#Now I - despite growing my middle finger nails - still bite all of the rest of them and the skin around them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avintagekiss24 · 3 years

Text

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

#bad things happen bingo #buckybarnesbingo2021 #ssb2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #5k...holy god

2K notes · View notes

zodiakuroo · 3 years

Text

copycat

18+, eren jaeger x fem!reader

part two of pierced

inspired by the 'big stick' scene from jawbreaker (iykyk)

wc: 3.7k

contains: mild dubcon, light dom/sub, ball play, choking, dumbification, degradation, spit, creampie

Eren can’t help but admire you from the doorway of your shared bedroom. One would think, that after 30 days of edging, you would learn not to be such a fucking tease. But here you are flitting around the kitchen in nothing but one of his t-shirts and a frilly pair of lilac panties.

‘Stop being a perv. It’s hot out.’ You don’t have to say it. The ‘you’ in his head is already chastising him for the lascivious nature of his thoughts.

The ‘you’ in his head is also already bent over the granite top counter, panties long discarded, presenting yourself to him, begging ‘Please Eren. Fuck me.’

He can’t help it. Everyday he’s found himself face to face with your cute little pussy, absolutely begging to get filled and not being able to do anything about it. It’s not his fault that when he sees you wearing next to nothing, he just wants to stick his cock in you.

Except it’s entirely his fault.

That’s why even though you can feel the weight of his stare as you move around the kitchen, you don’t even spare a glance in his direction.

If there’s one thing these last few weeks have taught you, its willpower. And thanks to your newfound self-discipline you’re able to resist the urge to pounce on him when your boyfriend pulls your back against the solid wall of his chest. “Baby.” He rasps. “I’m all healed up.”

The statement makes goosebumps appear on your skin despite the sweltering heat but other than that, you show no signs of exactly how pent up you are.

Eren made you swear not to touch yourself whining about how unfair it would be and how he would really appreciate your support in his hour of need. Yes he used those exact words. You kept your promise but not without intending to receive payback. It was only a matter of how. The idea hadn’t come to you yet.

“Really?” You don’t even bother to turn around, pushing past him. Partly as a way to tease him but also because you don’t trust yourself to be able to resist him once you get a good look at him. From his scent alone you can tell he’s fresh from a shower and that’s when he’s the most dangerous. He smells cool and fresh like his shower gel, spicy and warm like his aftershave and fruity and floral like his your shampoo. It’s hypnotic.

The trance is broken when he pulls you even closer to him, grinding his bulge into your backside.

“Stop buying that 2-in-1 shit if you’re gonna use mine all the time anyways.” You grumble.

Right.

Revenge first. Dick second. The voice in your head reminds you.

You wriggle out of his hold, remembering why you came into the kitchen in the first place. You breathe a sigh of relief as you open the freezer door, the cold air providing a brief reprieve from the near suffocating heat of your apartment. Once you’ve obtained your target; a cherry popsicle hidden behind some ice packs and frozen peas, you finally take a look at your tormentor.

“Babe c’mon.” Eren persists.

He looks good. Unfairly good considering the fact that he’s not even trying. Fresh from the shower, he has on a worn out white t-shirt, stretched around the neckline which gives you a mouthwatering look at his perfectly sculpted collarbones and no more than the top of his pecs that peak out above the seam. His grey athletic shorts hang low on his hips and outline his print a little too well so you know he’s not wearing boxers. Eren hasn’t bothered to tie up his long hair leaving the damp tendrils dangling above his shoulders with a few stray strands framing his handsome face. He’s putting up a nonchalant front but the tick in his eyebrow gives his irritated disposition away.

Surely he didn’t believe that you would let him have his way with you that easily.

Except he did. Because under most circumstances he would. But today, your own stubbornness (only marginally) drowns out your desire for your Adonis of a boyfriend so you push past him into the lounge, plopping down on the couch with a dramatic sigh.

“Later.” You bring the frozen treat to your lips. “It’s so hot.” Again, Eren tries to keep his face expressionless but you easily spot the way he clenches his jaw as his gaze fixes itself onto your mouth.

Bingo

You close your eyes, enjoying the sweet cherry taste and cool sensation that spreads throughout your body.

“On second thought,” You start, as a mischievous grin spreads across your face. “There is something else I’d rather have in my mouth.”

“Yeah?” Eren dons a matching smirk and stalks his way over to you, sitting down so that you can straddle him. “Tempting but honestly, your mouth isn’t what I had in mind.” His voice trails off, large hands moving down to cup your ass, giving the soft flesh a squeeze for good measure. But before he can take it any further you’re already manoeuvring your way between his knees.

“Oh. You don’t want me to suck your cock?” You pout, resting your head against his thigh, trying your best to sound disappointed.

Eren swallows whatever argument he was about to present when he sees your pretty eyes, shaded by fluttering lashes looking up at him with the tip of the crimson popsicle pressed against your sinful mouth. The same sinful mouth he’s been dreaming about for a month.

Fuck.

“Yeah, okay.” He grumbles while you watch him pull his already half hard cock out of his bottoms. It’s so pretty and long, perfectly thick in all the right places, decorated at the tip with a vertical running titanium barbell.

He’s got a hand around his base, waiting for you to replace the sweet treat in your mouth with his aching cock but much to his dismay your attention is drawn a little lower.

The sight of his plush balls all swollen and full of cum proves to be too much for you to resist. He shudders when your cold lips press against the taut skin. You know he’s sensitive from being so backed up. That’s why he starts panting as you leave wet kisses on his sac, leaving your saliva all over it while his shaft grows harder above you.

“Hold this for me.” You pass him your popsicle, that is slowly starting to melt which he takes in his free hand.

“Okay can you just- fuck.” One more kiss, right on the shiny metal of his newly healed piercing, shuts him up quickly.

Your own hands find their place on his thighs. You dip your head down again and take one of his balls in his mouth massaging it with your tongue.

“Christ.” He groans, slowly jerking himself off while you worship his balls.

“Oh poor baby…. so full.” You murmur letting go of the left to suck on the right one, savouring the weight of them.

“Yeah.” His voice is about a whole octave higher than usual. “Hurts.” He scrunches up his face when you let go of his ball with a pop.

“I bet.” You giggle. Eren is now at full mast, veiny shaft resting against his abdomen, dribbling precum which coats the shiny piercing that crowns his angry-red tip. His wrist flicks ever so elegantly as his hand moves languidly up and down, up and down, up and-”

“Princess.” Your boyfriend whines, yanking you out of your daze. “Enough with the teasing. You wanted to suck me off. Do it already.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, not losing sight of your revenge plot.

“Baby,” You pout. “I really want to but-” It’s so hard to bite back your laugh. “But I don’t remember how.”

“Wait what?” His hand stops right in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“It’s been so long. Can you show me?”

Eren’s expression goes from perplexed to vicious but you don’t budge, blinking up at him with wide innocent eyes.

“How?” He huffs impatiently. It’s funny actually, seeing him struggle to tolerate a fraction of his own bitter medicine.

Your eyes shift to the frozen treat still in his hand that’s starting to drip down his knuckles. “I’m a visual learner.”

He moves like he’s about to stand up but you won’t make it that easy for him. “Please, Rennie? Please teach me how to suck your cock?”

As much as Eren has you wrapped around his finger, he’s just as whipped for you. So when you look at him with those sparkly eyes and call him the pet name he swears he hates but brings him to his knees when you use it, you know you have him.

Hook, line and sinker.

You use your thumb and middle finger to make a circle around his base, positioning yourself eye level with his leaking slit.

His tongue peaks out cautiously, eyes trained on yours as he flicks it across the tip, testing the waters. Immediately you follow suit, tasting his precum for the first time in so long. His hips buck off the couch, chasing the gone-too-soon sensation but you dig your nails into his thigh, reminding him who’s in control right now.

You quirk your brow at him, making sure he understands what you want.

How many times have you found yourself in this exact position: sitting between your boyfriend’s thighs while he looks down at you, both of you equally as lust drunk as the other. But this time he’s the one panting and whimpering while you have your turn to torture him.

Eren doesn’t like it. Not one bit. He wants to smack that smug little grin right off your face but instead he pulls at your hair, tugging right at the roots and making you yelp in pain. Now you’re scowling. But it’s hard to look at all intimidating sitting beneath him with your head tilted at such an awkward angle. He doesn’t miss the way your thighs clench together either.

Never breaking eye contact, he uses the flat of his tongue to lick a broad stripe up the length of the popsicle. You squirm in place, remembering how it feels to have him lick across your cunt exactly like that.

Fine. He’d play along with your little game. But on his own terms.

You lean forward to copy him but the hand holding your head keeps you in place. Without looking away, Eren launches a glob of spit onto the already drippy ice-cream before licking it away. It’s that simple for him to put a crack in your domineering façade and have you whimpering right at his feet as per usual.

The corners of his lips twitch as a silent challenge to you.

Never one to back down, you use your tongue to trace the vein that runs along the underside of his cock, feeling it pulsate. As you get closer to his prince Albert, you can’t hold back from swirling the wet muscle around the cold metal.

A soft whimper escapes his lips as you pull away, keeping your mouth agape, looking up at him expectantly.

It’s silent for a moment before Eren realises what you’re wordlessly pleading for. “Fucking slut.” He mutters, almost amazed before he gathers more of his saliva to drop into your mouth with a loud khwa pto echoing throughout the quiet apartment.

You close your mouth with a satisfied smile, savouring the taste of sweet, tart cherry and a flavour that is uniquely Eren, letting it mingle with your own saliva before spitting it on to his cock. You use your tongue to spread the wetness all along the shaft, leaving it covered in slick sheen.

“So fuckin’ nasty.” He groans, moving his hand from your head to push his own hair out of his face, not wanting anything to obstruct his view of you right now.

You feel the way his thigh twitches under your palm every time you come even close to his puffy cockhead and your tongue brushes across the sensitive piercing. The idea that you have him like this, desperate and whining, after weeks of him toying with you is exhilarating to say the least.

You have to rein yourself in before you end the fun too soon.

Reluctantly, you pull away and patiently await your next command.

You know what he wants next and so does he but Eren can’t help but feel self-conscious.

Of course, he loves the way you look when you’re going down him. His gallery is filled with pictures of you with your eyes filled to the brim with tears and your lips stretched impossibly wide around his girth. When you’re not around he gets off to the videos him fucking your face, relishing in the way you gag while you try to accommodate him in your throat. He doesn’t think he could ever measure up to how sexy you look with your pupils blown, lips all swollen and your spit dripping down your chin.

But just like you, he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Ever so slowly, he opens his mouth and latches on to the blunt top of the popsicle. His plump lips form a perfect O-shaped pout, stained beautiful crimson from the fruit juice. Your gaze is transfixed on his face, the sharp lines and edges tinted with an uncharacteristic blush as his cheeks hollow out, to suck it in deeper.

“So pretty baby.” You breathe out.

He shudders as the cool air fans out across his wet skin.

“Yeah? ‘m pretty?” He smirks, using his free hand to drag his cock across your face, smearing his precum on your lips. “Show me how you treat pretty boys. Please?”

And how could you deny him?

Centimeter by centimeter, you pull him in. Only the first few inches, get to enjoy the warm, slippery cavern of your mouth while the rest of him has to make do with the soft skin of your hand gliding up, down and around.

“Fucking take it inside. Christ.” He groans, frustration evident as he glares down at you.

You simply shake your head a ‘no’, far too content with the taste and the weight of him in your mouth to stop suckling at his cock. If he wants more, he knows what he has to do.

The frozen treat is back between his lips and far too quickly, with not enough thought he pushes it inside as far as it can go until his gag reflex forces him to abort his mission, sputtering out red-coloured saliva.

You pull off of him as you erupt into a fit of giggles.

Eren takes advantage of the fact that you’re unguarded and in a matter of seconds he has you pinned to the floor. The poor popsicle is left in a sad, melting puddle on your couch while his long, sticky fingers circle around both of your wrists, the other hand keeping a harsh grip on your jaw.

Yeah. Not laughing now, are you?

“Was that funny to you princess?” He questions you, almost daring you to hit back.

Knowing when to quit was never one of your strong points.

“Not funny.” You say despite your giddy smile. “My pretty boy just needs more practice.” You snicker.

You’re pushing his buttons on purpose now. At best, you expect some degrading words fitting of your bratty attitude. At worst, you expect the sting of his palm to come down against the side of your face, reminding you of your place.

What you don’t expect is a wry chuckle before he says, “I forgot how bitchy you get when you don’t get stuffed full of cock enough.”

Eren frees your hands in favour of placing both of his on your knees. He spreads apart your legs as wide as they can go, dragging his coarse palms up and up to rest at the apex of your thighs. He flicks up the hem of your shirt to reveal to him the crotch of your panties that's soaked through with your arousal. He pulls them to the side to expose your cunt to him. Eren barely stops himself from tearing the flimsy fabric right off your body and only because he thinks they're pretty and wants to see you wear them again.

He can smell you. But he suppresses the desire to bury his face between your pillowy thighs for as long as you’ll let him. He knows that’s not what either of you really want.

“This needy pussy been missing me?” He coos, keeping his voice sugary sweet and dripping with condescension. He grinds his pierced tip all along your cunt, dipping under your hood to press right against your clit.

You feel it before you realise what’s happening; the burn of his fat head of his cock prodding at your tiny hole, forcing it to stretch around him.

“Jesus fuck- ‘s tight.” He grits out, managing to pop just the tip in.

Tears gather at your waterline as he impales you further and further on his cock, reintroducing your insides to him and his newest body mod. The bulb of the piercing drags deliciously over every bump and ridge that lines your walls. It just keeps going and going until it’s all too much.

Instinctively, your hand flies to Eren’s abdomen, fingers splaying across his tummy. You want to ask him to stop or wait or at the very least prep you. But you’re just so full.

He’s not even all the way in and you’re full of him everywhere. Did it feel like this before?

He doesn't give you a chance to remember.

“Move. Your fucking. Hand.” He grunts before moving it for you and sheathing his cock fully in your spasming cunt.

“Fuck Eren. ‘s big.” Your voice breaks as you utter that last word right one Eren fills you to the hilt. Your arms fly to his biceps, squeezing the muscle so tight that you’re certain it hurts him but he doesn’t complain.

No one would believe that mere minutes ago Eren was the one under your thumb. Not when he’s so quickly managed to turn you into a blubbering mess.

“Where’s that smart mouth now?” He mocks you as if he’s doing any better. In reality he’s keeping himself still, with his pressed against yours trying to regain a semblance of control, not wanting this to end so soon.

Slowly, he starts to rock his hips against you and little by little you open up around him, offering less and less resistance. Hand on the bible, he swears he can feel your gooey pussy sucking him in every time he pulls back, almost like it’s begging him to never leave again. Hand on the bible, he swears that he won’t.

“Huh?” He taunts. “Where’s the bitch who thought she could fuck with me?” He emphasises his point with one sharp snap of his hips that hits the bull’s eye.

“Eren! Right there!” You cry out as you back arches up into him but he forces you to stay down by pressing his palm firmly against your sternum.

“Right there?” He mimics your voice, with a high pitched, nasal tone. You can’t even cringe at how it sounds because the feeling of the rounded metal hitting that squishy patch deep inside you with pinpoint accuracy is too overwhelming for you to think about anything else.

“You want me to fuck you here?” His thrusts start to pick up pace. You’re finally getting used to him again and the slick juices from your pussy let’s him move as fast as he wants, as deep as he wants so you he can use his cock to abuse all of your sweet spots

You can’t exactly speak; only nod, as you dig your nails into his shoulders and back, leaving a trail of crescent shaped indents in your wake. The coil at the base of your belly twists tighter, tighter and tighter still as all your nerve endings work overtime to register the way he fills you up completely, the way the metal rubs along all the right spots and the way Eren rams into you like a man possessed.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” Now you’re begging. It’s impossible to stop the fear bubbling in your chest. You’ve become well-acquainted with this feeling. Absolutely drowning in pleasure and right on the edge of an unimaginable peak before having it ripped away. It’s not unreasonable to be worried that Eren might leave you high and dry once again.

He halts his movements the moment he notices the doubt behind your eyes.

Your pleas become more and more frantic, already thinking the worst. “Don’t stop Eren! Please don’t stop.” You sob but go silent when his hand rests itself firmly around your throat.

“Told you.” He punctuates the sentence with one, deep thrust.

“Fuck. What did I say?” He growls as he falls back into the same brutal rhythm that had you teetering on the very brink of an orgasm before.

God above as your witness, you try and answer but all that comes out is a pathetic squeak of his name before he cuts you off completely by squeezing your neck tighter.

“S-said I was gonna fuck you stupid. Right?”

You nod as best you can, head spinning from the lack of air and your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Now fuckin’ cum for me so I can keep my promise.”

The second his hand meets your clit, you’re a goner. The calloused pad of his thumb rubs the neglected nub with exactly the right pressure to push you over the edge. Every muscle clenches as that tightening coil finally snaps. The intoxicating pleasure that shoots through your body reaches your head at the same time as the pressure on your throat is released, much needed oxygen flooding your brain and prolonging the high.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him deep inside you as cream around his cock. It’s pointless to hold off his release any longer and with nowhere else to go he spills his load deep in your pussy. The feeling of his hot cum seeping into your pussy has you twitching around him, trying to milk every last drop from him.

You may have blacked for a second, eyes fluttering open as Eren gently taps your cheek. His handsome face, all flushed and sweaty comes into focus. Both of you are wearing equally dopey grins as he asks you, “Did it feel as good as I said?”

#tw dubcon #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger x reader #attack on titan smut #eren smut #aot smut #snk smut #eren yaeger x reader smut

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bokuroskitten · 3 years

Text

During the Discord Call

Paring: Gamer Kenma x Fem! Reader

Genre: NSFW 18+

Warnings: mentions of a poly relationship (with kuroo), voyeurism, cock warming, pantie gag, spit, Dom/Sub dynamic, “Sir” title, praise, this is just filth for your enjoyment

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: Kenma has been playing his games for far too long, but considering he’s in the middle of a match he makes do.

You rolled over on the couch, a little groan leaving your lips as you slowly lifted yourself up onto an elbow. You didn’t even realize you had dozed off, let alone what time it was now as the sounds of guns shooting filled your senses.

You rubbed a palm over your eyes before looking to your side, seeing your legs were still sprawled over the lap of your boyfriend, Kenma. His arms rested over your legs as he kept his eyes glued to the screen, mumbling into his mic. You sighed a bit, not surprised by the fact that he was still gaming...

But a little disappointed. Considering Kuroo had been working nights the past couple days it had just been the two of you, and although gaming was a part of Kenma’s career, you were beginning to feel a bit needy.

“Babe.” You mumbled, shifting your legs a bit beneath Kenma. His eyes only glanced your way as he rose his arms, fingers still pressing away at the controller. “Yea baby?” He basically mumbled, before his lip curled into an annoyed frown— which you could only assume was because of the game.

You sighed softly, your foot slowly pressing along his abdomen. “You still playin...?” Kenma only nodded, speaking things about his game into the mic now like “go to the right and you’ll find the shooter.” Your pout grew in size as your patience wore thin. You pulled your legs from his lap completely and decided to change things up.

Kenma let out a little huff of air as your head was suddenly plopped in his lap, eyes wide and although a bit tired, wide and glossy. He didn’t pause the game though, rather he just lifted his mic, glanced between your pouting lips and the screen. “What is it baby?”

“Want attention.” You stated bluntly, fingers attempting to reach for his controller only for Kenma to raise his arms a bit, let out a soft tsk. “Lemme finish the game.” He spoke.

“You said that before I dozed offfffff~ “You were whining at this point and you didn’t care. It earned a little smirk on Kenma’s lips though, one that faded away quickly as he swore softly, button mashed a bit to get back in the lead. Your pout only continued to grow as you grabbed at his collar again, gave it a little tug. “Kooooz~”

Reluctantly Kenma paused his game, hearing the subtle complaints of his game mates before muting them as well. His brows were furrowed as he looked down at you, met your needy little gaze. “Don’t tug on me baby.” He stated as he placed his palm on your cheek, cupped it gently. You instantly melted into his palm, pressing your lips to his skin while keeping your gaze locked on him. “Don’t ignore me then... want attention...”

Kenma hummed softly, his grin coming back as you continued to place kisses along his palm, noticing the subtle way your thighs clenched together. His thumb traced over your bottom lip, and the way you slipped it between your petals to suck on it teasingly is what set Kenma over the edge. “Gotta finish the match kitten.”

You was already whining around his skin, but Kenma shushed you with the furrow of his brow, thumb pressing on your tongue. “Shush. ‘M not done. You have panties on?” Kenma was always one to get straight to the point, making a little flush come to your face as his free hand traveled to the bottom of the sweater you wore, the one that belonged to Kuroo. Although you nodded in response, he still tugged it up a bit, getting a peak of red underwear lines.

“Mm, take em off, sit in my lap.” He ordered as he sat up, slipping his thumb free from your lips and grabbing his controller once more. The little giggle you released as you basically bounced up, easily slid from your panties made Kenma chuckle softly.

Your giddiness made the tent in his shorts grow.

He mumbled an apology to his now unmuted game mates as you slide yourself into his lap, Kenma letting out a soft sigh from the heat that radiated from your slightly dampened core. Despite keeping his eyes on the screen, he managed to pull himself free from his shorts, the feeling of his length slapping against your rear and making you yelp. “K-Koz— “

You was cut off as he hushed you against your ear. “Quiet kitty. You wouldn’t want the boys to hear.” Kenma warned, placing a hand on your hip to aid you in sliding back. Biting down harshly on your lip you rose herself a bit, only to sit onto Kenma’s length and sheath him fully within your walls. Kenma could feel the way your core clenched about him greedily, the way your palms gripped desperately at his thighs as a little noise bubbled between your lips.

Once you were situated Kenma looped his arms around you again, hooking his chin over your shoulder and unpausing the game. “Where were we?” He spoke into the mic, eyes glancing to your flushed face as your eyes fluttered. Kenma could feel the way your walls desperately wanted him to move as they hugged his cock, but he had other plans in mind.

“You gunna just sit here and look pretty? Take what you want kitty.” Kenma urged into your ear, fingers pressing away at the controller and blush blooming darker on your face. You could literally hear his gaming mates through the headset, and yet here you were keeping your boyfriends cock warm.

With a little whine you began to grind ever so softly, hips swaying back and forth. The motion had Kenma’s lashes fluttering a bit, but he kept his composure, fingers pressing away at buttons and voice soft into the mic. You on the other hand let out a string of little whines, your fingers gripping tightly at Kenma’s sweatpants as your hips twitched.

“K-Kenma...~” You breathed, barley over a whisper. Kenma couldn’t keep the grin off his lips as he brushed his nose along the column of your throat, whispered against your skin. “Keep going kitty.” And that you did, beginning the soft bouncing and having your walls clench around his length perfectly.

“You good Kenma?” The faux blonde didn’t realize his groan was out loud. He played it off as clearing his throat, his voice still very much monotone. “All good.” He repeated, before suddenly bucking his hips up.

You gasped out loud, your eyes widening some as his thrust met your own, swallowing his cock to hit right on your sweet spot. You urged for that pleasure again, grinding your rear into his hips to feel more friction. “M-more, more sir— “

There it was. The title. Kenma smirked. “My girls here, I’ve been telling her to keep it down. Anyone got the left side?” You weren’t sure how Kenma could sound so calm, but as he slammed his hips up again, your mouth opened for a moan.

Only for Kenma to press your panties between your lips. Blush bloomed on your cheeks as you muffled a whimper into the fabric, his fingers pressing it firmly onto your tongue before his thumb ran over your bottom lip. “You’re so loud kitty.” He mumbled into your ear, his hips continuing to jump into your clenching pussy. “I wanna keep your pretty noises all to myself so be a good girl and keep your panties in there.” You nodded subtly, whining as his fingers slowly slide away from your face to grip the controller properly once more.

“M-mph~” Despite your rather stuffed mouth you still begged so pretty, hips begging for more as Kenma rolled into you again. Kenma had to bite his lip to hold in a groan, the feeling of your walls tightening up around him making his fingers twitch over the controller. “Kenma.” The faux blonde heard his name called out again and he smirked a bit, attending to his teammates needs all the while grinding his hips forward into your clenching core.

You had leaned your head into his shoulder at this point, fingers desperately clutching at his thighs as you met his grinds. Your eyes barely stayed opened as they fluttered, a gloss coming over them as the pleasure seemed to overwhelm you. As a bit of drool dribbled from the cotton that threaten to spill from your lips Kenma’s fingers were quick to easily press it back in, a little tsk leaving his lips. “Such a messy girl, bet the boys can hear these desperate little noises even with the panties.”

That had your cheeks darkening a bit, a whimper slipping past your lips so pretty Kenma let out a audible groan this time, right into the mic for all the players in the game to hear.

“Fuck it.” He finally stated, slapping down on the pause button so fast before the controller along with his headset where tossed to the side, not even bothering to mute himself and deep down hoping the boys would hear your beautiful cries. He was quick to take hold of your hips, having your back pressing into the couch cushions while he centred himself between your trembling thighs. He was embedded within you again with one quick thrust, letting out a moan as he watched tears finally spill from your eyes, felt your back arch to just the right spot that had his cock brushing your sweet spot.

“That’s my pretty kitty.” He cooed, pupils blowing out wide as he gripped your hips, continued to pump into your walls. You could barely keep your eyes open, fingers reaching up to grip onto Kenma’s shoulders like your life depended on it. One of his palms smoothed down from your hip to your thigh, squeezing along the flesh as he rolled his hips. “This is what you wanted huh? Wanted attention like this right (Y/N)?”

You attempted to nod, attempted to moan but the panties kept your babbles at you’re your nails pressing into the fabric of his shirt while your hips continued to meet his. Kenma’s impatience got the better of him as he finally pulled the dampened fabric from between your lips, tossing it aside and bringing his own lips close to yours instead.

“Ask me to cum baby. I know you wanna.” His words were nothing more than mumbles as he spoke against your swollen lips, his eyes glued to yours as fresh tears of pleasure swelled to the surface. You moaned out loud now, core tightening up around his cock as your orgasm reached closer and closer.

“N-needa cum Kozume, Needa cum sir please...~ please can I cum?” He loved the way you sounded so desperate, loved the way his game mates definitely stayed on call so they could hear the two of you. Biting onto his lower lip his fingers squeezed a bit tighter on your skin as his hips jutted faster, his own release swimming up fast at the way your walls squeezed him.

“Yea baby, cum on my cock, lemme hear you.” He egged you on, a bit of flush rising on his cheeks at sound of your rising cries, the way your back arched into his thrusting. Your eyes widened suddenly as the knot in your stomach finally snapped, a wave of white clouding your vision as pleasure vibrated through your form. Your fingers clutched desperately to his shoulders as you whined out.

“That’s it.” Kenma cooed, his thrusts picking up and having you whimpering as the aftershock of your orgasm made you hypersensitive. He was quick to follow, shooting strings within you with a pleasured groan. Finally his hips shallowed out, his breath coming out a bit ragged as he looked down at the mess between their thighs, the way your skin twitched and shimmered with a mixture of their arousal.

“Good job kitty... you did so good.” Kenma’s voice had lost a bit of its edge as he slowed, giving you a gentle smile when you fluttered your eyes back open, eased your fingers away from him to flop them on either side of your head. Kenma leaned into you, keeping his now soft length within your walls as he placed a gentle smooch under your eye.

“Was that enough attention?” He asked, earning a tired laugh from you as you carded your fingers through Kenma dampened locks. The two of you stayed tangled in each other embrace as you slowly came down from the high. “Mhm. I think so.”

“The boys definitely heard you.” There was his bluntness, a smirk coming to his face at the way he felt you tense up a bit beneath him. “I didn’t mute it so they could hear how cute you sound when you cry out for my coc— “

“Kozume!!” You squealed, face flushing as you pouted, gave his hair a playful little tug. He could only keep on grinning, lips pressing to your cheek bone.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t like it~”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #kenma #kenma kozume #kenma smut #kenma x y/n #kenma x reader #kenma x fem!reader #dom!kenma #gamerkenma #kenma x reader smut

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tothemeadow · 3 years

Note

ok so can I get a scenario with a sub fem reader getting railed over Muichiro’s desk I’d say more but I’m in a rush thank you for your time

‘game on’ / Tokito M. x Reader

warnings: NSFW, oral sex, unprotected sex, almost exhibitionism?, Mui is a little shit

words: 1,320

(a/n): Muichiro is 18+ in this

“Jesus, guys, cover my fucking six, won’t you?”

“Maybe if you didn’t run right into enemy territory you wouldn’t die so fucking fast.”

“Right? Fucking scrub. Think about the rest of us!”

At that, Muichiro rolls his eyes. The others bitching at him through his headset are getting way too annoying. Well, they were always annoying to begin with, but he needs some sort of team to level himself up, you know? Still, he charges forward since he’s the one carrying this team. Fingers poised over the WASD buttons and hand gripping onto the mouse, Muichiro’s in the perfect state for complete concentration.

The thing is… Well, he isn’t concentrating.

Granted, he’s still better than the others despite his… problem.

