#full metal jacket x reader

[itmakesastatement]

Full Metal Jacket preferences ~ Their s/o asks if they would love them as a worm

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Animal Mother:

• I’m sorry w h a t

•he looks at you like you’re insane

•he scoffs and looks away without answering

•if you really insist on him answering he just says he would use you as fishing bait, if you get upset he would laugh at your pain

•though maybe, if you get him really drunk, he’ll respond with something uncharacteristically sweet, like he’d make you a little garden or smthn

•though if you ever tell anyone he might actually murder you

Eightball:

• babe,,, honey,,, what did you take and can he have some?

•Alice honestly just thinks you’re drunk

•though if you really want an answer, it will depend on his mood

•he’ll either say he’ll throw you to some crows, or he’ll say something sweet like he’d keep you in his breast pocket

•though he would immediately tell the surviving members of the lust hog squad like

• “look at my baby! They’re weird as fuck and kinda scare me sometimes but they’re hot so!”

Joker:

•sorry babe, but he busts out laughing

•he thinks this question is absolutely hilarious

•he has so many questions

•”ok but why would you turn into a worm? Also how would we cuddle? More importantly how would we have se-“

•by the end you’re just begging him to stop

•unfortunately you’ve fallen into a rabbit hole

•he asks you and all his friends this question now

Cowboy:

• Cowboy is honestly just amused

•he just sighs, wraps his arms around you, and tells you of course he’d love you

•cowboy is an absolute simp in every other scenario, why wouldn’t he be in this one?

•he’s a little concerned though

•why are you asking this?

•are you having some sort of crisis?

Crazy Earl:

•𝘠𝘦𝘴.

•absolutely no questions asked

•will ask you if you’d love him as various different little creatures

•like a black widow

•though he might say he’ll turn into a spider and eat you so you’ll always be together

•he has that serial killer logic

•you knew what you were signing up for bb

Rafterman:

•uhhhhh

•yes

•if you yell at him to answer without hesitation he gets so nervous

•poor nervous baby just wants you to be happy

•tells you he would give you a little worm photo shoot

•and he would keep you on his pencil as he writes articles

•10/10 adorable nervous baby

Private Pyle:

•!!!!

•yes!!!!

•he would make you a little terrarium so you could live with him

•and he would give you little flowers

•and give you little worm friends

•after his sweet answer, you better say you’d love him as a worm

•honestly the best person to take care of you as a worm

Hartman:

•he’s gonna drug test you

•he wants to know what the hell you’re smoking

•though if you insist you are sober, and that you want a serious answer, don’t expect sweetness

•he’ll say he’ll use you as all sorts of things

•fishing bait, target practice, food, all those grumpy old man things

•grumpy man will laugh at your pain

•but if you really get upset, he’ll say he’ll keep you in his garden

#full metal jacket headcanons #full metal jacket x reader #full metal jacket preferences #joker x reader #animal mother x reader #Hartman x reader #cowboy x reader #full metal jacket matchups #rafterman x reader #eightball x reader #Pyle x reader

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Full metal jacket preference~ The boys with an s/o who has an ex that stalks them

(A combination of my gifs and other peoples)(Requested by anonymous)

(Hope you enjoy the blogs first preference post! <3)

Joker~

When you first tell James about the situation with your ex, he sort of thinks you’re joking. It certainly wouldn’t be out of place in your relationship. He figures its an “oh, yeah, my ex is stalking me” as in he’s still got a thing for you and is trying to strategically find himself at the right place in the right time in hopes that you’ll talk to him. 

Once he can see that you’re completely serious, his smile somewhat drops as well. For a while, he’ll remain humorous (i.e. trying to cheer you up and make you smile while you deal with the mess) but understanding; not wanting to freak you out even more by making it a whole big thing. He tells you to give him a call whenever you want him to stay over and that he’ll handle things as soon as he can. The next time he has the chance, he’ll have a little conversation with your ex.

James certainly has no problem standing up to or for people, and on top of that, he’s completely willing to use violence or his smart mouth to scare them off so expect an altercation of some sort when he finally spots the dickhead who’s been making your life difficult.

You’ll either wait for him to be finished or gratefully pull him away yourself before he has the chance to really mess the guy up. Once he’s calmed himself down, he’ll make a joke about being your knight in shining armor with a smile, chuckling as you roll your eyes and pull him in for a kiss.

Just Beware, from that day forward, he’ll get almost smug any time he see’s your ex in public. 

Cowboy~

Robert is; more or less, a bit more logical/mature with his attempts at diffusing the situation although it does depend on the extent of which this guy is bothering you and the responses you get. He’s more patient, giving the police a chance to do something before he takes matters into his own hands, though he certainly stays close to your side during that time.

He definitely goes full handy man on your ass and installs extra locks and alarms on your house and out of all the guys, he’s one of the most comforting. He’a a hugger so the instant you seem frightened, he’ll pull you close and assure you everything’s alright.

If the authorities™ aren’t going to do anything about it then you bet your ass he will. He’s a proud Texan and has that “if you fuck with my stuff, I will blow you away” type of mentality that most; conservative, gun owning southerners have.

He won’t go out to hunt your ex but he’ll wait for him to come to the two of you and make a good show of sitting on your porch with a sawed off shotgun in hand and a scowl on his face.

Animal mother~

Animal Mother is borderline feral when it comes to his “territory”. The instant he hears about someone bothering you, he’s fully prepared to teach them a very painful, possibly lethal lesson. There’s not even any waiting until they come around themselves; he’s going to go out and find them. 

He doesn’t find it funny at all; not on the inside at least. He might act like your ex amuses him; most likely to his face to show that he isn't scared of him, but in actuality he’s pissed. He’s two seconds away from throwing a punch at any given moment so if you don’t want that to be the outcome of their confrontation, you’ll have to try very hard to pull him away. He’s definitely the guy who scares off your ex the quickest and most effectively. 

He’ll never admit to it, but a part of him is almost proud of the predicament. He certainly isn’t happy that this guy is harassing you but he feels proud over the fact that he’s the one who has you; the girl that's so desperately sought after by this guy that he’d go to such great lengths to get close to you again. 

Though I should warn you, depending on the situation and how you explain it, the whole ordeal may make him a bit suspicious of you; at least at first. He’ll wonder why this guy isn’t leaving you alone and if you could possibly be trying to play him for a fool. We know Animal Mother isn’t the brightest or most sensitive of the bunch so don’t hold it too much against him. Once he sees how much the mans stalking is bothering you, he’ll drop those ugly thoughts and trust you completely. 

Eightball~

Alice has got a surprisingly short temper, especially when he’s being personally insulted. And when someone messes with you, he takes that as a personal attack on him. If he has the chance to confront your ex then he’ll do it, most likely scaring him off with his brutal words before he even throws a punch. 

He insists on being your escort, driving you to work, staying at your place when you want him to or when he feels like there's a need. He’ll magically seem to show up at the right place at the right time, a snarky somewhat nonchalant comment leaving his lips as he intercepts your ex and gets you behind him. He’ll try and play it cool but if the guy isn’t standing down, he’ll drop the smile and use some intimidation. 

He’ll make it very clear that you’ve moved on and if he doesn’t too, he’ll be missing a few teeth the next time he comes around you. He’s sorta cocky as your ex stalks off but you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed by his smug smile, not after he just scared off the bane of your existence. 

Crazy Earl~

Earl has the ability to remain oddly calm no matter what’s going on around him. So when you tell him that your ex is stalking you, he listens carefully, nodding along before asking you what you’d like him to do in the most earnest voice you’ve ever heard. He’s willing to do whatever you want him to, all you have to do is ask. 

Another important thing about Earl: he’s sorta strange. He thinks violence is fun and dark subjects like stalking interest him. He’s a weird guy so if your ex and him ever had an actual conversation, the guy would probably leave you alone on account of you dating a lunatic. 

On that note, he’s more than happy to talk to your ex for you. He’ll confront him and; at first, try to be levelheaded albeit in his own strange way. He’s sort of just weirdly intimidating in general so even though he’s trying to talk to the guy like a normal person, he’s probably giving off serious serial killer vibes the entire time.

If things go south, or if he feels his message isn’t coming across clear enough, he’ll get violent …but in a calm way. He’ll beat your ex boyfriends ass but it’s as though he’s an outsider in the situation and isn’t personally invested in it. …Like I said, he’s strange.

Once he’s finished “talking”, he’ll return to your side and give you a kiss on the head, silently assuring you that you’re not going to be bothered again. 

Rafterman~

Although Rafterman likes to think of himself as a tough guy who isn’t scared by any man, he really isn’t very confrontational. If it really came down to it then he could certainly hold his own or get physical but he tries his best to avoid that. Instead, he’ll go with you to get a restraining order, install locks and alarms at your place or have you stay with him so that you feel more safe, but he isn’t really eager to go out and fight your ex.

He’ll make it very clear that you’re together when you’re out in public and walk you wherever you need to go so that he doesn’t have as many chances as getting close to you. If he’s forced to or he’s had enough then he’ll talk to the guy himself, telling him that he’s freaking you out and that he needs to leave you alone. 

Once he’s finished threatening the guy, he’ll come back to you sort of jittery though the kiss you give him calms his nerves and fills him with pride. He tries to act like he wasn’t nervous but you know he was and find it both cute and sweet. 

Sgt Gunnery~

Oh he’ll handle it. Handle it with a beer and shotgun pointed at the maggots face. 

It’s quite literally Gunnery’s job to put people in their place so obviously he’ll be quite efficient in his attempts at getting the boy to leave you alone. In fact, it’s very likely that the instant your ex see’s him, he’ll just book it the other way. Everyone in your town knows about the man and what he does for a living so it’s very rare that anyone messes with him; at least not on purpose. 

If your ex doesn’t immediately run away with his tail between his legs then it’s probably because he doesn’t know who he is. And when I tell you he learns fast, he learns fast. It takes all of two second for your darling drill instructor to land a blow to the boys stomach and verbally tear him in two. Obviously, after that, your ex boyfriend won’t be too keen on getting close to you anymore. 

Overall, Gunnery takes the situation very seriously and assures you that he won’t let anything happen to you. He’ll most likely teach you some self defense as well, or at the very least get you a can of mace and tell you to give him a call if anything happens, no matter how small. 

Pyle~

Leonard's a lover, not a fighter. To be entirely honest, he’s sort of useless in this situation. The only thing Leonard can really do is scare him off with his size/looks alone and get him to back off since it’s obvious that you’ve found someone else.  

I suppose that if it really came down to it, he could fight but merely because he could use his weight to his advantage. He’s not particularly well spoken or coordinated but he could throw a mean right hook if need be.

Mostly, Leonard's good for comfort. If you’re scared or upset than he’s a shoulder to cry and and arms to be held by. He may not be able to get your ex to stop but he’ll still be able to make you feel more safe and less alone. 

#full metal jacket imagine #full metal jacket headcanons #full metal jacket headcanon #full metal jacket x reader #full metal jacket preference #preferences #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie preference #80s movie preferences #private joker imagine #private joker headcanons #private joker headcanon #private pyle imagine #private pyle headcanons #leonard lawrence imagine #leonard lawrence headcanons #leonard lawrence headcanon #rafterman imagine #rafterman headcanons #rafterman headcanon #animal mother imagine #animal mother x reader #animal mother headcanons #animal mother headcanon #Sgt. Hartman imagine #Sgt. Hartman headcanons #Sgt. Hartman headcanon #eightball imagine

[markresonates]

ROCK ME

drummer of HEAVY METAL DREAMS the series ⊳

0:00 ⬤────────── 28:7k words

summary: When you're hired as the band's hair stylist and don’t fall for Jaemin's charm immediately, he takes a special interest in you, and makes it his mission to break you down and get you on your knees.

pairing: player!Jaemin x hair stylist fem!reader

genre: porn w plot, slow burn, angst, eventual heavy fluff bc i’m too soft

trope: rock star, bad boy, co-workers to lovers

a/n: yeeee sorry this is late & 6x longer than i originally said... also?!? hard dom Jaemin? did april fools day come early ??

warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral (f&m), mirror sex, exhibitionism, manhandling, choking, restraints, lil corruption kink, brief p*ssy slapping, over stimulation, brief dollification, camera use, Jaemin kind of gaslighting y/n but not sexually, drinking, smoking & drugs, me pushing the JM big dick agenda, sweet hard dom Jaemin, super sub reader

Danger in a leather jacket waltzes into the salon, unannounced and expectant, just before the work day bleeds into night. The emerging rock star looks down at his phone, reading the directions Haechan provided before strolling down the aisle like he owns the place.

It’s almost closing time when he shows up, and after a long day of work, to say you’re a bit hungry would be a massive understatement. Although, within three seconds of spotting the new visitor, a craving for something other than food blooms in your stomach.

“Hi, I’m Jaemin,” he introduces himself, as if you didn’t recognize the musician standing a few feet away from you. He plops himself down in your salon chair, swiveling to face you and extending a polite hand. A mere three words have rolled off his silver tongue and yet you can already sense his flirt-ometer is dialed up to 12.

Everything about him screams trouble! with a capital T. The cheeky smile plastered on his devilishly handsome face, stylish black outfit that fits his lean body like a glove, blinding confidence that radiates off of his glowy skin, and swoon-worthy charm embedded into his DNA are all more than enough to make you weak in the knees. You’re not the first to react this way in his presence and you certainly will not be the last. He’s used to this response… actually, he expects this response.

Jaemin’s reputation precedes him.

Gossip travels fast in a beauty salon and whether it’s whispered behind the backs of hookups or recapped by the girls who have physically gotten to their knees for the bad boy. You have collected a dozen statements and the warnings that follow what is typically a one-night-only good time with him.

“He only thinks about music, getting high and getting his dick wet.”

“He’ll use you up and ghost you the next day.”

“He’s railed a girl backstage at every concert hall he’s performed in.”

