” 

“Cause you’re keeping me waiting.” You laughed both nervously and cause it was true.

Michael huffed before you were gasping underneath him. He’d dove right in, dragging his tongue from your entrance to your clit and back again. Your whole body came alive underneath him, and your hands lifted to your tits as you began groping them, whimpering like the mess Michael was melting you into as he ate your pussy. 

The way he kissed at your lips and sucked on them between kitten licks on your clit had you moaning. You gasped for air as he pushed his tongue into your cunt, vibrating his tongue as he groaned into your heat. He pulled his tongue out of you. 

“You know for a sour bitch, you taste sweet.” 

You pushed yourself up on to your elbows to curse at him, but instead you cried out, one of his long fingers sinking into your dripping hole as he snickered between your legs. 

“Fuck, finally, making yourself useful.” You spoke through gritted teeth. 

Michael’s finger dragged slowly half out of you before curving, hooking against a soft part of your upper walls and making your breath leave your lungs like you’d been punched. It felt so good, it was shocking. 

“There you go, baby.” He cooed at you, kissing the side of your knee as he eased another finger in alongside the one that was already inside you. “Fuck, you’re gonna be tight.” 

You moaned as he parted his fingers, trying to stretch your walls. You instinctually squeezed his fingers, making him curse under his breath as he felt your wetness snug around him. He ruthlessly pressed his thumb to clit and his pinky to your other hole, making you cry out and squeeze on him. 

“Oh, god, can I take you, baby?” He spoke louder, clearer than he had all night. “Tell me I can fuck you.” 

You shivered as you opened your eyes and looked down at his moving hand, the wet slide of his fingers in and out of you, the pressure of his other two wandering ones. You bit your lip as you moved your hips and watched the twitch of his cock that was still clothed. 

“Fuck me.” You nodded and looked up at him.

He might have been talking a lot, but he looked just as wrecked as you felt. 

Michael stood on shaky legs and reached back into the little cubby where he’d gotten your blanket from and pulled out a foil packet. You ignored the fact that he was very prepared for this, and closed your legs, turning yourself on your side so you could watch him with your knuckle between your teeth. 

You bit hard on your own flesh as he pushed his wet shorts down his legs, finally showing you what you’d been waiting for. You were right, he was thick. From the base to the tip, his cock was wide, the rosy smooth skin looked as velvety as you bet he felt. There was a bit of a curve at the base of his cock, making the member lean to one side a bit, but the rest was ramrod straight. The tip was swollen, the head juicy and glistening. 

Your hand dropped from your lips and your mouth watered as he wrapped his fingers around himself and tugged on himself a few times. You watched with hungry eyes as the skin of him moved with the motion, the wet drag sound of his cock skin pulling as he played with himself. 

“Now I know you like what you see.” 

You tsk’d at him, “just had to ruin the moment,” 

“Wanna taste it before I wrap it?” He raised an eyebrow at you as he began walking back towards the couch, cock still in hand, “You got a bit of drool-”

“Oh shut up and put the condom on.” 

You both laughed a bit as he came to kneel where you were laying, pushing your legs off the couch so they were still bent one over the other, and he could scoot closer to where your ass was. You watched as the condom slid up down his member and he teasingly slapped it against your asscheek. 

All you could think about was how hard it felt. 

Michael reached over and grabbed your ankles, lifting them straight up and pulling you on to your back before pausing for a moment. 

“Still want to know what all the fuss is about?”

“If you don’t fuck me-”

“Okay, okay.” He laughed. 

You smiled up at the ceiling of the overhanging balcony as you got comfy on your back, Michael’s hands pushing against the back of your knees until they were bent against your chest. 

“Just like this, okay?” He told you, his hand stroking your ass as his other held himself. 

You shook your hips, “Uh huh.” you agreed. 

Your breath caught as he pressed himself against your lips, letting you feel his length and his thickness, and his weight against your lips before he pushed between them. Your lips parted as he pulled his hips back from your own, pulling his cock down your lips until his tip pressed against your entrance. You whined as gravity and the heaviness of his cock made your entrance tingle in anticipation. 

One of his hands let go of your thighs, and moved down his hips to where he needed to guide himself into you. You pushed yourself up on your elbows again, your knees touching your shoulders as you looked down to watch yourself get penetrated. 