Glancing downwards, he’s greeted with the sight of his bare thighs and your pretty head nestled between his legs. Your eyes are closed, eyelashes kissing your cheeks; it’s those very cheeks that are hollowed around his cock, wrapping around him in a wet heat that’s to die for. Perhaps you feel his stare – your eyes crack open and meet his darkened gaze, flick over his flushed features and the delightful pout of his bottom lip.

He bites back a groan as your tongue flicks his glans before it travels the length of the prominent vein on the underside of his cock. The slurping noises breaking free from your puffy lips are enough to spur him on him further. Fuck, he’d love nothing more than to hold your head in place while he drove his cock deep into your slutty throat, make you choke while he shoots his load into your mouth.

Fuck, you’re so sexy that it’s driving him nuts. For a brief moment, his hand leaves his mouse, opting to caress your cheek instead. Good girl, he mouths down at you. Suck.

“Oi, Misty, you still there, man? You went silent.”

Mumbling a curse, Muichiro’s hand leaves your cheek and he clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m here. I just got… distracted.”

“Jesus, dude. One minute you’re bitching at us to cover you and then you say you’re distracted? What the hell, man? Get your head out of your ass!”

“Suck my dick,” Muichiro spits.

“Already doing that,” you murmur, drawing away from his cock and pressing your lips to his balls instead.

Muichiro’s teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as another moan threatens to burst from his throat. Shit, it’s too good, so fucking great that his head’s gonna explode (that, or his insides – whichever comes first).

“Uh… You okay, man? You don’t sound too good.”

“Seriously? You’re taking his side? What about the match?!”

“Mui,” you purr, skimming your nails against the insides of his thighs, “I can hear your teammates through your headphones. It sounds like they’re giving you a hard time.” And, as if your pun couldn’t be timed any better, your hand wraps itself around his cock and starts jerking him off in a languid, steady pace.

“Fuck yeah,” Muichiro grunts, thighs subconsciously spreading further apart.

One of his teammates on the other side of the line stammers. “What the fuck was that?”

“Christmas - don’t you know when to shut up?” Muichiro snaps. “All you know how to do is suck at a damn MMORPG and bitch about everything.”

“You fucking twat-“

Before he has the chance to finish, Muichiro throws off his headset and leans back in his chair. “You see what you did?” he drawls, peering down at you through heavy lashes. “Now my gaming buddies are all pissed.”

You crack a tiny smile. “And is that a problem?”

“No.”

Your smile only continues to grow as Muichiro practically yanks you up off the floor; a slight gasp leaves your mouth as he spins you around, pinning your arm behind your back, then promptly bending you over his desk. The game on his screen continues to go on, a large, faded box in the middle asking if he’d like to respawn. There’s muffled yelling coming from his headset.

Muichiro’s always been the direct type, both inside and outside the bedroom. Frankly, it’s because he simply doesn’t care, but there’s those certain times when it seems to amplify itself and he nearly becomes a whole new person. Already he’s slipping his other hand into your pants, sneaking past the band of your panties and brushing against your slit. Warm breath fans over your ear as he releases a sigh.

“You got wet from sucking me off? Good girl,” he whispers. “Sucking my cock like your life depends on it – you looked real good, you know? I wanted to fuck your throat real bad.” He pauses and licks his lips. “But I guess I’ll have to settle for this instead,” he says, dipping a lithe finger into your pussy.

“Mui…”

“Listen to that,” he murmurs, pretty lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “they’re still yelling. I have an idea to shut them up.” He bobs his head towards the abandoned headset sitting on the desk. “Go on, baby. Put it on.”

At his suggestion, your velvety walls clamp down around his finger, making him suck in a breath through his teeth. With the hand not pinned behind you, you grab onto the headset with shaking fingers and slip it on.

“Misty, you little bitch, I know you’re still online. What the fuck are you doing, man?”

“Bro, I’m telling you – what if he got sick?”

Jeez, no wonder Muichiro gets so annoyed when he plays online. Talk about a pain in the ass.

You nearly whine when your boyfriend promptly shoves two more fingers inside of you. You can feel your arousal sticking to the insides of your thighs, hear the wet noises as he thoroughly fucks you with is fingers. They’re long and thin, perfect for playing the piano, but fuck they’re even better when they’re playing with you. Muichiro easily works you into a gasping, shivering mess; little murmurs of his name and pleads slip past your lips, all so sultry and perfect. You don’t notice when the other two fall completely silent on their sides of the line, stupefied over just the hell is happening.

“Please, Mui, fuck me already,” you purr, pressing back against him. “Stuff me with your fat cock.”

“Since you asked so nicely…”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Muichiro yanks your pants and panties down, exposing your heated skin to the chill in the air. You cry out as the head of his cock grazes against your slit, spreading your slick all over you and himself. A quiet fuck graces the air and then he’s moving, pushing himself into the welcoming heat and groaning as you clamp down around him possessively.

“Ah, shit,” Muichiro grunts, halting his movements and allowing you to adjust. “So fucking tight.” He drops down, then, the loose strands of hair falling from his ponytail brushing against your neck and the side of your face. “This pretty pussy is all for me, eh? Sucking in my cock like that – yeah, baby, it’s all yours. Take it all in.”

“Muichiro-“

You cut yourself off with a moan as he begins to drive his cock in and out, hips moving erratically as he fucks you raw. The steady slap of skin against skin echoes throughout the room, mixing with your slutty moans and the string of curses spewing from Muichiro’s lips. He’s acting cockier than usual, more… feral. It’s only then that you realize that his microphone is still turned on.

Another round of obscenities bursts from Muichiro’s mouth as you tighten even more around him. This little brat was planning this the whole time, wasn’t he? Oh, but there’s something so hot about it, so fucking dirty that it practically has you shaking against his desk. You can feel him smile into the crook of your neck.

Shit, if it’s a show he wanted to put on, then you’re happy to oblige.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #tokito muichiro #muichiro tokito #muichiro tokito x reader #tokito muichiro x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #request

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navegandoaciegas · 4 years

Text

A long way

Kinktober 7/31: creampie

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: trucker!bucky, hitchhiking, smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, creampie, biting, hair pulling, one slap on the face, oral sex, alcohol consumption, degradading praise kink.

Summary: A broody and rough truck driver stops for you when no one else does. What happens when you spend a few days together?

A/N: day 7 of @itgetsdarksometimes35 spooky challenge + Kinktober. Thank you @buckycuddlebuddy for inspiring this and helping me out, ily baby!

You suppose he’s a nice guy under all the brooding, frowning, glaring; there must be some gentleness buried underneath all the roughness, some kindness hiding behind his steely eyes.

He’s got a hard exterior for sure, with his burly body and intricate tattoos, but he’s the only one who’s pulled over for you, all soaked, crying and alone on the side of the road, while other drivers sped past you, hitting potholes and splashing even more water and mud over you.

You have to admit, you would have done the same, because who the hell stops for hitchhikers in the middle of a thunderstorm? Bucky the trucker, apparently. At the same time, who in their right mind hitchhikes in the 21st century? Someone desperate enough. You.

The 70s and the Santa Rosa murders haven’t taught either of you much, it seems.

So either he’s a serial killer, or a sullen good samaritan.

“I’m gonna pull over in a couple miles, I need to rest a little.” he announces, voice flat, tightly gripping the steering wheel of his truck.

You have a feeling he doesn’t particularly like you. Nothing specific about you, just that you’re in his space, in his clothes, breathing his same air, and he can’t sulk on his own like he’s probably used to.

“It’s okay for me.” you mumble, fidgeting with the sleeves of his thick, grey sweatshirt. It wasn’t a question, but what else were you supposed to say?

He doesn’t acknowledge you.

Despite his murderous looks and apparent annoyance, you trust your gut feeling.

The guy could split your skull in half like a pistachio, but he doesn’t seem like he’ll actually go through with it, unless you change the frequency of that radio channel he’s listening to, or move around the pictures on his dashboard. Both of which you don’t intend on doing.

You observe his side profile, the delicate slope on his nose, chiselled jawline, high cheekbones, buzz cut chestnut hair, the tattoos snaking from his arm to the side of his neck, ending just below his ear.

He’s hot and menacing, and the idea that he could bang you like a screen door in a hurricane and kill you with his bare hands makes a shiver go down your spine and straight to your core.

You squirm in your seat, clenching your thighs, cursing you and your horny brain for the dirty images you’ve conveyed.

“You alright there, sugar?” he asks, and you think you see a little smirk dancing on his plush lips, “You seem a little bothered.”

The endearing name and the teasing are a new development, one that you don’t mind.

“Never been better.” you grumble, shooting him a glare of your own.

10 hours in his truck, and his mannerism is rubbing off on you already.

It’s a long way from Oregon to Florida when you have no money on you and you depend on a trucker’s route, a trucker you’ve been bickering and flirting with for hours.

45 hours later, you find yourself at a truck stop a long way from home, your feet propped against the dashboard, the seat reclined slightly.

It’s not the best setting, you’ll be honest with yourself.

Take out containers are littered around you, and Bucky keeps digging in the fries propped on your lap. You smile lazily at him, tipsy but still conscious on your second beer.

45 hours together is a long time when you spend it with the same person, in a small space. He’s still brooding, just looser. And drunker.

“So I said, fuck you and that two faced bitch, and spilled a wine bottle on his suit.” you hiccup, a hysterical laugh bubbling in your throat, “Red fuckin’ wine.”

Well, maybe you’re not as sober as you thought.

“No way.” he deadpans, taking a sip out of his beer. “Is that why you looked like a drowned rat hitchhiking in the middle of the night?”

“Mean, but yes. That cheating asshole. I hope his dick falls off. Not like he knew how to use it anyways.”

That seems to catch his attention.

“He didn’t?” he hums thoughtfully, with all the seriousness a drunk man can muster.

“He never got me off. Had to lock myself in the bathroom and do it myself.” you slur, “Never ate my pussy either.”

“God, suga’, that sounds tragic.”

Your lips twist in a disgusted expression, but you giggle when a thought stikes you.

“What about you? When was the last time you got any?”

He winces when he thinks about it, the frown on his forehead permanently etched there.

“A while ago.”

It’s silent for a moment, and maybe it’s the sexual tension that’s been building for a while, or the heat in his steely eyes, but you feel yourself grow warmer.

Your itch to touch him, taste him, feel him inside you. On your tongue, in your cunt, everywhere.

“Tragic.” you mumble, eyes boring into his.

It’s a rebound, or maybe it’s just that he’s hot and you’re both adults who can do whatever the hell you want.

It doesn’t make sense, the way you jump on him, slanting your mouth against his like you’ve never done before. The way his lips mold against yours, his tongue moves in sync with you, his hands on your body leave you feeling scorched. Your clothes and his sweater are discarded somewhere.

He tastes like beer, and tobacco, and his beard grazes against your skin, making you feel ticklish and giddy.

You’re drunk, and not on alcohol.

His touch is bruising, possessive, controlling. His teeth bite on your skin, he pulls on your hair, kneads the flesh of your ass, rolls and pinches your nipples.

Rough, just like him, and if the slick leaking out of you is any indication, you like that a lot.

“I’ll fuck you all the way to Florida babygirl, fuck you so good you never want to leave this fuckin’ truck.”

It’s embarrassing the way you’re panting, debauched already. Heat is pooling in your lower belly, and you want nothing more than for him to go feral on you.

“God, Bucky, I need you so much, need you inside me.” you whine, palming his cock through his denim jeans, feeling how hard and throbbing he is for you.

“Fuck.” he groans, quickly undoing your belt, freeing his cock.

It springs out of his briefs, standing against his stomach. He’s thick, and leaking with pre cum.

You bite your lips, shooting him a mischievous smile as you lower your face to his groin, ready to suck him off.

“No, I want to be inside you now.”

He grabs underneath your arms and lifts you up, maneuvering so that you’re straddling his lap.

You’re tipsy, about to let a man you barely know raw you in his truck, surrounded by containers of junk food.

It’s trashy, maybe, but who cares. Fuck trashy, and fuck your ex too.

You feel like all your breath has been knocked out of you when he pushes inside you, his cock stretching you out almost painfully.

“Fuck, you’re so big.” you whimper, steadying yourself on his broad chest, nails mapping out the outline of his tattoos.

“God baby, you’re so tight, I can feel that pretty pussy of yours squeezing me.” he moans, hands tightly gripping your hips, “Why don’t you show me how good you can ride my cock, yes?”

You grind yourself on his groin, rolling your hips in circular motion, feeling his cock hit all the sweet spots inside you. He suckles on your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

Your pussy flutters around him, clamping down hard each time a wave of pleasure hits you.

“Look how good you’re doing, taking my cock so well like the little dumb slut you are baby.” he grunts, and his words shoot straight to your cunt, “Pretty cockdrunk whore, aren’t ya?”

You feel lightheaded.

Bouncing your ass up and down his cock, you feel yourself get closer.

“Fuck Buck- I’m-”

He cuts you off, swallowing your moans as you cum.

Your body shakes, your head spins and every nerve ending on your body is on fire, but he doesn’t give you time to come down from your high.

You slump against his bare chest, and he starts pounding inside you, holding your waist.

He pummels into your abused cunt, pulling one orgasm after the other out of you, until you’re sobbing. His sweaty skin slaps against yours, his balls against your ass. It’s so lewd it’s driving you crazy.

Tears and drool stream down your face.

“Look at you, messy girl, so eager for my cock. I can’t wait to fill you out with my cum baby, watch it drip out of your cunt.” he groans, balls getting tighter, thrusts messier. You feel him swell inside you. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Being filled with my cum to the brim.”

You’re lost in your own pleasure, and don’t answer until he slaps your face. Hard.

“Yes, please Bucky, I want you to fill my pussy, fuck-”

He bites down on your shoulder as he cums, painting your walls with his hot load as your pussy milks him dry.

“You did so good.” he hums, holding you close to his body as he comes down from his high, “Think you can give me one more?”

You nod, and lie on your back on the seats.

He watches entranced as his cum drips out of your cunt, and pushes it back inside with his fingers, smiling at the small noises you make.

He surprises you, latching his mouth around your swollen, overstimulated clit, sucking hard. He delves in your folds, circling his tongue on your bud, slurping up your juices and his, enjoying your taste mixing in with his as he keeps pumping his thick fingers inside you.

You’ve never felt this amount of pleasure before, and when you cum, your vision blacks out for several seconds, and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or just the best orgasm of your life.

You clamp down on his fingers, your release gushing on his mouth as the pressure in your cunt finally snaps.

He looks up at you, face covered in your slick.

“Don’t think I’m done with you baby.” he smirks, “I’ll never get enough of this sweet pussy.”

You grin, and pull him down on you, ready to start all over again.

It’s a long way to Florida, and you’re not sure you ever want to reach your destination, after all.

—-

Not proofread bc i like living on edge like that. Please leave some feedback!

You can add yourself to my taglist on my pinned post 💓

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #kinktober #bucky barnes x y/n

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works-of-fanfiction · 3 years

Text

“This is Silly.” - Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: The reader tries to treat Graham for Valentine’s Day.

Warnings: None, just short & cute.

Word Count: 1.5k.

A/N: For this, I imagined The Magic Whip era. There’s nothing in here to explicitly highlight Graham being older so you can read it however you please! This was originally going to be a smut oneshot but I liked it just like this (sorry if that disappoints) <3

Gif credits go to the creator linked on the gif.

_______________

“How long are you going to be? You’ve been in there ages!” Your increasingly impatient boyfriend calls from the other side of the bathroom door, his head pressed to the wood as his voice reverberates deeply through the room. You sit on the edge of the bathtub in the same spot you’ve been in for the past six minutes or so, fingers tapping on the porcelain and toes digging into the fluffy bath mat below.

“I’m not coming out! This is ridiculous.” You shout back, right hand flying to your mouth to pick at the skin around your fingernails. Graham rattles the door handle again only to find it still locked. He sighs, palm resting against the doorframe, thumb and forefinger absentmindedly picking at the peeling white paint.

“Come on, Y/N. Come out, please.”

“No. I feel silly.”

“But I bet you don’t look silly.” With his head still firmly pressed against the door, Graham listens out for any sign of movement in the bathroom. Through the gap at the bottom of the door, you can see his shadow and his feet shuffling around. Deciding to bite the bullet, you pull yourself to your feet and meet your reflection in the mirror, fluffing up your hair then immediately flattening it again - a nervous habit.

Graham steps back as he hears the lock turn, stopping when the backs of his legs hit the bed frame. The door opens slowly, your left hand clinging onto the handle as your right rests across your stomach in attempt to cover as much skin as possible. Graham leans against the bed frame, hands gripping the metal on either side of him as you fully step into the bedroom, the bathroom door squeaking shut behind you. “Ta-dah!” You chime unenthusiastically, waving your arms in the air only for a brief second before hugging yourself again and tiptoeing towards him. “Told you this is silly.”

“It’s only silly because you’re hiding yourself.” Graham says softly, body straightening as he reaches out to you, his fingers grazing your forearms that tightly clutch onto your stomach. “You look amazing. Now put those arms down.”

“I’m going to go change. This was a bad idea.” You turn to leave but he lunges forward and grabs your shoulder, bringing you back to face him. His hands grab each of your wrists and gently move your arms until they’re back at your sides. You can’t help but fidget as you stand before him, despite him seeing you in much less clothing than this hundreds of times before.

“Look at you.” Graham breathes, his eyes completing a full scan of your body before returning to admire your face, a blush spreading throughout your cheeks. You glance down at yourself and shrug, tugging at the sheer stocking on your leg with your toes to stop it from twisting.

“D - do you like it?” You ask nervously, resisting the urge to fold your arms over your chest.

You didn’t want to admit it, but it had actually been Alex’s idea to surprise Graham with this particular outfit. The thing with Alex was that his ideas had always been either fantastic or horrendous, with absolutely no middle man. This idea had sounded great at the time when you were drunk and rambling about what to do for Graham for your first Valentine’s Day. For some odd reason, your intoxicated brain had penned Alex as the romance expert. You’d gone into town the very next morning, hungover with a mission to accomplish. After trying on various pieces in different colours, all more risqué than you could’ve ever imagined, you’d settled on a blush pink set completed with all the stereotypically “sexy” trimmings. Never in your life did you picture so much lace would be on your body at once. You felt like a mannequin in the middle of a fabric shop.

“I do. Y - “

“This isn’t really me... Is it?” You interject, one foot crossing over the other awkwardly whilst your nails pluck at the sparkly and unbelievably itchy piece of lace on your hip.

“It’s new, yes. But if it’s any consolation…” Graham pulls you in closer, resting back against the bed frame with your body situated between his legs. You stumble a little, cushioning your fall by grabbing onto his shoulders. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, his head turning to the left so his lips can reach your cheek. “I think you look incredible.” He leaves a soft kiss by your ear, the smacking sound loud and his breath tickling your skin. You can’t help but giggle, rubbing your ear against his shoulder.

“Really?” You mumble, voice muffled by Graham’s jumper. He reaches round to take ahold of your face, carefully manoeuvring your bodies until you’re opposite one another again. It’s impossible to avoid his gaze; it’s like his eyes are burning holes into your face, leaving marks wherever they land. Your skin is hot beneath Graham’s touch and the lack of space between your bodies makes the air feel humid and tight.

His reply doesn’t come in words as his right hand slips from your face to wrap around your back. His left thumb remains on your cheek as his fingers hook beneath your ear, slipping into your hair and lightly pulling it at the back. A slight whimper escapes your lips before the sound is consumed by Graham’s mouth meeting yours. What starts as a sweet, slow kiss develops into a bout of desperation and insatiable need, a need to have you as close as possible. Hands explore bodies, unsure of their destinations: clinging onto fabrics, slipping beneath garments, gripping onto clammy skin. The lenses of Graham’s glasses grow foggy, and you pull away to carefully take them from his face and set them down on the ottoman beside you. He squints a little, eyes adjusting to the room around him, carving out your silhouette in the moonlight glaring through the curtains. His hands never leave your body, like they’re fused to your skin, moulded to your shape like a sculpture.

“You really are beautiful.” He whispers, the back of his fingers grazing your cheek lovingly. You hold onto his upper arms, your fingertips stroking his soft woollen jumper as you remind yourself of just how lucky you are. Catching your reflection in the mirror behind him, you stifle a laugh as you spot your beet-red cheeks and messy hair. For Graham to find you beautiful in this moment seems crazy to you, but the look in his eyes is enough to convince you that he’s telling the truth. He’s always telling the truth. In fact, you’re not sure you can recall a single lie coming out of Graham’s mouth, not even a little white one. You’re still convinced that one day you’ll wake up and realise he was just a figment of your imagination.

“Alright!” Graham starts, cutting you out of your silent daydream. He bends, arm hooking under your knees as he lifts you up. You squeal, laughing as you kick your feet around.

“Gra! What are you doing?”

“You’re my Valentine’s gift, right?” He steps around to the side of the bed, placing you down onto the mattress. You scoot back, propping yourself up on your elbows and looking up at him with a devilish smile on your face. “Can I open my gift now?”

“Graham!” You grab the nearest pillow from behind your head and throw it at him, hitting him square in the face. “That’s filthy.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He protests, kicking the pillow up from the floor and catching it in his hands, throwing it back at you. You catch it, placing it back down beside you.

“Sure you didn’t.” You tease, crossing one leg over the other and extending your body.

Graham pulls at his right sleeve, sliding his arm out before the rest of the jumper follows. “Okay, maybe I did.” He drops it on the floor and climbs onto the bed, engulfing you in his arms and nuzzling his face into your neck, his hair tickling you. You laugh, wriggling beneath him and clawing at the back of his shirt. He feathers your skin with kisses so light, it’s like a thousand butterflies are walking all over you with barely-there footsteps and wings brushing against you.

You manage to fight him off, rolling the two of you over so you’re straddling him. His fingers rest at the top of your thighs, tracing over the lace trim of your stockings. You toy with the strap on your shoulder, trying your best to put on a sexy show for him. A smile plays on his lips as his grip on your thighs tightens, his large palms squeezing them. “Now I just have to figure out how to get this thing off.” You scoff, reaching behind you. Graham’s hands fly up to grab your wrists, stopping you from going any further.

“Leave it on.”

#graham coxon x reader #graham coxon #oneshot #fluff #blur

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angelictaehyun · 4 years

Text

PAIRING: richboy!kang taehyun x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: He’s been a pain in your ass since you began working at the club. He’s arrogant and insanely wealthy, and you’re struggling to simply pay tuition. Needless to say, it’s not quite the match made in heaven… or so it seems.

WC. 11,200+

GENRE: rich kid au, country club au, e2l au, crack, fluff

WARNINGS: mild language, illegal activity, y/n’s an actual dumbass, and taehyun’s kind of a dick lol

You repeatedly tapped your pen against your sticky, worn checkbook, awaiting a response from the refined, old lady sitting comfortably under a patio umbrella. You, on the other hand, felt the scorching heat of the summer sun against your back, making you sweat uncontrollably—you could only hope you didn’t resemble a drenched pig. The woman eyed you, a bit too judgmentally for your liking, before pointing her perfectly manicured nail at the menu in her hand, “I want this pasta, but make it gluten-free. Throw in another iced tea, too… extra lemon, of course!”

You winced at her shrill voice.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, all of our pasta is made from flour,” you explained patiently. Her right eye twitched. You were an obstacle in her way of getting what she desired, she was angry. Lovely. However, above all, she was confused, “Just tell the chef to make it without flour, let him know it’s a special request. I don’t see the issue.”

“Ma’am, I’m telling you… there’s no way to make it without flour, we just don’t have the type of noodle you want in house.”

She drummed her hand on the table, absolutely fuming. She glanced at you like you kicked a puppy, it was absolutely infuriating. She grasped for nothing as her brain formulated any response, “This is outrageous! I want to speak with a manager. Now!”

You sighed, “Gladly.”

It was astounding, truly, the lack of self-awareness and consideration some people had... or, didn’t have. You wished, so badly, to tell them off, but you desperately needed the cash. After all, college wouldn’t pay for itself and the bills piling on your coffee table wouldn’t just magically disappear. You swiftly turned around and trudged away, scanning the vast garden for your manager, Yeonjun, but unsurprisingly, he was nowhere to be found. You’d known him long enough to assume he was hiding in the manager’s office, his poor attempt to flee from the overbearing, entitled crowd. How he scammed his way into a managerial position, a position of authority… that was beyond you.

You were halfway across the floor, pushing past another server when you felt an intense stare land on you. You halted in place, knowing exactly who the gaze belonged to. You glanced at the table stationed in the far corner of the garden, instantly meeting his piercing stare. He eyed you shamelessly, a signature habit of his, before throwing you a smug grin. You weren’t going to kid yourself, he wore the smirk well.

Too bad he was a pompous ass.

Kang Taehyun. You hated saying his name, it humanized him and he was anything but human. Rather, he was an evil, irritating demon spawn simply disguising himself as human. And the cherry on top? He was the absolute bane of your existence.

There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but you didn’t necessarily want to. He opened his mouth to call you over, but much to your dismay, decided against it and instead rose from his seat to saunter over to you. You tried fleeing the scene the millisecond he stood up, but the elderly lady directly in front of you shuffled quite slowly, blocking your exit and trapping you in place. You tapped your foot impatiently as he approached you.

“You look… sweaty,” he observed, chuckling at your less-than-appealing state. Truth be told, though he didn’t like admitting it to himself, he thought you looked beautiful.

“Taehy—” he forcibly cut you off by landing his slender finger on your lips. You ignored the spark you felt from the small contact. He let his gaze travel to your Cupid’s bow momentarily, a part of him wanting to kiss your frown away.

“Ah, not Taehyun,” he reminded you smoothly. You considered biting his finger off, but you prided yourself on your outstanding professionalism. Granted, it significantly dwindled every time you spoke to him.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled monotonously. “Mr. Kang… if you don’t remove your hand from my mouth, I will shove a menu so far up your ass, you’ll choke,” you snapped, a pretty smile adorning your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Your customer service and approachable personality never fail to amaze me,” he stated, drawing his finger away from you. He continued despite the growing, fiery rage in your eyes, “I’d like another fork, mine’s a bit dirty.”

“That’s your problem. I’m not your waitress, I have my own customers to deal with, so if you don’t mind…”

He completely disregarded your subtle plea for him to leave. “For your information, I’d much rather prefer you as a server and not him,” he admitted, throwing a spare glance at his server—Hyunjin, if you were guessing from the blond hair.

“That’s too bad…” you trailed as you mustered up the fakest sympathetic pout you could. You continued, “Anyways, I really hate to cut this short, but I’d better get going. I’m sure you’ll survive with your fork. You probably won’t get tetanus, but fingers crossed.”

“Yeah, best of luck with Cinderella’s stepmom,” he mumbled, gesturing to your awaiting customer. He flashed you a confident wink before whirling around and returning to his seat. You scoffed, your lips tilting downward into an ugly grimace. The snapping sound from a couple of feet away brought you out of your disgusted daze. The lady you had spoken to was repeatedly snapping her fingers in an attempt to grab your attention. You were met with an expectant gaze when you directed your focus back on her. She was poised, her spine in perfect posture and hands folded properly across her lap; her body language exhibited no sign of emotion until you reached her watchful glare, clearly telling you to hurry along. You inhaled sharply before plastering on a fake smile. You resumed your hunt for Yeonjun, but once again, you felt the weight of a cocky stare land on your back.

He was challenging you, silently. You knew it. Unfortunately for him, you had no interest in playing his silly, childish game, so you clenched your jaw and walked away.

· ──────────────────── ·

As odd as it was, you and your best friend had a favorite bench. It sat a block from the country club and in the middle of a hidden, rugged park, but it was your safe space; it’d been your favorite place since you both found it in fourth grade. After every grueling shift, Kai would meet you on the bench with dinner. The food was almost always inedible, but you weren’t there for his cooking, rather his company. He was already perched on the bench, kicking at a pebble beneath his feet. He heard you approach but kept his focus on the fascinating rock.

“God, took you long enough, I’ve been here forever. I started to think you ditched me for one of those rich boys,” he complained. When you didn’t retort with a snarky comeback like you normally would’ve, he turned from his spot and glanced at your disheveled figure, immediately letting out an obnoxious laugh.

You looked like shit.

Your hair was a disaster, the wisps of hair framing your face no longer considered stylish, but rather unkempt and as Kai liked to put it, “homeless-like.” Not only did you look bad, you felt unclean. The sweat behind your knees was quickly becoming uncomfortably sticky and your mascara was rubbing off, making you look like a rabid raccoon.

Despite all that, you were happy to see Kai, his bubbly personality never failed to cheer you up—but you’d never let him be privy to that.

You shot him the nastiest glare you could muster, but that proved difficult considering the little energy you had left.

“Aw, Y/N…”

“I’m going to quit, I swear to God. If I have to hear one more soccer mom complain about her salmon being too fishy, I’m going to have to start perfecting my mugshot pose,” you grumbled through clenched teeth. He made a noise of disagreement, “Let’s not throw your ass in jail just yet. Orange makes you look like a traffic cone.”

You shot him an indignant glare, “Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Anyways, I made us some hamburgers and managed to grab some extra soda cans before leaving home. So bone app the teeth or whatever.”