So this begs the question… do you really want to become another conquest for the cocky musician to scratch off his “to-do” list?

Over the past few seasons, his band, Bad Dreams' popularity has soared through the roof. They recently signed with a new record label and there’s a rumor floating around that they’re preparing to release their second full length album soon. You have a sneaking suspicion that the fact that they’re shaking up their appearances, or more specifically, their hair styles, confirms that fan theory.

Their label routinely directs their artists to the upscale hair salon you work at. You have been here for six months and during your employment, you have seen plenty of musicians pass through the salon. But it was only two weeks ago that you first encountered an artist that left you downright starstruck.

It was late evening when the vocalist walked through the door. Your last client of the day had already left, and you were sweeping up the strands of hair scattered along the floor when one of Jaemin’s bandmates, Haechan, showed up without an appointment. There wasn’t a single stylist available at the time, and although you were basically on your way out the door, you stayed later to finish dying his hair because how could you not? It was Lee Haechan. The lead vocalist from your new favorite rock band that you'd seen in concert a few months ago when they opened for another band you liked. It felt surreal even being close to him, let alone touching him in some small way.

Haechan’s girlfriend accompanied him to the salon as well, not that you would’ve made a move on him or anything. Getting involved with an artist like him would be unprofessional and you have a strict policy against that sort of thing. You thought their banter was cute and couldn’t help but think they’re fortunate to have found someone that seemed so perfect for them. She teased him for screwing up the times and accidentally missing his real appointment earlier in the day and he threatened something about not wearing a few certain pairs of jeans...whatever the hell that means…

The couple must have put in a good word for you because following his impromptu hair dying, Mark, Renjun and Jeno booked appointments with you the following week. It’s not uncommon for the band members to change their hair colors fairly often, which meant it was only a matter of time before every member of the group had taken their turn in your salon chair. The thing is, you had no idea you would be meeting the final member this evening with no prior warning to his arrival.

If you knew he was coming, maybe you would’ve dressed more appealing or done your makeup nicer than usual. But on the other hand, he would’ve expected you to do something like that, right? And if you intend to heed the warnings from those past girls he used up and tossed aside like trash, you wouldn’t go the extra mile to look more presentable. He is a client that showed up unannounced on a night that you feel particularly exhausted. No matter who he is or how much you want to straddle his lap, you have a moral obligation to abide by.

“Hi, Jaemin! I’m…the stylist that wishes you would've made an appointment with me first.” You shake his hand, repaying his smile with a polite one, then resume sweeping the hair below his feet.

You don’t look back up at him, focusing on the task you were attending to before he appeared. In many ways, this incident is similar to when Haechan showed up. The difference is that the previous guy was apologetic about the mistaken time and very gracious when you agreed to do his hair despite showing up out of nowhere — something you feel is partially credited to being in a relationship with someone who is constantly humbling him.

“Well, Haechan told me your name is y/n. So, y/n, I was wondering if you would do my hair?”

You stop sweeping and lean your weight on the wooden broom handle. “I would love to, Jaemin!”

“Great! I’m sick of my dark hair and I was thinking-”

“When would you like to make an appointment with me?”

Jaemin pauses for a second, thrown off guard by rejection. “You mean...you can’t do me now? Haechan said he came here around this time a few weeks ago and he didn’t make an appointment with you then.”

“True, but I wasn’t as tired and hungry that night.” You shrug, dispensing of the hair and moving on to wiping the counter with a sanitary cloth.

“Oh… hey, how about I buy you something to eat?”

You make eye contact with the captivating gaze studying your movements in the reflection of the mirror, and raise a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you asking me out?”

Jaemin clutches his chest and leans back as if surprised. “Me? Asking you out? No! This is just getting food since, like you said, you’re hungry! Unless…” He relaxes into the chair again, dawning that same smile he wore when he first introduced himself. “... you want me to ask you out.”

“Oh…hmm.” You rub your lips together.

Last week’s you would have said yes in a heartbeat but the effect of meeting his bandmates one-by-one must have made the shiny novelty of being in the presence of the remaining rock star less intimidating. He’s still drop dead gorgeous and you’re still attracted to the infamous playboy but, again, he is a potential client and you are a strong willed professional. You have no intention of treating him rudely and you hope it hasn’t come off that way; you simply need to set some boundaries with Jaemin.

“Thanks but I think I'll have to pass.” You toss the wipe in the trash and pick up your appointment book. Flipping through the pages to the next available slots, you don’t notice his stunned expression. “Okay, the next time I’m available is next week on Tuesday from 3 t—"

“I’m sorry, what was that? You’ll pass?”

“Yes.” You crouch down and rummage through a cabinet at your workstation to grab something to write with.

“Yes, as in you will go out with me tonight?” he says hopefully.

“No. Yes, as in I’ll pass,” you giggle at the surprising optimism in his voice as you turn to face him for once. “And didn’t you say this wasn’t you asking me out?”

Jaemin clears his throat. “I’m not. I wasn’t asking you out, you must be hearing things.”

Both of you hear your stomach rumble with urgency and you let out a fatigued sigh. You could practically taste last night’s leftovers impatiently waiting for you in the fridge and as fun as it is staring at a pretty face like his, you are eager to leave. “Jaemin, do you want the appointment or not?”

Jaemin nods defeatedly. “Yes… I won’t pass on seeing you again, princess.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but don’t comment on it, penciling in his name and writing the details out on a tiny appointment card for him to avoid looking into his eyes. He likes to imagine that the name has the desired effect based on the way you avoided looking at him when “princess” left his mouth. He picks out a different pet name for every girl that catches his eye and to Jaemin you just look like you’ll melt if he calls you his princess enough times.

You hand the paper slip with the appointment time and date to him. His fingers brush against yours and, as cliche as it sounds, you feel tiny electric sparks tingling through your body stemming from where you made the slightest, brief contact with his skin.

Undoubtedly, it’s all in your head though. Perhaps the exhaustion is catching up to you and your mental capacity for rational decision making is short circuiting. There is absolutely nothing even remotely special going on between you two because at the end of the day, you’re just another girl he’s trying to sleep with. To get close to Na Jaemin, the embodiment of bad news, would be a major mistake on your part.

“Can I walk you to your car?”

You peek over his shoulder into the dark, empty parking lot. Being that you can make out your car in the shadows from where you’re standing, you feel that there is no need for accompaniment to your vehicle.

“Thanks, but I think I’m good.” Jaemin slightly pouts his lips adorably as he follows you like a scolded puppy out the door. “Um, well I’ll see you next week I guess.”

He looks down at the appointment card one last time and a mischievous smile spreads across his face. You gasp when he quickly plants a tender kiss on your cheek. He backtracks a few paces to look you up and down, drinking in your body one last time before he hits the road. “Yes, y/n. Yes you will. Tuesday. 3:00 pm… it’s a date,” he says confidently. Jaemin sends a flirty wink your way then jogs off to his car somewhere around the corner of the salon.

“It’s not a- !” you shout after the drummer who vanishes before you finish your rebuttal.

You reach up to the spot he kissed your skin, touching where his lips met your face. You slide into your car in a daze. The steering wheel is cold to the touch but the frozen leather doesn’t register with you right away. You take a deep breath after a moment and remind yourself that Jaemin is nothing to you because you’re basically nothing to him. You’re not playing into his hands like puddy to be molded however he pleases.

It’s not like you are the type to have a "I’m not like other girls'' mentality; you don’t believe yourself to be better or smarter than anyone else. You simply want to show Jaemin that his lousy, half-assed shot isn’t hitting the target he painted on some new girl’s ass. Maybe, just maybe, knocking him down a few pegs will serve as a learning point and he won’t pursue any future strangers with the same self entitled sleazy behavior.

─────────────────────

Jaemin is used to getting what he wants. He gets away with practically everything he does, sweet talking his way out of sticky situations that arise and using the art of persuasion to obtain anything that he could possibly ever desire. What’s more is that he rarely needs to put in much effort to get the outcome he’s seeking.

He couldn’t care less about whatever lesson you’re trying to teach him. Anyone with eyes could see that you are playing hard to get and he bets you will be eating out of the palm of his hand by the end of next week.

It is only a matter of time before you are his to ruin.

“Nah, dude, I really like her!” Mark objects when Jaemin reveals what actually happened between you two after only giving his housemates half the details the first night he met you. He flops down in a cheap bean bag chair in the corner of the small living room then lurches forward with wide eyes. “Wait, like, not like-like her. I mean, um, I think she’s really cool and I don’t want you to, like, mess up the band’s connection with y/n, you know?”

Jeno snickers, reaching over the coffee table to pass him the bong after taking a hit. “Calm down, Mark. We know you've got a crush on that one songwriter at the company, you don’t need to freak out.”

Mark's ears burn cherry red at the mention of the girl he's completely smitten over. “I’m not freaking out! All I’m saying is Jaemin’s idea is fucked up and I don’t know why I’M the only one who thinks that.” Mark pulls a lighter out of his pocket and finishes off what’s left of the bowl that hasn’t turned to ash.

Despite their newfound fame, the band still shares the same house. Although there is very little privacy among the five, it’s not the worst situation in the world. They all have their own rooms and there are enough parking spaces for those of them that drive so they haven’t found a need to move out yet.

Nevertheless, if the band had to complain about anything, one of the first things Mark, Renjun, Jeno and Haechan would bring up is the frequency in which Jaemin brings home new hookups and how loud the combination of hot moaning and squeaky bed springs tends to be in the middle of the night. Sometimes they’re one-night stands and other times they serve as Jaemin’s little plaything that he’ll keep around for a short period of time — emphasis on short. Most of them grow attached to him, assuming it's an unspoken relationship sort of thing, but Jaemin hasn't had a relationship in several years and he doesn't plan on having a girlfriend anytime soon. He's perfectly content with the revolving door of girls he's set up nicely.

He hasn’t always been this way though. Heartbreak can do that to a person, fucking them up so badly that they spiral into this fiercely independent thrill seeker who views attachment as a death sentence. They’ll do nearly anything under the sun just to distract themselves and feel something other than heartache once and awhile until it’s a distant, foggy memory. Jaemin has found success in this field, putting off what normal, healthy people feel and diving deeper into this numbing pit.

Even if the nightly disturbances prevent them from getting sufficient shut eye, the other four members would rather lose sleep if it meant that they could keep his bad practices in check, preventing those from potentially worsening or him experimenting with harder drugs on a regular basis if not under their supervision. It's one thing to snort a line of coke at a party, but addiction and dependency on a dangerous drug is what they're concerned about him doing someday.

“You’re not the only one, Mark. There’s no way she’s dumb enough to cave within a week,” Renjun concurs from the couch. He turns to Haechan on his left and softly requests that he packs the bowl for him because Renjun doesn’t like doing it himself. Naturally, he gets what he wants, as per usual when he asks nicely in a way that the others can’t say no to.

“So what? You’re saying you think it’ll take longer?”

Haechan snaps his tongue disappointedly, not looking up to address the speaker as he concentrates on crumbling the weed on Renjun’s behalf. “It’s not about ‘how long.’ It’s about leaving her alone because you’re harassing her and she’s obviously not interested.”

“Why? Does she have a boyfriend? Orrr, I don't know, girlfriend?” Jaemin sits down at the coffee table and folds his legs in front of him.

“As far as I know she’s single,” Renjun informs him before taking a hit that’s too big for him and heavily coughing.

“Okay, so what I'm hearing is that you don’t know that she’s not interested for sure-for sure.”

“Come on, Jaemin. She’s, like, the only stylist that’s fried my hair the least out of all the others we’ve been to,” Mark points at his blond hair.

Jeno tilts towards him to pat his head and verify it’s less straw-like than previous trips to the hair salon. “I wish she could be the one to do our hair regularly, even for this album and the tour.”

“Me too,” Haechan agrees. “Actually, my wish is that somebody doesn’t fuck up our chances of y/n even agreeing to do our hair again and maybe even get us banned from the salon.”

“Quit being so dramatic. I’m not going to do something to that scale.”

“‘Do something to that scale?’” Renjun says with a faded drawl to his voice. “Even after we explicitly told you that we don’t want you to hit and run y/n, you’re still going to do it anyways. Great. Our friendship means nothing. Got it.”

Jaemin holds his hands up as if being held at gunpoint by their barrage of criticisms. “Ugh, okay! I get it! You guys don’t want me to mess with her. I’ll back off, okay?”

Jeno lightly kicks Jaemin to get his attention. “Wait a minute. Don’t you have an appointment with her tomorrow?” he recalls, receiving a nod of confirmation. “So are you going to cancel it to make her less uncomfortable?”

“Why would I do that? If you guys can be friends with y/n, why can’t I be friends with y/n too?”

Haechan snorts, painfully blowing some smoke through his nose as it flows out from his lungs and into the thoroughly hazy air. “Because you can’t force friendships and you’ve probably already creeped her out, that’s why.”

“Well it’s too late now. I can’t cancel this late, that would be incredibly rude! And friends don’t do that to other friends.”

“Surrre,” the singer replies sarcastically. “Like you don’t already have some ulterior motive behind wanting to be friends with her. We all get it, you want to fuck her brains out. But could you just consider what we’re saying and keep it in your pants? For once?”

“Actually, when you think about it, she's lucky that we’ll be too busy getting ready to drop the album that you won’t have, like, all the time in the world to bug her,” Mark comments.

“And your hair is lucky you won’t be frying it every week just to see her again,” Jeno pokes fun at his best friend. He smiles widely when he, Lee Jeno – new residential funny guy of the band, receives a chuckle from the bunch.

After its second trip around the room, the bong returns to Jaemin’s grasp. A lightbulb goes off in Jaemin’s head as he brings the mouthpiece to his lips. Knowing they would disapprove, he doesn’t share the ingenious idea that popped into his mind. “Yeah, you’re right…if only we had more time to see her.”

─────────────────────

“Mmmh, that feels good,” Jaemin practically moans as you massage his scalp in the wash bowl. “Are you usually this quiet during appointments? You’ve barely said anything this whole time.”