A shaky whine left your throat as his head pushed into you. When he pushed the rest of his tip in, he groaned, pausing for a moment before leaning forward, accidentally sinking a few inches too fast, making you both cry out in pleasure. 

“Ohhhh, fuck it.” You whined, lifting your hips enthusiastically. 

Michael panted above you but nodded, “here’s the rest.” 

Letting the weight of his body sink forward, his pelvis slapped against your ass as he let himself fall into you.

You cried out and dropped back, your hand flying to your mouth as your head turned back and forth. You were so overwhelmed by the stretch, the hot glide of him inside you, and all the wetness you could feel him stirring up inside you. It had been a while, and it wasn’t painful, it was just the stretch was a lot for you in the most deliciously overwhelming way.  

You could hear him groaning too, trying to catch his breath as he sat up while he was inside you. 

“Fuck...” he cursed.

“That’s what you’re supposed to be doing.” you sassed.

He looked at you with a smile before he pushed himself forward, thrusting into you shallowly. The first few thrusts were rough and experimental, and he paid attention to your face and sounds as he began filling you to see what you liked. Even though, he seemed more than sure of what would make you feel good. 

“Like this, baby.” 

He grabbed your ankle and threw one of your legs over his shoulder, the other falling off the couch. He pressed one of his hands to your inner thigh, keeping the leg that wasn’t over his shoulder stretched out, and the other pressed to your lower tummy where you could feel him rearranging your guts. He leaned forward on one knee, planting the other foot on the floor next to where yours was dangling. Angling his body forward, he drove into you upwards, knocking into the soft spot he found before. 

“Fuck!” You yelped, the pressure in your tummy making your pussy squeeze around his length. 

“That’s it baby, just like that.” He mumbled, his eyes closing as his hips kept up the rhythm.

You tried covering your mouth but found yourself unable to as you clutched at the couch cushions, squeezing the soft material as Michael drove into your cunt like a deprived man, making you see stars. His cock felt impossibly bigger at this angle and you found yourself getting louder and louder. Thankful that it was after midnight and you didn’t have to worry about anyone nearby overhearing. 

You gasped.

You were outside, on the deck of a yacht, with the lights on, getting fucked wide open by the most sought after bachelor in Monaco. You panted for air as you eyes snapped open and you looked around, spotting all the other boats around you, the apartment buildings that bordered the pier, all the balconies that faced your spread state. 

“Oh my god.” Michael groaned, “Even through the condom I can feel this pussy.”

You clenched around him, whimpering as he leaned forward and pushed harder on you. Your hips ached and your stomach hurt, but your pussy wanted so much more. You could feel the wetness that splashed out of you as he fucked you, could hear it too. You were a leaking mess, his slicked condom covered cock moving in and out of you at a pace that made a clapping sound against your ass and his pelvis. 

“Oh god,” you moaned, “right there, please, harder-” your moans got louder and more pornographic as the tightness in your pelvis began to squeeze his cock, “oh god, I need- more, please.”

“Oh, baby, I know what you need.” he groaned. 

The hand that had been pressing on your inner thigh lifted, all his weight balanced between his legs and the single hand pressed to your pelvis, making you whimper. You’d barely taken a breath before a scream was ripped from your throat, the shock of him placing his palm against your swollen clit and softly rubbing making your back arch off the couch.

You yelled and whimpered and made sounds you hadn’t made before as he continued driving his cock into your cunt and rubbing at your clit. You felt a whole different sensation creep up on the growing tightness in your pelvis, and suddenly your vision went white.

You could hear yourself sobbing, and you could feel the wetness on you. It wasnt until Michael finally pulled himself from you that you came back to your body and realized you hadn’t cried at all. 

You had squirted. 

Clear liquid was glistening on the couch, on your thighs and all over Michael’s pelvis. 

“Oh my god.” You whimpered, letting yourself fall back on to the cushions, not even caring that your legs were spread open as they were when you first got naked on the couch. 

“Oh my god is right.” Michael panted, hissing as you heard the telltale sound of the condom being pulled off his hyper sensitive dick. “Give me a few minutes.”

“For what?” You asked, rubbing the sweat from your forehead as he leaned back against your waist. 

“Round two.” 

#w #hoe fairy #fuckboy!michael is HERE #cant make a hoe a househusband #mi #papi you had to get this treatment okay i dont make the rules #you cant be perfect everywhere #papi rly came for all the hoes #work me out papi #he could get all the kitties #you feel me