You snorted. He always brightened your mood, just a simple sentence could lift your sad spirit. You had to give it to him, the burger looked pretty appetizing… but you’d learned that with his cooking, much like anything else, appearances can be quite deceiving. Despite this, you inhaled your burger, ignoring the fact that the meat was undercooked and the mayonnaise was likely expired. You paid no attention to the fact that your soda was lukewarm and flat—you sipped on it regardless. Your mind was elsewhere, easily drowning out whatever Kai was ranting about.

“... I know you probably had a bad day ‘cause of your boy,” he observed quietly.

You snapped your focus back, “My boy?”

“Yeah, your boy. The one you think is a self-righteous prick, but secretly think is really hot. Hm, what was it… Terry? Tyler? Taeyong?... Oh, I got it. Trash can.”

You scoffed, “Taehyun, most certainly, is not my boy. I can’t stand him. His head is so far up his flat ass, I’m surprised he’s still breathing.”

Kai nodded in feigned understanding. He tilted an eyebrow quizzically before opening his mouth, but you beat him to it.

“And I don’t think he’s cute!”

“... And I’m Beyoncé.”

You didn’t respond, too tired to argue with him. Instead, you let out a small noise of disagreement before resting your head on his broad shoulder, contently sipping on your warm soda. He knew how tired you were; everyday he watched you wear yourself down to practically nothing, it hurt him. He leaned his head against your own, placing a hand atop your thigh and squeezing reassuringly. You allowed yourself to relax, breathing in the humid, summer air. You stayed like that until he let out a small laugh.

“Let’s rob him,” Kai suddenly suggested. He was joking, obviously, but you still perked at the idea. You turned to face him expectantly, straw loosely hanging from your mouth. He visibly retracted, “Jeez, Y/N, I was kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“… I’m not robbing someone.” He threw you a cautious glare before aggressively taking a large bite of his burger and chugging his flat soda. You were losing your mind, he was sure of it. You poked curiously, “So I’m assuming your stance on graffitiing is the same.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line before letting out an exasperated sigh, “Obviously.”

You turned away, sulking, and he couldn’t help but snicker. You were his best friend and had been since second grade, but if he said he didn’t think you were a dumbass, he'd be lying.

“Come on, it’s time to get you home, you have an early shift tomorrow,” he reminded suddenly, mouth still full. You smacked his arm, disgusted by his lack of basic manners. He opened his mouth to showcase all his unchewed food.

You gagged.

“You’re disgusting!” you screeched, shuffling away from him. He chased after you, catching you almost immediately. His long legs made it easy. He effortlessly tossed you over his shoulder, ignoring your squirming, and carried you to his car, “Hush, I know you love me.”

“Gross. Never.”

He slapped the back of your calf and you squeaked, “Kai! Put me down! Now!”

“No, not until you say it. Make it believable, too.”

He wasn’t joking, you knew that. Eleven years of friendship and he was still as shameless as the day you met him. More so, if anything. Yes, his eight-year-old self was quite the charmer. You grumbled monotonously, “Kai, what can I say… you’re the light of my life, my hero, my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably die. I love you, I guess.”

“Too sarcastic, but it’ll do,” he conceded. He set you down and held in a laugh. Your hair looked even worse than before. He slung an arm around your shoulder, “Okay, get in the car. Hurry. I’d rather not listen to you complain about your lack of beauty sleep… again.”

· ──────────────────── ·

You mindlessly typed in a complicated order as Yeonjun watched your gaze drift over to the garden.

“You’ve pressed that button so much, the console’s probably broken. Cool it,” he reprimanded gently. Your attention snapped back to the screen which was littered with incorrect orders.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what has me so distracted today,” you mumbled sheepishly. He chuckled and gave you a comforting nudge on the shoulder, “I think I know exactly why.”

Your gaze followed his and instantly landed on Taehyun. As much as you hated to admit, he looked good. Great, even. It looked like he’d just walked out of a rager, especially with his tie undone and shirt untucked, which he pulled off beautifully. His hair was slightly disheveled and you suddenly had the strongest urge to run a hand through it.

Your eyes widened at the sudden thought and you aggressively shoved it to the back of your mind. “I don’t like him!”

“I never said you did.” he argued, suppressing a mirthful grin. Yeonjun reminded you of Kai, especially with his insistence on your attraction to Taehyun, or as you believed, lack thereof. He continued, “Just a reminder, though. The line between love and hate is so, so thin.”

Rather than responding and saying something that would surely get you fired, you huffed and turned your focus back on the order, unaware of your aggressive punching on the console’s screen. You were already having a rough day, but everyday spent at the country club was considered less-than-stellar. Yeonjun gave you a reassuring smile before sulking off to deal with another whiny, overbearing customer. You unconsciously let your gaze travel back over to Taehyun and was instantly met with a genuine smile, just not one directed to you. He laughed at a joke, oblivious to your longing and thank God, if he caught you staring, you’d never hear the end of it. His smile was just so pretty, you couldn’t help but feel giddy. Sure, you hated him—that’s what you told yourself—but you could appreciate a handsome face. As if on cue, Taehyun turned in your general direction and you quickly scrambled out of sight. As you turned, Hyunjin scrambled by you, the heavy tray resting on his shoulder nearly beheading you. His long, wavy blond hair, which was in a nice, neat half-ponytail at the beginning of his shift, was now splaying in every direction—he was beyond stressed. If the messy hair wasn’t enough, his hooded eyes were getting darker. You approached him as he grabbed a checkbook, “Hyun, you look like a mess.”

“Hey, Y/N! Yeah, I just have a lot of floor to cover, and they’re all extra demanding today,” he explained, short of breath. He groaned as he watched another set of people sit in his section and continued, “God, please cover me. I’ll owe you one. I’m already overwhelmed with my current table number.”

You laughed understandingly, “Of course.”

“You’re the best, it’s table thirty.” He squinted to get a good look, “Oh! I know that customer, he’s a great tipper. You should be just fine.”

You shifted your attention to the table in question, immediately deflating as you saw Taehyun sitting with a friend. You turned around to protest, but Hyunjin was already gone.

You internally screamed before trudging over to his table, gathering all of your dignity... kissing his arrogant ass wasn’t necessarily on your agenda for today. When Taehyun saw you approach his table, he did little to hide his pleased smirk. You undid your balled fist.

“Hi. My name is Y/N, I’ll be your server today,” you monotonously stated, an unenthusiastic but convincing smile plastering your face. To any other guest, it would’ve been believable, but Taehyun knew better; your server persona didn’t fool him.

“Y/N. What a pretty name,” his friend observed, a bit too flirtatiously for your liking. Taehyun noticed too, judging from the way he narrowed his eyes and tongued his cheek. And also the way he obviously kicked his friend’s leg under the table. You mustered a sweet smile, hoping to mask your disgust, “Thank you! That’s so… nice. Anyway, what would you like to drink? We got in a new Italian wine, just delivered today.”

“That’s alright, just water.”

“Water.”

Cheap. Especially for a pair of chaebol children.

“Alright! I’ll be back momentarily,” you informed, smile dropping the instant you turned away. As you trailed back to the kitchen, you heard Taehyun give his friend a hushed reprimanding making you smirk. You passed Yeonjun, noticing he looked as if he was about to lose his sanity. You gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder—for someone so young, he managed well. Of course, he used his handsome face and charm as often as possible; his attractiveness and charisma was dangerous. He managed to grasp the attention of everyone and it aided him greatly. You pressed quizzically, “Jun, you don’t seem good.”

“Says you. You’re lover boy’s server. What a shocking, juicy turn of events. I’m on my toes,” he teased impishly. You stared at him vacantly. Yeonjun continued to poke fun, enjoying the lack of response you gave as you procrastinated to avoid returning to Taehyun’s table, but sadly, there was only so long it could take to fill a glass with water. Yeonjun pouted sympathetically, “Good luck.”

You didn’t need luck. No. To spend a precious hour or more, waiting on a privileged, disgustingly wealthy teenage boy, specifically Kang Taehyun, you needed patience, self-control, and temper management. You reminded yourself of just that as you approached him, placing his water near his plate, “Gentlemen, are you ready to order?”

You jotted down his friend’s order, ignoring the growing complexity as he piled on request after request, no sign of stopping. “... And I need it lukewarm. Not room temperature, but lukewarm.”

You diligently suppressed the eye roll that nearly bubbled up. Honestly, you’d dealt with far worse, Taehyun’s friend didn’t even scratch the surface.

You had to wonder though, did people like this ever feel shame?

You faced the cocky redhead, “And for you… Mr. Kang?”

You cringed. He didn’t miss the nearly imperceptible flash of disgust that crossed your expression. He grinned, “Just the lasagna. While you’re at it, I’d like another glass of water.”

“You already have a full glass,” you seethed, glancing at the glass you had just set down. He enjoyed this: testing you, pushing you, slowly dwindling your sanity until you snapped. He wanted to get a reaction from you, anything other than the bored, disinterested expression you gave him every single day. He smiled innocently, “What can I say… I like staying hydrated.”

His amusement was irritating. Unsurprisingly, his torment was based on the stupid, outdated notion that a boy has to show interest by picking on his crush, but you weren’t privy to his inner thought process. You suppressed another eye roll as you turned to grab a pitcher from Hyunjin, the boy sprinting behind you with a full tray. You felt bad for him, at least, until you remembered he pawned Taehyun’s table onto you and your pity became short lived. You filled an empty glass, increasingly aware of Taehyun’s piercing stare. Your emotionless expression would’ve given him no indication as to how nervous you felt if it weren’t for the slight blush that painted your face.

He smirked victoriously. You hated it.

A breath of relief escaped you as his attention turned to his friend. He leaned back in his seat and lifted a hand to rest behind his head, accidentally smacking the pitcher, causing you to spill the cold water onto his lap. He flinched at the sudden icy contact.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you gasped, fishing a stray napkin from your apron. Normally, he would’ve brushed it off, considering it was his fault, but he felt pressured under the expectant gaze of his snobbish peer. Plus, he gained the reaction he wanted from you... something other than disgust. He feigned offense as he dramatically pushed his seat back and stood up, easily towering over you, “Next time, try not sucking at your job!”

He immediately regretted his outburst but he showed no sign of remorse, not when he had a reputation to uphold. God forbid, he could actually be a considerate person.

More importantly, though, he pushed too far this time and there wasn’t much turning back. You winced at his tone, withering back from his harsh statement, though you quickly replaced your hurt with unadulterated rage. Your blood boiled as your vision went red, steam practically fuming from your ears. Your pained expression broke his heart and he nearly dropped his act, but before he could do or process anything, his silk shirt was sticking uncomfortably to his body as ice water seeped through. His slacks were drenched and his designer loafers were completely ruined. He didn’t pay much attention to that, though... not when you were an inch from his face, holding an empty water pitcher over his head.

“I quit,” you lowly hissed. You firmly shoved the pitcher into his hand and scoffed as he stumbled back from the force. All eyes were on you as you stalked off, hastily tossing your apron into the nearest trash can. Yeonjun gave you a quick nod, his subtle way of telling you he was proud.

He’d get your resignation letter another day.

Taehyun helplessly called after you but it was useless. You were too far gone to care.

· ──────────────────── ·

You slammed your car door shut, absolutely fuming. You blankly stared at the frog keychain hanging from your rearview mirror. Normally, you would’ve smiled at the small figurine, but in the moment, you wanted to punt it into another timezone. It’s cheeriness pissed you off to no end. You quickly fished your phone out to dial Kai’s number, the line ringing thrice before he picked up, groaning, “I’m trying to sleep.”

His voice seemed muffled, likely from the thirty plushies he insisted on sleeping with.

“It’s dinner time.”

“It’s called a nap, genius.”

“Alright, well, I just quit my job… and I might have dumped a pitcher of water onto Taehyun’s stupid, privileged ass.”

The line fell silent. You wouldn’t have been surprised had he hung up on you—your tendency to act impulsively drove him up the wall and he was nearing his limit. You patiently awaited his response, likely a reprimanding scold.

“Y/N, what the fuck.”

“He had it coming, I swear,” you promised. In detail, you explained your biased side of the story, ignoring the obvious judgement emanating from the opposite line. The minute you finished, you spotted Taehyun’s panicked figure run into the full parking lot, frantically searching for you; you ducked behind your steering wheel, praying he didn’t see you. You squeaked, cutting off Kai’s tangent, “Oh my God! Oh my God! He followed me!”

He sighed. “If you dumped ice water on me, I’d be chasing after you too.”

You peeked curiously from your spot, seeing he had yet to find you. The cogs in your mind churned slowly, mixing in with your rage, “What if we graffitied his house?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m serious, I want to do it! He can’t just get away with humiliating me in front of the entire club, waitstaff, and my manager. And graffitiing isn’t illegal… ish.”

You could practically picture his narrowed gaze, “It’s definitely, most certainly, illegal. Sunshine, I understand your anger, hell, I’d be outraged, but revenge isn’t always the answer. And graffiti isn’t the most… sound idea.”

You crossed your arms defensively, “It’s a genius idea.”

“It really isn’t.”

“I’m going to do it, regardless of if it’s a good idea or not. You’re either in or out.”

Once more, the line fell quiet. His mind churned, concluding there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d follow through—you were simply too chicken. He laughed, “Fine. I’m in.”

“Great! Find his address, I’ll be over soon.”

You hung up and regained your composure. Taehyun spotted your car as you buckled in your seatbelt, making direct eye contact with your enraged figure. You were surprised, he didn’t seem angry, rather regretful. Almost apologetic.

But you didn’t care.

You sped off the lot without sparing him a final glance.

· ──────────────────── ·

“Have faith in me! Finding his address isn’t going to be hard. You know, I’m a tech whiz, it runs in the family.”

You snickered, “Beomgyu getting accepted into the computer science program at his university doesn’t mean you got the tech gene. You’re the worst with technology, you can’t even remember your laptop login half the time.”

He eyed you challengingly, before cracking his knuckles and typing furiously. Only a single minute had passed before he was yelling, “Jackpot! I found it!”

You were thrown for a loop. He was quite technologically inept, he couldn’t even open a browser without some trouble, let alone find an address. You stared at him quizzically, a smidge of doubt crossing your mind. He deflated, avoiding your hard gaze, “Okay… maybe, just maybe, I called Gyu before you arrived and had him help.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that tracks.”

You sighed and tossed yourself back on his plush bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on his ceiling. You laughed quietly, you remembered putting them up there—it was really only a year ago. See, Kai had this whole star-sticker-related schtick or as he liked to put it, “Inability to have them as a child which subsequently caused emotional damage.”

You had just returned from a grueling shift and you were exhausted, weak, and insanely pissed—reason being Taehyun, of course.

It was always Taehyun.

In a frivolous attempt to cheer you up, Kai suggested pasting the stickers onto his ceiling. Honestly, it was more stressful than fun. He constantly wobbled around the bed, nearly dropping you several times as you sat perched on his broad shoulders and stuck them up. It kept you busy though, and thus, kept your mind off of Taehyun.

It was funny, honestly. For someone that swore they hated him, you sure thought about him a lot. He took residence in your mind and you felt like the landlord trying to evict him.

Even at that moment, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Of course, you were in denial. You told yourself it was natural to be thinking about him; after all, you were going to destroy his property. There was absolutely no other reason as to why he ran free in your mind… none at all.

Kai knew you were overthinking. It wasn’t hard to tell, especially since your forehead usually tended to crease in the ugliest manner when you did. He tried reeling you out of your daze, “So, we’re going to commit a crime.”

“Yep.”

“... There’s no turning back.”

“I know. I’m not going to chicken out.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, of course you’d chicken out. You always did. He didn’t see any harm in indulging you with your idiotic plan, so he found the address. No harm, no foul. Right?

· ──────────────────── ·

You anxiously picked at the leather seating beneath you, nearly tearing a hole in the worn fabric.

“Yo, cool it. Jihyo is already pretty fucked up,” Kai warned. Oh, Jihyo. You still couldn’t believe he named his old, rickety car—let alone after his ex. His car looked as if it had a mile left in it before it ultimately broke down, but you had to put some blind trust in Jihyo. After all, she was your getaway car if everything went south. You’d been sitting in Kai’s passenger seat for half an hour, coming up with nearly every excuse not to proceed with the crime.

“We really don’t have to do this. Not to mention, I don’t want to do this,” he grumbled.

“Then why are you here?”

Imagine his surprise when you showed up at his door, decked out in all-black, stealthy gear, hope and adrenaline coursing through your body. He truly believed you would’ve backed down by now, and a small part of him hoped you still would, but the odds weren’t looking in his favor.

“I’m not letting you go to jail! I can’t get through the school year without you, especially now that Jihyo—human Jihyo—is starting to spread her stupid, little personal agenda against me. Like, yeah, I broke up with you and that’s rough, but maybe next time, try not being manipulative… or a cheater,” he rambled. You flashed him a sympathetic smile; he said he was over it but you knew better. You patted his arm comfortingly and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a flustered, shy smile replacing his pout.

“Guess what? I think I know exactly what’ll make you feel better,” you whispered sweetly.

His smile instantly turned down into an exasperated frown, “Mhm, let me guess… robbing the rich boy you have a crush on.”

“I don’t have a crush on him! Why would I like him? He yelled at me in front of the entire club! And we’re not robbing him, we’re simply… graffitiing his house. Tastefully.

“So you admit, you had a crush on him.”

“No! I’m just saying!”

He pointedly rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the castle-like house across the street, not wanting to have that conversation with you. He mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like idiot but you let it slide, instead choosing to focus on the task at hand.

“Okay, so the gate code is probably something stupid like his birthday, his mom is probably sentimental like that,” you mumbled to yourself. You tapped your foot anxiously as you tried to formulate a coherent plan. You slowly continued, “The only problem is the crazy amount of security cameras around his house. Like, who needs that many cameras? People are dying.”

“God, I hate you,” Kai grumbled.

You ignored him, “There has to be a blind spot, somewhere a camera won’t cover. Hm…” you studied the perimeter, searching for that camera-free sweet spot. At that moment, you found a tiny patch of grass, hidden under a massive oak tree.

Bingo.

You shook Kai’s arm aggressively, “Look! Right there, that’s the spot. That tree has to cover the camera.”

He rested his head against the steering wheel, “Let’s get this over with.”

As you both climbed out of his car, you couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. The street was littered with fancy, expensive cars while Jihyo looked like she belonged in the dump, making you even angrier. Kai crept over to the sidewalk, insisting on creeping in the shadows like a vigilante. You, on the other hand, struggled to carry your duffel bag full of equipment, constantly getting slowed down by the exceptional weight. That was your fault though, you packed it full of necessary, outstandingly heavy equipment (necessary being a loose term). Alongside the many cans of paint sat a bag of Goldfish, three juice boxes (because Kai is a massive baby), a faulty navigation system, a not-at-all threatening ski mask, and a broken hammer.

You didn’t remember packing that hammer.

You settled in front of Taehyun’s gate, hoping your birthday theory was correct. Of course, simply because it was you and your luck was awful, it wasn’t. You began pressing random keys, hoping something would work but it was fruitless. Nothing worked, not even the basic combinations. You huffed, “I guess we’re going to have to climb our way in.”

You mentally prepared yourself as Kai sent a couple of prayers out for good measure. He eyed your duffel bag curiously before opening it, instantly met with a multitude of spray paint in all shades. He narrowed his eyes and scoffed, “Jesus, Y/N! Where the hell did you get all this shit?”

“... Craigslist.”

“Bullshit, you were kicked off Craigslist years ago.”

You winced, insulted by his easy remark—he knew how sensitive you were about that. You kicked a pebble sheepishly, mumbling softly, “Fine, I bought the paint from Soobin…”

His eyes widened comically as his heart practically ripped out of his chest, “Soobin?! Choi Soobin?! You can’t be serious. No, there’s no way you bought from the school drug dealer! He’s a criminal! He probably tried to toss in some of that devil’s lettuce with your purchase, huh? Or worse… crack!”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your head back, he was always so dramatic. “Kai, he’s not a criminal. He’ll occasionally sell an edible or two, but that’s it! He didn’t try to sell me anything. Actually, he gave me a pretty good deal on this stuff.”

“Lovely, a modern-day businessman,” he grumbled sarcastically.

“Whatever, just help me climb the wall,” you huffed, zipping up your bag before tossing it over the blockade. Hesitantly, he got on one knee, muttering something you couldn’t quite hear—not that you wanted to anyways. You delicately stood on his knee as he pushed on your thighs in an attempt to boost you over.

Honestly, you struggled. Your weak muscles did little to aid in your quest, but Kai’s strength helped.

“God, take your sweet time, it’s not like your flat, piece of plywood ass is dangling in front of my face or anything. I’m about to throw up,” he gagged.

You scoffed, “Yeah, yeah, complain all you want but this is the most action you’ll ever see.”

“... I won’t hesitate to drop you on your face.”

However, before he could follow on his threat, you managed to hoist yourself over the brick wall. You offered a hand to Kai but instead of accepting, he eyed it mockingly, knowing you weren’t strong enough to lift him. He stretched his legs before taking a step back, giving him a running start, and surprising you both when he successfully lifted himself.

You placed your hand over his mouth, “Shh.. whisper. We’re in enemy territory now.”

He licked your palm, nearly making you screech, “Gross!”

He childishly stuck his tongue out. You shook your head and began scrounging the duffel bag for the perfect paint color. Of course, you wanted to create a masterpiece worthy of Kang Taehyun... you even considered tagging it. Kai silently sat on the grass, aimlessly picking at the freshly-cut blades as he watched you happily paint.

You were pleased to say that in the half an hour you’d been painting, nothing had gone awry... yet.

“The fuck is that supposed to be?” he questioned curiously, leaning closer to inspect the vulgar work.

“Taehyun,” you said easily.

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like a dick.”

“It’s called symbolism, Kai.” You stepped back to admire your work as if it were hung in the Louvre whilst Kai scrunched his nose, clearly offended by the unpleasant art.

“You know, it’s funny how you have the biggest crush on this dic—” Before he could further elaborate, he was interrupted by an awfully familiar voice.

“What the hell are you doing on my front lawn?”

You cringed. You’d been caught red-handed.

Kai turned slowly, surrendering with his hands up. You, however, kept your back turned, considering just going to hell with it and continuing your tasteful artwork. He glanced at you anxiously, silently pleading for you to put down the paint can.

Only because Kai looked a second away from fainting, you huffed and turned around, mimicking his pose, the only difference being the bored expression plastered on your face.

Taehyun stood in front of you, his arms crossed and irritation painted all over his body language, but as much as he tried to hide it, there was a glint of amusement behind his eyes. You hated how his obnoxious, stop sign hair managed to look amazing under the glow of the moonlight—it was beyond irritating. Arguably, his entire being was irritating. You held his gaze, silently challenging his presence. Kai, on the other hand, was sweating profusely and dramatically hyperventilating. He clutched onto your shoulder, failing to catch an actual breath, “Oh my God! I feel like my heart is pumping out lukewarm sewer water.”

He placed his hands on his knees as he hunched over and continued, “Please, Taehyun. Please, don’t hit me with your Lamborghini. I’m begging you.”

Taehyung blankly stared at the younger, completely forgetting he was even there. You rubbed your temple and hissed, “Will you shut the fuck up? You’re making this worse.”

“I don’t want to go to jail! My face is too pretty for jail, they’d murder me on sight for being the most gorgeous boy they’ve ever seen. God, please don’t call the cops… I’ll do anything,” Kai shamelessly begged. You were so close to punting him into the Pacific Ocean. Taehyun’s annoyingly gorgeous lips twisted into a smug grin as he directed his attention back on you, “Hm, and what about you, Princess? I don’t see you begging.”

You scoffed, “I’d rather eat Kai’s shoe.”

He simply hummed, “That’s too bad. You know, I have a family friend who’s a cop… I’ll convince him to go easy on you in jail.”

“The wealthy wielding control over the justice system… how unexpected.”

“Oh my God! Y/N’s kidding, she’ll do anything,” Kai blurted quickly, shooting you a death glare. Taehyun’s eyebrow lifted curiously, a satisfied smirk settling comfortably, “Is that true?”

“What the hell do you want?” you questioned hesitantly.

“A date.”

You briefly considered his words before shoving Kai forward, “Yeah, go nuts. He’s all yours.”

“... With you.”

You threw your head back and let out an inappropriate, hearty laugh. Even Kai let out a small snicker before replacing it with a fake cough, but Taehyun didn’t seem amused. He watched you expectantly, awaiting an answer.

“So this is the only way Kang Taehyun can score a date… by blackmailing them. You know, that actually makes sense,” you theorized to no one in particular. You simmered in silence for a short moment before Kai cleared his throat, hinting at his obvious discomfort. Taehyun was enjoying this, you just knew it.

That broken hammer never looked better...

“Fine,” you conceded. You glared at him, biting your tongue to prevent you from going off on his pompous ass. Taehyun’s eyes lit up with hope.

Kai let out a breath of relief before mumbling an apology and dragging you off the lawn. His grip on you tightened as you turned around one last time to shoot daggers at Taehyun. He stood comfortably in the middle of his manicured lawn, the porch lights behind him highlighting his pleased smirk, yet all you saw was red.

· ──────────────────── ·

Kai splayed across your bed, mindlessly picking at a random throw pillow while you spritzed a hint of perfume on your forearm. His gaze trailed over your figure curiously, “You’re quite dressed up for someone who’d rather sleep in a dumpster than go on this date.”

“Well I’m not about to walk into high society wearing a stained sweatshirt and joggers.”

He snorted, “Right, that’s the only reason.” You smoothed your shirt and gave yourself a once over, feeling quite confident in your choice of clothing. Kai wasn’t blind, he thought you looked nice, but he’d let pigs fly before he told you that. He continued, “You don’t look… that ugly.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that was the closest you’d ever get to a compliment from him, “Thanks.”

“Do you know where he’s taking you?”

“Nope.”

If you were being honest, you didn’t care where he took you; you didn’t set any conscious expectations.

“Oh! Before I forget…” Kai smirked as he dug around his backpack. He tossed you a small, blue bottle of mouthwash. He winked cheekily, “You never know… mayhaps you’ll kiss him.”

You nearly threw up, “I most certainly will not be kissing anyone tonight, especially not his pretentious ass. Besides, you know about my rule.”

He groaned. He definitely knew about your rule, it was all you talked about after getting dumped by your last ex. After your last failed relationship (or four) you created a no-kiss policy for your first three dates. You wanted to make sure your kisses weren’t in vain, and honestly, it was fun just watching them work for it.

“The rule is dumb,” he reminded.

“... You’re dumb.”

You were busy dodging a pillow when your doorbell rang, signaling Taehyun’s arrival. You were shocked he didn’t just notify his presence by honking his horn—for a pompous ass such as himself, you wouldn’t have been surprised.

“It’s time,” you mumbled somberly.

“He isn’t the Grim Reaper. This is a date, it’s supposed to be a happy thing!” he tried encouraging sweetly as you stalked down the staircase, but to no avail, your mood didn’t lighten in the slightest.

You aggressively swung open your front door, nearly knocking Kai unconscious. Taehyun dressed simple but pleasant; his expensive, black sweater was expertly tucked into a nice set of slacks and the Cartier bracelet that adorned his wrist, perfectly accentuated his veins. His bright, red hair was styled messily and his cheeks were flushed, beautifully highlighting his angled nose and sharp jawline. Your mouth gaped, just slightly, as you drank him in—while he was always attractive, this specific look had you stunned. He held a single rose against his chest and it only made him look more ethereal, if that was even possible. When you looked up, you instantly noted the hint of panic in his eyes, which made you feel at ease.

“Taehyun,” you blankly addressed.

“Y/N! You look amazing, so beautiful…” he trailed as he handed you the rose. You grabbed it and immediately shoved it into Kai’s chest.

“Let’s get this over with,” you grumbled, pushing past him and harshly hitting his shoulder.

“... Right.”

“Hey, try not to murder him, I can’t afford bail. I make minimum wage,” Kai reminded, flashing Taehyun a sympathetic smile as the older trailed closely behind you. You were about to open his car door when he came rushing by, insisting on opening it for you. In return, you sent him a nasty glare, “I’m capable of opening my own door.”

“I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

“A gentleman doesn’t go off on someone in the middle of a public space,” you reminded.”

He sighed. A mere five minutes into the date and he already felt defeated. He wished he could form a proper apology, but it would be futile—you’d just shut him down. So he decided to express his apology in the form of something he knew you’d accept; needless to say, he had a trick or two up his Gucci sleeve.

You kept your gaze focused on anything but him. Your arms were folded across your chest, the evident frown on your face doing very little to hide your irritation. Despite that, he still thought you looked beautiful… granted, every single time he spoke to you, you wore a frown so this wasn’t new to him.

“You look so pretty,” he complimented as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“I know.”

Of course he deserved every ounce of your cold, unwelcoming demeanor, but it still hurt. He was flushed but you didn’t notice since you made an obvious effort to scoot as far away from him as possible, practically pressing yourself up against the car door. However, the painful silence quickly overwhelmed you, so you hesitantly threw him a bone, “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise but I know you’ll like it. It’s my way of apologizing.”

“This better be a hell of an apology.”

“I promise you it is.”