“No, not all of them. Just during the appointments with guys trying to flirt with me the whole time,” you reply with a smirk.

“Who said I was flirting with you, y/n?”

“No one had to say anything. You literally asked me out last week.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hang on a minute. I thought we went over this? I was simply asking if you wanted to get food as friends,” he poorly attempts to persuade you.

“Oh, so we’re friends now, huh? I guess I didn’t get the memo that we were already friends.” You stop running your fingers through his soft hair and rinse the nourishing conditioner out with warm water.

Jaemin frowns a bit when you pivot around to retrieve a neatly folded towel from the rack behind you. He liked the view from this position, looking up at your concentrated face and memorizing your features in a situation where you couldn’t avoid facing him. Sadly, all good things must end, including this one.

You ring the fluffy towel around the halo of his hairline and help him pat his freshly dyed hair dry. He sits up from the position he was laying, tilted back with his head hovering over the wash bowl.

“Yeah, well, now you know. We’re friends… and as your nicest, most considerate and utmost reliable friend, I went ahead and got you a new, better job,” he states proudly.

“You what?” you ask, incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Jaemin takes over from there and holds the towel in place himself. He twists his torso around to face you with an excited expression. “I talked to the guys and they all love how you did their hair, sooo I went to the company and talked about you and ta-da! You have a new job with us!”

“With… you?”

“Yeah, well not just me, silly. It’s all of us! and shhh, don’t tell anyone but-” Jaemin leans in closer and motions for you to do the same. Cupping one hand around his mouth he whispers, “-we’re releasing our second album in a few weeks! AND going on a short tour right after that!”

“Um, congrats! But what does that have to do with me again?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes teasingly like the answer is right under your nose and if it were a snake, it would have bitten you already. “Tour! T-O-U-R. We’re going on tour. And we need someone to do our hair because the old stylist left the day after we shot the music video and now that someone is you.”

Your eyes widen slowly while you absorb the new information that he sprung on you unexpectedly. “I-I don’t know what to say…when is–”

“Princess, this is when you say ‘thank you, Jaemin! I never imagined having such an amazing, handsome, and talented friend like you!’” he exclaims in a higher pitched tone with no regard to the judgmental side glances from other occupants of the beauty salon.

Although you hate to think that you owe the notorious playboy anything whatsoever, he is 100% correct. His questionably kind deed deserves your gratitude. You never would have imagined having someone like Jaemin, a borderline b-list celebrity from a rock band that you had just started listening to a few months ago, would have thrown around his weight to earn you a role at the legendary music label. Come to think of it, you are surprised he has any influence on staff-related matters at all, considering the band joined the company relatively recently themselves.

Jaemin lets the wrinkly wet towel slip onto his muscular shoulders, throwing his arms around you. He embraces your stunned body in a bear hug, thawing your frozen frame with his hot body heat. Water droplets trickle down from his hair and land on your blouse, nevertheless, similar to the soured opinions directed at you two in the establishment, the dampening of your clothing means very little to the both of you at the moment.

“Um, i… thank you, Jaemin.”

“Hold up, wait. Are you saying you’ll do it? Really!?”

The damp towel rung around his neck falls to the floor when he suddenly steps back. He holds both of your shoulders, looking you square in the face. His eyes lit up hearing your words due to the fact that he was half convinced you would turn down the offer, prioritizing loyalty to the business without second thought.

“Yes, I’ll do it,” you laugh lightly at his cute, unexpectedly animated response.

Jaemin becomes self aware a second later, bringing him to drop the smile and clear his throat. He resumes the trademark smooth rock star composure, his seductive, half lidded eyes searching your face for hesitation. “You’re not going to make the mistake of passing on me again, are you?”

“No, I’m not passing on this opportunity you somehow got for me.” You teasingly roll your eyes at his attempt to salvage the cool image he abandoned for authentic elation. “Wait, you’re not messing with me are you? This is a real offer, right?”

“Of course it’s real, y/n,” he assures you.

He bends over to pick up the towel that dropped at your feet. He returns to the upright position a handful of inches away from your face. You hold your breath, heart beating out of your chest, butterflies fluttering up a storm in your abdomen, core clenching around nothing — all byproducts of ending up in such close proximity to him. Being so close, you can smell his clean, cotton cologne, see the teeny, almost invisible crescents of amber rimming the bottom of his irises and, despite a thin of concealer, faint purple pigmentation under his tired eyes.

It’s different than looking down at him as you massaged the dye from his hair. You can back away at any given moment, putting distance between your bodies if you are uncomfortable, just as Jaemin has an equal opportunity to take one step forward at any given moment, colliding your mouths together like he has envisioned not only this whole appointment, but all the days before. Looking at him in 4k clarity, he is nothing less than perfect from your point of view… and that’s a problem for you in both the short term and the long run.

His hypnotic gaze flicks to your lips for a moment then back up to your glossy eyes. “Princess, I’d never mess with you like that. I’m no saint but I’m not the devil,” Jaemin whispers in a hushed voice for only you to hear before booping your nose. He walks a short distance from the washbowls, returning to the styling chair he had eagerly awaited to sit down in since he saw you last. “How about you dry my hair and then we go sign the paperwork? What do ’ya say, y/n?” You nod dreamily, removing the blow dryer from its slot next to your styling station cabinet. Almost still in disbelief, you feel a bit light headed, whether from the unimaginable job offer or the dangerous heartbreaker sitting in front of you, you have no clue. “I say you got yourself a deal, Jaemin.”

“Perfect,” he approves with a cunning undertone you don’t catch while you’re preoccupied with multitasking, deeply reflecting on the present situation and blow drying his freshly dyed hair.

He may not get you by the end of this week, but the sweet taste of victory is almost on the tip of his tongue. You are at the threshold, barely restraining yourself from letting go and admitting you want him in every way possible.

He wants you to be the one to lean in and kiss his lips. You have to want it so badly that you make the first move and he’ll be patient until he gets what he wants. Jaemin is absolutely certain this time that one more flirty encounter should do the trick before you’ll be kneeling at his feet, mouth wide open and desperate eyes pleading for him to fuck your throat, brutally.

─────────────────────

Before your first day of work, you had spent an incredibly long time stressing over what awaited you now that you have signed at the bottom of a long, binding contract, your name sworn with dark navy blue ink in swirly, scribbled cursive letters that, when put all together, vaguely resembled your name.

The two weeks of your time as an employee was much easier than you thought it would be so your adjustment period as the band’s hairstylist went by in a breeze. You went over their typical weekly schedules with their managers and got a good look at the upcoming promotion timetable, finding out which appearances of theirs would be more laid back and others that will likely require more exertion based on their level of physical activity. There are a few upcoming radio shows, interviews and live performances of their title track song, as well as self-made content of the band doing various fun activities that the company believes will let the fans get to know the band better.

In a short amount of time, Jaemin constantly hitting on you has become nothing more than a minor inconvenience. You’re aware that he sees that as somewhat of a challenge but it doesn’t bother you as much as you worried beforehand. You wonder if the previous hair stylist received the same amount of attention from Jaemin and if he had been flirting up a storm with her too.

…

“So, Mack! Tell us-”

“It’s Mark, actually,” he meekly muttered under his breath, not knowing that the mic-pac would pick up his voice during the tv interview.

“Oh, sorry! What was that again, dear?” The disarming, middle aged interviewer leaned forward and looked down the line of five at the misnamed member on the furthest side of the couch.

The cameraman panned over to Mark, live broadcasting his startled expression over national television. Being that Jaemin had been sitting next to the band’s leader, his face was also captured staring off into the distance with a lost look in his eyes.

He’s typically quiet and introverted in public or around strangers, which is why one might think he pays great attention to the little details of his surroundings. Though this theory sounds reasonable, they would be dead wrong. His bad habit of zoning out happens in the middle of relatively every scheduled event, interview, or activity, and this occasion was no different.

His attention was drawn back to the present when Mark’s elbow accidentally bumped into him subconsciously brushing his hand through his hair in a nervous sweat. “Um, it’s Mark! Sorry for interrupting! Continue, continue,” he said, gesturing with both hands for the host to carry on with the interview questions.

…

“Okay, what were you thinking right there?” you ask him. You pause the video on youtube and point it out to the member whose hair was weirdly textured on just the right side of his head. It’s the first day of promoting their new album and so far they’ve completed two out of the three interviews on the docket. With one last stop to go, his hairdo required more correction than the others when they arrived at the final destination.

“I don’t know!” he squeaks defensively. “Like, how can you forget a name like Mark? It’s basically the easiest one to remember!”

Haechan joins you, Mark and Renjun in the dressing room. “Really? I think you’re pretty forgettable.” Haechan takes a seat on the couch next to him and scoots closer to pat his back. “You should go by Mack from now on. Doesn’t he look like a Mack?”

Unsurprisingly, he ends up on the opposite side of the couch after Mark shoves his shoulder. Haechan slumps to his side, pretending to be wounded and pouting as if he didn’t intentionally aggravate Mark to get wacked, pinched or elbowed on purpose.

“Hey, don’t mess up your hair playing the victim,” you say with amusement.

“Yeah, listen to y/n.” Looking over your shoulder, you see Jaemin enter the room, wagging a finger at him with one hand and holding something behind his back with the other. Jeno nudges him forward a few paces to maneuver around his best friend practically blocking the doorway.

Mark reassures you that he will be more mindful to avoid fidgeting during their last interview in an hour and you shift your attention back to the flirt. You look at him suspiciously, narrowing your eyes. “What’s that behind your back?”

He smiles and reveals a cardboard tray of four Starbucks drinks. “I hope I guessed your order correctly.”

Haechan pops up at your side excitedly. “Did you get all of us coffee? Is the cold brew for me?”

“No, it’s for y/n,” he snaps. He removes the can from the slot in which it was safely stored, holding it out for you. “Besides, there are six of us and four drinks. Can you count?”

You take it from him. “Thank you, Jaemin… but I don’t like cold brew coffee, but thank you., anyways.”

Jaemin watches you hand the drink off to Haechan. He smiles gleefully and cracks open the can, taking a swig of the drink intended for your mouth. He gives you an appreciative half hug before returning to his seat. “Yeah, thank you, Jaemin.”

Jaemin selects another drink from the cardboard tray for his second attempt. “Okay, how about this one?”

You read the markings on the side of the cup to deduce the flavor. “Hm, what if I don’t like cafe lattes?”

“Then what about a mango smoothie?”

“Can I have that one, please?” Mark speaks up from behind you.

You accept the third unwanted drink from Jaemin’s grasp and pass it to the member who asked nicely instead of keeping it in your possession. Jaemin sighs, frustrated by the unexpected failure. He plucks the last one from the carton and brings it up to his mouth for a sip of the drink he ordered for himself personally.

“Wait, is that an iced americano?” You flick your chin at the cup.

He pauses and rolls his eyes. “Lemme guess. This is what you usually order.” The irony of the situation and his expression makes you giggle briefly, nodding to confirm his statement. He looks down at the drink and back to you before reluctantly holding it out. “Fine. You can have my drink. But! You should know that I already drank off of it.”

“I don’t mind,” you answer. Receiving the drink, he watches you slip the straw past your lips and you smile up at him, whether triumphantly or appreciatively, there’s no way to tell the difference.

The gesture was so basic and the result of the situation shouldn’t have mattered but Jaemin felt like you have won this round. Your job isn’t supposed to be a game and yet in his mind he’s losing every match to a girl that he deemed an easy opponent.

─────────────────────

“God, I hate this game,” Renjun grumbles.

Haechan comes up behind him, throwing his arm over Renjun’s narrow shoulders. “God, I love this game.”

“Of course you do.” Renjun attempts to push him away but Haechan koalas his slim frame tighter.

“What does playing ‘Mafia’ have to do with us? How do you even do that with five people?” he adds to the long list of complaints you’ve heard from them since they arrived on set early this morning.

"The show has two hosts, which makes it a total of 7 players," Mark explains. “It won’t be that bad, you guys. It's only a few rounds.” Jeno backs him up with a supportive grunt.

Jeno turns to Jaemin to finish their census on the last filmed content video they are putting out before the tour starts next week. “What do you think, Jaemin?”

“Hm?” Jaemin stops nursing his iced coffee absentmindedly. “Oh, yeah. Mafia doesn’t sound too bad…” As you join them, aiming to fix any hairs out of place with a precise tiny tool in your hand, his tonal inflection shifts to the trademark flirty one you’re so familiar with nowadays. “Hey, gorgeous! What do you think of Mafia?”

“I don’t think that Mafia is as terrible as you guys make it out to be.” You start with Renjun then direct your attention to Jeno. You get on your tiptoes to carefully fix a few pink lemonade strands of hair on the top of his head and make a mental note that the color is fading faster than you anticipated. The members taller than Renjun have grown accustomed to lowering themselves to make your job easier. Moving on to Mark’s hair, he does the same thing automatically.

“Oh my god! We finally agreed on something for the first time ever!”

You roll your eyes, smiling at his silly, false assertion. “This isn’t the first time we’ve ever agreed on something. There's definitely been some other time that we can’t remember where we agreed on something.”

Jaemin strokes his chin considering your statement. “Okay, maybe it’s not the very first but I beeeeet it’s one of the first.”

You scoff and shift to Haechan, correcting the flyaway hairs sprouting where his dark hair is parted. “You’re always using that word: bet. It’s like you’d “bet” on nearly anything like you’re psychic.”

“And what if I am, huh?” he says, words laced with the promise of a challenge. “I bet I can read your mind right now.”

Jaemin’s eyes ping pong from your face, down your body, to your feet and back up again before you approach him to fix his hair. He deviously ruffled his hair on purpose to grant himself more intimate time with you. He studies your face closely, looking for all the tiny tell-tale signs that you are on the verge of cracking and letting him use you like a pliant sexdoll.

“Yeah, right. And I’m not doing that ‘pick a number between whatever and whatever and I’ll say it’ thing either.”

“I wasn’t talking about numbers. I know what you’re thinking… I know what you’re imagining…and I’d say it out loud but–” Jaemin leans in closer to your ear, whispering a heavily suggestive comment. “–I think it’s a bit too explicit for so many people around us to hear your wild, dirty thoughts about what I'm going to do to you.” He rocks back on his heels, retracting his mouth that was nearly skimming the sensitive skin of your neck close to your ear. You turn around to face the other guys and not the playboy.

The ten seconds of silence is broken by Jeno asking “Wait, so what’s y/n thinking?”

“No, what do you think y/n’s thinking, Mr. psychic?” Renjun corrects him. “I’m sure you were correct since you’re just so good at reading minds.”

“Hey, isn’t it funny how Jaemin can read minds but he has the worst memory? Peak comedy right there,” Haechan laughs along with Renjun at the irony.

You avert your eyes from a few curious pairs awaiting the rejection of what he said. You turn your back on them, reaching for Jaemin’s locks of hair that stand up in different directions in an attempt to deal with the embarrassing heat rippling across your face and neck in the most private way possible in this current situation.

“No, he was dead wrong! I was thinking about going home because I’m really tired,” you remark truthfully over your shoulder then tune out whatever conversion follows your nightmarish one where you were put on the spot.

What you were imagining wasn’t anything remotely close to sexual before he spoke. Although, just as he planned, a certain kind of fantasy is the only thing clouding your mind. Your palms are sweaty and your heart is beating alarmingly fast due to the high tension moment. The somersaults in your stomach coax an arousal to simmer just beneath your skin. You wish you could hide it, compartmentalize or, even better, squash the thrilling attraction you feel towards Jaemin so he wouldn’t be able to detect even a fraction of your flustered condition at the moment.

Why do you feel like he has all the power in this situation?

After all, when you think about it for a second, Jaemin is an alleged sex addict. If anyone was going to feel turned on beyond control, wouldn’t it be him? So if you are going to have to suffer through the sexual frustration he caused for the evening, your new job (that he also technically got you) is to make it so he will too. You don’t know how sensitive he is to the little things that turn you on as well, so basically all you can do is hope you can at least kind of bother him to regain some power.

You’re overtly aware that he watches your reactions like a hawk, which is the exact reason why you lick across your top and your bottom lips, slow and sensual, followed by biting your bottom lip to torment him. You keep your bottom lip tucked between your teeth until you’re down sculpting his hair to perfection again. With the comb’s final stroke through his hair, you lean in to Jaemin’s neck even closer than he did for you. Your lips barely graze his smooth skin while whispering, “I don’t know how to explain it but I think doing things in public, with so many people around us to accidentally hear or see, is really fucking hot…but if you pull something like that again, I will shave your fucking head.”

Mark clears his throat awkwardly to try and disturb the tense scene but Jaemin doesn't waver right away, stunned and aroused in a way he didn’t expect from a girl he believed to be so innocent and pure. “I think I just heard them call for us!”

“Uh, no they d–” Jeno starts, giving him a puzzled look but being cut off by Mark nudging his shoulder.

“Let’s go guys,” he calls on them. He flicks his chin in the direction of the nearly blindingly bright set and high definition cameras. Jaemin doesn’t budge until Jeno loops his arm under Jaemin’s, hauling him away from where you stand cemented to the floor in shock.

Why did you do that?

You just made the situation worse by tempting him back. You can’t remember a time when you were more turned on than this moment with him and you could easily imagine yourself getting addicted to that pulsating feeling between your legs. You cross your arms, mind scrambled and unsure what to focus on after his public stunt. With nothing to do, you watch the game of deception.

Every member is animated, lively and competitive today, making for the most entertaining content that their fans can devour. Per usual, Jaemin doesn't really take the game seriously. In the three rounds of the game, he’s chosen as mafia twice and, by total luck, wins both of them simply because his partner deceived the innocents.

Jaemin rides back to the house with a pack of Korean beef in his lap and a temporary crown of superiority sitting atop his inflated head. It occurs to him that upon the hustle and bustle of wrapping up filming, he didn’t see where you ran off to. He sums up why it means so much to say goodnight as wanting you to part ways with him being on your mind for the whole night yet that regret of not doing so only bonds you to his mind.

─────────────────────

“Hey, do you know what time y/n left? I didn’t see her at the end of the night and this is the fourth time she hasn’t said goodnight to me.”

“Why would she go out of her way to say goodnight to you, of all people?” Jeno chuckles. The safest driver of the five keeps his eyes on the road heading home while carrying on with their conversation. “You didn’t see her at the end because she left with Mark and he didn’t have to stay as long as I did waiting for you to– ”

Jaemin sits up suddenly. “She left with Mark?”

“Yeah, they’re going out for drinks– ”

“They’re WHAT?”

“-but it’s not like how you’re thinking of it! They’re just friends, Mark and I were talking about her earlier and he’s not into her like that. Haechan and Renjun might meet up with them later too so I don’t know if we’ll see them when we get back right now.”

“Ugh, inviting them but not inviting us? That’s just plain rude.”

“Welll… I was invited.” Jeno pulls into the garage and turns to face Jaemin. “I just knew that you’ll feel extremely lonely sitting at him by yourself.”

“What the fuck. Why wasn’t I invited?”

“I don’t know, maybe she didn’t want to be hit on all night.”

Jaemin shuts the door to the garage a little harder than he intended to as he heads inside. “She’s going to a bar. She’s going to be hit on no matter if I was invited or not.”

“True… but nobody at Neo Bar would be trying to get her number while also having been harassing her for weeks. She’s not gonna run into anyone creepier than you tonight.”

“ah-HA! So they’re at Neo tonight! Roger that.” Jaemin races up the stairs to throw on what he considers night-appropriate attire. Descending swiftly to swipe the car keys without tell his best friend, Jeno catches his arm in the doorway

“Argh…I can’t believe I’m saying this but if you’re going, I’m going with you,” Jeno concedes, sighing. He holds out his hand, motioning for Jaemin to hand over the car keys he took. “But I’m driving.”

…

Initially, when he and Jeno arrive at the scene, Jaemin is surprised to discover there’s a considerable number of patrons in and around the establishment, leading Jeno to remind him that the place is considered more of a rock club than it is a bar. He also mentions how the place is well known for being a hotspot that bands, songwriters, producers and all the alike frequent, which explains why even if it’s a Thursday night and a bulk of the people vibing to the music inside and scattered across the parking lot have jobs they need to show up bright and early for in the morning, they would hang around here to increase their chances of encountering someone famous within the industry.

The air is dense and smoky, its jumbled, incomprehensible chatter blending together. Various rock songs ranging from legends like The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC, to the newer rock bands that aren’t credited as household names yet, blare through Neo Bar’s speakers, engulfing the room in a nearly overwhelming state of chaos. They played a Bad Dreams song a half hour ago and you'd never seen Mark smile wider.

Beginning to elbow his way through the overgrown forest of people, Jaemin wonders about your drinking habits too. Are you the kind to not give a damn about potential hangovers the next morning or do you take precautions and limit your intoxication? He theorizes that a majority of the people he bumps into are hovering at a reasonable level of inebriation with the threat of work in the A.M. looming over the horizon of their foreseeable futures.

The setting reminds Jaemin of the painful, soul-souring memories he’d rather not hash out today, nor tomorrow, nor forever until the day he’s six feet under in an overpriced, wooden box. Jaemin presses onward in search of his elusive target, albeit feeling the faint ache in his chest resurfacing after four years of suppressing it.

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Jeno yells. Even in the low lighting, he notices Jaemin looking a bit gray around the gills. Jaemin nods and gives him a thumbs up, brushing off his visible discomfort and pretending like he doesn’t feel the walls shrinking inwardly with every step he adventures deeper into the tangled sweaty, compressed thicket.

They scour the stuffy, packed bar, seemingly going in circles until Jeno spots you and Mark in one of the very back corners. Your secluded nook leads up a handful of stairs to a platform with two wide lounge couches, slightly angled to face each other. There is enough room to fit all four of you comfortably if you double up on who's sitting next to whom. Bon Jovi's "You Give Love A Bad Name" begins to play as the newcomers tread up the sturdy stairs to join you two, you and Mark get to your feet from the couch you were sharing.

You throw your head back, in one thick gulp downing the rest of the drink bought for you by some stranger who was hitting on you half an hour ago. At the time, it was when Mark was in the bathroom and you were picking up beers. He tried several slimy pick up lines on you, and, because he didn’t notice you came with someone, got the impression that you were here alone.

Honestly, it made you appreciate the way Jaemin speaks to you – not overtly predatory, but rather smooth and silky. Even if they both have the same end goal in mind, you don't feel as icky when Jaemin tries to sweet talk you.

You hiss as the alcohol sears your throat and the numbing heat bubbles within your chest. “What are you d-doing here?” you hiccup, poking Jaemin's toned chest.

He smiles fondly, finding your tipsy behavior both adorable and amusing. Unsurprisingly, he winks at you, and takes your hand into his the next time you try to poke his chest. Threading your fingers together, your clasped hands fall in between your bodies. He lightly swings them like it’s a natural occurrence for your hand to be enclosed in his larger one.

“Isn’t it obvious? I came to see you, princess.”

“Well what if I wanted a break from seeing you right now?” you pout. You half-heartedly try to pull away, making zero progress when he doesn't budge. Realizing, however, that it's quite comfortable and nowhere near as foreign of a feeling as you might've imagined it to be, you leave them conjoined.

“Well then I’d say you’re too drunk right now and can’t think straight.” Jaemin boops your nose out of nowhere and you giggle easily.

You tug him over to sit next to you on the vacant lounge chair that was reserved for Haechan and Renjun if they hadn't bailed. You plop down and Jaemin follows your lead. The limited space that the piece of furniture offers means that it is inevitable for your thigh to press against his. You slouch to the side in the opposite direction he’s sitting, leaning your upper body weight on your elbow against the armrest. You cup your chin in your hand and close your eyes momentarily to enjoy the buzz underneath your skin and vibrating off the walls.

In what feels like a minute later, it’s brought to your attention that you’re still holding hands with Jaemin. You can’t help but smile when you feel him draw gentle shapes into the back of your hand with his thumb. You subtly side glance at him. He’s wrapped up in a conversation about what to pack for next week’s highly anticipated departure.

“I’m not packing too much so my bag isn’t the one you need to worry about,” Jaemin tells someone.

“Yeah, because you store a lot of your stuff in my bag and you’re anti-pajamas,” Jeno inserts, before going down to fetch another round of drinks that neither you nor Jaemin plan on participating in – his reasoning being that he finds alcohol to be repugnant, both in terms of taste and the burn that ripples down his throat; and yours having to do with taking precaution against potential alcohol poisoning.

You haven’t even taken a single sip within the last few minutes, and yet, with each passing second, you feel further away from your physical form.

“Anti p-pajamas?” you hiccup.

“Yeah. I read that wearing pajamas to bed is bad for your health,” Jaemin smirks. He adjusts your hand's position, resting it in the middle of his thigh. “And because I care so much about my health, I sleep naked.”

“Oh,” you replied simply, sounding unimpressed.

You passively listen to them chatter about the upcoming tour and wearing the same outfits at the airport for no particular reason, before Jeno and Mark get up for something. You sit up straight, watching them put greater distance between themselves and you and Jaemin, then slump against your seat companion when you feel too dizzy to stay upright. He readjusts himself, shifting his entire body to be at an angle that would make you more comfortable. Lolling your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into the crook of his neck and hum dreamily. “So do I.”

“You do what?”

“Sleep naked,” you murmur, using your last spurt of energy to curl your legs up and mount his lap.

His hands circle around your middle, squeezing your love handles, possessively. Staring up at your shadowy face, his eyes light up with concern, piecing together that your mannerisms are too out of character for the fault to be placed on the alcohol alone. “y/n, how are you feeling right now?”

A small part of you knows that he’s trying to communicate with you but a faded numbness swallows the words on your tongue before they can leave your mouth.

“Hey, did you take something? You can tell me. I won’t judge, sweetie. I’ve definitely taken worse.”

"Hm?" You blink at him, disengaged and lethargic, failing to form sentences.

You fixate on his mouth where he subsequently performs your favorite habit of his: lightly licking at the corner of the seam of his lips with his indisputably talented tongue. You don't need him shove his tongue down your throat to know that. It's common knowledge.

In a daze, your vision blurs and you melt further into him. You unintentionally grind on Jaemin’s crotch, moaning softly from the pleasure that the friction provides. You do it again and again, still unaware of its origins, or that you are the culprit behind your own stimulation.

He licks his lips again, indecisively. On one hand, he wants you to continue grinding against his growing erection, making yourself feel good while he gets off to the sound of your airy noises – the noises that you don’t realize you’re letting slip from your mouth. But on the other hand, he’s growing increasingly worried about your lack of sobriety.

If you’re going to be on top of him, getting off on the feeling of his hard cock rubbing into your core, he wants it to be of your own free will. Jaemin wants you to choose to pleasure yourself in this scenario, not by compulsion from some substance strong enough to numb all of your senses and strip you of your agency. If he's ever given free reign to do whatever he pleases to your body, it's not going to be because you’re incredibly vulnerable and barely know what's happening, you are going to have to be the one to hand them over.

Properly translating your body language, Jaemin knits his eyebrows together and gathers his scattered thoughts. Your two friends reappear on the outskirts of the crowd. As they climb the stairs, they see what looks to be Jaemin guiding your severely inebriated frame to grind on top of him. The soft moans that spill from your gaping mouth absentmindedly go straight to their crotches.

"Jaemin, what the fuck, man?" Mark gestures at the blatant power imbalance going on here. His voice squeaks, embarrassed to be hearing something he feels like he shouldn't.

“Mark! Where did y/n get this drink from?”