You noticed his sincerity. His usual cockiness was replaced with shyness and a twinge of guilt, and you found it endearing. You stayed quiet for the remainder of the car ride, only a small sound of confusion as he pulled into a half-empty parking lot of a local carnival. A young employee approached the car and gave Taehyun a permitting nod, making you suspicious. He drove past the entrance gate and straight into a private space, parking next to a dinky, old ice cream truck. The space was close to a nearby forest, a bit too secluded for your taste.

“So you’re going to kill me,” you observed, scanning the dark environment around you.

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“That’s what a murderer would say,” you mumbled.

You were so stubborn, he knew that, yet he still let out an exasperated sigh. He frowned and climbed out of his car, shuffling to your side, only to find you were already halfway out. You didn’t say anything, choosing to send another hard glare his way instead.

He headed in the direction of the carnival—not the forest—and gestured you to follow him. You trailed behind, ignoring the damp mud that stuck to the bottom of your cheap shoes. You felt a bit overdressed, but when you glanced at Taehyun, you felt better. However, the more you thought about it, his outfit likely cost more than your college tuition, putting a slight dent in your ego. You focused your attention on the glowing moon instead of him, and when he turned to look at you, he was in awe. You seemed peaceful, or at least, not as pissed.

It was nice.

He led you down to the middle of the fair where you saw a crowd gathered around a massive dunk tank. He seemed antsy, constantly shifting his weight and picked at the hem of his costly shirt. He momentarily abandoned your side and walked to the dunk tank operator, speaking briefly before grabbing a bucket filled of unknown stuff.

When he walked back, you stared curiously at the bucket which was full of heavy baseballs. “This is my apology.”

Vague.

As if he read your mind, he gently placed his hand on your shoulder and turned you to face the tank, pointing directly at the chair above the pool. “I’m going to be sitting on that chair. Your job is to throw them,” he gestured over to the bullseye, “at the target, until I’m submerged.”

You couldn’t suppress your smile. He was right, this was an apology you’d accept, an apology in the form of embarrassment. Smart boy.

He didn’t necessarily look forward to ruining his cashmere sweater, but he would’ve done anything to make it up to you, and your bright smile told him he was on the right path. You let out a light laugh, picking up a baseball and tossing it carelessly.

He spared you a final glance before shuffling off to his fate. He seemed to garner a lot of attention, the crowd had grown significantly larger since you first arrived. You held the ball in your hand as he climbed onto the chair—you were arguably a little too excited to send him into the cold, cold water. He seemed shaky, but you didn’t care. You threw the ball with no hesitation.

Strike one. You missed by a long shot.

He suppressed a laugh. You shook your body, ridding yourself of any anxiousness before trying once more.

Strike two. You were closer. Barely.

You had an unlimited amount of attempts, but the longer you failed, the more embarrassed you felt. He now seemed comfortable... prideful, even. Your face was flushed red from humiliation, but you tried to keep it from affecting you as you threw once more, this time, significantly more aggressive.

Strike three. This was outright shameful.

“C’mon, you can do better than that…” he baited. He couldn’t help but tease, it didn’t matter that you were on a date. The crowd let out a collective laugh. You scoffed indignantly, cracking your neck and back, your stare darkening. You were about to hit the winning shot, he knew it. He loosened his grip on the chair and leaned forward.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

The longing, heartfelt expression in his eyes had you flustered. You nodded understandingly, reeling in his genuine apology, and flashing him a sympathetic, sincere smile before throwing the baseball straight at the bullseye, sending him (and his expensive outfit) straight into the tank.

You pumped a fist in the air as the crowd cheered. He emerged from the stale water, completely drenched. He shook hair away from his eyes before climbing from the tank and into a changing room, but not before finding your figure in the crowd. You wore a gentle, soft smile; for the first time, you looked at him with something other than hatred.

It gave him hope.

After changing, he appeared by your side as the crowd slowly dispersed, dressed a lot more comfortably. He changed into a pair of fitted (and designer, you just knew it) joggers and a clean, simple sweatshirt, pulled together with a silver chain hanging from his neck. He went from runway to streetwear yet he managed to look absolutely fantastic and it irked you. He seemed expectant yet nervous, constantly shifting his feet and biting his bottom lip. He needed reassurance and suddenly, you weren’t hesitant to provide it.

After a minute of painful silence, you conceded. “I forgive you.”

A deep sigh of relief escaped him. He’d practically been holding his breath since that day and all of a sudden, this weight had been lifted off his chest. A wave of solace washed over him, “Thank god. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if that didn’t work.”

You giggled softly. He short-circuited for a mere second; being the cause of your melodious laugh had him speechless. It was all new to him. Your laugh was so sweet, soft, and a drastic contrast from the person he was used to. He yearned to hear it again.

You peered up at him without saying a word.

He coughed awkwardly. “Right, uh, that didn’t take long at all. Let’s get you home, this was a waste of your time, I’m so sorry,” he rambled, turning in the direction of his car. You tilted your head questioningly. The night was still young and you had no interest in going back home. You were pleasantly surprised, all it took was a simple apology for your hidden, buried feelings to surface, though you knew how hard it was for him to apologize. Maybe that’s why you were so easy to forgive. You reached for his sleeve and gently tugged him back, “You asked me out on a date, so let’s do it.”

Going on an actual date was the last thing he expected. His plan for the night was to pick you up, try his best not to offend you more than he already had, and get dunked into some dirty, stale water. Of course he couldn’t refuse, seeing as his heart nearly soared from his chest. He nodded eagerly, “Y-yeah! Yeah! Okay, let’s have a date. Okay, uh, this is a carnival, right? I have to win you a plushie then, that’s just basic, carnival date knowledge. That’s the rule.”

You snorted. “Can’t break the rules then.”

He led you on over to the strength machine, eager to showcase his brawn—he hoped to impress you. His boyish mentality made you laugh, as endearing as it was, you couldn’t help but find it primitive and a bit childish. Nonetheless, you indulged him. He fished change from his wallet and you couldn’t help but notice the shiny, heavy, black card sitting comfortable in his wallet’s compartment; you suppressed an instinctual eye roll. He held the massive hammer in hand, attempting to hide the fact that it slightly weighed him down, despite his muscular build. He flashed you a confident wink before raining the hammer down on the target, sending the marker less than halfway up the pole. You coughed in an attempt to hide your laughter, you didn’t want to embarrass him, he’d already been dunked into a tank of mucky water.

He stood dumbfounded, “Okay, this is rigged.”

“Mhm, right.”

“Fine, hotshot. Give it a whirl then,” he challenged. You raised an eyebrow cockily, yanking the hammer from his hand. It was simple, all you had to do was send the marker higher than his. You smugly grinned before trying your luck, the marker barely rising an inch.

He slapped his knee and cackled. You were offended.

“This is rigged,” you mumbled.

“S’ok, love. There’s plenty of other stuff to do that isn’t rigged,” he encouraged, throwing a side eye at the gamer operator who simply shrugged in return. He slung an arm around your shoulder, choosing not to dwell on the way his heartbeat sped, “Let’s go get you a prize.”

· ──────────────────── ·

For him to win you a singular prize, it took a game of whack-a-mole, a shared slice of pizza, a tuft of cotton candy, a vigorous pep talk, and sprinkle of beginner’s luck. It was a cheap, funky-looking ring, but you wore it with the utmost pride.

You both talked excessively, really getting to know each other, and with each new detail, he fell harder. Your shy smile, adorable laugh, witty sense of humor… they were all just a bonus. Normally, you weren’t one to fall, if at all, but you found yourself going against your instinct and doing just that. In hindsight, though, it’d been a long time coming. He was hesitant to initiate any sort of skinship, considering you’d forgiven him an hour prior, but you proved opposite after you mindlessly reached for his hand the second you spotted your favorite ride.

“The spinning teacup! That’s a must!” You both felt the spark from the contact, it was unmistakable, but you both chose not to say anything. He let you drag him over, despite his aversion to the particular ride; he just couldn’t say no.

“Fine, but promise me you won’t spin fast.”

“Pinky promise.”

As the cup turned, albeit at snail pace, he admired the light wind that flowed delicately through your hair. You had a certain aura, he couldn’t help but notice. It was enchanting. The moonlight kissed your skin beautifully, it had him watching in infatuated awe.

“You’re staring.”

“Pssh, I’m not staring.” You eyed him and he crinkled his nose, “Fine, I was staring. I can’t help it, you’re beautiful.”

He didn’t know where the sudden confidence came from, perhaps it was just the motion sickness, but he didn’t regret it. You turned away from him, clearly flustered, and it made him smile. The ride ended quicker than he expected, but it was a welcomed relief, considering his well-being. The second he stepped from the cup, he fell to the floor.

“I barely spun the cup! It turned, like, a mile an hour!”

“I’m sensitive! I get sick easily.” He lifted himself off the ground, just slightly, continuing with a corny joke. “Look at me on the floor, I guess some might say… I fell for you.”

You snorted, not at the cheesy line, but the aggressive finger-gun that accompanied it. He tried to wink but failed, immediately hunching over from the queasy feeling in his stomach, “Oh my God, I’m going to die.”

He made an ugly, inhuman noise.

“Jesus Christ. Are you okay?”

“No, it’s fine, I’m great. I just think it’s my time to go.”

He reminded you a lot of Kai—both of them had an affinity for being overly dramatic.

You rubbed his back soothingly. He felt so embarrassed, but the feeling was overshadowed by the sickly feeling. You continued caressing, making sure to glare at anyone that dared judge him. You crouched down until you were eye level and brushed his hair from his forehead, giving him a small smile. At that moment, he could’ve sworn you were an angel of some sort. He felt better instantly.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine,” he insisted, waving his hand carelessly, telling you not to worry.

“Let’s just head home. I’ll have Kai pick us up, he’ll definitely do it.” You paused, crinkling your forehead in thought, “Scratch that, he just got his license and ran over a cone yesterday.”

He stood up slowly, waving his hand once more. “In the recipe for a perfect carnival date, the ferris wheel is a must.”

You didn’t like where he was going with that.

“You’re going to hurl if we go on that. For real, this time.”

He rested his hand atop his heart. “I won’t! I swear.”

“I don’t know...”

He laced his hand with your own and pulled you to the carnival’s main attraction. He fiddled with the ring on your finger, proudly glancing at it every once in a while.

Just your luck, a slightly younger couple was paired with you on the ferris wheel. The ride operator shoved the four of you into the cramped, tiny compartment, ignoring the silent plea Taehyun sent her way. The other couple sat hesitantly with a noticeable distance between them, awkwardly shifting every now and then. The young men—one blond, one with raven black hair—stayed quiet and you couldn’t help but think they were also on their first date. They often glanced at each other but didn’t talk and Taehyun had to hide his amusement. All four of you simmered in uncomfortable silence for a good portion of the ride.

Taehyun unconsciously threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close as you laid your head on his shoulder. It was a subtle display of affection that made you blush, but he didn’t notice. Out of the corner of his eyes, Taehyun watched the blond boy copy his movement, just significantly clumsier—the poor boy accidentally smacked his boyfriend square on the nose. It took a lot for Taehyun (and you) to suppress an amused laugh.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” whispered the blond. His boyfriend let out a small, nervous laugh, “It’s okay.”

The black-haired boy gently rubbed his nose before reaching for his boyfriend’s hand—a simple compromise. The blond avoided eye contact with you and Taehyun, choosing to shift his gaze to the carnival below. The black-haired boy spoke first, “We’re kind of… new to dating.”

The blond cringed, still looking at the fair, before nodding in agreement. You giggled at the obvious tension, quickly comforting, “It’s cute! You two seem like an adorable couple.”

The couple smiled fondly at each other. The blond squeezed his boyfriend’s hand reassuringly and it made you smile. They seemed so in love, you were swooning. The remainder of the ride was silent and the couple chose to get off the ride after the first go-around. The blond meekly nodded his head in Taehyun’s direction and your boy gently returned the gesture with a shy, caring smile.

As soon as they were out of earshot, you both broke into a fit of laughter, “Oh my God! He was totally copying you, that’s adorable!”

Taehyun gushed, “They both were so flustered! Too cute.”

You both spent the next go-around giggling, conversing about nothing, and sharing sweet, longing gazes. The carnival beneath you slowly began shutting down, each area turning their lighting off one by one. You kept your hand laced with his and while you glanced down the dying fair, he lovingly gazed at you.

“I guess that’s our cue to leave.” You gestured below. He trained his gaze to the lack of vivid lighting around the carnival and sighed, “Yeah, I guess so.”

He squeezed your hand tighter. You didn’t want to part from him so soon and he shared your exact sentiment.

· ──────────────────── ·

As Taehyun pulled into your driveway, you instantly spotted Kai’s silhouette lurking in your bedroom window.

“Jesus Christ,” you grumbled.

Kai had spent his night waiting for you to come home, eager to hear your nightmarish tale. He planned to head to his house and simply wait for your inevitable call, but when he left to grab takeout, he found himself straying back to your house. Your mother must’ve let him in, granted he was also gifted a key and he used it regularly. Your mind suddenly short-circuited by the feeling of Taehyun’s hand atop your own. If you noticed his tremble and clamminess, you didn’t mention it.

He cleared his throat, “Let me walk you to your door.”

You sheepishly nodded, anxious to speak. If yesterday, someone had told you you would be this shy at the end of the night, you would’ve laughed in their face. He rushed to open your door and you let him, much to his surprise, without any snarky remark. The short distance to your front door didn’t stop him from holding your hand, leaving you a giggly, flustered mess.

You could practically feel Kai’s smirk.

Taehyun stood awkwardly, frequently shifting his weight, while you nervously picked at your fingernail, both waiting for the other to break the silence. He took the first leap of faith, “I had a great time tonight, I hope you did too.”

You were too focused on his calloused thumb tracing soothing circles along the back of your hand, making you lose your train of thought, “Yeah! Yes! So fun!”

You winced at your overly enthusiastic response. The luminous light, hanging haphazardly above you did little to hide your anxiousness. He chuckled softly, glad he wasn’t the only nervous one, “That’s good to hear.”

“I’m sorry you nearly threw up.” You both cringed at the recent memory. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, “Don’t worry. Weirdly, that’s not the worst thing to happen to me on a date.”

You tilted your head curiously, you wished to hear his story. Frankly, you found yourself wishing to hear everything about him, but before anything, you needed to get some stuff off your own chest. “I’m also sorry about other stuff. I have more to apologize than you, even before the incident, I was always so abrasive and mean, and I want to apologize for that. And, I, uh, also kind of broke into your house… so obviously I’m sorry about that too. Not to mention, I thin—”

He placed his hand on your cheek and caressed softly, making you quiet. “It’s water under the bridge.”

You shyly smiled, looking away from his adoring gaze. He tried mustering up a cheesy line but he found himself losing focus, his eyes constantly straying to your lips; he couldn’t help it, he really wanted to kiss you. He sucked in a deep breath, gathering the courage to just do it, even though he knew you’d likely reject his advance. After all, it was just the first date and you only forgave him three hours ago.

Not to mention, Kai stole your phone to get Taehyun’s number just to inform him of your strict no-kiss policy.

He hesitantly brushed your hair behind your ear before leaning in slowly, his plush, attractive lips easily tempting you. Unfortunately for him, you kept to your rule. You splayed your hand across his chest before pushing him back gently, “Nice try, Romeo.”

He wasn’t surprised, it was a long shot anyways. He’d just regret it if he didn’t try. He nodded understandingly before leaning in once more, this time to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t hide the obvious blush that dusted your cheeks, making him grin. Maybe you weren’t as tough as you liked to seem.

He felt hopeful.

“So for our next date, I was thinking mini golf,” he said enthusiastically. His eyes sparkled with excitement; he seemed thrilled, you couldn’t help but giggle, “Easy there tiger, I don’t recall ever saying anything about a second date.”

He leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek, pulling away only slightly to whisper, “I think I’ll be getting another date.”

He was right. He was definitely getting another date… and maybe, just maybe, you’d break your no-kiss rule.

#will sell my soul for these tags to work ahaha tumblr ur so sexy #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagines #taehyun scenarios #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt scenarios #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu #taehyun #hueningkai #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #huening kai #txt x you

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yelenasdog · 3 years

Text

𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐖𝐈 𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: wherever they go, it seems they can’t escape each other

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.09k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smoking, drinking, kissing, getting ~steamy~, but nothing explicit.

𝐚/𝐧: this kinda feels melodramatic at times, but over all i think this is an alright fic that took me forever LOL! i hope you enjoy it! btw,

this can be read as ben!rog or just rog, i just was thinking of ben!rog when i wrote it

also if u wanna listen to kiwi while listening, the vibes would be immaculate and i reccomend it :D kk enjoy

✺🎬✺

Her footsteps were mute as she padded forward on the concrete, searching furiously through her crochet bag. The box in her hands stayed tightly gripped though, Roger noted. He waited a bit until he was certain she had no chance of finding what he thought she was looking for, and that he would be her last resort.

“Need a light?”

He watched with careful eyes as the girl next to him fumbled about to pick out a cigarette from the nearly emptied box, probably just some cheap ones from the gas station near the dorms.

“Yes, thanks.”

The brunet nodded, bringing his forward to her’s and inhaling, a few loose embers falling to the ground in a sparkling orange flurry.

Roger observed the way her chipped nails on ring adorned fingers shakily held the cigarette as she brought it to her lips, taking a very long drag.

It was windy out that night (which was the reason he was telling himself he decided not to bother with his Zippo), her silky black dress doing barely a thing to keep her covered from the chilly temperatures. He noticed the blue tint to her formerly painted lips, only a pale stain of color left behind. He also happened to notice the goosebumps that graced her exposed arms and legs, and her slight shiver that came with it.

The girl nervously adjusted the twisted strap to her purse, sending a glance in Rog’s direction every once in a while, but mostly she kept her gaze fixed on the stars above. She seemed to be mesmerized by the way they twinkled so brightly, even in the polluted sky. The bottles of liquor in her purse clinked together, and she cringed visibly at the sound, a shiver being sent through her bones.

He smiled at her behavior, oddly endeared by it, perhaps even enchanted.

“What’s your name?”

She turned, taking the stick from between her lips. Roger kept his eyes glued to the plump flesh momentarily despite the movement away from the area.

“That’s none of your business, Roger.” She smiled, a playful look set ablaze in her eyes.

He looked down, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“How do you know my name, then?” He questioned curiously, slanting his eyes and quirking a brow.

“Your band.” Her voice seemed softer, almost a fond tone set within it.

“You’ve seen us play?”

“Yeah, you guys are good.”

“You’re a fan then?”

She chuckled, looking to her feet.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He laughed, nodding yet again.

They stayed together for some time, silently and mutually agreeing that enough had been said. They finished off their smokes, and with that, she turned to go.

“Bye, Roger.”

He bit his lip, feeling the sting shoot through him. He was conflicted on if to make a move, not wanting to diminish his confident and cool reputation he believed he had built for himself. He settled for shouting something along the lines of “will I see you around?” (which upon thinking back over it, maybe it wasn’t that cool), to which she only shrugged and kept walking.

He could hear the bottles loudly clanking together as she sauntered off, lord knows where to. He watched her go until she turned the corner, tossing one final look in his direction before continuing on, leaving him in deep thought.

“I’m telling you, mate, she was drop dead gorgeous. And I have no idea who she is, no name or anything!”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his notebook across the room onto the yellow sofa Roger was resting on, turning his full attention to his distraught friend.

“Well, did you ask her for her name?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes in a similar manner to Bri. “Yes, I did. She said it was ‘none of my business’.” He scoffed, twirling a single drumstick between his fingers while tapping his foot repeatedly, annoying Brian to no end (per usual). The curly headed man only barked out a laugh, finding the entire situation quite humorous, if he was being honest.

“But she knew the band! Said that she thought we were good. S’ like she couldn’t make up her damn mind.” He grumbled, slumping forward.

“Wait, she knows the band?”

The drummer looked at him like he had two heads nodding slowly.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Brian stood up and sighed, grabbing his guitar and headed to the edge of the bar’s stage, resting behind the curtain briefly.

“You really are thick, Roger.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He joined him by the curtain, noticing Tim had come up behind the pair.

“What’s all this about, then?”

“Nothing.” Brian and Roger replied in unison. Tim huffed, making his way onto the stage where the growing crowd was waiting. Cheers could be heard for the frontman as he introduced himself, saying something about how the rest of the band would be out in a second, and that they were just having some “sound issues”.

“Rog, if she’s a fan, she’s probably here tonight, yes?”

His eyes widened, and he suddenly began to feel quite dumb, not that he would admit it.

“Yeah, I suppose so…but she said she wasn’t a fan?” He trailed off, confused.

“She probably was just saying that for some reason. I don’t know, women are odd, they like to play hard to get.” Brian commented, oddly flippant for how conflicting his statement was.

Roger stood in place for a moment, still greatly confused what Brian was trying to get at. He shook his head and furrowed his brows, trying to put together the puzzle of this mess in his mind.

“Roger, for God's sake, don’t think about it, just go.”

Following his advice, Roger did his best to disregard any previous thoughts of confusion, a switch flipping in his mind. He stood taller, saying, “You know what Bri, maybe you’re right.”

“Great, go on then.” He watched as Roger bounded out with a newfound adrenaline and a smile plastered on his face, rolling his eyes for what wouldn’t be the final time that night at his bandmate’s antics.

As soon as he had made it behind his kit, he was scanning the crowded room, trying to locate the girl from last night. He watched the door throughout the performance, trying to see if she might have just come in a bit late. He held the hope she would somehow show up with him in his mind, but all to no avail.

The entire night, he couldn’t shake the thought of her lips from his mind, or the way the skin of her neck was so open and exposed, practically begging for him to attack it with his own lips. And with the way things were going thus far, he was sure that pretty face of her’s would be the death of him, he was certain, in fact.

“Find her?” Bri had questioned almost as soon as they had ended for the night, the lot of them now working on cleaning up.

“Nah. She never showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Rog. Maybe you’ll see her again soon, the campus isn’t that huge, you know.” Roger’s mouth formed a thin line as he raised his eyebrows, not convinced in the slightest that the situation proposed would occur.

“At this point I’m wondering if she’s even a bloody student here.” Roger grumbled, obviously no longer feeling the initial electric adrenaline of the night's performance.

Brian frowned, placing a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder and patting it once or twice before standing to go finish packing up.

It was later now, and the boys were finally leaving the bar, bidding their goodbyes to those around them. Roger walked out the front (in what Tim and Brian joked was a ‘moping manner’), hearing the bell jangle above his head, ringing annoyingly in his ear. The cold air hit him like an arctic breeze (or a ton of bricks, he wasn’t sure which description was more fitting). He shook his head and blinked a few times, as if that would rid his body of the frigid feeling. He sighed dramatically and pulled his corduroy jacket tighter around himself, watching as his breath made a small cloud in front of him.

“Roger?”

He turned, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Having a pity party, are you?” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“It’s only me, so no. Not a party.”

She “ahh”-d in understanding, her mouth forming into a sly grin. Her lips were a pale pink color that night, her eyes a bright blue shade. And similarly to the night previous, she was graced with only a brown fringed dress, her matching boots in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

“Then what would it be if I joined you?”

He stood in thought, tilting his head. “I think then, yeah, it would be a party.”

“Do you not get cold, ever?” He added after a beat of silence, observing her ill outfit choice for the frosty climate. She rolled her eyes, muttering out a brief “ha, ha.”

Roger couldn’t help but bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

“I do on occasion get a little bit chilly. But I like the feeling.”

He tilted his head, walking over to where she was leaning against the brick wall of the dive bar. He turned to face her, not that she noticed, putting his weight on the rough surface behind him.

“It makes me feel,” she hesitated, struggling to find the right word, although she felt it was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Alive?”

She finally met his eyes after what seemed like forever, softly nodding. To him, she looked like an angel in that moment, the street light so beautifully illuminating her locks like a halo around her. He reached a cautious hand forward, dragging it against her cheek, down to her bottom lip.

Her mind was screaming at her to leave while she still could, to somehow not fall in the mix of the infamous campus player that was Roger Taylor.

But her heart? Well, as cliche as it sounds, her heart was telling her to disregard any reasonable thoughts and just kiss the bastard, for God’s sake.

And if anyone knew Y/n Y/l/n, they knew that most times, she would listen to the latter mentioned, rather than the former. And so after several moments of unbearable silence, she decided she would. Catching on relatively fast, Roger took her flush against him, Y/n able to feel his breath fanning over her face.

She leaned forward with a small smile, placing her hands on either side of his face. Her eyes wandered to his plump and rosy lips, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But before she could make the final leap, so to say, Brian, of all people, called out her name in a confused nature, squinting, believing that it might have been his eyes deceiving him. The girl from his 9 a.m. lecture could not possibly be about to snog his bandmate.

Impossible.

Her eyes widened, head turning immediately when hearing her name fall from his lips.

“Brian, hey!”

“Wait, you two know each other?”

Ignoring Roger’s (panicked) question, Brian walked over, a look of amazement still prevalent in his features. She moved from Roger’s side over to Brian, giving him a side hug, Bri’s arm resting on her shoulders.

“I see you’ve met Y/n. She’s in my astronomy class.”

She smiled brightly as the neon signs lining the downtown district of bars and restaurants alike, meeting Brians gaze.

“Yup, got to love Dr. Martin’s lectures.” She chuckled, the tall man next to her doing the same.

Picking up on Roger’s absolutely bewildered appearance, still taking in the situation unfolding in front of him, Brian took the liberty of initiating another conversation.

“So, Y/n, did you see the show tonight?”

She frowned, crossing her arms.

“Wanted to, but no, got caught up in the library. I have my final for statistics on Thursday, or else I would have been there.” She locked eyes with Roger, giving him a soft smile. Suddenly changing her demeanor, she reached into her bag she always seemed to have with her, pulling out those cheap cigarettes and her Zippo. She lit one of the sticks, inhaling.

“In fact, I heard your drummer was incredible, so I thought I would try to see him in action tonight.” Her gaze never left Rogers as she conversed, her mouth pressed in a line, the rest of her face completely neutral.

“But you’ve seen us before Y/n, he’s been with the band for quite some time.”

“I mean, I wanted to see him with a fresh pair of eyes, a different perspective, I guess.”

Still mildly confused, Brain shook his head and muttered something like “Right, okay” to which Y/n softly smiled at before dropping the cigarette from her hand. Barefoot, she couldn’t reach down to step on it, have the sparks die out under her toes.

“Could one of you get that, please?”

Roger nodded immediately, his boot finding its way quickly, the toe of it making a circular motion. His eyes stayed on Y/n, as had hers before. And despite the bustling city around them, Hell, even despite Brian’s perplexed stare, it felt oddly intimate, as if they were locked onto each other’s view (not that they were complaining).

But they weren’t, as she proved mere seconds later, abruptly bidding them goodbye and heading the opposite direction.

The pair of boys watched her as she went, heads tilted and jaws dropped to where if their mothers were present, they would be scolded to “close their mouths before they catch flies in there!”.

“That’s her, you know.” Roger commented bluntly, slightly shaking his head and then popping his lip.

Brian took a moment, turning toward his friend, stuttering.

“As in, her, her? Y/n is mystery girl?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, Rog.”

“Why would I need that, Brian?” He challenged, putting his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. Brain kept his assumed position, moving his hand to scratch at his neck.

‘Well, I’m sure if you hang out around her enough, you’ll find out.”

Rather than shouting out at him, asking him what the Hell he meant, as he really wanted to, Roger paid Bri no attention, not even giving him a second look before under his breath saying “I’ll see you later”, and in what Brian considered to be a quite shocking turn of events, bolting off in the direction Y/n had gone.

He ignored the shouts from Brian, ignored the judgmental stares and loud whispers of those who recognized him from the band. He no longer cared about keeping his ‘cool reputation’, not when she was so close.

“Is that Roger Taylor?”, “Oi, isn’t that the drummer from the band at the pub?”, “Hey, why’s he buggin’ out?” all flooded his ears, usually followed by what seemed to be snickering, making a desperate attempt to cloud his mind from his self-assigned mission. But it was no use, as he was set on catching up to her. In fact, she was so close he swore he could smell the mixed scent that was uniquely her, smoke and her perfume.

He hollered her name, God, he yelled it till his throat was hoarse, just ‘cause he could. He loved the way it rolled off his tongue, he loved the fact he even had learned it to begin with, and that alone was probably why he adored it so much.

She heard his cries, turning where she stood and tilting her head.

“Roger? What on Earth are you doing?”

He finally met her, bent over on his hands and knees, breath lost in totality. She placed a concerned hand on his sweaty head, combing through his chocolate locks. He would have shivered at the feeling, if he had the energy. Rather, he looked up with the goofiest smile she’d ever seen, resembling a golden retriever, or german shepherd perhaps, in human form.

‘D’you wanna go somewhere with me? Hang out a bit?”

She nodded, holding out a hand.

“Lead the way.”

“Mom and Dad want me to be some kind of a scientist, study the stars.”

“Yeah? And what do you think about that.”

She tilted her head, shifting her position.

“I’m not quite sure. I wouldn’t be against it, that I know. The stars are beautiful, but they aren’t where my heart lies, I guess.”

He turned to face her, their noses almost touching. She could feel his breath fanning over her face, and the proximity sent butterflies through her stomach.

“I want to be an actress.” She all but whispered, turning her attention back to the full night sky and the wonders that hung in it.

“An actress, huh?”

She only hummed a confirmation, moving her left hand to pick at the cool grass under her palms.

“I could see that. You, I mean, on the big screens.”

She turned, and Roger swore he had never seen anyone smile so big before in his life.

“Really?”

His own smile grew, and she nodded vigorously, the two of them beginning to laugh. He pulled her closer by her shoulders, unaware of where the conversation would lead.

“I’ll go to New York. You’ll see me on billboards in Times Square.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. I’ll just be a lone dentist somewhere, while you forget all about me, having lavish parties and such. Whatever it is that famous people do.” His voice was obviously joking, melodramatic was written all over him, yet Y/n couldn’t help but still feel a sliver of guilt.

She hit his arm, rolling back over to face him. She still had a smile glued onto her lips, both of their eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Oh, shut up, will you? Smile will make it big, and we’ll meet again, when you’re on tour. Or perhaps if I’m filming where you’re performing! We’ll have those nights to ourselves, It’ll be a secret rendezvous.”

She turned to her back again, finding his hand on the damp green, her heart beating a million miles a second as she reached for it, slowly entangling her fingers in his.

“The papers will write about us, Rog, when they find out. ‘Famous actress Y/n Y/l/n seen leaving a hotel with renowned drummer Roger Taylor’ is what the headlines will say. God, what a scene we’ll cause.” Her eyes were full of excitement as she spoke, her heart feeling like it was so filled with glee that it could soar out of her chest.

“Well, I wanna know the specifics.” Roger sat up, pulling her up with him, she giggled, and the brunette wrapped a hand around her waist. She sat beside him, the streetlight by the backroad she had led them on illuminating her like a silhouette. She bit her lip and grinned, tilting her head up to better exam Rogers angelic features.

“Are you gonna have some bloke waiting for you at home, hmm? Waiting for you while you conquer the world, only for you to break his poor heart?”

“Nah.” Her answer was immediate, her eyes honest as she spoke. “Only a cactus. He’ll be my only friend. I hear it’s lonely in Hollywood, Roger.” He raised his eyebrows briefly at this, choosing his next words.

“You’ll have me?”

His head turned to look at her, admiring the way the pale moonlight illuminated her, the artificial light from the streetlamps not doing her neverending beauty and justice, in his opinion. Their eyes seemed sporadic, searching each other's faces for signs of what they were doing, possibly being wrong, but they found nothing, as expected.

The yearning had become all too much for the inspired pair, and it felt like at last, all they could do, the only thing they could do, was kiss.

So they did. Roger took her face in his hands, closing his beautiful eyes, his eyelashes barely brushing against hers. He leaned forward, joining them together, finding that they immediately moved in a perfect synchronization. They were like two sides of the same coin, and that seemed to be particularly evident in that moment. By the contrast of their lips, or perhaps the aspirations of their careers becoming somehow just a little bit clearer.

But it didn’t matter, none of it did. Not in the long run. So they pulled apart, chests heaving and faces painted with childish grins.

It was quiet then, only the crickets and the howling wind could be heard. But she liked it that way, preferred it, actually. So quiet, in fact, that Roger was able to fall fast asleep, Y/n lying comfortably in his arms. She stared at the stars, then back to his sleeping figure, her mind unable to come to a consensus on what on God's green Earth she was to do.

She settled for placing a kiss on his jaw, closing her eyes. His eyes only fluttered, never waking completely. She muttered something like “See you, rockstar.” against it, before standing up and walking away, only turning back once to see his sleeping form one more time.

That was the last time for 6 years that he would see Y/n Y/l/n. See her in person, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, he was confused to say the least, wondering why Y/n didn’t wake him, mostly wondering where she had even gone. He looked around himself, patting the green grass beneath him, as if she somehow was invisible and he had missed her upon initial glance. He had shouted for her, his throat still hurting from when he did the same thing only 12 hours previous.

He had felt out of control, like the one he had been chasing had just slipped through his fingers (which it had). He had remembered asking Bri, day after day, if he had seen her in class, even just seen her around in general. Everytime the answer was the same.

“No Roger”, “I’m sorry, Roger”, “Not today, Roger”. It was a horrible, predictable pattern, that he had enough of. He was supposed to recover from it quickly, bounce back from her almost immediately, as there was basically nothing to bounce back from.

But he couldn’t, and due to such reasons, he supposed he finally understood what Brian had said, or warned, that night before he had gone chasing after her. He got it, in his own sad way.

And over the years, she slowly faded to the back of the drummer's mind, behind groupies, and songs, and shows, and such, just for her to resurface again any time he saw her on a billboard, just as she had promised. But he never let it show, outwardly at least.

He had made Brian swear not to tell the others, never to breathe a word of it to Deaky or Fred. He was embarrassed by it, for some reason, and that’s why he guessed he forbade him from speaking of it. But how long can you keep a silly college secret from your nosy bandmates? Apparently 6 years, tops, for Roger Taylor.

“Alright, everyone. Gather ‘round, I’ve got a surprise.” Freddie had said, his grumbling bunch of friends tired from their day’s work. Though, they usually had grown to appreciate and look forward to Fred’s “surprises”, today everyone was just a tad bit too grumpy to try (a certain Roger Taylor in particular, let’s call it foreshadowing).

“Oh, stop your moaning and whining, please, I promise this will be good!” the eccentric frontman had said, something hidden behind his back in his left hand.

Rog ran a hand through his, now, blond hair, exhaling in such a way that made Freddie slant his eyes, before giving in and rolling them at his flippant behavior.

“What’s going on, Fred?” Brian had been the brave soul to ask, stepping forward and then looking away momentarily to place his guitar onto a stand waiting not so far away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He replied, jumping down from his place on the risers, removing his hand from his back and holding out what seemed to be 4 tickets to something. He walked down the loosely formed line of men, putting one in each of their extended palms. Roger, at the end of their formation of sorts, became concerned when Brian had burst out laughing, looking to his right, being met with Roger’s face of confusion.

Freddie, possibly more confused than Roger, pressing the piece of thick paper into his hand, his gaze falling onto Brian, who now had tears in his eyes.

“Bri, what’s so… funny. Shit.” He had looked down to the slip, the only words he needed to read to know he was absolutely screwed, being “Jaws” and “Premiere”.

Now, anybody who knew anything, knew that Y/n Y/l/n was going to be in the film that was said to become the blockbuster of the summer, playing the role of Ellen Brody (though a few had said she was far too young for the job). She had been an overnight success in the film industry, gaining popularity from the 1973 film, ‘The Sting’, playing Billie.

And Roger had watched ‘The Sting’, and you can imagine his surprise when Y/n had sauntered onto screen, red lipped and fresh faced. (He had to admit, she looked great in a suit.)

After that, the assault on Roger’s fragile heart was never ending.

Billboards began to pop up even more frequently as she was to star in more films, and it seemed no matter where he was touring, he couldn’t escape her. Whether it was posters, her face printed on newspapers, adverts in about every place business was done for one of her films, he felt like he was being followed. He had even seen an article about her in a magazine, and when he had flipped the page he was greeted with Queen’s smiling faces.

He had stopped watching them after ‘American Graffiti’.

So, he figured that this one wouldn’t be any different, and he simply planned on ignoring said film until he caved, doing his best to avoid her on the silver screen and anywhere else, which hadn’t been too difficult until this point (not).

But this? This was a whole new level of being royally fucked.

“Brian, Rog, something you want to share with the rest of the class?” John had asked, cocking his head and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Brian began to speak, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders, the shorter man looking up at him with angry fire burning in his eyes.

“Well, I’m honestly quite excited. The film industry has always seemed very intriguing, actually, and I’m looking forward to meeting new people. Rog?”

“No.”

“No?” John repeated, “No, what?” He waved a hand around, trying to understand what Roger’s problem was.

“I just- I don’t- I knew-”

“Roger had a fling with Y/n Y/l/n and she broke his heart.” Brain blurted out, Roger turning and immediately smacking him upside his curly head of hair. He regarded an “Ouch!” before him and the rest of the boys burst out laughing, the drummer not included in that demographic, fuming.

“Rog, darling, when was this? How did we not know?” Freddie managed to breathe out, sitting down next to Deaky on the studio sofa. He crossed his hands and ankles, his full attention turned towards Roger who really, really didn’t wanna have to do this, and who really, really was gonna get Brian back for this later. Would he untune all his guitars? Unplug his amp during rehearsals, perhaps put hair remover in his shampoo? But, that would have to wait until after he was forced to spill his 6 year secret.

“It was in 69-”

“69?!” Freddie had cried out. “It’s been 6 bloody years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“Well I didn’t really see a reason it would be necessary to tell you all! In fact, I probably wouldn’t have told you ever if this bloke didn’t have such a big mouth!”

“Hey, watch it.” Brian weighed in, crossing his arms and fluttering his eyes.

“Look, Roger I really don’t see the issue here. We go to the premiere, you just keep a low profile and ignore Y/n, problem solved.” John cut in, trying to be helpful.

Keyword: trying.

“And how exactly will I do that?”

“We will behave, I promise.” Freddie added, though Roger seemed to be having a difficult time believing him or his claim for the others. So Roger only scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

Cameras were flashing brightly, reporters and such were shouting loudly, and Y/n was already exhausted.

Her red lips were painted like DeAngelo had done it himself, and her hair was styled just the way she liked. The heels she was wearing per request of her stylist, though, were horrible. They looked lovely, yes, but they were digging into her poor ankles, and she still had to wear them for who knew how long. She didn’t complain, though, she wouldn’t dream of it.

She would just continue her slow walk down the carpet, a sultry smile on her face. The black fabric of the gown she was wearing fit her beautifully, snug in all the right places.

She sure hoped it was, at least. Especially because she knew that he would be there.

Roger Taylor, the blessed drummer that managed to make a home in the backburner of her mind, his success coming as no surprise to the actress. She had loved every one of their records, and rather than running from his work like Roger had, she opted for going straight to the record shop, purchasing any and every Queen album in her sight. When she had checked out, the very shocked cashier had made some remark, asking something about “you a fan?”

She had thought about it for a moment, thinking back to all those years ago when Roger had asked the same thing. She smiled, shrugging.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

So when she had worked up the courage to invite the entire band to the premiere (on behalf of Spielberg, of course) she was a nervous wreck to find out they had accepted. Really, ask anyone who had any contact with her in the time from then to the premiere, they could testify that her moodiness had risen like a hot air balloon.

Now, though, she was kind of regretting that she had invited them, looking over to the sharp looking bunch, all dressed to the nines. She scanned her eyes over them, catching a wave from Brian, which she gladly returned with an enthusiastic smile. Bri then tapped Roger on the shoulder to alert him of Y/n’s acknowledgment, which resulted in Y/n’s eyes widening to the size of moons.

She turned her head, and worked to finish up her walk of the carpet just a tad bit faster. It all seemed to be for nothing, though, as in the dark of the theater for the premiere itself, she saw the seat next to her be filled, a presence filling her senses.

“Miss me?”

Their hands were all over each other, not truly caring if the tabloids caught a glimpse, just needing to make up for lost time.

They had stumbled into the golden hotel both her and Queen were staying in, the swinging doors of the New York establishment blowing a cool gust of wind in their direction.

They merely laughed at the minor interruption, their teeth clashing as they both smiled momentarily. It was soon forgotten, though, both of them having much more pressing matters in their minds.

They only came to a cease in the elevator, some old couple who most definitely did not care about whatever pressing issue the two of them felt they had, standing off to the side. (Y/n could swear she saw the older woman smirk and wink at her, to which she cocked her head and smiled.)

Once back into the safe confines of Y/n’s suite, they resumed like they had never even stopped, hands gravitating towards the others form as if they were opposite magnets, unable to be separated for too long.

“You’ve driven me crazy, you know that, right? “

She giggled and bit her lip, looking up into his eyes, their foreheads pressed together.

“Mmm? I’d hope so.”

He pulled away, shaking his head, blond locks following suit.

“Really, you have no idea. I haven’t been able to shake you from my head. You’re everywhere.”

Her excitement could barely be contained at his confession of sorts, chest heaving, trying to stay calm.

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

Roger shook his head with a dry chuckle, looking to his feet and back to her when she had tilted his head up, her finger resting on his jaw.

“Well, are you into it?” She questioned, grabbing his hand and pulling their clasped fingers in between their chests, her eyes hazy with hope.

“Yeah.” He titled his head, feigning a pondering look. “You could say I’m kinda into it.”

“Shut it!”

“Make me.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidly provocative suggestion, and he only laughed, the two of them falling onto the plush comfort of the bed in a meshed flurry for the remainder of the night.

And if you couldn’t guess what could have possibly happened next, the black dress ended up in a pooled up pile next to the bed that night, right next to the heels that finally she had the pleasure of discarding.

The next morning, it was unlike the one 6 years ago, as when Roger woke up, he was overjoyed to find a sleeping Y/n, laying on his chest with hair splayed around her. And he had to say, he usually wasn’t much of a cuddler, but for some reason he felt so incredibly endeared, that anything else wouldn’t have sufficed.

He ran small circles on the exposed skin of her bare shoulder, the comforter concealing the rest of her limbs that were tangled up with Roger’s.

When she stirred, Roger sat up, fondly watching as her eyes fluttered open and her tongue ran across her dried lips, still carrying a hint of last night's red pigment. She looked next to her, her eyeline matching up with the covered skin of Roger’s lap.

She sighed, shifting her head to rest on his thighs as her feet dangled off of the bed. One of Roger’s hands came up to softly massage the top of her head, the other against the headboard, behind his neck. She stared at the ceiling, an unreadable expression creeping its way to her features.

“We were jacked up last night.” Roger’s voice cut through the silence they shared, deeper in the late morning than she had heard before.

“Correction, you were jacked up.”

“Whatever.”

They laughed, silence soon taking over once again. Roger sighed, closing his ever tired eyes.

“Are we gonna pay for this?”

She scoffed, inhaling deeply before reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing her carton of cigarettes. He noticed they were the same brand from college, a small smile making its way to his face at the thought.

She first lit hers, then lighting a second one for the man occupying her king sized bed (though she wasn’t even slightly upset by this, quite the opposite). She handed it to him, sticking her own between her lips and sitting up, straddling where her head had been minutes before.

She leaned forward, so close their noses were to the point where they were nearly touching. She took the cigarette from her lips, blowing the smoke to the left of Rog in the direction of the large balcony overlooking Times Square. She turned her attention back to him, though it had never really left, tilting her head.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer came immediately, no careful consideration or pondering needed.

“Right.” She removed herself from him, standing and taking the sheet with her, letting it cover her like a renaissance dress. She walked over to the balcony, leaning against the frame of the double doors. She took another drag, an adoring smile spreading across her face.

“Then there’s your answer.”

She paused, Roger tilted his head, his brows lifting.

“Of course we will.”

✺🎬✺

if u liked that hot mess pls like and rb!! mwah ily go eat protein and drink water if ur able. xx hj

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exosmutfactory · 3 years

Text

Six Phases FINALE Pt 2

Originally posted by tipannies

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: Let’s give Riley the ending she deserves 💗

[ contains: smut & fluff~]

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Tonight is a special occasion, one that requires the most lethal of dresses that I own. A dress I always had my eye on yet never dared to take out from the back of my closet. I could never find the right time to wear it—until now. Because tonight, oh tonight… I have a date with Baekhyun.

I pull up the spaghetti straps of my wine colored dress, making sure that the criss-cross stripes of fabric in the front are straight. This dress is definitely too cold for the first week of December, but that's what winter coats are for. For now, I will turn side to side to admire how the bodycon shape fits well with the cutout section exposing my stomach. Party in the front and business in the back.

Straightening the last strand of my hair, I smile when my phone lights up with a notification, knowing full well who it is. His cute usage of emojis visible on the screen tells me all that I need to know. Chuckling to myself, I set down my flatiron and reply to him.

Baekhyun planned a date at his apartment tonight, subtly dropping a hint about what I should wear. Mmhm, this isn't a t-shirt and sweatpants event. Based on the new black blazer in the back of his adorable selfie that he sent me the other day when he asked me out, I got a good idea of what I'm getting myself into.

Humming to myself, I check my reflection one last time and grab my keys before heading out. Let's see which shade of Baekhyun is awaiting me today.

Strutting my way to the elevator in my rose gold heels, I smile at my neighbor when she steps out onto our floor, whistling at my choice of attire. She winks at me as the doors close. Chuckling, I check my phone one last time, typing a quick reply to Sehun with my French tip nails letting him know that I'm okay. We've made a point to catch up with each other at the end of every week, whether face to face or over the phone. Unfortunately, I have plans tonight… and maybe tomorrow too. And the day after that.

Smirking, I repocket my phone and wrap my fluffy coat tighter around me, waving to the security guard while making my way out of the building. The bite of the December air is refreshing for my skin, the heat packed into my coat leaves me slightly too warm otherwise. I look both ways before crossing the parking lot, staying aware of my surroundings. The last thing I need is any drama from a careless driver or lurking thief in the streets. These heels are too expensive to break off into someone's ass for making me late.

My car unlocks with a familiar chirp, its headlights coming on while I walk around to the driver's side. Taking one last glance at the world around me and my back seat, I climb inside and set my purse down on the passenger's side. My phone vibrates just as I start the engine, buzzing faintly against the soft R&B CD playing on my radio. With a small smile, I check my rearview mirror and pull out onto the road.

I hum along to the first track, wondering if a UN Village actually exists while navigating to Baekhyun's apartment. The Christmas lights set up on the light poles in advance bring another smile to my face. Something about this time of year always sits right with me.

Before I know it, I'm pulling into a parking space at his apartment complex, waiting for the powerful vocals of the 6th song on the album to fade away. Sighing a little, I lean back in my seat, sweeping my eyes over the parking lot as the windows start to fog up. Who would have thought that I'd be back here nearly a year later? With warmth in my heart and a certain silver haired, idiotic yet adorable man on my mind.

"I love you," I mumble shyly, holding eye contact despite my heated cheeks and racing heart.

His whole face lights up with his smile, sparkly brown eyes outshining all the stars in the sky as he cups my cheeks in his warm palms. "I love you more."

Stepping out of my car, I pick up my purse and head inside, sharing a knowing look with the familiar security guard on my way to the elevators. It feels so good to be back, the year-long bad memories vanishing with every step I take. To my home—to my heart. The man my heart calls out for like a rescued fish returning to sea.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach when I arrive on his floor, taking my time to walk down the brightly lit hallway. I wonder what is in store for me tonight. After all, when it comes to Baekhyun, anything can be awaiting me on the other side of that door. Possibilities are endless.

Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door, smiling softly when it opens seconds later only for my jaw to drop to the floor.

Baekhyun... with his silver hair parted to the side, wearing fucking brown eyeshadow. That new black blazer of his has buttons on the ends of the sleeves, sitting perfectly on his broad shoulders. But the real sight to behold is lower down on his body, starting from his half-buttoned black shirt showing his honey-toned chest. That view alone could send a woman into a coma, but then he had to tuck his shirt into a pair of snug leather pants. The belt around his hips shows off the curves of his waist and those damn black heeled boots are back again.

I don't even care that he can see me practically drooling—I already know what's on my menu for tonight.

"Hey," He smiles charmingly, taking my breath away.

I take a moment to compose myself, peeking at him from under my eyelashes with a smile of my own. "Hi, B."

His eyes and smile soften. "Come in, it's cold out." He steps aside to let me in, closing the door behind me.

Humming softly, I relish in his alluring cinnamon scent. "Not really," I mumble distractedly, thinking of how much warmer I feel at the sight of him while he helps me take off my coat. The way his breath hitches has a smirk quirking at my red painted lips. "What are we having tonight?" I inquire, glancing over my shoulder at him.

Baekhyun's eyes immediately shoot up to mine. "D-Dinner," He coughs, trying to cover up his flushed face behind his hand.

"Oooo," I walk further into the apartment, following the spicy aroma of food and making my way to the kitchen. "Okay. What did you order in?"

"Actually," Baekhyun's citrus shampoo floats in the air when I reach the doorway, staring at the set table with wide eyes. "I made it myself," He mumbles shyly, the cool plastic of the flower pinned to his blazer brushing against my back.

"Holy shit…" It's a fucking feast. Fresh salad, crunchy garlic bread, and the most appetizing platter of spaghetti that I've ever seen in my life. Not only that, the single-lit candle in the middle of the table has my heart and below squeezing in earnest. This cheeky little hopeless romantic.

"The meat is turkey-based," Baekhyun perks up after a few moments, walking around to place used pots and pans in the sink. Busying his fidgety hands with moving everything off of the counter. "I bought hot sauce but didn't put much because I didn't know if you'd like it spicy or not."

Walking further into the room, I rest my hand on the back of a chair, watching him with a lick of my lips.

Baekhyun continues occupying himself with everything in the kitchen, not even noticing when I slowly approach him. "The toast is on the softer side and I have some sweet tomatoes in the fridge-"

Fuck it.

I grab him by his jacket when he turns around, tugging on him so hard that a few buttons pop off and scatter around on the floor.

Baekhyun gasps, stumbling a little before bracing his hands on the surface behind me, the dishes on the dining table rattling under our joined weight. "Riley-"

I smash my lips to his, kissing him with fervor, backing him up until his back presses against the counter. I'm relentless with tugging and biting down on his bottom lip, capturing it between my teeth. He moans right into my mouth when I part his lips, sucking hard on his tongue.

The audible smack of our messy kiss echoes around the walls of his apartment, steadily building up tension in my stomach and the ache between my legs. Baekhyun softly huffs and puffs for air after a few minutes, pulling back to catch his breath with rosy, lipstick-smeared lips. "D-Dinner-"

"I'd rather eat something else," I utter lowly, rubbing my hand down his chest. My eyes flicker back up to his wide orbs just in time to catch him gulping, his warm brown eyes darkening significantly.

He looks at me for a long moment, hesitation vivid in his body language. I step closer, cupping his cheek before pressing my lips to his, gently coaxing his soft lips to dance with mine. Baekhyun takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms around me, the caress of his hands over my exposed skin leaving goosebumps in their wake.

This, I muse, shivering in delight when my body is fully pressed against his, is what has been missing.

He grows more daring the longer our lips lock, his warm hands sliding up the back of my thighs and venturing under my dress, bunching up the fabric. His fingertips teasingly slipping between my thighs has my pussy quivering, my own palms tugging on his tucked in shirt to feel more of his skin. Baekhyun grips my ass before spinning us around, hoisting me up onto the counter while I tangle my hand in his hair, my lips still glued to his. I moan when his fingers land on my clothed core, welcoming him between my parted legs.

"You're so wet," He breathes, a look of awe on his face. Sweat is already dripping down from the edges of his hairline, casting his skin in a dewy glow under the dancing candle lights.

"I'm not the only one," I murmur, tapping the back of my fingers on the bulge in his snug pants.

Baekhyun groans, pulling me into another kiss, making me gasp when he tugs me closer to the edge of the counter, his hardon right against my heated core. I shiver, wanting to widen my legs and close them at the same time when he rolls his hips, the thin fabric of my lace thong doing nothing to conceal his erection from my throbbing clit.

Our loud moans and sloppy kisses fill the air, the temperature rising in the room with every roll of his talented hips. I tighten my grip on his hair, gritting my teeth to hold back the tension building between my legs. 11 months has been way too long for me to not be intimate with someone like this, but looking up at Baekhyun's already fucked out face, I wouldn't have it any other way.

With shaky hands and quivering legs, I reach down to undo Baekhyun's belt, flinging it out of my way before pulling his zipper down. My hand slips a few times when he moves my thong to the side, sliding his middle finger into my greedy core.

"Ah…" I pant, tilting my head back as he trails searing kisses down my neck. "Fuck." The feeling of him inside of me after so long has me squeezing my thighs around his waist, fighting the wave threatening to fall over me when he finds my sweet spot immediately.

"So good for me," He murmurs, sucking my earlobe between his teeth. He slips in another finger when I finally pull his cock out of his boxers, swirling my fingers around his tip and stroking him in my firm grip. We speed up as we pant into each other's mouths, too turned on and drowned in pleasure to keep up with our kiss.

"Fuck, baby." He pulls back, cheeks flushed a pretty red hue, "C-condom-"

"No time for that." I shake my head, digging my heels into his lower back only to pause, narrowing my eyes at him. "Unless-"

He shut me up with a kiss this time. "No." He murmurs, meeting my eyes, his firm grip tightening on my hips. "No one else but you."

I am surprised by his answer, but I just nod, letting him continue. I might not be able to read Baekhyun like a book as he says I do, but I know he doesn't fuck around when it comes to his health. Let alone when it concerns the pretty, thick dick he has. Brushing his hair away to look into his eyes, I part my lips only for my breath to hitch, blushing at the feeling of him aligning his cock with my entrance.

"May I?" He murmurs, resting his forehead on mine.

The annoying throb between my legs has me clenching my teeth. "If you don't-" I gasp, clutching onto his shoulders as he slides in to the hilt. The burn of him inside me after so long is more than I expected.

Baekhyun pauses to let me adjust, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips that just makes me spasm around him. A gasp escapes him in turn, his slender fingers digging into the soft swell of my hips. "Easy, baby." He strains, voice deepened in lust.

"Easy for you to say," I grumble through gritted teeth, my back arching when he circles his hips. He presses flush against my goosebump-covered skin, giving me warmth as he starts up a comfortable rhythm, spreading my legs as far as the counter will allow. I can't help but gulp, leaning back against my braced palms. Just the view of his stunning body fully dressed beside his unzipped leather pants is messing with my head, let alone his cock pressing every spot within my walls that drives me insane.

Baekhyun pulls out, and before I can say anything, I hear his knees hitting the floor. Silver locks of hairbrush against my inner thighs moments before warm, wet sensation brushes against my clit.

"Mmm," He moans, tightening his grip on my thighs when I jolt. He pulls me even closer to the edge of the counter, placing my legs over his shoulders, "Come here."

All I can manage to do is tangle my fingers in his luscious locks. Hopefully they are strong enough to sustain my knee-jerking tugs when he drags his lips over my core, sticking his tongue into my hole and taking my folds between his lips. Baekhyun is just… gentle, slurping and smacking his lips against my throbbing core without a care. He's taking his time down there as if he has all the time in the world. I feel bad for my arousal dripping onto the counter and all over his chin—it's embarrassing, but it's never been this… this good.

"So sweet," He murmurs, sliding his warm palms up my waist.

Trying my best not to succumb to the coil in my stomach, I risk a glance down at him. The sight of his tongue poking out from between his coated lips to caress my swollen nub in the gentlest of ways has me tensing up—even more so when his brown eyes flicker up to meet mine.

"Baekhyun." I pant, tugging harder on his hair.

"Come on," He breathes, gripping my hips when I start to tremble.

"B-Baekhyun." It takes everything in me to hold on, bracing myself against the counter. "I want you inside…" I throw my head back when he slips a finger inside, quickly followed by another.

"Give it to me." He demands, so softly in an airy tone, his breath hitching at a particularly hard tug on his roots. He's damn near pleading for it and it's driving me crazy. "Come all over my face, baby."

Yeah, there's no winning this fight. With his lewd words and soft lips wrapping tight around my clit, rolling it around inside of his mouth with his tongue, that's it. Game over. How I managed this long without falling over the edge by the works of his mouth is a mystery within itself.

Baekhyun doesn't stop humming and massaging my clit with his lips until I softly push his head away, closing my shaking legs. He stands back up, sliding his hands up my thighs and leaning in for a kiss. It's different from the others we've shared tonight, filled with a certain hint of gentleness and love that matches the yearning and adoration in his sparkly brown eyes.

"Fuck, Riley." Baekhyun pulls back, cock twitching in my hand when I rotate my wrist. He cards a hand through his hair, chuckling in disbelief. "You are driving me crazy."

"Yeah?" I drawl, wrapping my thighs around his waist. "Come show me crazy."

"I'm not gonna last…" He admits, looking worried.

"How long do you plan on loving me, Byun Baekhyun?" I demand, tucking my index finger under his chin for him to face me.

Baekhyun's eyes dance like shimmering orbs of light. "Until my last dying breath."

"Well," I breathe, butterflies fluttering my stomach when his words settle in. "I'm sure we can fit in plenty of rounds until then."

The sweetest smile forms on his handsome face before his brows knit together, biting his bottom lip when I pull him back inside, digging my heels into his back.

"Don't hold back," I whisper into his ear, brushing my lips over his neck. Baekhyun takes a shaky breath, pulling away until only his tip is in my sensitive core. The bruising grip he has on my hips is the only warning I get before he plunges back inside.

Baekhyun doesn't hold back in the slightest. He sets a fast, near brutal pace, lifting my hips to slam inside of me at an angle that has me screaming his name, clinging onto his clothed shoulders for dear life.

"Fuck, baby." He groans, his steady rhythm taking on sloppy, shallow thrusts. The squelch of our joined bodies stirs up an unexpected heat in me. "I'm gonna-"

"Yeah," I breathe, locking my legs around the back of his trembling thighs. My heart and pussy clench in earnest at the expression on his face.