Mark points a thumb over his shoulder towards the bar in which they returned from. “She went over to get us another round of drinks and, I don’t know, she just, like, came back with that one too. I'm pretty sure it was from some guy that was hitting on her earlier.”

To you, their voices sound like distant memories from a past life as you nod off into the clouds. Jaemin feels your muscles power down, your limp body collapsing on his, mobility reduced to paralysis.

“Fuck,” Jaemin curses. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, careful not to disturb you too much, despite that being impossible based on how far you’ve tumbled down the rabbit hole.

Going to the search engine app on his phone, he types out “roofied symptoms” into the search bar with one thumb. Clicking the first site to come up, Jaemin reads down the list, tightening his hold on you protectively when you match every bullet point’s descriptions.

“Wait, dude, what’s going on? Is y/n okay?” Mark staggers a bit closer, wobbling and almost falling over the edge of the platform but successfully making his way to the lounge couch miraculously.

Jaemin sits up a bit straighter, supporting your rag doll body against his. “No, she’s not okay. She’s been fucking drugged,” he spits out angrily.

“Ah, fuck… shit, I’m sorry, man. This is all my fault for not looking out for her when that one guy was hanging around. I should’ve warned her about the drink.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Just help me get her up,” Jaemin huffs impatiently.

Jeno springs into action, filling in for Mark who’s too far gone to be of much service whereas Jeno has taken a total of two sips from the liquid poison in his cup. Jeno helps drag your body up and off of Jaemin’s lap, propping you in between them temporarily until they’ve devised a course of action. They decide that it would be easier if Jeno is the one to carry you back to the car while Jaemin and Mark dig through the crowd in front of you two, clearing as much room as they can afford to get you out quickly and safely.

Setting you down in the back seat of his car, Jeno accidentally bumps your head into the door frame and when Jaemin climbs in to sit next to you, he kisses the newly bruised spot at a moment that Mark and Jeno aren’t looking his way. He clicks your seatbelt into place and settles your body against his side again. He angles his position to mirror the one he did inside to add to your comfort – which again, doesn’t matter since you can’t feel anything, but it means something to Jaemin so he does it anyway. Jeno gets into the driver's seat and Mark, the passenger seat.

It would be a different situation if one of them knew your phone passcode, but since they have no way of getting in contact with any friends or family member of yours, they figure the best and only option here is taking you home with them.

─────────────────────

The next morning, you awake to the smell of burnt toast.

You suspect that it’s nothing more than your roommate’s typical misfortune with anything involving food and rollover to get some extra, much needed shut eye. Your cheek hits the left side of the pillowcase and you instantly detect a different scented fabric softener instantly when sniffing the material

You shoot up out of bed in a panic. You don’t recognize the room and you have no recollection of the night or how you even got here. You squint your eyes, sensitive to the mid-afternoon sunlight pouring into the room from tall windows. Your throbbing head feels extremely heavy like a bowling ball and you press your palms to your temples, applying minimal pressure to try and relieve an ounce of the pain.

You stumble a bit, vision blurring and head spinning, prompting you to hop up and perch yourself on the corner of the relatively tall bed. Looking down at your legs, you realize you’re not wearing the jeans you picked out the previous evening. Instead, you’re dressed in dark blue and black plaid boxers and this is when the real panic sets in.

“Y/n? Are you, like, awake?” a stranger calls through the door. “I made breakfast!”

You snatch a selfie stick from the potentially dangerous man’s desk and wield it in two hands as if it were a formidable opponent weapon. Seeing the lock on the door is twisted to signify open, you leap towards it to prevent the stranger from allegedly harming you again. He swings the door open at the moment you lunge for the lock and your bodies collide. You knock him into the hallway, landing on the wooden floor smack dab on top of him.

“Ow… so I’ll take that as a sign you’re awake?” Mark wheezes.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Mark! I didn’t know where I was and who you were and I kind of freaked out.”

Hearing a loud thud, Jaemin rounds the corner of the hall. The scene he witnesses is one he would never have expected, your lips within inches of Mark’s for a moment before you unsteadily push off of his chest. The way Jaemin sees it, you appear elated to have an opportunity to straddle Mark’s waist. When you sit upright, he would even testify that you slightly roll your hips and grind on his crotch.

Not like it matters to him or anything.

He could not care less that you’re on top of someone that isn’t him. You could fuck anyone you wanted, including any of the band members.

Did he want to be the first rock star to make you come? Yes. But would he throw a fit over it? No. Besides, he erased the word “jealousy” from his vocabulary years ago. Jury's out on whether or not he’ll hold a grudge against Mark for a while, on the basis of bro code. Although, does bro code apply when you call dibs on someone in a non romantic context?

You roll off of Mark’s body. Attempting to get to your feet reminds you of your body’s limits and that you’re aching all over. You throw in the towel, giving up on standing this very second and crawl over to the wall to prop your back up against it. You squint up at Jaemin with a sour expression on your face which he initially believes is directed at him.

“Hey, would you please close the windows in there? It’s so fucking bright it hurts,” you ask nicely, throwing him off guard.

“Um, yeah, no problem.” Jaemin hops over you and Mark’s bodies still sprawled out in the hallway to close the flimsy curtains in Mark’s room, yet despite doing everything possible to block out the sun’s rays, the glow through the mostly transparent, white curtains remains an issue.

He remembers reading photosensitivity being a side effect that victims of the drug experience the next day, along with a few others that Mark and him deemed too worrisome to let you leave and deal with on your own for the time being. Right on cue you feel a wave of nausea hit you. Jaemin crouches down to thread his arms around your body as best he can and helps you to the bathroom quickly. In between your uses of the toilet, he folds up a shower mat and shoves it under your knees to cushion them against the tile.

Jaemin sits on the dusty floor of the bathroom with you, refusing to leave your side until you’re feeling well enough to get up.

He fills in the blanks for you about what happened the night before explaining how you were drugged and why they took you back to their house. You discover that the reason you’re wearing his boxer shorts is that one of the rowdy bar patrons had spilled most of their drink down your legs when they were on their way out. Jaemin said he washed your jeans so you wouldn't be able to tell where the wet stain on your jeans once was and you thank him. You will never tell a soul that after a few hours, you felt comfortable wearing something of his.

He almost jokes that that wasn’t the only “wet spot” he found on the material but bites his tongue because 1. he doesn’t know how uncomfortable you would be knowing that your arousal seeped through your underwear when you were subconsciously grinding on him and 2. you deserve a tiny break from his pick up lines and borderline occasional obnoxious flirting.

─────────────────────

“Wait, are we changing our clothes back there half way through the first show?” Jeno questions. He points into the shadows behind the black curtains.

“Dude. We’ve gone over this so many times already. It’s the right side, not the left,” Mark answers.

“So our right, right? Not their right?” Jeno looks over Mark’s shoulder at the empty space where raging fans are going to be swaying in a few hours.

“Yes. Wow, have you been paying attention at all?” Renjun scoffs. He scans the faces of the other few, searching for any stragglers that may have fallen behind on the concert protocol for their first show of the tour. All except one was up-to-date on the info. Jaemin was the only member staring off into the soon-to-be crowd with a blank look in his eyes.

Math was never Jaemin’s forte. In fact, he never graduated at all. It comes as no surprise to the band for him to have miscalculated how easily you’d cave and get on your knees without him saying a word.

He wouldn’t call it a full blown identity crisis but he has been second guessing who he’s become as of recent. He feels like he has lost his touch and what was once his specialty has been whittled down to a never ending struggle.

Why have you taken so long to win over? He thinks he is making progress, bit by bit chipping away at your thick defensive walls everyday especially after what happened last week at the bar and taking care of you after you got drugged. But has all the time he’s spent on you even worth it? You’re just one girl. He could’ve fucked +20 girls in the time span that he’s dedicated to breaking you. So how much longer is he going to try to get you naked and obedient?

Jaemin has a reputation to uphold and involuntary abstinence isn’t exactly something a womanizing bad boy rock star would stand for. The thing is, he doesn’t want to admit defeat; maybe it’s stubbornness or pride that’s driving him to double down on his dedication, a sunk-cost fallacy mentality driving him mad, but he doesn’t want to move on to someone that would easily spread their legs for him.

Jaemin wants you, and Jaemin always gets what he wants; he never plans on ruining that record.

The longer he’s waited, the more often he pictures folding your legs up just the way he wants them so he could easily guide his cock into your wet–

Renjun snaps his fingers in front of Jaemin’s dazed face. “Stop thinking about her.”

Jaemin blinks a few times. He didn’t even realize he had zoned out in the middle of the band’s mic check turned band meeting. “Hm? What? Thinking about who?”

“Come on, Jaemin. You know who I’m talking about.”

Mark skirts around the drum set and puts his hand on Jaemin’s shoulder. “For real, man. This is the longest I’ve ever seen you go without getting your dick wet. Two months is, like, forever to you.”

Jaemin gasps. “Has it really only been two months? I feel like I’ve known her longer than that.”

“Nope, it’s been two months. And in that time, you haven’t gotten anywhere.”

“What are you talking about? ‘Haven’t gotten anywhere,’” Jaemin says mockingly while doing air quotes with his hands. “Yes, I have.”

“Maybe a little, but it’s like you’re just harassing her now. You’d be lucky if she doesn’t get a restraining order against you when the tour is over,” Haechan jokes, mirroring Mark’s gesture to his shoulder.

Jaemin permits the invasion of his personal bubble by the first hand but swats Haechan’s away. “She wouldn’t do that.”

Mark exchanges glaces with the other band members. “Jaemin-”

“Don’t ‘Jaemin’ me,” he snaps.

“Fine. But after tonight, if she doesn’t budge, you need to give it a rest, okay? One last shot or she’s gonna feel like quitting.”

“Seriously? Does she talk about me? Did she tell you that?” Jaemin questions, mildly worried by the band's ultimatum.

“Well…no, she doesn't but-”

“Then how do you know what she’s feeling?”

“Jaemin, do you like her: yes or no?” Renjun puts him on the spot.

“Like her? You’re asking me if I like her? Ha!" Jaemin holds his stomach, forcing laughter that exactly -4 people are falling for. "What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because if you like y/n that’s a different story than just wanting to rail her in our dressing room.”

“How? And since when did that matter to you?”

"Argh! I'm tired of worrying about if the couch I’m sitting on backstage has your cum on it because you’ve hooked up with some random girl at every concert venue.”

“I have not–”

“Wait, you didn’t answer the question, Jaem,” Jeno points out.

“So? Why should I?!” Jaemin huffs, standing up and throwing his hands in the air.

“Any particular reason you guys don’t want your hair done tonight?” You step out into the light from the stage wing Jeno had been referring to beforehand.

You went looking for the band when they didn’t stop by to get their hair done on schedule. Every member’s attention shifts to you with noticeably startled faces and you begin to grow suspicious of the uncharacteristic silence since no one responds right away.

“What’s up? Nerves?”

“Nah, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Haechan speaks up in the most even toned manner any of them can manage. “Hey, quick question, y/n. How long have you been there?”

“Like two seconds. Why?”

“Hmm, no reason. I was just…” Haechan looks back at Jaemin with a devilish smirk. “... just wondering.”

You smile questionably with a furrowed brow. “Okay, well when you’re done ‘just wondering’ can you five come backstage so I can actually do the job I was hired for?”

“Oh, you mean the job that Jaemin got for you? That sure was nice of him, wasn’t it?”

You make eye contact with Jaemin for a second, taking notice of his new lip piercing, before he looks away. “Um, yeah, I guess?”

The band follows your lead, moseying over to the stage exit, and you turn your head, missing when Jaemin elbows the loud mouth in the gut.

─────────────────────

For Bad Dreams' first show of the tour, the company instructed the stage director that they wanted the band to make a splash and there’s no doubt in your mind that the band will do just that. The makeup artist, your new friend Yeri, rim their eyes with black eyeliner and applied subtle, smoky eye shadow on each of them. By the looks of their attire, plus the cosmetic touch ups that accentuated their most prominent features, you’re positive every person who lays eyes on the band, whether in person or through fan filmed videos, would surely be drawn to them for more reasons than their music.

They all possess that rebellious, dangerous, bad boy rock star vibe despite being some of the most caring and down to earth guys you have ever met. Although, admittedly, out of the five, one of them was on a whole nother level of irresistible.

Jaemin wears a high fashion, ridiculously expensive jacket thrown over a paper thin black muscle tee. He has on dark jeans, paired with loosely tied black boots. But the highlight of his look tonight is his new annoyingly distracting double loop lip ring, intentionally bringing more attention to his sweet red mouth by sucking on a cherry lollipop.

The only thing left to tie it all together is in your department. Through your employment with the company, you have grown to admire the lengths he’s gone to at times to try and get his way. He’s brought you beverages, praised you with endless compliments, paid for all of your food, offered to take you on what he calls “friend dates” like the kind he claims to have asked you out on the first evening you met.

Every time he has asked, you have declined, electing not to spend too much alone time with Jaemin. There have been a little over a half dozen times where you happened to be alone together and you don't dread them. You worry about how attached you could grow to him (and inside refuse to acknowledge that you already have grown quite attached). When it’s just you and Jaemin, those moments tend to be sincere and vulnerable and caring and you hate that you like it. You hate that you like it because it’s him.

So recently, you've made the effort to guarantee that at least a few other band members will be there. Whether it’s grabbing food, getting drinks, going to the movies or other concerts, he has practically fought to claim the seat or space next to yours.

It’s similar to the attention you feel like he expects from every girl he encounters. For better or for worse, you expect that attention from Jaemin on any given day that you see him on the job or off the clock.

The volume of that once immutable little voice in the back of your head that used to scream “No! Don’t trust him! Don’t fall for his charm! Don’t end up like the others eating out of the palm of his hand!” has become nothing but an echo as time has rolled on, dialed lower and lower the longer you have been around him and further silenced with every tiny “accidental” touch of his hand on your arm, shoulder, or waist.

It hurts your head to think about what would happen if you break that little policy of not getting involved with clients. After all, he is still kind of your client, right? He got you this job and his boss signs your paychecks, but then again, you still perform a service and, in return, receive payment for completing said service.

Some may consider you two coworkers, and if that’s the case, it is debatable whether that violates some other policy you should expediently draw up and write into your moral constitution as soon as you get some alone time.

The ambiguity of your relationship to each other has never been louder than the present and both of you can hear it ringing in your ears. The blurry, gray area between client and colleague, quick fuck and genuine friend has grown thicker while the time to clear the air ticks by.

Your mind races, calculating the unpredictability. Who knows how long Jaemin will be bending over backwards to treat you like a princess? In the period that you have known Jaemin, you have learned that he yo-yos between highs and lows quite frequently. When you take that trait of his into consideration, it is not too far-fetched to assume that he could wake up tomorrow and be done with you within the drop of a hat.

“Hey, we’ll be waiting for you out back. Try not to take too long with your hair and, you know… anything else,” Jeno tells him, peeping back into the small dressing room on his way out. He winks before closing the heavy door and leaving you two alone.

You giggle, noticing Jaemin throwing daggers at where the newly departed guitar player had been standing in the doorway. He pretends that he doesn’t feel his face and the back of his neck prickling with heat, but he can’t as easily hide his rosying cheeks when his best friend bid you adieu suggestively.

“Care to explain what that means, Jaemin?”

“Out back? Oh, sometimes a few of them like to smoke a little to calm the nerves before a set.” Jaemin gestures at the door nonchalantly. “Just one or two hits, no big deal. Not enough to mess with how we play.”

“Duly noted. But you know that’s not what I meant.”

You get to work with his hair, combing a few strands then curling them a certain way for a few seconds on low heat to keep the sculpted hair in place. The band has never performed a full set list of songs live and in concert since the time you have been styling their hair. You’re concerned about how well your handiwork and the hair product will be maintained as the sweaty, high spirited show progresses.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, I know, princess.” Jaemin tilts forward to toss the lollipop away in the small trash can under the vanity, leaving his mouth cherry tinted red.

You sigh at his laissez-faire attitude, nevertheless dropping it because you know pressing him for an answer won’t get you anywhere. Jaemin has never been the kind to share anything he doesn’t want to, leading you to believe this is not a superficial topic.

You’re slightly ashamed to admit it but eventually, after all the personal questions he threw at you about your life, in the vulnerable moments when it was just you and him, you’ve let loose most of the details from your upbringing, your childhood dreams and where you hope to see yourself in 10 years. This job is great and all, but in the grand scheme of things, you would like to be your own boss someday and have a popular salon much like the one he met you in.

You have come to terms with the fact that his engagement in a public setting is very lax and withdrawn. Although, in a different context, he’s all ears during one-on-one conversations with you and (for the most part) band discussions. Jaemin practices his good listening skills more often than you would like him to when it comes to just you and him conversing. He’s the one to ask questions and listen intently whereas when you broach the subject of his intimate details about him and his own life, he changes the topic.

“Nevermind then…” The room goes quiet for a moment as you ponder the answer he gave you instead of the truth.

“What’s on your mind, babe?”

“Babe?”

“Yes, princess?” Jaemin has that playful grin of his spread across his lips, predictably.

You roll your eyes, but fail to hide your smile. “Ugh, shut up. Don’t play dumb with me.”

“Why? What if I told you I like playing with you?” He raises an eyebrow and the grin morphs into a cocky smile.

His smiles are always different from yours, like he knows something you don’t. They vary on a daily sliding scale, representing how straightforward he will (or will not) be with his pickup lines or flirty zingers. Some of the most flirty are accompanied by a wink…which he gifts you 2 seconds after.

Typical Jaemin.

Always looking for another way to get under your skin with suggestive comments, and then subsequently, your clothes.

“Well then I’d say I don’t want to play any of your little games.”

“Hmm and why’s that? Afraid I’ll win?”

Yes.

Cotton mouthed and out of responses to his flirty remarks, you stall for time by purposely knocking over a can of hairspray that lands on your foot. Tonight, you unintentionally picked out a pair of boots that are relatively similar to Jaemin’s and thick enough to make it so a can of hairspray won’t hurt the top of your foot. Your outfit has the same amount of layers as his but when you got dressed, you didn’t account for how cold it would be backstage. The band would be performing and in the midst of a rock concert, their body temperatures would predictably be leaning towards the warmer side.

At first, when you stand up and Jaemin sees you shiver, he thinks your involuntary movement is owed to him. It takes him a moment to identify your reaction is temperature based and not from a lustful desperation flowing through you. He’s not exactly wrong in his assumption, but the frigid cold is a tad more apparent to your senses than the throbbing between your legs.

He springs up and slides his leather jacket off the back of the chair without second thought.

“Here, put this on.”

“Oh, no thank you, I’m good,” you respond before flicking your chin back at the chair. “Now, sit back down so I’m not blamed for making you late…please.”

“I’m not sitting down until you put on my jacket,” Jaemin pouts. “You’re obviously cold.”

You sigh again, this time with a slight frustration. “Come on, Jaemin. You’re being immature.”

“Not until you put on the jacket.” He folds his arms, holding his ground like a stubborn child. “Seriously, I’m fine. Don’t worry about m-”

Within the blink of an eye Jaemin quickly steps around you, holding the jacket open for you to slip into it. He makes eye contact with you in the reflection of the mirror like he has done countless times while you’re supposed to be concentrating on his hair and not falling for his alluring eyes.

“I’ll always worry about you.”

You hold your arms out wordlessly, feeling the butterfly wings in your abdomen flutter up in your chest as your heart grows warmer. The tiny acts of kindness and those moments when it feels like he truly cares about you are worth more than every cup of overpriced coffee he has ever purchased for you without asking your favorite order. After drink three he knew exactly what you wanted and depending on the weather, he would get you your favorite drink for the outside conditions because he knew your preferences so well.

I guess you could say he knows you so well.

“i-uh… thank you, babe,” you mumble mindlessly before realizing how you referred to him. Your eyes pop open in disbelief. “I mean Jaemin! Thank you, Jaemin.”

“Nope, no take-backsies! You said it yourself!” he sing-songs pleasantly.

Your mistaken term of endearment has a joy blossoming on Jaemin’s face that can only be compared to the moment you accepted the job offer he extended to you weeks ago.

He settles into the chair with a new found happiness that he hasn’t felt in months. It’s strange that one word made him light up like a christmas tree, one accidental word — and from a target, no less. Or someone who was supposed to be a target. But when he’s happy, he tends not to question it too much so as to not ruin the moment.

Jaemin knows all too well that true contentment is fleeting. Reality is cruel and brutal. Nothing lasts forever and no one knows what the future holds for us. Throwing around a word like “forever” with such certainty would only be done by someone naive enough to believe that those seven letters hold weight behind them.

Someone once made a promise to him, sealing their intimate bond with a short kiss. From there, it’s pretty easy to put two and two together and figure out that it was the word he resented most to this day. She had dragged him to a club overflowing with people, comparable to the one he rescued you from and it, too, had an abnormally rowdy crowd. They were at the bar, squished together because of how packed the place was. She was directly behind him when she leaned in close to his ear, whispering at a volume that prevented him from understanding the entire message. The only part he could catch over the pulsating music clogging the air was “-and forever” he turned his head just enough to get one last kiss from her – a kiss he didn’t realize was their last.

When he fully turned around, his first love, the person he envisioned marrying and having kids with and buying a house together that had a white picket fence, had already disappeared into the sea of sweaty bodies without a trace, never to be seen or heard from again. She completely ghosted him and he couldn’t find any way to get in contact with her again.

Nowadays, even if it’s someone he trusts more than anyone in the world, if they promise to do something and use the word forever, he automatically grows skeptical. It takes him a moment to rationalize that even if there are circumstances in which he needs to keep a watchful eye out for people he thinks may betray him, his bandmates don’t fall under that umbrella.

The promise of forever means nothing and the sooner you realize it, the better your chances are for warding off potential heartbreaks. As soon as a sense of fulfillment and pure joy is within your grasp, reality could yank it away within the blink of an eye.

You wish that it would work to hold what’s most valuable against your chest with all your might, whether that be a physical object or person, period in time, or sentimental, deep feeling in your bones. But unfortunately, there are incidents where someone might hold onto their single valuable too tight, squeezing it close for security purposes but with such increased pressure that it bursts.

Jaemin has been staring off into space for the last two minutes while you sculpt his tousled hair to perfection. He flinches away from where you’re standing, not realizing this whole time that you had been standing half in front of him and half to his left side, leaning forward.

It’s easier for you to lightly spray his hair from this stance and you were surprised he didn’t sense your presence so close to his before you first used the product in your hand.

“Do you smoke?” you curiously question the daydreamer out of nowhere. “You said they went out to smoke so I was wondering.”

“Uh…over the past two weeks, not as much,” Jaemin answers. By the tone in his voice, you’d bet big money that he’s holding back any follow up explanation on purpose. “I’m trying not to like multiple times a day like before.”

“hmm…why’s that?”

His eyes wander around the room, considering whether it is best to hold his tongue or share something about himself. He settles on trusting you for what he thinks is no particular reason. It's only fair to answer your question to the fullest extent since you have divulged so much of your life to him over the past few weeks.

“My mom. She-” Jaemin takes a short pause and you patiently wait for him to continue whenever he feels comfortable to do so. “-doesn’t want me to.”

You laugh briefly, interpreting it as a joke. “You still follow all your mom’s rules?”

“Well, I guess it’s not really a rule, she just worries about me a lot. And one of the things I can do to kind of give her some peace of mind is to quit smoking- or at a minimum, smoke less than before.” Jaemin shrugs like it is no big deal that he finally released some personal details about himself.

“Oh, um,” you clear your throat uncomfortably when he answers your playful question with an unexpectedly serious answer. “Sorry for laughing. Uh, so your family must mean a lot to you, yeah?” You withdraw your statement when you sense Jaemin’s hesitation to answer more of your curious, lighthearted interrogation trying to get to know him even the tiniest bit better. “Hey, I don’t mean to pry! It’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”

You pivot away from him but he grabs your wrist gently. “It’s okay, y/n.” His lips prick up in a lopsided smile thinking about his family. “My family means everything to me. Everything I do, I do to support them. I’m determined to buy them a house nearby so they can live a little closer to me.”

“How often do you see them?”

A sorrowful sigh leaves his lips and you relax your hand to let him slip his fingers between yours. “I barely see them anymore. But I hope that changes when they move here into the city.”

You give his hand an encouraging squeeze to comfort him. “I’m sure you can make it work, Jaemin.”

It is safe to say that only a handful of people know these little things about the rock star’s private life which is why you can’t figure out why your name is being added to that exclusive list. They were mere morsels about his private life that he keeps guarded and close to his heart and he still shared them with you.

“I hope so.” He offers you a soft smile, looking up at you with only pure admiration swimming in his eyes, absent of the daily lust and raw desire he usually wears. Seemingly staring into your soul and yet you don’t feel uncomfortable about it.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t mind it in the slightest getting lost in them forever and ever.

“Jaemin! I’m sorry but we have to go!” Mark calls through the door urgently.

He tears his mesmerizing eyes from yours and raises his voice to project it through the door. “Just a minute!”

“Dude, I’ve already stalled 5 minutes for you! We need to go! Like, now!”

Jaemin looks back to you, but your body has curled away from his already, the intimate moment nothing more than a shriveled up fantasy he’s been imagining for far too long.

“You should go,” you tell him as you begin to pack up the rest of your things.

“Princess, i– ”

“Seriously, go. You shouldn't be late for the first concert of your first tour.”

“Y/n, look at me,” Jaemin says softly, trying to get your attention in the reflection of the mirror. Despite being pressed for time, he waits until he captures your eyes again.

“I don’t care about being late for you, y/n.”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a few seconds then returning what he waited patiently for. “But I do. I do care, Jaemin. And I don’t want to make you late.”

“Will I see you at the after party?” He slightly pouts seeing your hesitant expression. “I really want you there.”

“I don’t know, I think–”

Jaemin steps around the chair and stands directly behind you to plead his case before you turn him down for good. He correctly guesses that he can silence you by pressing his body to yours. His bulge is hardening by the second protruding into your ass. To balance out the sexual nature of the moment, he slinks his arm under yours to slip his hand into yours.

“Please? It’s called The 127. And, lucky for us, it’s right across the street. The company rented the place for the night so it’s a private party…no one to try anything with you, I promise.”

“I’ll…” you start. It takes all your effort to suppress a moan when you part your lips and he grinds against you briefly. “...think about it.”

“Okay, I’ll see you there.” Jaemin smiles brightly and squeezes your hand. At last, he pulls away from you and opens the door, albeit, against his will.

“Hey, I didn’t say–”

“Wish me luck!” he says. Jaemin closes the door behind him only to yank it open and poke his head.

“What are you doing?! Go!”

“No, wait. Aren't you supposed to say something about my leg?”

You sigh heavily and roll your eyes. “Break a leg, Jaemin!”

He hums in approval, giving you a wink. “Thank you, princess.”

Jaemin leaves the dressing room excited for what’s to come (or should he say, who’s to come) later tonight, whereas you are left behind with an important decision to make and pulsating sexual frustration.

─────────────────────

You were previously acquainted with The 127’s neon green sign prior to your reluctant crossing of the street to the band’s after party. It is impossible to miss the huge letters, large enough to catch anybody’s attention during the day. After the sun has gone down, the borderline blinding fluorescent flashing draws late night enthusiasts like a moth to a flame.

The long line wraps around the corner of the club. You're vaguely familiar with club culture and feel underdressed standing next to people in designer clothes and girls in cocktail dresses from brands you can’t afford. Yeri loaned you some high heels to make your outfit look somewhat more glitzy, but after ten minutes, you regret accepting her offer.