Baekhyun pants, sweat dripping down his forehead and falling off of his jaw. The flap of his jacket exposing his chest with his shaky movements. "Can I-"

I lick the salty sweat from his heated skin, sucking harshly where his collarbone meets his gorgeous neck. "Inside me, B."

He groans the loudest one of the night, hiding his face in my neck as he pounds into me. His cum spills deep inside, hot and messy. The warmth of it triggers my own release. I have to bite down on his shoulder to contain the uncontrollably loud moan that's ripped from my throat with his final gentle thrusts.

Baekhyun slows down to a stop, his chest flushed to mine while we try to regain our breath. The smell of sweat and sex permeating the air has me giggling breathlessly, running my fingers through his damp hair.

"Fuck—baby," He mutters, hurrying to pull out. "Your dress."

"It's-" I moan, biting my lip when he slides his fingers back in.

"Where's a towel," He frantically looks around, the most comically concerned expression on his handsome, dewy face. "There it is! Ah, it's too far away... I'm sorry, baby-" He stops when I wrap my hand around his wrist, slipping his cum covered fingers between my lips.

"Take it off of me," I whisper, staring right into his dilated eyes.

"You'll be cold," He murmurs, looking between my eyes and my mouth sucking on his fingertips.

"Then warm me up," I purr, wrapping my thighs back around his waist.

Baekhyun's jaw drops, his cock already stirring against me. I reach down to take him into my hand, rubbing my fingers around his tip. "You'll be the death of me." He groans, tangling his hand in my hair and pulling me into a searing kiss.

Hours later, we're curled up in bed. My head on his pillow with his hands in my hair.

"W-Will you stay the night?" Baekhyun whispers, brown eyes no longer showing signs of tiredness.

I smile, completely in love with this new side of him. Baekhyun, in all that he is, is the most beautiful man in the world. "Of course, baby," I murmur, tracing random shapes on his honey skin.

He perks up with the most beautiful smile growing on his face, gently pulling me closer until my head rests on his chest, his fast-beating heart a dead giveaway to how happy he is. I kiss over his heart, looking up into his shimmering brown pools of love. Is he...? Gently swiping my finger under his eye has a tear falling down his cheek. And another. And another…

"You mean everything to me," He breathes, arms and legs tangled so much with mine I don't know where he ends and I begin.

I smile, falling asleep to the beat of his steady heart and the security of his warm arms. "You mean the world to me."

•••

Time goes by so fast when you're happy and in love, turning even your hardest days into nights that you want to remember. Just having that person you love the most by your side, through thick and thin, for better or for worse, makes all the difference in the world.

—The only downside is how agonizing time passes when you are apart.

I pop my bubble gum with my chin resting in my palm, humming and tapping my pen on my desk. After catching up on a day's worth of paperwork, (blame my procrastination… and spending the weekend at Baekhyun's,) I'm bored, impatiently waiting for noon. There's only one way to fix this mood before I'm in a slump for the rest of the day, and looking at the home screen of my phone, I plan to arrange that very soon.

As soon as 12:00 pops up on the clock, I tap the first number on my speed dial, pressing my ringing phone to my ear.

"Hello?" His honey-smooth voice flutters over the line.

"Baekhyun." I apply a fresh layer of lip gloss to my lips, tucking away my hair to make sure my diamond earrings don't get tangled. "Are you free for lunch?"

"Yeah." He mumbles distractedly, shuffling papers filter through the call before a door shuts.

"Come over." I demand, hanging up. Pushing back from my desk, I walk over to my vanity table, straightening out my black lace, sleeveless bra from under my robe. It's mid-Spring again, already hot enough to wake me up in the middle of the night when I don't sleep with my fan on. The perfect excuse for what I have planned for my "week off" of work. I don't care how many business meetings I have to host from the comfort of my own home.

The doorbell rings just as I'm smoothing down my hair, checking my reflection one last time in the mirror. I make my way out of my bedroom and into the living room, pulling the door open with haste.

Baekhyun stands on the other side with wide, frantic eyes, dressed impeccably in a black suit with his slicked back silver hair the slightest bit ruffled. "Riley, what-"

I yank him inside, crashing my lips to his, pressing his body to the door before it slams shut. His scent surrounds me in seconds, vanilla-scented clothes with traces of smoke. The rich citrus of his soft hair and the hint of musk on his skin from a long day of work. My hands are undoing his tucked in shirt before he can get a word in.

"Riley." He grunts, holding me close as I trail messy kisses down his gorgeous neck. I walk backwards to the couch, toppling onto it with him following me.

"How long before your next meeting?" I murmur, pulling him closer by his tie.

Baekhyun visibly gulps, brown eyes darkening significantly before they flicker back up to mine. "They'll survive." He chuckles, licking his lips, leaning in for another frenzied kiss.

Yeah, Baekhyun wasn't kidding about him being a workaholic—which I already knew, but damn if it isn't annoying sometimes. He's more busy stressing over the new designs for his clothing line than helping me plan his 27th birthday party. All my subtle questions to find out what he would want have been futile. It's just been him typing on that damn computer of his for hours.

I go around spraying the plants in his office, talking sweetly to each of them to make sure they get enough Co2. Their droopy leaves need some perking up with the sheer amount of gloom coming off of Baekhyun's furiously typing form.

He abruptly stops, sighing loudly for the 100th time today. "I should give up."

"Nooo," I pout, walking behind his chair to wrap my arms around his neck, taking a small peek at the rough sketches on his computer. " Keep going, don't give up now."

Baekhyun smiles tiredly, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. "What do you know about that, hmm?"

"A bit." I smile softly, lightly resting my head on his. "Things may seem shaky now. Just out of reach. No longer within your control." Twirling his hair around my finger, I smile to myself. "But that's okay, it means you are being challenged. And a challenge conquered to the best of your abilities will do you a lot of good." I close my eyes, basking in his presence and comforting scent. "So keep going, you'll never know what you are capable of until you reach the end."

My eyes snap open when Baekhyun suddenly spins around, staring up at me with wide, teary brown eyes. "B-" I wheeze, not expecting him to pull me into his arms, hugging me like a lifeline. "Baekhyun…?" I try again, growing alarmed when his tears wet the front of my shirt.

He only holds me tighter in response, his chest silently heaving against mine. I slowly wrap my arms around him and gently tangle my fingers in his hair, pressing a kiss to his ear.

He's adorable, in every way, shape, and form. Ugh, I'm going to end up in a love-induced coma one day with the way my heartbeat always skips when I'm around him. No matter if I'm meeting him for lunch or if he comes to work across from me at my desk when I'm chasing deadlines, I wouldn't change a thing for the world.

—Except maybe his sense of timing things.

I startle awake, clutching my racing heart with unsteady breathing. The details of my nightmare slowly fade away, but it does little to calm me down. Feeling a sense of urgency, I clumsily search around for my phone. I'll text Baekhyun; I need to make sure he is okay.

My eyes squint at the bright screen of my phone, not expecting to check it in the middle of the night, let alone the notification I find there.

Baekhyunee💘💕🥺💓😘

Thursday, 2:34 am

Riley

Hlep

I nee d u

I fly out of bed like a bat out of hell, rushing over to his apartment, nearly hitting three pedestrians on the way. Parking hazardly in the first empty parking spot I find before jumping out and all but running to the fourth floor. I pound on his door loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood until he opens up, revealing bloodshot eyes and a can of beer in his hand.

"Baekhyun, what's wrong?" I pant, resting my hands on my knees and frantically looking him over. He mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. "What?" I demand, trying to catch my breath.

"I-I just..." He mumbles sluggishly, slouching his shoulders with sadness in his puppy eyes. "I just miss you."

My frantic heart softens. "Get inside and sit down." I demand, pressing a kiss to his cheek before closing the door.

I love this man so fucking much. Even if he annoyingly wakes me up sometimes at 2 to 3 am, I'd run over to his place with my baggy pants and sleeping cap in a heartbeat.

•••

June rolls back around before I know it. This time, however, I plan to decline Jongin's offer to participate in the dance competition again. But to my uttermost surprise, he'll be taking Kyungsoo instead. For tap dancing.

???

Just how multi-talented is Baekhyun's group of friends? Spare me some of that energy, please?

Speaking of friends, Chanyeol's tall figure invited us over to his house today, the mansion that he used to share with Baekhyun and Jongdae.

—I have a grudge against him right now though because he literally called Baekhyun in the middle of the night to challenge him to some video game duel. The comical way his face changed when he saw me glaring at him from the corner of their video call though. By the end of their conversation, an invite was extended to me and Sehun too. It's "best friends" night, and boy do I have a lesson for Park Chanyeol. Lesson one: never underestimate a woman on a mission. In work, life, or on the playing field.

"Damn, man," I mumble, looking wide eyed at the huge flat screen TV and various game consoles around the room. "Leave you alone with the mansion for 2 years and you stocked up your mancave to the finest degree."

Chanyeol flicks a few buttons on the wall next to the door that dims the lights, letting the bright TV and a few arcade games illuminate the room. Baekhyun's eyes twinkle brighter than anything else in the spacious room. He goes over to chat with Chanyeol while I stand in the doorway with Sehun.

"Hey," I whisper, nudging him. "Remember when you used to stream your games back in the day? And the pink hair?"

"Oh yeah." Sehun chuckles while I notice Chanyeol perk up out of the corner of my eye. "I had a setup similar to this back at home." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, taking another look around. "Less impressive though," He mutters, crinkling his nose.

Chanyeol quickly walks over. "Number one victory royale?" He asks, eyes wide. "King of the south-bound?"

"Moisty mire extraordinaire...?" Sehun inquires, eyes widening as well.

Chanyeol stares him down for a long, hard minute, and then raises his hand. "Truce?"

Sehun smirks, gripping Chanyeol's hand firmly in his. "Truce."

I blink, more than confused. Baekhyun catches my eye and just winks.

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

I'm having a huge dilemma—no, a midlife crisis. All hell is about to break loose and I'll be in the center of it.

Baekhyun asked me out on a date—I know, I know, listen!

He asked me out on a date… with barely any hints on what to wear.

He didn't say, "wear whatever you want," when I called him earlier. He told me to, "wear something nice."

Nice?! Nice. That's all I got while he remained tight-lipped about his own outfit. At least give me a color, man!!!

So, here I am, swiping clothes left and right in my closet like a madwoman until my eyes land on the perfect dress. One of sheer beauty and elegance.

A white, off the shoulder, hollowed out strapless mini dress with floral patterns from start to finish. The sleeves are made completely out of lace, the ends resting beautifully on the back of my hand. I smile at my reflection in the mirror, keeping my makeup light, only focused on enhancing my features. My phone buzzes just as I recap my eyeliner.

Your chariot awaits.

Giggling, I quickly type up a reply, tucking my phone into my clutch while wondering what this 'chariot' could be. Baekhyun sure does fancy using these cheesy words lately it seems.

Strutting down to the parking lot as gracefully as this dress will allow, I feel thankful for the warm summer night air. Bugs and I, when I'm wearing a dress like this, I need all the warmth I can get.

A blue jeep pulls up and honks at me, confusing me for a second because it isn't Baekhyun's Audi until they roll the passenger window down, revealing Jongdae's ever-bored face.

I blink a few times. "...What kind of low budget uber is this?"

"Yah!" Chanyeol loudly protests, barely overpowering Jongdae's rambunctious laughter. He glares at the brunet clutching his stomach.

"Hop in, Cinderella." Jongdae chuckles as the car doors unlock.

I carefully climb into the back seat, readjusting the hem of my dress.

"Someone got all dolled up tonight." Jongdae grins, shooting a teasing look back at me.

"Ubers don't talk much, Dae." I point out, watching the city lights fly by while Chanyeol pulls off and navigates us down barely familiar roadways. "Where are we going?"

Chanyeol meets my eye in the rearview mirror. "Where do you think?"

"If I didn't have your mother's number on my speed dial I'd call the police, Park," I grumble, resting my elbow on the car door and my chin in my palm. Jongdae's laughter quirks a smile on my lips while Chanyeol continues driving with furrowed brows and a grumpy frown on his face.

After a while of speeding cars and the radio quietly playing, a certain blue building catches my eye. "Where are we?" I perk up, my eyes widening at a sign in the distance. "Is this...?"

"UN Village," Jongdae supplies.

"Step on the gas, Yeol."

"I-I'm not sure you want to do that, Riley." Jongdae tries to diffuse the situation, his weary features flickering over to the competitive expression forming on Chanyeol's face. "You could get motion sickness and-"

"I thought you were the fastest on the road, Yeol," I fake pout, subtly making sure my seatbelt is secure. "I guess I was wrong."

"Oh yeah?" The tall oaf counters, bursting for a challenge at this point.

"Riley," Jongdae tries again when Chanyeol sits up straighter, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Don't-"

I curl my lips up into a shameless, cheshire cat grin. "Betcha."

My back thuds against the seat when he accelerates. Chanyeol weaves in and out between other vehicles on the road like no one's business. Thankfully the traffic is light tonight and we are taking a lot of unpopular backroads. Heaven knows what would happen if he did this in the heart of Seoul.

Jongdae holds onto the passenger car door and the back of Chanyeol's seat for dear life, the reflection of him in the mirror looking a little green against the bright city lights. By the time Chanyeol slows to a stop, he's leaning his arm across the dashboard, tucking his head between his knees.

"Never," He croaks out, gasping for air. "Again."

Chanyeol's triumphant smirk has me holding back a giggle. I direct my eyes out the window to avoid Jongdae's disgruntled glare.

"Ha! You call that fast?" I grin, hopping out of the car on wobbly legs. "My Grandma can drive better than that."

"Riley," Jongdae pipes up weakly, holding his stomach while Chanyeol's nostrils flare, big brown eyes ablazed. "Don't encourage him, he isn't your ride home."

I begin to rebuke, but pause, noticing an odd building in the distance. "What the…" It's a giant white structure with a curved entrance, another one of those intricate places that the Hannam-dong architects must have loved to build here. "What kind of building is that?"

"Keep walking," Chanyeol nods, gesturing to the long walkway between the tall walls. "You'll see."

Butterflies erupt in my stomach, making me nervous for a moment, but the good gut feeling I get from looking between both their expressive eyes encourages me to move forward. "Thanks for the ride, Yeol," I say softly, patting his jeep before taking a few steps back. Smirking mischievously over at Jongdae. "Sorry for making you lose your lunch, Dae."

He waves me off with a fake annoyed expression, not able to hide the curl of his little smile.

I spin around on my heels, walking through the entrance between the two curved walls. The clicks of my heels on the pavement is the only sound I hear. Following the uneven path, I crinkle my nose, wondering what the hell Baekhyun is up to this time. Got me out here walking down curved pathways in the dark.

Well, apparently the building curls all the way around to a see-through door in the middle, but that isn't what makes me stop in my tracks. It's that flash of familiar silver hair.

Baekhyun leans against the wall with his silver hair parted in the middle, twinkling under the bright lights. Wearing a white blazer, a white t-shirt and silver leather pants. The metal of his belt catches the light along with the rings on his fingers and accessory necklaces adorning his neck.

I snap my jaw shut, making my way over to him. "Baekhyun…"

He smiles warmly, little strands of hair dangling in his eyes in the most handsome way. "Hey."

"Hi," I whisper. "You look…" Eyeing him from head to toe—to those damn sexy heeled boots, I'm at a loss for words. "Wow."

Baekhyun chuckles, moving off of the wall to walk closer to me, taking me by the hand. "You look beautiful as well," He murmurs, kissing every knuckle on the back of my hand.

I feel my face heat up all the way up to my ears. I've only been out here with him for 5 minutes and I'm already about to faint from the softness blooming in my frantic heart. "What are we doing tonight?" I ask softly, not sure if I want to keep gazing into his sparkly brown eyes or look away from the butterfly-inducing adoration written all over his face.

"It's a surprise," Baekhyun supplies, chuckling at the impatient expression on my face. He brings my hand to his cheek, staring deeply into my eyes. "Walk with me?"

My heart goes into overdrive. With that look on your face? I couldn't deny you if I tried.

I nod and let him take the lead, resting my head on his shoulder. There's something about being with him at night like this. Something unexplainable and magical in the air. The soft fabric of his blazer brushing against my cheek and the light July wind blowing through his hair. He's so warm and smells so good I have to bite my tongue not to drag him back to my apartment just to curl up next to him on the couch.

Something tells me that tonight will be a special one, but really, if it's with Baekhyun, anywhere and everywhere, I'll love it either way.

I notice something out of the corner of my eye when we step out onto a sidewalk, briefly lifting my head from Baekhyun's shoulder. "Dokseodang Children's Park?" I mumble curiously.

Baekhyun hums. "This is my favorite place." His eyes sweep over the slightly aged equipment, resting a hand on my back.

Humming myself, I start to reply only for my eyes to dart over at the dirt road ahead.

Baekhyun immediately takes notice, coming to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk. "What is it, hmm?"

I look up at the annoyingly buzzing light pole. "That flickering light-"

Baekhyun snaps his fingers, and the whole world goes black for a moment, then a dozen lights twinkle in the darkness. Fireflies lighting up the night under the shine of the full moon.

"Come on." His honey-smooth voice rings, softly squeezing my hand before leading the way. I rest my other hand on his arm and watch my every step, realizing we are climbing a hill with the deep slope brushing against the front of my heels. Grass crunches under our footsteps, crickets sing their late night songs of cheer, and then I see a peek of something bright as we near the top of the hill. I gasp, nearly tripping in my haste to get a closer look, my heartbeat skyrocketing when we reach the edge of the steep hill.

A stunning table seated for two sits in the middle of the plateau, with a cooler holding an unopened bottle of champagne. Dome-covered plates are set on the white table cloth and a few candles are lit on the table. Vanilla fragrance flutters in the gentle wind as I take in the dozens of lanterns hung up in the tree above. Brightening up the area surrounded by miles upon miles of other rolling hills without outshining the moon. I even spot the UN Village sign at the other side of the park; you can see everything from up here.

"Baekhyun…"

He smiles so brightly when I look at him. "Yes, my love?"

You mesmerizing little hopeless romantic. I can only press a kiss to his soft cheek, hugging him.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," I mumble into the safety of his shoulder.

He rests his head on mine, hugging me to his chest. "Then why are you hiding, hmm?"

"I love it so much," I mutter, fully content to stay here for a few more minutes. "It's so pretty I have tears in my eyes. I can't believe you."

Baekhyun chuckles, rubbing my back so soothingly it takes all my strength to not melt further against him. The heavenly scent of vanilla once again meets my nose; we have a date waiting for us.

Slowly pulling away, I look into his sparkly brown eyes, smiling shyly before making my way over to the table. He's a step ahead of me in an instant, pulling out a chair for me while I giggle, hiding my adoring smile and red face behind my hand. God, my heart is racing so hard I swear it's threatening to jump out and run to him.

I give him a grateful smile, my skin buzzing under the familiarity of his gentle touch when he pushes me in, his citrus and cinnamon scent perfectly blending with the vanilla while he walks to take his own seat across from me.

Baekhyun sighs softly, tilting his head with a nearly playful smile. "Ready?"

Grinning a little, I tilt my head to the opposite side, relishing in the twinkles of amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He chuckles. "On three?"

I nod, gripping the handle on the top of the dome cover with another smile.

"One," He leans closer to his dome, mischief swirling in his brown eyes. "Two."

More than amused, I play along, butterflies fluttering in my stomach under his beaming smile.

"Three!"

I lift up the dome, setting it aside while taking in the food neatly arranged on the plate. It's a Korean cuisine that I haven't seen before, full of delectable vegetables and tender meat. Watching Baekhyun take his first bite has my mouth watering for two reasons. I carefully cut a slice of beef, closing my eyes when it melts on my tongue. Holy shit, who is the chef behind this? That person needs a raise.

"Kyungsoo made it," Baekhyun smiles, chuckling when I hum at my next bite. "I have to help him out next week though," He frowns, nearly pouting. "He doesn't like doing things last minute."

Recalling the whole ordeal for Jenny's birthday, I can't help but laugh. "I know," I smile, resting my chin in my palm.

Baekhyun smiles, his nose scrunching adorable while cutting another piece of meat.

Conversation flows naturally between us, as always. Baekhyun is just like that, an easy person to talk to, but it's much different than before. He hums a lot, resting his chin on his palm while gazing at me with adoring and attentive eyes, the tiniest of loving smiles on his face. If I wasn't wearing this expensive white dress, I'd lean over the table and kiss the hell out of him.

However, the mood changes slightly when we are nearly done. He keeps tapping his fingers on the table and his foot against the leg of his chair, clearing his throat with a worried expression on his face.

"Bae?" I call softly, tilting my head at his lack of response. Tired of the constant clink of his leather boot against the wooden chair, I nudge my foot against his. "Are you alright?"

He blinks, sitting up straight at once. "Yes, love." He clears his throat again, smiling shyly. "Wanna dance with me?"

"Dance?" I look around at the grassy nature and chirping wildlife, meeting his eyes again. "There isn't any music here, B."

He shakes his head, standing up. "Yes there is."

"I-" I go quiet when he takes my hand, resting it over his beating heart. Looking up into his imploring brown eyes, I start to understand. I nod, slowly standing up as well, following him over to the empty side of the hill.

Baekhyun lifts up our joined hands, interlocking our fingers together and resting his other one on the small of my back. I rest my free hand on his shoulder, gazing deeply into his brown pools of warmth. He makes the first move, slowly stepping forward while I take a step back. The crickets chirp louder with every movement we make, growing more confident by the minute.

Melting at the way his heart beats against mine, I look up at the stars, millions and billions of twinkling lights filling up the night sky. Meeting Baekhyun's gaze again, however, reminds me that not all the stars and planets combined can outshine the sparkling light in his warm brown eyes. He smiles softly as if hearing my thoughts, squeezing my hand before spinning me around, welcoming me right back into his loving arms.

I could spend forever like this, staring into his eyes and listening to his beating heart. Just the two of us while the rest of the world fades away, nothing but background noise to our undying love.

"Look," Baekhyun perks up, looking up at the stars. My eyes flicker up, widening at the shooting star streaking across the night sky. "Make a wish," He murmurs warmly, taking a step back.

Feeling a sense of hope and childlike urgency, I whip around to face the star head on. What should I wish for? The star is reaching the edge of the sky! Sensing Baekhyun's comforting figure behind me, I have all the answers I need.

I wish… Closing my eyes, I clasp my hands together, finding strength in the soft summer breeze. For a love like this, for all of eternity. The last few streaks of the star fade away when I open my eyes, smiling softly until I remember where I am and a certain someone who is with me. Where is Baekhyun? Stiffening up, I quickly spin around in alarm, slapping my hands over my mouth at the sight.

Baekhyun: on one knee, holding up a small jewelry box with shaky hands and vulnerable. "Why do you look so scared?" He breaks the ice, chuckling nervously.

"I thought you left," I blurt, snapping my mouth shut.

He laughs fully this time. "No." He shakes his head, smiling up at me with the sweetest of smiles. "I'm right here."

I take a deep breath, nodding slowly.

"I love you," He declares warmly, keeping his eyes steady on mine. "I love the way my name falls from your lips, the soft swell of your hips, the love in your fingertips." He smiles. "How your doe eyes go wide when you're surprised. The way you curl up next to me in your sleep when I'm working at night." A little grin forms on his face. "The shy expression you get when you ask if I want the rest of your food and that little song you always sing nonstop around the house when you're happy."

I cover my face in embarrassment, peeking at him from between my fingers.

Baekhyun chuckles, continuing, "I love the little notes you leave when you make me lunch. The way you squeak when I kiss right here." He taps the back of his right ear. "Your beautiful mind and all the mischief that comes with it..." He laughs a little. "The way you nag me when I don't dry my hair and yet always end up doing it for me anyway."

"Your sarcasm and loving touch," He murmurs, sparkles dancing bright in his eyes. "The dimples you try to hide when you smile." He cracks another grin. "Your quirky mismatched socks and way of talking." He laughs warmly when I groan, rethinking all my life choices. "How red your face gets when I compliment you." He hums. "Your loud, high pitched, raspy laugh that I know you hate but I simply adore."

"Oh my god," I cover my eyes, knowing how right he is and how hot my face feels right now.

"How sexy your accent is and how sassy you get when you're angry," He murmurs humorously, giving me a knowing look. "That high horse you climb on when you don't want to admit you are wrong that leaves me frustrated and amused at the same time." He chuckles, sighing softly, his voice taking on a gentler tone. "The look on your face when you cry that makes me want to hold you and hide you away from the world."

My heart squeezes as tears spring to my eyes. I sniffle softly, fanning my face while meeting his loving eyes.

"I love everything about you." He takes a shaky breath. "Not a day goes by where I'm not grateful for you coming into my life."

He looks down for a moment, blinking rapidly before flicking his hair out of his eyes. "I know I'm not much," He mumbles. "I-I know I've done so much shit in the past that you have every right to walk out on me for. I know that you deserve way better than me." He swallows thickly, lips trembling before he presses them into a thin line. "Even with all of this, I have some promises I want to make."

Baekhyun raises his head, reaching to take my hand in his. "I promise not to run away. I promise to communicate. I promise to stay by your side through every blessing and hardship you go through." My heart pounds at the determination in his words and sincerity in his shimmering eyes. "I may not be the perfect man for you." A hint of remorse sparks briefly in his brown eyes. "But I promise to love you with all that I have—with all that I am," He pauses, holding my hand securely in his. "Until my last dying breath… If I break any of these promises you have permission to kick me where the sun doesn't shine." He mumbles in a jokingly grumpy tone, smiling when I giggle.

"I promise to love you until the end of time." His voice starts to wobble, hands shaking while looking deep into my eyes. "Please," He opens the box, revealing a sparkly, rose gold ring with matching gems lining the sides. "Marry me, and be mine."

"Yes." I choke out, tears streaming down my face when I bend down to cup his tear-streaked cheeks in my hands. "Yes. Yes! A million times yes."

Baekhyun stands up, slipping the ring onto my ring finger with uttermost care. As soon as he's done, he pulls me close, sealing my lips in a searing kiss that I gladly let take my breath away.

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

"Unzip me?" I ask, peeking up at him from under my eyelashes.

Baekhyun hums and I spin around, chills going down my spine when his hands gently brush my hair out of the way, warm fingertips brushing over my cool skin. The instant relief of being free from the snug material has nothing on his quiet gasp as he slowly drags the zipper down. He steps back while I shrug off the dress, leaving it to pool at my feet before turning to face him.

His hair color looks out worldly under the favor of the moonlight; shining strands of silver and dark grey swaying with the summer breeze. The way the light reflects off his chains casts him in an eternal glow as he looks at me with those warm, brown eyes. The hints of adoration and need in those captivating orbs break me from my trance.

I take more steps until I'm standing in front of him, pushing his blazer off his shoulders and tilting my head to meet his awestruck gaze, my tone soft and warm, "Baekhyun."

He gulps, letting it fall to the floor while I rest my hand on his chest, placing the other on the back of his neck. The fast beating of his heart under my palm makes me smile before my lips press to his, savoring the taste of champagne on his tongue. I tighten my hold on him when he wraps his arms around my waist, backing me up to the bed.

I sit perched on the edge of the mattress, looking up at him when he pulls off his t-shirt, exposing lean muscle and honey-toned skin to my hungry eyes. I can't help rubbing down his chest and gazing at him from head to toe, smiling at the tint of pink to his cheeks. His leather pants join the scattered pile on the floor before he joins me on the bed, his gentle hands pulling off the rest of our clothes.

"You sure are being bashful tonight," I murmur, lightly tangling my fingers in his hair, relishing in how his warm body presses mine to the cool sheets.

Baekhyun smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to my collarbone. "Let's take things slow tonight." He meets my wide eyes with his adoring ones, pulling the covers over our bodies when I give a timid nod.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

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Cry with me

A/N:

HA! Y'all thought I was going to break these two up forever. I still had the Un Village scene left!!! >:'D A lot has happened in this long asf Finale and you know, on one hand (me being me) I'm never satisfied with it, HOWEVER those last two scenes? Yeah, that's the best for me. :')

Okay I NEED TO RANT for 2 minutes. *inhale*

I have never, ever EVER had such a hard time writing a character. My perfectionism really popped out in Jackson's scenes, I swear. I tried writing about this man and it just didn't feel right because I don't know him as well. I legit spent almost a week watching Youtube videos, GOT7 music videos, JACKSON SOLO VIDEOS and fell down a rabbit hole of smut (typical smfh) just to figure out how to present him properly! I know writing is all about how you present your character and how you can make them different than the person you base them off of but holy f*ck I wanted him accurate and that accuracy kicked me in my nonexistent balls… so that up there was the final result *deep exhale*

After all of this I can safely say that Jackson is one of my favorite soloists and member of GOT7 bye-

-THE ACTUAL END NOTE WITHOUT THE RAMBLING-

We've finally made it, loves. Six Phases is completed. It's been 2 long years of writing this story. 2 years full of laughter, smiles, dance breaks, hardships and tears.

I'm writing this end note before I even finish the story that you've read above. I'm writing this little note while on hiatus. I'm writing this while in the process of working on this story so I can heal - because that is the very reason this story was created. For healing. For growth.

The Baekhyun character you all know, see, hate and love? His expressions of love are heavily influenced by IRL Jenny; my girlfriend; my heart. My coauthor; my other half.

Without her, I wouldn't know genuine happiness, vulnerability, or to know that someone can love you unconditionally. Flaws and all. Without her, I would have stopped at chapter 4 and disappeared from the writing world forever. She taught me that it is okay to be open, my loud annoying rambling self and that I deserve to follow my dreams. She has stopped me from deleting this story a hundred times. She is the reason why I opened my heart time and time again to truly let these characters' voices be heard. Their flaws and all.

Every character is a part of me, but Baekhyun and Jenny are inspired by her. I can't express how grateful I am to her without crying on you; I've cried enough happy tears while finishing this lmao SO just know that she has helped me a lot with completing this story, and for what I will write in the future.

Before I end this note that has gone on for too long already, I want to express my gratitude and love to everyone who has helped me continue and finish this story. Please don't feel bad if I don't mention you directly, I have warmth in my heart for everyone who has read Six Phases. You being here means the world to me.

Loving Mentions

Miss Kay - you seriously don't know how much you have restored my love for this story. I'll never forget the first time you reblogged SP on tumblr and your comment still brings tears to my eyes. I always thought this story was garbage and seeing how much you enjoyed reading it encouraged me to pick up where I left off. Thank you for everything <3 I can't thank you enough.

Miss Jamie - I always love reading your comments and the theories you had with each new chapter of the story. I'll never forget that Minute Man joke, I swear. I'm still laughing over it. Not to be giddy but I always look forward to your comments ^^ Thank you for always sharing your thoughts about the story with me <3

Sherlock Holmes Anon - dear, you and your THEORIES!!! I adore them all. I love all the knowledge you've brought to the table about the meaning of the colors in this story and its universe. You are amazing and everything you are studying is paying off!!! Wishing you all the best in your studies ^^ show those exams who's boss, they got nothing on you and your lovely brain <333333

My aff loves

Beau1996, alexajjang, byundipyun,

queeniexoxo, byunsugar, Taqdees,

juntar, Vish15, baeknhyu,

Baekie_18, Endzii22, ohyeahbb, Shawolgurl, bbhmystar.

- thank you for all of your lovely comments. Your words made me the happiest in the world. Every time I used to get those instant aff notifs on my phone, I'd run across my house to read them, ahhh~~~ I always love hearing from you <33333

My tumblr lovelies - thank you sooo much for all the love and interactions you've given to my story T-T I'm not tearing up, it's the cake batter in my eyes. You guys are amazing.

My beloved anon readers, tumblr and aff commenters - I'm sending you so many freaking hugs and tissues for the angst you've been exposed to XD hearing the hot tea and ideas you had for this story was such a joy. Thank you <3

I've spent hours a day replying back to you all, no joke. Every comment is precious to me and I always want to give back what you all have given me <333 I hope this story's ending was a happy one for you, I've had it planned since fall 2020 and I'm so happy to finally be able to share it with all of you.

Thank you, for interacting, commenting, subscribing, and upvoting. I appreciate all the love you've given this baby (haha) fic of mine more than you can ever imagine. This story is dedicated to all of you <3

-and oh, don't worry. This isn't the end of Baekhyun & Riley's story, this is only the beginning. <3

Thank you, can't wait to see you soon 0:) <3

~Love a million times over, Nisa

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#baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun romance #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun angst #The End #Six Phases

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hotchscvm · 3 years

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chapter one: a midsummer’s nightmare [dirty secrets]

Chapter summary: Her father’s death brings in two hunters into her life.

Series warnings: underage reader, consensual underage sex, explicit sexual content, underage drinking, language, violence, gore, angst, major character death, major age difference, size kink, unprotected sex

Chapter warnings: minor character death, implied attraction, language, decapitation, implied underage drinking

Word count: 4.8k

dirty secrets masterlist

"Don't you look ... depressed." you mumbled, taking a seat next to the spaced out, lacrosse co-captain. You poked your finger into his dimple, smiling when he broke out of his daze. The sand shifted under you, the dampness pulling at the ripped denim. "Why're you staring at the ocean like you lost the love of your life?"

Emmett chuckled, taking the cheap beer from your hand, swallowing it all before grinning at you. Your best friend from middle school that had to be dragged out of his sweats draped an arm around you. "I was trying to look mysterious. This bonfire is a bore, by the way."

"I know, last year seemed more fun, didn't it?" you agreed, laying your head on his shoulder, the muscles making it slightly uncomfortable. "How's the hand?"

"It's fine, don't worry. You said you had something to tell me, remember? What is it? Are you secretly in love with your bodyguard? The buffy one that keeps glaring at me?" Emmett joked, groaning when he felt your elbow hitting his ribs. "Ow!"

"These FBI agents came to the house today and asked a bunch of questions about my dad's old partner. They never said anything about what the guy did so I was wondering if you heard anything on the news? The guy's name is Andrew Daniels. I looked him up but nothing came up." you informed. "My dad was acting edgy."

Emmett raised an eyebrow, flinching when the water crept to his feet. "I haven't heard anything. What did the Feds ask you?"

"If I remembered anything about him basically. They were really hot, by the way. Especially the tall one, and his partner had the most beautiful green eyes--"

"Okay, okay, okay. I get it, they were hot." he interrupted, waving a hand to stop you from finishing the sentence. "Other from being interrogated by the Feds, did anything else happen?"

"Nah, I just watched my skin burn for the rest of the day, what about you?"

"Declan came home today, and we worked out. He kept asking about you, wondering if you were dating anyone. He's so fucking annoying. Did you really have to date my brother?" asked Emmett, playing with the solo cup before throwing it into the ocean.

The party behind you had started to die down after the first few hours, turning into a chill hangout around the large bonfire, while others wandered out into the dark ocean. The light from the tacky fairy lights and the burning fire was enough for everyone to see the major part of the beach without difficulties.

"My bad." you shrugged, noticing a movement from the corner of your eye. Glancing to your left, you saw two familiar faces, an eyebrow lifting. Green eyes in the dark met yours, and you quickly look away, mumbling under your breath. "Well, fuck me."

Emmett stiffened, looking in the direction you had, confused and wary. "What? What's going on?"

"Those are the agents I told you about," you said, biting your lip to hold back the smile. You had no reason to smile, especially if they were here but they made an impression, and the tuxes certainly helped.

"Dude, one of them is coming over. Stop smiling like you're the joker. I know you like them but chill." Emmett elbowed your ribs lightly, enough to knock the maniac smile off your face.

The sound of the ocean was loud enough to drown your whispers as Banner walked over. The suit had been replaced with a plaid flannel paired with a heavy, drab coat, and a pair of jeans that looked uncomfortable. With the confidence, he carried, he seemed, even more, intimidating out of his suit.

"Ms. Pierce?" Agent Banner checked, watching as you stood from your seat, his lips quirking into a smile.

Emmett stood with you, not missing the barely visible twinkle in your eyes. Fixing your denim shorts, you returned the smile. "Agent Banner. You don't have to call me Ms. Pierce. I mean, I told you my name for a reason."

He chuckled, goosebumps rising on your arm as he murmured your name. "Alright, well then, I'm Sam."

"Okay, Sam. Oh, um, this is my friend, Emmett." you motioned to the blond beside you, a smug smirk etched on his face despite his attempts to bite it back.

"I was going to get more ... water. Be right back." Emmett injected before Sam could say anything. He left immediately, practically running back to the bonfire where many teens had circled around.

Sam stuffed his hands in his jacket's pockets, looking at the ground as Emmett left you alone with the man you wanted to climb like a tree. Your nails dug into your palm as you clench a fist, trying to contain what Emmett called your 'inner slut.' "What exactly are you doing here, Agent?"

"Sam." he corrected, a stray hair falling over his eyes. Sam brushed it back, his eyes never leaving yours. "I wouldn't want to worry you anymore than we've probably have. We're handling the situation, but you should avoid Finn Burke."

Dread washed through you, as did confusion. "Finn Burke? Whatever your thinking, you're wrong. I've known Finn my whole life and he's not the kind of person who'd do anything illegal. He's so vanilla and lowkey boring."

The brunette in front of you raised a brow, a little surprised by the honesty. "I wouldn't be too sure. Promise me you'll keep your distance from him. At least, until we've handled the situation."

"And what does that mean?" you asked, crossing your arms, patiently waiting for the gorgeous Fed to answer.

He opened his mouth, only to close it a second later. Sam shook his head, taking a step back. "Don't think too much about it."

Before you could question him, someone called your name. Looking behind Sam, you saw your friends, Katherine and Crystal wiggling their eyebrows, Katherine winked at you while Crystal bravely humped the air. A laugh escaped your lips, causing Sam to turn around. They immediately stopped, quickly turning around, their shoulders shaking from laughter. Unfortunately, Sam had seen enough to blush profusely.

You giggled, covering your grin with your hand. You changed the subject quickly, "You look like a narc. Like, one of those cops from 21 Jump Street who shops at Lumberjacks 'R' Us. I'd say you're the Channing Tatum, but you're taller than him."

Sam chuckled, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I'd expect you to say that considering how short you are. Hey! Not in a bad way, it's cute how tiny you are."

"I don't think that counts, everyone shorter than six feet belongs in the short category for you." you replied, struggling to keep from blushing at his previous statement. "I mean, you're a giant."

This warranted a laugh from Sam. Peeking behind you, he spotted Dean waving him over, an annoyed expression imprinted onto his face. Ignoring his own brother, he turned his attention back to you. "Says the short cheerleader. You know, I could bust you right now, I can smell the alcohol from here."

"Ooh, kinky." you joked, causing Sam to cough violently. You threw your head back in laughter while the agent's choking eased. Looking back at his partner, Agent Stark who had mastered the bitch face, glaring at the giant in front of you. You pointed your thumb towards Stark. "I think your partner wants to talk to you."

Sam coughed once more, clearing his throat as he looked over at his annoyed partner. "I should see what he wants. Try to stay out of trouble."

"I'll call you when I turn eighteen, Sam." you murmured, brushing up against his arm as you passed him. You felt him tense beside you for a second, and you smirked, walking away. Looking back, you saw Sam glaring at his feet. "Don't die!"

You were already out of ear shot before Sam could muster up a reply.

—

"Dude, we're on a case." Dean lectured, shaking his head at his flustered brother. Sam raised an eyebrow, too distracted by what the young—beautiful—girl had implied. Dean rolled his eyes, motioning for his brother to follow him. "Wait until we're done til you hit that."

Sam's eyes widened, glaring at his brother. "She's seventeen, Dean."

"Wow, she doesn't look seventeen. Whatever." dismissed Dean, slightly irritated by the amount of sand entering his shoes. "I talked to the stoned douchebag, and from what I can tell, we were right. Andrew Daniels is a vampire, turned that Finn kid, and in the process of growing a large nest."

"Did you find out where the nest is?" Sam asked, more worried than usual for the victim. He still couldn't place what was so different and intriguing about the girl.

Dean shook his head, and Sam couldn't help the exasperated sigh that left his lips. The green-eyed man clapped his brother's shoulder. "Relax, we'll find it. For now, we keep an eye on Finn and take him out when he's alone. You told your girlfriend to stay away from her ex-boyfriend, right? Or did you forget while you were ogling her?"

The younger brother ignored Dean's jab, nodding. "Yeah, but we should look out for her. She isn't entirely convinced he's dangerous. Not that I blame her, he looks like he'll cave if someone threatened his dog."

"Okay. I'm guessing you want to stalk her while I behead Edward Cullen?" Dean blocked a slap from his brother, smirking at the response he had gotten. Sam's bitch face was enough for him to draw a conclusion. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam glanced around the beach, dread washing over him when he couldn't find her. "Call me when you're done."

Under his breath, Dean mumbled, "How much can someone hate their kid enough to name them Finn?"

—

Excusing yourself, you slid out under Emmett's embrace, wiggling your empty cup at him. Too focused on getting to the cooler without tripping, you hadn't noticed Finn Burke following you until you inadvertently tripped over your feet, a pair of strong arms catching you. To your surprise—and disappointment—it wasn't the shaggy-haired FBI agent you had been thinking about all night.

Still, you couldn't help the grin that appeared on your lips, happy to see your friend. "Hey, you made it! Aren't you a little bit late?"

Finn smiled softly, helping you to steady your legs, keeping an arm around you as you both headed to the cooler. "I got here an hour ago but Tom wanted me to help out with a prank. Are you sure you should be drinking anymore?"

"I'm getting water since my dad is so adamant I stay safe tonight. I haven't drunk much but my legs are jelly," you replied, leaning on the toned soccer player. His piercing gray eyes drifted to yours, narrowing as he studied you. "Seriously, I'm not drunk, just clumsy."

"Let's get you some water," muttered Finn, sitting you down on one of the portable lawn chairs someone had brought. You relaxed in your seat, giving him your empty solo cup. After a few seconds, he handed it back, the solo cup now filled with water. "Drink this."

You gulped the water down, thirsty from talking all night. "Thanks. How's— hey, are you okay?"

He slowly nodded, his gaze fixed on your throat as he licked his lips. "Yeah, just a little tired. Finals really took it out of me, and I've been sleeping for the past few days. I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What's up?"

"Do you wanna go to my car? It's just so crowded here and it's important," said Finn, looking around. You mirrored his actions, confused, seeing everyone around the bonfire, several meters away while the rest were swimming in the ocean. "I'm not looking to hookup, I promise. Just some peace and quiet."

Against your better judgment, you ignored Sam's warning and nodded, taking his hand as you stood up. "Okay, sure. Let's go."

The walk to his car was silent, the air warm and salty enough to make you tired, even after the day of laying around and doing nothing. You yawned, covering your lips with one hand while Finn held the other. Despite your gut telling you to return back to the bonfire, you gave Finn the benefit of the doubt. After all, you'd know him since you were in diapers. He couldn't hurt

you.

You breathe in a sigh of relief as you saw the blue jeep under the warm light, allowing you to see a lot more than in the brief darkness. Leaning against the jeep, you faced him. "So, what did you wanna talk about?"

"How did it feel when you broke up with me in front of my friends?" he asked, taking a step closer. There was a glimmer in his eyes that made your spine shiver.

"What?" you mentally slapped yourself for letting your voice shake. He took another step closer, a predatory look washing over his face. Instinctively, you went to take a step back, realizing you were stuck between Finn and the jeep. If the unspoken threat hadn't been looming over your head, then the inability to speak about the breakup would've been more than uncomfortable.

Finn's smirk grew, one that you've never seen before. Out of all the things you would've described your friend, dangerous wouldn't've been one of them; it wouldn't have come close. "Did you feel satisfied when they pitied me? Happy when they witnessed you list every single flaw I have?"

"Finn, you know I didn't realize they were there. I thought you were alone. I would never do that to you." you reasoned, placing a hand over your heart. Your heartbeat was painfully loud, beating in your ears. "You're my friend."

He scoffed, eyes darkening as they focused on your neck, head tilting as he brushed away your hair for a better view at your pulse. "Friend? You'd throw me under the bus to save your ass. Even you'd kill your daddy for your survival. You're a selfish, pathetic bitch."

Anger bubbled up inside you, pushing the fear deep inside you. You opened your mouth to speak only to close it when a hand wrapped around your throat, shoving you up against the jeep, your head hitting the metal with a force that left your ears ringing in pain. Your vision blurred, body limped, and lungs screaming for air. In an attempt, you clawed at his arm but the gesture only seemed to make him laugh.

"Please." you gasped out, the corners of your vision slowly turning black. Finn lets out an inhuman growl, throwing his head back, several teeth growing in when he opened his mouth.

The soccer player leaned in quickly, and you prepared for the sharp pain but nothing came. For a moment, you were confused, wondering if the lack of air was the result of the blackness, only to realize you had shut your eyes. The hand on your throat lessened, a panicked voice in the back of your mind, and something wet splattered on your chest. A worried voice called your name, a pair of warm arms caught you as you slumped down.

You slowly opened your eyes, disoriented and puzzled to see Sam in front of you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he held you up. With wide eyes, you looked around, waiting for Finn to ambush the both of you, only to meet Agent Stark's angry eyes. But he wasn't glaring at you. Sam called out your name once again, bringing your attention back to him. "Sam?"

He sighed in relief, checking out your neck where you would later find out was bruised. "Are you okay? Didn't I tell you to stay away from that douchebag? Fuck, I'm sorry."

You were overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions Sam displayed, surprised by his tight grip on your waist. Glimpsing at Agent Stark--who had bit his lip to keep from laughing at his brother's worriedness--you saw the blood-covered blade he held. You followed the trail of blood, eyes popping out of their sockets when you saw Finn laying on the parking lot; without his head. "Oh. Looks like he lost his head."

Stark burst out laughing, unable to contain his surprise at your ease about the bloody situation. Sam glared at his brother, letting you go as you processed what had happened. "Hey, listen to me. Dean and me have to go. We think there's more monsters like Finn after your dad."

The mention of your father broke you out of your state, a hand quickly grabbing Sam's. With panicked eyes, you looked at him. "No, no. I'm coming with."

"It's not safe." Dean responded, cleaning the blood off his blade, grimacing when a few droplets made contact with his skin. Sam nodded in agreement. "There's going to be a whole nest of vampires, and we can't protect you and save you dad."

You opened your mouth to protest, goosebumps rising as you heard the word. Vampires. Subconsciously, you looked at your former friend's decapitated head, the sharp fangs intact, beaming under the street lamp. "Is that what he was? A vampire?"

"Yes," Sam replied, waiting for you to scream, run away, slap them for killing your lifelong friend, or anything other than quietly processing the information like they just told you something other than the existence of supernatural beings. "We're hunters, we save people from things that go bump in the night."

"The vampire that turned your friend is Andrew Daniels, the man who threatened your dad. We have to go, there might be a whole nest of vampires at your house--" Dean stopped, halting when he saw his brother's glare. He got the message: worrying the girl, even more, would not help them in any way.

You pushed yourself away from Sam's arms, grimacing when you stepped in the pool of Finn's blood. "If my dad's in danger then I'm coming with."

"No way," said Sam, shaking his head immediately. "It's dangerous, and you could get hurt more than you already have. Let us handle this, and we'll come back to get you when the coast is clear."

The logical part of you agreed with him; you had no knowledge of how to kill vampires, or anything supernatural for that part, and being there meant being in the way of these men doing their jobs. The reckless, anxious part of you wanted to be there, wanted to be the one to save your dad even when you didn't know how, and wanted to make sure he would alright. You let the latter made up your decision. With a glower, you crossed your arms. "I'm going with you. Whether you want me to or not."

"Sweetheart," Dean sighed, knowing one more word from you and Sam would give in. For that matter, Dean would've too.

"Look, he's the only family I have left. If I lose him ... " you trailed off, incapable of finishing. It didn't matter how busy your father had been the past few years or the lack of attention you've gotten. He was family and that meant everything to you. Meeting Sam's eyes, you silently begged him. "Please. I'll be out of the way, you won't have to protect me or anything. Just ... please."

Dean wasn't surprised when Sam caved, his younger brother nodding at your request. The younger Winchester reluctantly agreed and Dean gave up, following his little brother's lead. "Alright, let's go."

You walked behind Dean, following his lead to the black Chevy Impala while Sam silently walked beside you, the height difference making it slightly difficult to read your expression. Dean noticed the once over you gave his baby, beaming at Sam who rolled his eyes. You got in the back, admiring the leather and built of the vintage car, while Sam and Dean sat in the front.

The drive was silent and tense. You didn't miss the way Dean kept glancing in the rear-view mirror or the not-so-subtle over the shoulder glances from Sam. It took a few minutes but a recently buried thought crawled its way to the center of your attention.

"You guys aren't really FBI are you?" you blurted, mentally slapping yourself for not coming to that conclusion much sooner.

"Nope," Dean answered, making the p pop. "But after a lifetime of pretending to be one, it really does make being in monkey suits bearable."

"So, what are you guys? Low budget Ghostbusters?" you questioned, getting a simple scoff-like chuckle from Dean while Sam bit back a smile at the creative jab. "Seriously. You just decapitated my ex-boyfriend who turns out to be a vampire. And I'm wondering if I'm insane for trusting two men who posed as FBI agents and dress like virgin lumberjacks."

The elder Winchester lets out a guffaw and Sam allowed a little laugh to fill the Impala. Sam answered your question, "We're hunters. Or Men of Letters, if you want the old term."

"Right, I'm gonna pretend like I know what that is." you mumbled, meeting Dean's eyes in the rear view mirror. "Can you go faster? No offense, but my dead grandma drives faster than you."

Dean huffed, noticeably pushing the gas pedal harder. "I'll let you get away with that since you're in shock and can't control yourself."

"I'm not in shock, I'm just running away from my problems until I inevitably have to face them." you sassed. During different circumstances, you would've been scared, and frustrated but the existence of all things supernatural hadn't sunk into your brain just yet, and you had been hoping you were dreaming.

The elder Winchester's lips twitched upward, despite the situation. With the speed Dean was going, due to the peer pressure from the teen in the backseat, the three of your arrived at the huge mansion. All the lights were on and the unfamiliar cars on the driveway worried you. As soon as your foot hit the walkway, you had the urge to run, only to be stopped by Sam.

Silently, he handed you a blade, the light from the bright lantern nearby bounced off the silver. Dean had made his way to the front door, scanning the place only to kill a vampire when he reached the first step. He gestured for Sam to follow him, wiping the blood on a bush. Sam turned his attention back to you.

"Stay here. We'll be back with your dad. Don't hesitate to kill them because they will have the intention of killing you." Sam commanded, his eyes flickering to the dead, unnoticed security guard with his throat slit. He looked away before you could follow his gaze. "Stay in the car, please? We'll save your dad, but I—we need to know you'll be safe."

You nodded, tightening your grip on the handle of the blade. "I promise."

The younger brother threw you one last look before following Dean, his own machete in hand. The two brothers silently broke in, weapons in hand as they entered the large mansion. You kept your back against the Impala, looking around for any sign of the supernatural. With the amount of time you've been given to process the existence of the supernatural, the information hadn't completely sunk in. Not even when you pondered Finn's death.

It didn't take long for you to notice Edgar's limp body strewn across a bush, your father's lead security detail: dead and bloody. You gagged, covering your lips with your free hand. The sight of Edgar's corpse made you act against Sam's wishes, yet again. Walking to the door, you gripped your weapon, taking a deep breath prior to following the hunter's lead.

As soon as you stepped inside, you spotted a path of blood, leading towards the kitchen. You immediately regretted your plan when you saw an array of decapitated vampires. Loud grunts lead you to the kitchen, your sandals nearly slipping on the trail of blood.

Sam spotted you as soon as you emerged from the arch, blood splattered across his face, his blade dripping. The scene was horrid; Sam and Dean faced a large group of vampires, your father bruised and injured, the only thing holding him up was the fanged vampire behind him. Their eyes followed Sam's, heads whipping, smug smirks on their face when they realized who they were looking at.

Three things happened in the next second; first, the group of vampires pounced on you. Second, the two hunters expertly beheaded the said vampires. And third, a very familiar face sank his ingrown fangs into your father's exposed neck. One vampire had sped to you, yet despite the silent gasp your father let out, you instinctively ran your blade against his neck, the force beheading the monster.

All your heads snapped to your father, the two vampires that stood behind the one feeding from your dad baring their fangs. Sam grabbed your waist, pulling you behind him. You struggled against his grasp, wanting nothing but to slice the vampire into pieces, craved to watch them bleed, craved to have their heads. But all you could do was watch as the vampire quickly fed from your father, his eyes glazing over. It all happened quickly, but you knew.

Both brothers advanced towards the vampires, only to be shoved against the wall as the familiar vampire met your eyes. Then you realized, the vampire was Andrew Daniels. A strangled cry rose from your throat as he smirked, pulling his lips away from your fathers throat, only to snap the CEO’s neck, discarding the limp body.

The cry was enough of a distraction to the vampires that Sam and Dean has the ability to kill them, leaving the Andrew standing. He smirked, undeterred by his dead friends. “I’ll see you soon, sweet pea.”

And with that, he was gone.

You slumped on the floor, tears brimming your eyes as you sat next to the corpse of your father. The Winchesters watched you, guilty they hadn’t kept their promise. Deep down, you knew it was your fault. Of course, not directly, but if you hadn’t triggered Andrew’s actions, then your father wouldn’t be dead. It was silent for a few minutes, and just like before, you didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity to react.

Dean helped you up, wiping your bloody hands with his jacket. He sent his brother a look, knowing what this meant. Sam nodded, understanding. You were there responsibly now.

—

“I don’t understand.” you said in a monotone voice. The shock still hasn’t worn off, and you were afraid it was all going to come crashing down on you.

Sam shot Dean a look, and the elder brother froze. He shrugged and Sam sighed. “Andrew Daniels has your scent. And by the looks of it, there’s still more to his nest. He won’t stop until you’re dead.” Sam paused, trying to detect anything other than the blank expression on you. “It’s better if you come with us.”

You shook your head, looking around the living room. The white carpet had been stained by blood, although the bodies had been disposed, and burned. The only corpse in the house was your father’s. The one you forbade them from burning. “No. No, no, no. I can’t. I have to stay here. I have to plan a funeral. Oh, my God, I have to plan a funeral. I have—I—“

“Shh.” Dean comforted, resting his hand on top of yours, squeezing lightly. He knew it was only a matter of time before the numbness wore off. “Hey, look at me. It’ll be okay. We’ll take care of you. No one will hurt you.”

You yanked your hand away from his, standing as you glared at the blood stained carpet. “I can’t! I can’t just abandon my home. I’m not going to abandon my dead father, and run off with some hunters who posed as Feds. I’m going to stay here, and I’m going to plan a funeral.”

Sam softly called your name. “I’m sorry. I know I made you a promise to save him, and I’m sorry I couldn’t. But you have to let us protect you. You don’t know us, and we barely know you. But this is what we do, and right now, you have a whole nest of vampires with your scent. Who knows when they’ll come back. I won’t have you stay here. It’s not safe.”

“And I’m safe with you?” you spat out, venom lacing your voice. Sam and Dean recoiled, flinching at your harsh tone.

They nodded, and Dean stood up. “We’ll protect you with our lives.”

And stupidly, you believed them.

next >

@sammykb1994 @fofisstilinski @writingforthelonelysoul

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years

Text

A Whisper Among The Noise (Clark Kent x Reader)

Character: Clark Kent

Fandom: Superman/Man of Steel (DCEU)

Tags: Songfic, angst with a happy ending, pining

Warnings: A bit angsty in the middle

Word Count: 2,1k words

Requested by @caritobbg: Hello again!!! ❤️ I'm still in love with "I Still Love You" whith Jaskier 😍❤️ hahahaha I'm gonna ask if you could write another ficlet songfic with Clark Kent x Fem! Reader? 😍 The song's called Secret Love Song p.II by Little Mix ❤️ Reader's in love with him, but when she founds out about a mysterious girl that he likes, she felt so bad and sing that song infront of everyone at an after-office party. Then, Clark tell her that she's that girl 😍 Love your blog!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

A/N: Better late than never 😅 By this point I was running out of inspiration a bit, but I still kind of like the result and I hope you love it! Thanks for being so lovely and patient and understanding. Enjoy!! 💜

Clark Kent x Gender Neutral Reader

You absently scratched your nail against the ridges on the red solo cup you were holding and that you had barely drank a sip of. The party was lively and loud, and although you didn’t regret coming, you were starting to feel a bit restless. Everyone was shouting over the music and chatting in groups, and after you had said hello to them, you were now hiding in the corner as you felt your social battery drain.

A hand softly pressed against your arm, and you would have been startled by the sudden contact as well as by the promise of new interaction if it weren’t for whom that hand belonged to. You could tell it was him not only by the gentle way in which he called you, but also the unmistakable way his touch made you feel. Warm, flustered, loved. The butterflies returned to your stomach, like they had never left ever since the last time you talked to him.

“Y/N” His deep voice enveloped you as you turned around to face him.

“Hey, Clark” You didn’t speak too loudly, but he seemed to hear you nonetheless.

“What…” He began to say, but he paused and leaned closer to your ear so you could understand him over the blasting speakers. “What are you doing here all alone?”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, even under the fond way in which he watched you, you shrugged your shoulders. Wanting to distract yourself from the intense way he made you feel, you continued to play with the cup in your hands.

Why can't I hold you in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor? I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? 'Cause I'm yours Why can't I say that I'm in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? 'Cause I'm yours

“Well, I…” Knowing he expected an answer, you made an effort to reply and raise your voice enough so that he could hear you. “I guess I’m a bit over it already”

When you looked up at him, you saw Clark dedicating you an understanding smile. His hand, which still lingered on your arm, carefully squeezed you.

“Would you like me to drive you home?”

“I wouldn’t want you to leave the party early because of me…”

“I don’t mind at all” His smile widened, acquiring an inviting expression. “I don’t like parties that much anyway”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Your hand fell atop of his, timid and longing.

“It would be my pleasure” Clark dedicated you that smile, the one that light up your entire world.