“Name and ID card?” the lanky-bodied security guard recites for nearly the 400th time at The 127’s entrance. His bored eyes don’t leave the clipboard, awaiting whoever intends to join Bad Dreams' party inside to give their name so he can check the typed out sheet of paper listed with executives and famed members of the industry before physically seeing them. In his mind, it saves time, but in practice, it’s not the best idea.

“Jisung, you’ve known me for over 6 weeks.”

His head pops up. “Oh, y/n! Sorry, I still have to ask the people that aren’t on the VIP list no matter what and I was told I'd be fired even if it was my mom.”

“Fired? Seriously?”

The boy who was hired specifically because he was tall, despite lacking a single intimidating bone in his body, looks down at the board again. “Shit, I forgot Jaemin put you on the VIP list.”

“He did?”

“Hurry the fuck up, bitch!” some guy barks from the sea of people waiting to be let into the party.

“Language, Jisung!” a voice scolds him.

He flinches when Jaemin appears out of thin air by his side. The drummer had been hovering just past the entrance at the top of the staircase, hoping you would actually show up after the sold out concert. Coming down the stairs from a different perspective, he had seen what the rude man looked like unlike you and the younger security guard.

Jaemin holds out his hand and you hesitate for a moment. “Come on, hurry the fuck up, princess,” he mocks the man quietly so only you and Jisung can hear it. His charming smile returns to his face when you give in and clasp it in his hand. Jisung unlatches the velvet leash, receiving a detailed description of the man brazen enough to yell something so crude at you, and is given instruction to refuse the man entry no matter how high up or important he claims to be in the company, or the entire industry, for that matter.

Jaemin leads you up the stairs and into the afterparty. The club doesn’t play rock like the band does; instead it blasts electrifying edm music, thumping so powerfully that the club itself quakes. Your heart beats rapidly, pounding through your chest, as the music rumbles through you. It has a bass that pumps the clubbers up for nothing in particular but to dose them with an elated feeling on the dance floor. Lively hordes of people occupy the spacious lower level, swaying and grinding on each other to the intoxicating music. Even sober individuals experience what mimics true inebriation in the middle of a boisterous throng of clubbers.

The massive double-floored club has what you count to be five separate VIP lounges on the top floor, similar to Neo Bar but clearly more exclusive and costly. Each posh VIP area flaunts luxurious furnishing with four cushioned, crescent-shaped couches and two circular tables in the middle of them. Strip of LED lights, controllable by remote, ring the secluded spaces and the tables. Most importantly, each individual space has a canopy hanging overhead and curtains close around the whole area if someone wants privacy for whatever reason.

The air is ripe with lust and promiscuity and you catch Jaemin looking at you like pure fruit ready to be picked from the vine when you arrive at one of the premier lounges. His eyes are glossy with a look of longing.

“Have you been drinking?” you ask cautiously once you sit down.

Jaemin takes a seat next to you. Maybe it’s the fact that the wide couches here give you more space but where Jaemin sits is not as close to you as the last alcohol distributing establishment and you have mixed feelings about that. “Me? No, I don’t really drink.”

“Oh, I feel like…” You look at the ceiling trying to recall something.

“You feel like what?” Jaemin asks.

“I feel like I remember that for some reason.”

Jaemin clears his throat and ignores your statement. “So do you want me to get you something to drink? I promise I won’t drug you.”

Your eyes bounce around the noisy place in search of potential danger instead of laughing at what Jaemin phrases like a joke. “No, I’d rather stay sober this time. Sober sounds...safe tonight.”

Looking noticeably wary, Jaemin gets to his feet to close the curtains and block your view of the club. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, trust me.” He takes your hand and brings it up to his lips to place the most tender of kisses on your knuckles. You feel the metal of the new piece of jewelry on his lower lip touch your skin.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, when did you get your lip pierced? I saw you yesterday morning so did you go last night or this morning or something?”

“Hmm, very observative, princess. I went last night but I feel like not many people have pointed it out… have you been staring at my lips often?”

“Hm, not as much as you stare at mine.”

“So you admit it.”

“What?”

“You do stare at my lips,” Jaemin catches your slip up, smiling triumphantly.

You roll your eyes and try to play it off. “Well, um, why does it matter if I look at your lips? Especially right now! Because I’m just wondering if your lip ring gets in the way of eating or, you know, like, kissing or something.”

“I can eat and drink perfectly fine, but thanks for your concern, it means a lot,” Jaemin replies, putting his hand over her chest like he was sincerely touched. “As for kissing, I don’t know. When would I have had the time to hook up with someone since then?”

“Oh, right, right. I didn’t think about that.”

Your eyes bounce around the closed off, private booth, searching far and wide for distractions in the relatively small place. Despite your efforts though, your eyes find his lips again.

“Do you want to find out with me?”

“What, find out if your lip piercing gets in the way?” You gulp.

“M’hmm. You’re the only one I want for it. Will you help me?”

You bite your own bottom lip, silent and still as stone for a moment before nodding a tiny bit. Jaemin slowly inches himself out of the slumped position he was sitting in. His dilated pupils are trained on your mouth like they always tend to be when you two are within this close of proximity. You follow his pace, leaning in closer to his face, drawn to his lips and the thought of how amazing it must feel to have the taste of heaven on your tongue.

Gravitating towards each other is natural, a magnetic pull that you were resisting, afraid you would be stuck on him if he left you for some other girl. You both close your eyes, bracing for the highly anticipated impact…that doesn’t happen as misfortune strikes for the second time tonight.

Alas, the world has other plans, and this untimely wrench in Jaemin’s plan comes in the form of nasally voices from whiny, obsessive, radically invasive teenage girls yapping shamelessly through the blood red curtains.

“Jaemin? Jaemin! Hi! Can we please get your autograph?!”

“Yeah, pretty, pretty please!”

“Sorry for bothering you, we’re just, like, totally your biggest fans!”

You jerk back as if you had seen a ghost, petrified by the thought of what it could have meant for you two if there wasn’t a disruption.

Did you want there to be a disruption?

Jaemin irritatedly snaps his tongue as he storms across the small space to stop their assault of the curtains surrounding the you guys for privacy by their persistent, aggressive shaking back and forth to get his attention.

If you based your assumption on how he would speak to them solely on his facial expressions when he got up, you might have expected him to yell at the crazed fans who snuck inside not only the after party but the VIP section as well. You should have known that that isn’t who he is.

How well do you believe you know Jaemin anyways?

He looks back at you as if asking for your permission to step outside of the curtains and you gesture for him to go with a smile like you’re not feeling wary of his character. There is a good chance that it is just paranoia since you feel nervous being in a place like this again and you don’t want to be left alone. He’ll be back soon though so you shouldn’t be alone for very long.

You know Jaemin has more than a few tricks up his sleeve but, based on how enthralled the trespassers had been from simply breathing the same air as him, it’s clear that he could do the literal bare minimum. They hang onto his every word like they will need to recite it by heart when they leave – if they ever leave at all.

He has a wide collection of ways he can select from his arsonal of charms. To name a few, starting off at the basic, beginners level, these techniques vary from flashing his pearly whites, sweet talking in either a compassionate or suggestive tone, and skinship with light touches here or there to make them think of his fingers on (and in) other places of their bodies.

The unhinged girls begin taking frantic pictures with him the second Jaemin steps through the curtain. Taking turns amongst themselves with who holds their belongings, who is taking the pictures and who gets to be by his side.

Jaemin stands there awkwardly, knowing they want more from him but quickly deciding that you were more important than taking his 50th picture with any of them. He holds his hand up to say goodbye but before he can return to the VIP space with you, a strict hand catches his wrist to stop him forcefully.

You haven’t the faintest clue what’s going on outside and that the person who caught his wrist meant serious business. You scroll through twitter, becoming engrossed in threads that usually pose no interest to you but that’s how badly you want to be distracted. The time in which Jaemin has been gone feeds your growing skepticism so you get up to go and peek through the curtains at what is taking him so long.

The person who had grabbed Jaemin’s wrist beforehand was gone. And so are the girls.

And so is Jaemin.

You slip through the curtains to investigate, but it doesn’t take a genius detective to find where they had run off to. Jaemin is sitting on the couch three VIP spaces done from yours, in the same exact place he had been in with you. But you're not the one sitting next to him, it was the three girls from before. They curl up around his body, one girl on either side and one straddling his lap. The two girls at his sides have their cleavage signed with his autograph and you can only assume that the one on top of him does too. You spot some sleazy photographer taking pictures of them from afar and you almost go and stop him but don’t have it in you to care right now.

Mark happens to be walking by when he sees you. “Hey, y/n! How’s it go-” He stops in his tracks and you both momentarily stare at the scene in shock.

And there you have it. The answer to your previous question.

You know who he is – or you knew who he is, as in past tense. Your past self knew him but the person you became, the person you are today, wanted to see further than that with which you saw on day one.

You were afraid of becoming another victim to the serial heartbreaker yet ignored every sign because you wanted to feel wanted. It’s sad that you had to be reminded by being a first hand witness to him hooking up with three girls at once.

Happening right before your very eyes, you immediately question how he could so easily revert back to his ways when the opportunity arises but you correct yourself. He can’t revert back to something if he never changed in the first place. Old habits die hard.

Disappointment and regret swallow you whole. You should have known this was coming. The moment he exposed his true nature once again, even after the vulnerability he expressed to you; even after disarming you of all hesitancy for letting him into your life; even after stealing all those intimate moments with you when you were alone together, the ones that lasted a mere few seconds but felt like an eternity.

There was always an ulterior motive that you were too blinded by a foolish longing to see.

This is not the first time you’ve been burned for wearing your heart on your sleeve. You thought you had learned your lesson the last time, swearing from that point on that you will lock your heart up in an iron chest and hide away the key until someone truly worthy of your affections comes along.

[ Enter Jaemin ]

The boy you instantly identified as danger in a leather jacket, trouble with a capital T, swoon-worthy charm embedded in his DNA and three things on his mind: music, getting high and sex.

Despite intending to heed the warnings of his past leftovers, you personally stitched a bright red heart into the vulnerable material on your arm – cherry red, just like his favorite flavor.

You bear the brunt of this fucked up situation. You’ve been a chew toy for him to chase for weeks now, probably for him to pass the time and entertain or distract himself, since he doesn’t particularly like leaving the house in the day-time without good reasoning. For someone so introverted and radio silent amongst most strangers, Jaemin can surely pull off a convincing personable attitude when he puts in the effort. Eventually, at some point along the way, his efforts dedicated to breaking you down began to work more effectively than you care to admit.

You watch Jaemin lounging on his mock throne, charming the trio of younger fans and being worshiped like a sex god, for what might as well be forever. You finally tear your eyes away from the inappropriate physical display when one of the girls grabs his face and forcibly pulls him into a kiss.

The one that was supposed to be your kiss.

You were supposed to be the first girl to feel the metal of his new lip ring on your lips. So much for “You’re the only one I want for it.”

Mark asks if you want him to accompany you across the street to pack up your styling tools and belongings but you politely decline. Your lungs sting, suffocating on the atmosphere's smoky lust that drives people to make bad decisions, and maybe, like in Jaemin's case, just show their true colors.

Adrenaline sends you hurdling to the club entryway alone, more alone than you’ve felt in a really long time. You expect Jisung to be at the front, manning his post per usual. You're kind of hoping to talk to him about the whole situation. Finding out that he's absent is just another example that proves to you that life is disappointing and you shouldn't be surprised something you wanted ultimately didn't work out.

You stumble out of the building onto the empty sidewalk in front of The 127. Kicking off your high heels, it occurs to you that you didn't even feel that your feet had been hurting the entire time you were in the club. You were too immersed in the moments, the good and alternatively, the bad and ugly.

Your cheeks are no stranger to tears when it comes to relationships. Wiping your nose with the back of your hand that Jaemin kissed, you question if this...whatever you have with him even falls under the category of relationship in any way, shape or form. If only you had left things as they were before, no complications with the messy feelings or worrying about if he was fucking other girls. You wouldn’t be crying if you had only trusted your gut from the very start. You wouldn’t be in pain, nor would you have been torturing yourself for putting yourself in harms way like you are right now.

It's devastating to know that it turns out your heart isn’t as durable as you thought it was this time around. At the end of every heart break, you pick up the shards of broken glass that encased your fantasy of true love. You’ve thrown yourself into relationships, loving madly and deeply too fast and having your expectations held far too high for what the future holds with you and your significant other.

Perhaps you have no clue what true love is; therefore, making whatever it is you're searching for impossible. If you knew what true love is you wouldn’t have imagined a future where Jaemin’s name just might have pricked the surface of your definition.

It was a pitiful, pathetic, naive runaway idea that you wish you could drown in a river of your tears.

─────────────────────

“What-” Jaemin takes his fifth deep breath within the last half hour. He rubs both of his blood shot eyes with the heels of his palms, red from frustration and borderline tearing up instead of relapsing and being high. “What did she see, Mark?”

“Dude, like the entire thing. You weren’t exactly being subtle about that shit you were doing!”

“That was the point!” Jaemin waves his hands erratically as if the theatrics today in the first hotel they’ll be staying at of the tour will save you from misunderstanding the situation last night. “And you didn’t defend me at all?!”

“No?! How was I supposed to know that the company was, like, going to forcibly make you look like Bad Dreams' party animal playboy to keep up the reputation, huh? No one told me about that!”

Mark looks around at the rest of the band who share similar expressions to the leader. Jaemin flops down in the chair adjacent to Mark who's sitting on the second queen bed, refusing to make eye contact with him.

Jeno stands up to go sit next to the inconsolable drummer. “Jaemin, they didn’t tell any of us that they were going to ask you to-”

“Force. I think the word you’re looking for is force, not ask."

“-okayyy, going to force you to hang around those girls and make it look like you were drinking and going to hook up with them.”