The two of you paused, lingering on your reciprocal touch, and stared at the other. At that time, the music in the background seemed to dim. Perhaps it was because of your heart beating wildly in your chest, all the more with each second that your touch and his continued. Or maybe it was that the intensity of your gazes that made everything around you duller.

When your eyes drifted down to his lips, like they had a mind of their own, you had to bite your lip not to audibly gasp. You inched closer to his mouth on an instinct, ever so slightly, so little in fact that he didn’t seem to notice.

“Come on” He finally said, moving his hand to gently push it against the small of your back. “Let’s get you home”

You obeyed, hoping you weren’t blushing as his hand also lingered in that new spot. Titling your head down, you started walking towards the exit. Your mind boiled with thoughts, all regarding the very man that so kindly insisted in personally accompanying you home.

When Clark stopped the car, it felt like all the questions fighting for attention in your brain only grew louder with the absence of the party music. Like every time you interacted, he was the perfect gentleman, a sweetheart, always kind and thoughtful and gentle. Back at the party, you had been even closer than ever. All those stolen moments you shared paled in comparison to that one. Surely, he must have noticed your moment of weakness and decided not to act on it, to pretend like he didn’t realize. He couldn’t be that oblivious.

It made sense, seeing as his heart was apparently taken. There were rumors in the office, of Clark being hung up on someone. He always seemed absent-minded, lost in a beautiful romantic daydream of that special person. If only you could be so lucky, but having your feelings reciprocated felt like an impossible dream. You could see that now, clear as day despite the darkness that surrounded you.

“Are you okay?” Clark’s husky voice startled you slightly in the stillness of the car. “You’re very quiet”

“I was just wondering…” You dared to look him in the eyes, forgetting how beautiful and piercing they were. For a moment, it took your breath away. “Are the rumors true? Do you… are you… and someone in the office…?”

“Maybe… why do you ask?” He attentively stared at you, but his tender expression wasn’t endearing this time. It was heartbreaking, because someone else caused it.

“I…” Unprompted, a deep sadness overwhelmed you. The electric magic that seemed to fill the air whenever he was around disappeared, replaced with a cold void.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Clark placed a hand on your wrist, but this time the gesture didn’t feel as lovely either. “You’re acting strange”

Tears arrived to your eyes. You had a sudden realization that, no matter how close and intimate you got with Clark, it would never be enough. He was thinking of someone else.

Every time I see you, I die a little more Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls It'll never be enough As you drive me to my house I can't stop these silent tears from rolling down You and I both have to hide on the outside Where I can't be yours and you can't be mine

But I know this, we got a love that is homeless

Was he really that blind to your love to give you hope? Especially when his harbored someone else? Was that undeniable connection doomed because of another person?

He was staring at you, yet again expecting an answer. His insistent gaze made your heart race, made you flustered as usual. This wasn’t fair…

“I’m in love with you” You spit out before you could stop yourself.

The silence seemed to grow. It loomed over you, lurking in order to swallow you at any moment, and take your empty heart with it.

“Oh…” Clark retrieved his hand, dragging his fingers along your skin.

Feeling all kinds of stupid and hopeless, you averted your gaze. Your wrist felt cold and hot at the same time. That spot missed his touch, but it remembered it.

“I’ll…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll walk you to the door”

Moving your head so he couldn’t see your face, you looked out the window. He stayed in the seat, so you nodded your head without making eye contact. When you made to open the door, he exited the car himself.

In the time that it took him to round the vehicle to reach the copilot door, you took a deep breath to calm yourself. You didn’t want him to know how much you were hurting. It would only make things worse.

It's obvious you're meant for me Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep But I'll never show it on my face

Before he could, you opened the door and walked out of the car. There stood Clark’s tall figure, illuminated by a streetlight behind him and making him look like an angel in a halo. You and him… it would have been too good to be true.

You started walking to your front door, with him standing by you and watching your every move. He was worried, and you could tell. You couldn’t even be mad at him or that person that stole his love. After all, you wanted him to be happy, even if it was with somebody else.

As you walked, you subtly wiped the tears from your cheeks and busied yourself with getting your keys out. They rattled in the silence of the night, making your ears ring. It was the only sound filling the void other than your slow, feeble footsteps. Your front door was closer each second, and with that a sense of anticipated relief reached you bit by bit, desperately attempting to take over the hurt.

“Y/N?” Clark piped up, but you didn’t feel strong enough to hear what he wanted to say.

“Thanks for taking me home” Was all you told him, already lifting your arm with your keys prepared.

“Wait” He spoke in an ushered whisper, delicately stopping your hand when you were opening the door. His fingers were warm even in that chilly night. “I don’t think you understood me before”

“You don’t have to explain” You told him, mentally begging him to stop talking. “Really, Clark”

“I do” His grip on your wrist tightened a little. “Because I am in love with that someone…”

“Clark…” You began, gritting your teeth and struggling to keep faking.

“Will you look at me?” His hand gingerly rested against your cheek, tilting your head so you reluctantly stared into his blue eyes. “That someone is you… how could you think it was anyone but you?”

You gawked at him, unable to believe him. He backed off slightly, letting go of your wrist and giving you some space. As usual, he seemed to know exactly what you needed.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” You weren’t angry, you weren’t sad, nor disappointed. Shock was the only thing you could feel among the sea of emotions that threatened to drown you.

“I thought you knew…” He continued, given your quietness. “I was waiting for a sign”

“A sign?”

“A sign that you… loved me back”

“I knew you loved someone, I just… I never thought it was me…”

Clark frowned, seemingly as heartbroken as you were. He made to touch you again, but this time he hesitated. You could see it in his eyes, the regret and guilt and fear. After all this time being so unapologetically affectionate, he was afraid to hurt you again. He was afraid to harm you in any way, even if it hadn’t been his intention. All that pain and uncertainty… it was all for nothing. Clark loved you, he always had. There was no one else, only you.

“I’m sorry if I ever hurt you” Once again, he read you like an open book. He knew you so well, and he cared so much, that he read your thoughts.

“Get out of my head…” You spoke in a whisper, fascinated by him.

Relieved by the shift in the atmosphere, from tense and sad to hopeful and light, he chuckled. His brow was still furrowed, but now it showcased that fondness from always. Knowing what you did now, you realized it wasn’t only that. It was fondness, and an absolute adoration that you were surprised not to have seen until then. It was always there, you were just too blind and too afraid to see it.

“Can I…?” Clark began, but you interrupted him.

“Yes” You replied before he could finish the question, you knew what he was going to say anyways. And the answer was yes, one hundred times yes.

He smiled and moved closer to you. Feeling his warmth in the chilly night, you shivered as he lovingly wrapped his arms around you. Like they belonged there and always had, your hands settled on his chest. He deeply breathed in, as though he couldn’t contain such emotion. Then, he finally leaned in.

Your eyes closed at the touch of his lips, feeling goose bumps now that it finally happened. He held you tight at last, tighter, as tight as he could, as he pressed you against him. Your hands went up to his shoulders, holding on to him as your legs threatened to give in under the weight of your immeasurable happiness.

The kiss was magical, warm, passionate and tender. It was loving and sweet and cathartic. When it ended after a few seconds, you slowly opened your eyes. Clark was staring at you, receiving you with a bright smile. He didn’t say anything, but you understood anyway.

There was no noise anymore and he didn't have to whisper in your ear, but he still reached you deeply. He saw you in ways no one else could, he talked to you and read you without the need of words, and that kiss was proof of it all, like a whisper among the noise.

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#clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #dc imagine #dc #dceu #superman #man of steel #rfi writings #ficlet #dc ficlet #superman ficlet #man of steel ficlet #clark kent ficlet #reaer insert #requested #man of steel imagine

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 4 years

Text

edge

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: smut, dom/sub, exhibitionism, degradation, spit play, choking, face fucking, spanking, ring kink (if that’s even a thing ..?), orgasm denial, unprotected sex, subspace, aftercare, very fluffy and cheesy ending (like seriously so cheesy and cliche pls don’t bully me i didn’t know how to end it)

word count: 4.7k

synopsis: harry and y/n are a cam couple

author’s note: i hope you enjoy! xx all the love

masterlist

—

It started by accident, really, with a simple, offhand comment one night.

Already two-and-a-half bottles of wine deep, Y/N was close to tears with one glance at their pitiful bank account, and Harry was trying his best to comfort her and assure her that everything would end up fine, but he had absolutely no way to promise her that. Their part-time jobs did very little to cover their monthly expenses, and their next loan payment for school was coming up; needless to say, they were feeling overwhelmed.

And what better to do than drink and complain about your problems when you’re feeling overwhelmed?

“Maybe I should go into porn,” she sighed, and he rubbed his hand under her shirt, trying to soothe her. They knew that they were taking a risk moving across the world for uni, with no backup plan and nothing to fall back on, but in the end, it will, hopefully, be worth it. In the end, they would have a brighter future, despite the mountain of debt, but the middle part, the part where they struggle and contemplate giving up, is so difficult to get past.

“I—I’d do it with you,” he hiccuped, resting his head against her shoulder.

“Maybe we should do our own videos,” she said, “I heard that people can make a lot of money doing that.” Not noticing that he had gone quiet, she continued, laughing and raving. “Could you imagine? Oh, what if we did one of you going down on me? Harry, babe,” she moans lightly, “that would be hot.”

He smiled widely, eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head at the thought; he felt a rush of blood in his groin. They had talked about recording themselves and posting it online before, so the idea wasn’t something they were unfamiliar with, but it normally only happened when they were tipsy, and they never talked about it in any detail like she was. Now, the thought of her recording him between her legs or vice versa, for them to enjoy over and over, made arousal burn in his belly. He could imagine how the camera would shake as she came on his tongue, her hips bucking wildly, hand pulling at his hair. He holds back a moan.

“That would be so hot,” he said, “we should totally do it.” He downs the rest of his wine and pulls out his laptop.

“No,” she giggled, “no, no…”

“‘M doin’ it,” he said.

“Don’t do it,” she argued weakly, making no actual move to stop him. While she seemed to be on the fence about the idea, she had a slight grin on her face, her heart nearly racing out of her chest.

“We are so doing this,” he said, exploring the page. He gasps suddenly and taps on her leg, making her nearly spill the glass of wine. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N—”

“What? What? What?” She mocked him. With mischievous smirk on his face, he faces her, a slight purple hue to his lips.

“What if we did cam?”

And the rest is history.

Now, they dedicate their Friday nights to do cam videos. It started off as something they did on special occasions, quick little teasers that lasted no longer than ten minutes, but they ended up getting a lot of money for it. It helped pay their school loans and get a head start on their savings, and it gradually turned into a regular occurance.

By the time they are ready to begin their live one evening, it’s nearing ten o’clock. They’re on their bed, pillows and comforter long gone, leaving nothing but faded floral sheets, stretched tautly beneath them. Y/N is nestled into his side while Harry’s on his knees and fiddles with the computer, brows pulled together and lips puckered slightly. She’s tired, her swollen eyelids closing every few seconds. He kisses her forehead, wrapping an arm around her. Their laptop, with the main webcam, is propped up on a stool right behind the footboard, and the secondary camera, a cheap handheld camcorder connected to the computer with flimsy wires, which is used for close up shots, is thrown off to the side. Harry leans back on his heels.

“Ready?” He asks with a teasing smile. Even with such a small gesture, his grin is still infectious, with cute little dimples and laugh lines. She returns the smile. It’s a redundant question at this point, whether or not she’s ready, but Harry asks every time. It never felt like a chore; it was something they both enjoyed, and if they were to grow tired of it, they would stop. They were finally financially stable enough to be able to make the decision.

While initially they decided to start doing cam for the money, it became something that they both enjoyed doing. She always got this little rush of excitement in the seconds before they finally went live. This was the last moment of secrecy they would have for the next hour or so. To many, the thought of some strangers watching her and Harry at their most intimate would make them apprehensive, but she always got this exhilaration from it.

“Always,” she says, stealing one last kiss from him.

It’s a tradition of theirs to hit the “Go Live” button together, cheesy as it is, and tonight is no different. Their faces light up the screen, and they both grin, arousal building with each thrilling second. There is only a moment of calm before dozens of familiar usernames flood the screen.

“See some new ones,” Harry comments under his breath. She rests her cheek against his shoulder, toying with the rings on his fingers. The introduction part is always the most awkward; there is no decorum or set way that they have to be done, and not feeling comfortable using their first names, she and Harry found it difficult to find their rhythm and interact with the viewers. It felt a bit unforthcoming for them to just dive in without saying anything.

“What are we feelin’ tonight, lovie? Soft and vanilla or rough and dirty?” Harry asks, like he normally does.

Comments fill the screen; a lot of them describe what they would do if they were there, but most of them have similar responses: rough and dirty.

The couple very rarely genuinely ask the viewers what they want to see because the most important thing, to them, is that they are enjoying it. What’s the point of doing it if they aren’t enjoying themselves? Sure, they sometimes cater toward the audience (that’s the easiest ways to make any money), but for the most part, they stick to what they both know the other would enjoy. Harry gives her a soft smile, leaning in a little closer. No matter what she wants, it’s all the same to him; as long as he is with her, he likes just about everything.

“Rough and dirty,” she smirks, tongue curling over her teeth teasingly. “I want you to fucking wreck me.” She whispers that part, low enough for only Harry to hear. He hums appreciatively, leaning back.

Ding!

“Be careful what you wish for.”

He kisses her, rough and gnawing, their teeth knocking together with his tongue slipping through, gently prying her lips apart. He bites on her tongue, and she lets out a small whimper, trying to hold off a smirk. Even after all this time being together, since they were just teens, he still knows what makes her tick and ache and melt; he knows exactly where to kiss and bite and lick to make her fall apart. She tucks her arms beneath his own, draping tightly around his waist, her fingertips tracing along the plain of his back, and he shivers.

His hand wraps easily around her throat, another thing he found early on that she enjoyed. He can feel her breathing pick up. She tugs at his bottom lip, suckling at the skin. He digs his fingers deeper into her neck, pressing harshly onto her pulse point. Eyes rolling back, she moans, strained and muffled, breaking slightly, and wraps her hands around his wrist.

“Open,” he beckons, and she does as best as she can, jaw still confined within his strong grasp. Her tongue dips out, ready and willing. “Good girl,” he says, loosening his grip on her throat. A breath of air slips past her swollen lips. Spit dribbles out from his puckered lips onto her greedy tongue. She closes her mouth quickly to keep it all in, his hand tightening around her neck once again. She sighs, head tipping back.

“You know the rules, babylove. Don’t swallow.”

“Mhm,” she nods, voice muffled. Her fingers dip into his boxers, nails tracing over the inked skin. She can trace the outline of his tattoos from memory at this point, every curve, point, and shadow etched in her brain. She pinches the extra skin at his abdomen lightly, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to her swollen lips.

“Wan’ my cock, huh?” He raises a brow. “Should I make you beg?

Ding! Ding!

“No,” she mumbles, pouting slightly. “Wanna make you feel good.” He hums appreciatively, tapping her cheek lightly.

“Taught you well, lovie,” he says. “Down.” He guides her onto her onto her elbows as he adjusts onto his knees, her hands moving back under the elastic band, the tips of her fingers teasing his skin. “Le’ me see,” he coaxes, fingers tugging on her chin. Sure enough, his spit is still in the divot of her tongue. “Good girl, you can swallow now.”

Ding!

Her fingers tease up his thighs and into his boxers, cupping his balls suddenly. He bites his lip, slapping her on the cheek. It’s not enough to do anything more than a slight burn, but it leaves her tingly with her eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t be greedy, slut,” he spits, yanking her head back by her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “Just want you so bad.”

She tugs his boxers down, but only enough for his hard cock to slip out. She normally starts off slow, teasing him until he can't take it anymore and pushes her all the way down, using her as he pleases. That’s not the case tonight. A part of her wants to take control, to suck him until he’s nearly falling apart, his knees weak. She takes nearly all of him in her mouth, and he gasps with surprise, his hands combing through her hair, guiding her. She gags on him, her bottom lip pressed tightly to his balls. He tugs her back.

“Watch the teeth,” he hisses. She gasps for air, lips lingering on the red, nearly purple, tip. His hips buck. He breathes out through gritted teeth, shaky and heavy.

“Sorry, just wanna make you feel good,” she says, pressing a wet kiss to his hip. She runs her tongue over the divot of his hip bone.

“Want me to fuck your mouth, lovie?” He asks, his fingers tracing over her tender lips. She nods, and he can feel her trying to move, but he holds her back by the hair, grip tight. “Beg,” he says, brows cocked.

“Please, H, want you to fuck my mouth, use me,” she moans, mouthing over the head of his cock. He holds himself steady, teasing her, just barely letting her feel but not allowing her to fully take him in her mouth. A pool of spit slides down her lips and into his hand, wetting the skin even more, before it falls onto the mattress. Her hands travel up the back of his thighs and onto his partially clothed bum, giving him a cheeky squeeze.

“M’kay, relax, babylove,” he says, brushing flyaways from her forehead, the skin already sticky with sweat. “Hold still and look at me. You know the rules.” She looks up at him, wide eyes never breaking from his as he guides his cock down the length of her throat, squeezing and stroking. She barely winces as he thrusts his hips, shoving himself deeper with every move. Her tongue runs along the bottom ridge of his cock, tracing every vein.

Ding!

She squeezes the skin of his thighs, guiding him further down her throat. The filthy wet sounds make her clit throb and her arousal seep into the sheets. There’s absolutely nothing better than seeing him above her, lost in pleasure, his chest flushing red, nearly incoherent: all because of her. There’s also something incredibly intimate about it as well; he always insists on keeping eye contact until there are tears in her eyes. With one hand gripping her hair tightly while the other gently caresses her cheek, he guides himself into her warm mouth. He nibbles on his lip.

“Take it, baby,” he moans, stuffing his cock deeper in her mouth. He traces his fingers along her throat, feeling the muscles swell and contract beneath them. Saliva dribbles from her lips, down her chin and the length of his shaft. She chokes and gags, but she doesn’t let up.

She barely reaches the base, her nose only just grazing the curls before he’s yanking her back, a string of saliva trailing from the head to her swollen lips, which breaks under the force of her gasps, and his cock twitches at the sight of her looking properly wrecked, eyes wide, blown with lust, her lips swollen and wet from spit and pre-cum, and chest heaving.

“Bend over,” he says, tapping her cheek. “Made such a mess, baby,” he says after she moves up, running a hand over the wet patch that formed on the sheets. Like a good girl, she turns until she’s facing the headboard, her glistening pussy on display to their hundreds of viewers. She shakes with anticipation.

Harry doesn’t deter from his normal routine, not touching her until she’s nearly in tears. She can feel the heat from his hand hovering over her skin, and she can feel hungry eyes on her; a small part of her wants to shrink away, but with Harry right beside her, it makes her feel like the strongest, sexiest woman in the world. Harry finally runs a finger along her slit after a few tense minutes and roughly presses into her clit. Her hips buck into his hand, and she presses a cheek into the mattress, moaning with relief.

“Such a good little slut,” he hums. “So wet for us, baby.”

Us.

When he says that, her pussy clenches and a rush of arousal threatens to slip down her trembling thighs; she sinks further into the mattress, sliding down until her chest is pressed tightly to the sheets, and her thighs spread even further until the joints of her hips ache with overexertion, but the pain is welcomed.

“Keep 'em on or off?” He asks.

“On,” she answers, the feeling of his cool rings against her heated skin is comforting almost. Her stomach tingles when he slips two fingers inside her pussy, with his thumb massaging at the tender skin between her holes. He easily finds that spot inside her, the spot that makes

Her orgasm comes painfully soon, her clit throbbing and begging for attention as he fucks her so close to oblivion, his rings adding extra friction to her sensitive walls. The scent of her arousal is thick in the air as it slips down his hands, traveling either down to her belly or her thighs. She’s so close, close enough to taste it; she just needs one more push until her high completely swallows her, bathing her in a warmth that only he’s been able to give her, but she is, perhaps, a little too optimistic. With every helpless jut of her hips, the more frequent moans, and the tightening of her walls, Harry knows the signs of her impending orgasm, but he can’t let her have it that easily.

A pained yelp slips past her lips when he suddenly pulls away and smacks her clit with wet fingers, the fervent climax drifting away until a dull ache, of yearning and lust, is all that remains. He spanks her sensitive pussy and lands two more on her bum. She groans, savoring the sting from his rings, cold yet burning.

“Not yet,” he says, running his hand along her prickled skin. He spanks her, harder than before, and she groans with pleasure. He wants to see the raised imprint of his hand on her smooth skin.

She can feel herself slipping. It starts off slow, a slight fog behind her eyes, and then it drifts and settles, spreading to her limbs. It feels like being high, swaddled in a soothing haze, and you can only feel yourself. The external earth doesn’t exist, and in that moment, it’s just her and Harry. Her world muffles, the sporadic chimes coming from the laptop ceasing, and the mattress disappears from beneath her, leaving her floating and vulnerable, with nothing to hold her other than him.

Harry.

He has always been able to make her teeter on the edge of pain and pleasure, and with her senses are in overdrive yet dulled at the same time, she feel that edge slip away into the abyss, with each slap delivered to her ass, they’re dulled just a little bit more. Like an addict, she yearns to feel the first one, the one that made her legs tremble, the one that sent tingles up her spine and a burning to her supple skin.

“More,” she says, inching closer to him.

“More?” She can hear the smile in his voice. She stretches her arms in front of her, back arching further than ever before. He lands another slap to her ass, lower and closer to her dripping pussy. He kisses the welts that raised over her skin from the rings, but she can barely feel them, nothing more than a welcomed prickle.

He spits on her pussy and slips three fingers inside this time, stretching her further than before, and with the extra friction from his rings, she tightens up almost instantly, the burning fire from before coming faster and stronger than before.

“Fuck,” she moans, long and drawn out. His free hand spanks her again, and she hisses, her arms giving out. Pleasure rushes through her veins, threatening to envelop her, and she can feel herself give in once again, sinking into him and accepting anything he has to offer. “Close,” she whines, but he pulls away again, slapping her clit roughly. She cries out, wanting to shy away from him, but her body betrays her, and she backs into him, craving yet another stolen high.

“Move t’ the side, button,” he says, tapping her leg, and she does, turning until they’re parallel to the webcam. He only teases the head of his cock through her folds for a moment before he slams into her with little warning, her warmth swallowing him easily. This is something he could never get tired of: the feeling of her hot, wet walls gripping him and of her arousal slipping down his thighs.

Ding! Ding!

His near brutal pace knocks the wind from her chest, making her drawn out cries of pleasure break and split. As he pounds into her, his hips smacking harshly against her raw skin, the remnants of her ruined climaxes leave her walls overly sensitive to every rough thrust, but she backs into him, meeting his hips, eager to finally come undone. He digs his nails into her tender skin, and she lets out a breath.

There has always been a fine line between pain and pleasure, and Harry knows exactly how to dangle her right at the very edge.

“Takin’ me so well,” he coos, but she can’t even fathom his compliment in her addled mind, let alone respond. He wraps his hands around her throat and pulls her head next to his. He wants to feel her, the heat of her breaths, the salt on her skin, the tremors of her thighs, everything. Her body grinds back against him, whether consciously or unconsciously, he doesn’t know. Her eyes are closed, features pinched, chasing her high.

Y/N can feel everything, every rush of blood flowing in her veins, every stroke of his cock inside her, every bead of sweat that drips from his skin and onto her back. She can feel everything, yet nothing at all; it all blurs together into a blanket of warmth and euphoria, and he’s at the center of it all: holding her and pleasing her and giving her everything she never knew she desired. She can barely speak, nothing more than a few broken whimpers filling the thick air, lost amongst his heaving breaths and the chimes from the laptop, which is at the back of their minds at this point.

She hooks her arm behind her, around his neck, her fingers carding through the sweat-drenched locks. She tugs on them painfully hard when he hits her weak spot, and he groans. Her heart is nearly racing out of her chest when yet another taunting orgasm tightens her stomach.

“Need cummies,” she whines, her words slurring, head falling to the side. He nestles his nose into the crook of her neck, hips grinding his cock deeper inside her.

“No cummies, yet, lovie,” he says. “Wait f’ me.” He can feel her struggling to hold her orgasm back, the walls of her pussy fluttering, milking him; he groans, feeling more blood rush to his cock when she squeezes him even tighter. “Relax,” he coos, scratching his nails along her scalp. He slaps her clit, making her twitch and buck even more, and he spreads his fingers around the swollen skin of her pussy, teasing where they’re connected. He lets go of her neck, and she nearly collapses without his support, leaning heavily on her elbows, back arched.

“Please,” she whimpers, shaking her head, “Can’t hold it.”

She slumps onto the mattress, her quivering knees slipping out from under her. Her hips buck, a long, drawn out moan slipping out as toe-curling orgasm washes over her, bathing her in warmth and relief and pure bliss. He comes soon after, hands gripping her hips tightly. Her shallow breaths are barely audible in the thick air, amongst a cacophony of chimes from the cam and his own heavy breathing. He rubs along her back, pressing sporadic kisses to her spine, following the ridges up to her neck.

“Babylove?”

She doesn’t answer, only a weak whimper and a sigh leaving her as she shifts beneath him, causing his softening cock to slip out, their releases pooling beneath them. He quickly closes the laptop to keep some semblance of privacy, and he tries to ease her onto her back, but she’s unresponsive, head nestled deep into the bed, but her breathing becomes more stable, muscles lax.

“Y/N?” She hums and turns onto her back. He cups her cheeks, trying to look into her eyes. They’re half-lidded, and she can’t seem to focus on much of anything. “Can you get up f’me? Need t’ get ya cleaned up.”

She finally looks at him, her pupils dilated, like she’s faded, lost in an empty mind. She blinks and looks down at his hands on her arms. Her brows furrow, and the tremors return, starting in her hands and spreading to her legs. They’re not pleasant, like before when she felt like she was floating; these ones make her blood run cold. Her high lessens, her head still foggy, but the feeling returns in her limbs, leaving her skin burning and bruised. When she meets his gaze again, there’s a sinking feeling in her stomach, shame and dread.

In her current state of mind, she mistakes the concern in his eyes for anger, and tears fill her eyes. She disappointed him; she was being greedy and dirty and bad. She covers her face with her arms to hide the tears that slip out, knees tucking to her chest.

“‘M sorry,” she cries suddenly. His heart stops for a second. What on earth could he have done to make her want to apologize? He tugs her arms away from her face.

“For wha’?”

“You said no cummies, and I couldn’t hold it—” Her face crumbles. “I was being a bad, bad girl.” She mutters to herself, biting her lip, which quivers pitifully. “Please, please, don’t be mad,” she begs, hands clinging to him. Before, she felt absolute euphoria, a high she didn’t want to come down from, but now, her skin aches, and there’s a pang of guilt and shame in her belly that she can’t seem to soothe. She doesn’t even feel it when her teeth break past the skin of her lips.

“Hey, none of that,” he says, easing her bruised lip from her teeth. He runs a thumb over her knuckles. “‘M not mad, never, lovie,” he reassures her. “C’mere,” he says, tugging her into his arms. “Look a’ me.” He rests his forehead against hers. He’s had to coax her out of a subspace only a handful of times, but she has never crashed this hard. Never has she been this shaken, nor has it ever happened during a cam. He just wishes he noticed sooner; he should have known not to go as rough as he did, especially when she was feeling tired to begin with. When she’s in her subspace, she tends to take it a little too far, thinking she can take more than what she would normally handle.

“Better?” He asks her after a moment, and she nods, but her hands still quiver at her side. “Be right back, yeah?” He lays her back down gently and goes into the washroom to draw a bath. When he comes back, he finds her with her hands over her face, shoulders shaking.

“Can ya walk?”

“Yeah,” she says, scooting up off the bed, but her knees buckle, and they barely make it to the bathroom.

“I gotcha,” he says. “Jus’ gonna getcha cleaned up, feelin’ all better.” Her bum, the skin raised with welts made by his own hand, barely touches the water before she’s wincing. There’s a tinge in his stomach, but he continues to help her in, holding her under the armpits.

“In ya go,” he whispers, nursing her like she’s a toddler. The water is hot and comforting against her aching muscles. The lavender oil he tossed in leaves her skin silky with a tingeful burn on her bum and thighs. She clings to his arm, which has now wrapped tightly around her middle, pressing into her tender breasts.

“Come in with me,” she says. He sinks to his knees and cups her neck, elbow dipping in the water.

“Be right back, button,” he says, kissing her forehead lightly, “Jus’ need t’ change the sheets.”

He returns not a moment later and joins her in the tub, washing her body with a sweetly scented scrub. She comes fully down in the bath, with his arms coiled tightly around her, one over her chest and the other around her middle, their fingers toying together. The water’s run cold, but they don’t make any move to get out any time soon, basking in the warmth of each other.

Despite how many years they have been together, he still finds it difficult to believe that he can be so comfortable with another person.

She puts her heart, body, and soul fully in his hands and trusts him not to break it.

He trusts that she’ll do the same for him.

And when she snuggles into him and presses a tired kiss to his cool skin, after he gets them dried and in their bed once again, he knows that there is no other person in the world he would trust more with his heart than her.

—

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes fluff #ish #gif not mine #credit to owner

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