“It shouldn’t have mattered if they told you or not! You guys know me well enough to know that I wouldn’t do that!”

“Jaemin, I can’t even count the number of times I’ve seen you in that position or something like it with two hands," Haechan inserts.

“Hey, don’t act like you haven’t done the same thing!"

“I haven’t done something like that since I got a girlfriend months ago!”

Jaemin gets to his feet and gestures at Haechan. “Exactly! A girlfriend! Why would I do something like that if I had y/n?”

“Had y/n? You literally told us-” Renjun checks his watch for the time, calculating the number of hours since the band’s last discussion involving Jaemin’s behavior. “-21 hours ago you claimed you didn’t even like her!”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “I never said I didn’t like y/n.”

“So you do like y/n then?" Mark pressures him for the answer he's apprehensive to broach in his mind just yet.

“I- well, um, y-you know, can we not talk about this right now?”

Haechan climbs onto one of the two queen mattresses and pulls the comforter to his chin. “I agree! Be quiet and let me nap or my voice will suck tonight!”

The band disperses and Mark pulls Jaemin aside to talk to him in the hotel hallway. “Look, man, I’m sorry I didn’t stop y/n. Let me try and talk to her, okay?”

“What could you possibly say to y/n that would make her change her mind?”

Mark shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, I’ll think of something. But you should give her some space until after the concert. ”

Jaemin sighs, again. “Okay, fine.”

─────────────────────

When Mark knocks on your hotel room door and says it’s something serious, Yeri leaves the room to give you and Mark some privacy.

You expect him to be checking up on you after seeing how distraught you were last night but you haven’t exactly been the best judge of character. He shares Jaemin’s side of the story, where the man who Jaemin told Jisung not to let in was a big time CEO of some foreign broadcasting service you’re not familiar with, and when Jisung was interrogated about who told him not to let such an important figure inside, they threatened to fire him. Jisung really needed this job, he admitted it was Jaemin.

The company had been looking for a reason to stir up some gossip with the band again with their second album release and the tour. Jaemin is known for being a womanizer, sculpting himself a reputation amongst the industry and the fans. They didn’t want him to change. The bad boy heart breaker role was his position in the band.

When he said no, they threatened to cancel the whole tour because if the band wasn’t meeting the company’s revenue quota, the band would be put on the furthest back burner he can imagine. Basically, he was told that the band is expendable. If he wanted to make up for his mistake, he would stir up some publicity and garner attention to the band, ergo making the company more money in the long haul.

You hear him out before giving him your interpretation of the sequence of the events and how with Jaemin it feels like he has always been emotionally distant, leading you on with meaningful conversations and then pulling a 180, returning back to the fuck boy you pegged him as.

Jaemin is never going to change. You need to stop pretending like you can save him from the shameless egotistical persona that he let consume him from top to bottom along the course of his time as a cocky artist. Even if Mark claims that he wasn’t always like this, you provide a detailed analysis for him to understand why it shouldn’t be your job to put him back together if you’re only hurting yourself in the process. Nowhere in your employee contract does it say “revive Jaemin’s frozen heart.” You weren’t hired to fix him.

Never having been in a relationship, or anything that even resembled a relationship, Mark didn’t have much to offer except one observation. “Dude, you know what? I’ve never seen such bad miscommunication between two people before you and Jaemin.

You roll your eyes and continue talking like he didn't just say something that’s going to keep you up at night. Mark knows it’s not his place to force his opinions on you, especially because he’s biased to the person you dread working with. All he can convince you of is talking to Jaemin after the concert today.

“What’s the harm in, like, one talk, y/n? At the very least, you’ll get closure and tell him never to talk to you again…what do you think, man? You in?”

You start at your shoes, deep in thought. You have been trying to convince yourself he doesn’t matter until eventually, at some point in time, you’ll fall for it and be tricked into getting over him. The opportunity for closure sounds like a good place to start. Reset your feelings for Jaemin to factory settings – he’s just a client, not even coworkers because he’s not on par with where you stand.

“One talk. That’s it.”

─────────────────────

You underestimated how difficult it would be doing Jaemin’s hair when all he does is stare at you and watch every move you make observantly. To ensure that Jaemin leaves the dressing room as soon as possible and doesn’t say a peep to you during his turn, you do his hair first so that the rest of the band is there with you two.

As appealing as it sounds to remove yourself from the situation and put at least a mile between you and the sex addict, you can’t do that right now. You have a job to do and you intend on carrying out your duties diligently, no matter if you’ve started to silently wish that you had the ability to snap your fingers and teleport out of the room right now.

There's a vague sense of guilt weighing on your shoulders, reflecting on how ungrateful of your position it sounds when admitting you wish you could disappear into thin air. It would be wildly irresponsible to abandon your obligation to that one specific band member with no notice given to a single soul, all because of personal qualms.

You feel relatively lucky to have been given this opportunity to work in the big leagues. Through networking at the company, you have met other stylists and received pointers on things you hadn’t thought of before. Beauty school was one thing, but being a hairdresser turned stylist was a little daunting at the start. Learning from the big names in the styling business has been a privilege.

In contrast to that chunk of positive energy embodying “luck” and “hope” there’s a larger part of you that doesn’t think you deserve the praise, skeptical about how you got the job in the first place. You consider yourself a good hair stylist but, honestly, if it wasn’t for Jaemin, you never would have encountered a chance to join a company like this, a stepping stone to gain experience on your own personal journey to pursuing your dreams.

You need to remind yourself that you are working towards that. Your own dreams and the trajectory of your life are at stake. There’s no question about whether you would leave the company and undergo the tedious process of early contract termination. You would endure far worse than the insufferable playboy that you have foolishly grown to trust and more foolish than that, grown to L- ugh… do you have to say it?

Maybe if you don’t say the L word or even think about the L word the budding feeling would flicker and fade into the darkness of discarded feelings and devastating heart breaks faster than the average-joe, run of the mill tragedy.

When you are finished with your duties and the band has left the room one by one, you sit down in the chair that they had each occupied. You spin around twice, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Opening your eyes you see Jaemin’s reflection standing beside you. He was so quiet you didn’t even hear him open the door.

“My hair is already starting to fall and I was hoping you could fix this front part? There are a few hairs that are a little in the way,” he pleads cautiously. You don’t answer him, picking up your phone and your small bag. You have to come back here later anyways so you leave the hair supplies scattered across the vanity desk. He steps further into the room, nearly in the middle and actually giving you some space. “Please?”

You turn back to look at him one last time. You almost fall for his act, like every other performance he has put on with the express purpose of charming his way into getting what he wants at that moment in time. You’d like to say you resisted his spell a majority of time, but you know that there have been too many times when you were bewitched by his alluring eyes and focused on his sweet mouth to claim that that statement was true.

You don’t want to stick around but you promised Mark you would talk to Jaemin after the show and you can’t go back on a promise. Some people have standards, unlike Jaemin, you believe.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t do that yourself as an excuse to see me again before we talk after the show. Besides, it looks fine that way, just leave it alone.” You step through the doorway and do what Jaemin did two days ago, poking your head back in. “Oh, forgot. I hope you break your leg for real this time,” you say to him in a chipper tone, giving him a two second long fake smile.

“Oh, yeah, princess? Well I hope-” Jaemin starts although you flee the scene before he can finish. “Fuck…so that’s what that feels like.”

─────────────────────

The second concert of the tour is even more lively than the first. You were slightly worried Jaemin would appear downcast during the show because of what you said to him but he was even more energetic than the night before.

Much, much after the encore has ended, you find yourself sitting across from Jaemin in the dressing room, him on the couch and you perked on the vanity. You regret saying something so petty right before leaving him alone in the dressing room and internally debate whether or not you should apologize. Being the bigger person, you decide to admit your faults like an honest, responsible, mature adult – or at least more mature than him.

You take a deep breath, putting the kettle on the burner in your mind. You patiently await the brewing of your potential verbal match, blowing its whistle and commencing the aggressive game. “So…”

Jaemin looks up at you after having been staring at your shoes in complete and utter silence for ten minutes. “So…”

“I’m sorry for saying I wish that you broke your leg. I just feel…hurt, I guess? And I kind of want you to be in pain...like me.”

Jaemin’s face goes through a rainbow of emotions before landing on blue. “Hurt because of, um, me?”

You snap your tongue. “Yeah? Obviously it's about you.” He’s quiet for five seconds so you lead him in the right direction. “Jaemin, this is where you say sorry for hurting me.”

“I am sorry! I didn’t really think you needed to hear it though. Like, it happened but it was out of my control, okay? I’m sorry you saw that.”

“Sorry I 'saw that' huh? So you’re not sorry for doing it, is that what you’re telling me?”

Jaemin rubs his temples and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry for hurting you, y/n. I’m sincerely sorry…look, I know you don’t trust me and I don’t really know how else to do it at the moment. Ask a question, any question at all, and I will tell you what you want to know.”

“Hmm, okay. Is it true that you’ve hooked up with a girl backstage at every concert venue?” you press him, failing to ward off the rational course of action and let it lie, ignoring its existence for better peace of mind. You don’t know what answer you’re hoping to hear.

“You heard our conversation yesterday and lied about it? Look who’s the liar now.”

You huff and tighten your hold the edge of the vanity in frustration. “That’s not an answer. Is it true that you’ve hooked up with a girl backstage at every concert venue? Yes or No?”

“Why? Are you volunteering, princess?”

“Ugh, you are unbelievable,” you scoff.

“What? It’s a legitimate question about volunteering.”

“Well you don’t get to ask any ‘legitimate questions.’ My question was a simple yes or no question to try and get me to trust you and you can’t even answer the very first one.”

Jaemin sighs and looks up at you with puppy eyes. “I was only trying to make you laugh, y/n.”

“No, it was a cheap attempt at trying to make me all flustered and I'm not falling for it anymore. Go find one of those girls you humped in public yesterday. I’m sure they’d looove to volunteer.”

“You’re the one that asked! Why are you thinking about me fucking someone anyways? You jealous or something?”

“Why on earth would I be jealous of some poor girl that you’re going to forget the name of the next day after you hookup?”

“Because you almost kissed me yesterday!”

“Wow! The first girl you will remember the name of! Tell me, how do you contact all your nameless sexual partners about if you ever test positive for an std? Or do you not get tested because you don’t care?” You jump down and pace in front of him.

“Are you kidding me? Of course I regularly check to make sure I’m clean. Actually, a few days before we met, I was confirmed clean.” Jaemin gets to his feet and stands in front of the door, watching your pace with frustrated feet.

“So? That was two months ago. You could’ve contracted something in that time and not know it.”

“No, I’m clean. I know I’m clean.”

“There’s no way you could know if you haven’t been tested! What part of that don’t you understand?” you practically yell.

“I know because I haven’t been with anyone since I met you, y/n!”Jaemin raises his voice to be just above your volume and if anyone were outside the door they would certainly have heard it.

You open and close your mouth, at a near loss for words. You look to your right and your hands fidget with the dozen styling tools on the vanity. There isn’t a single comb out of place but all of a sudden, their placement is your #1 top concern, not the conversation nor the attractive speaker. “Okaaay? And? Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Argh!” Jaemin lets out a heavy, calmer sigh. “I’m supposed to mean something to you.”

“Why?” You spin around to face the play boy who had the audacity to suggest you owe him your undivided attention. “Because you mean something to every other girl? Is that it?”

“God, y/n! No, it’s because you mean something to me, okay!?”

You both stare at each other for a moment after the revelation. Jaemin looks almost as surprised as you do to have burst out something he hadn’t fully processed for himself.

He had seen you storm off last night after seeing him and the crazed fans. Before seeing your crestfallen expression, he’d never experienced any resemblance of guilt or shame about his nightly activities – or at least for a really long time – and yet since seeing your face, it’s been gnawing away at him from the inside out.

That’s how he knew you were truly more to him.

Never has he reflected on his actions for very long, instead quickly moving on and indulging in the pleasure of those who volunteered to be used next. He’s never had a problem finding a new toy and letting off some steam with whomever it was that ended up ensnared in his bewitching trap.

It’s all about the chase for Jaemin, zeroing in on his target like a predator to its prey. Although, there have been very few times in which he has been on the prowl for more than two weeks and he can’t figure out why you’re any different. Jaemin is known to be selective about which challenges he pursues and which challenges he blows off, deeming them of no importance. The “challeges” having to do with potential fuck dolls are usually a breeze, taking them to bed being a walk in the park for him. This explains why he is so fascinated by those who resist his charm, finding the most interesting girls to be stubborn, headstrong, and iron-willed and you checked off all those boxes ten times over.

Whereas it bothered the hell out of Jaemin to not have you under his spell since first acquaintance to practically an eternity later in comparison to those other challenges, that might you add, he always eventually overcame, for once his hubris got him somewhere, not someone.

A place where he feels something that he has neglected for years all because he didn’t want another “forever” to be whispered in his ear by a girl that disappears into the wind the next second. He used to consider himself a romantic but only now is it that he feels he can articulate his affections again without regret or the fear of vulnerability after intricately tangling one’s heart strings with another.

“I think…fuck. I know you won’t believe me but you mean so much more to me than you could ever imagine.”

Jaemin takes a deep breath, preparing to admit out loud something that his mind pretends he hasn’t been doing on a daily basis because it conflicts with who he is supposed to be.

“Every dandelion I blow away, every shooting star I intentionally look for at night, every four leaf clover I search for in the grass for luck and every time the clock hits 11:11, I wish for you. I wish that you were mine – ”

“Jaemin, how many times have we been over this? I don’t belong – to – any – one.”

“I know you don’t, y/n.... and that’s one of the things I love most about you. Your strong sense of self, your confidence, your iron will and your fierce independence.” He comes closer to you and takes one of your hands in both of his. He clasps your hand delicately, like the last sparse snowflakes falling from the sky in the first week of Spring.

You look up into his dreamy eyes before ripping your hand out of his. “What about those girls from yesterday, huh? What are your top three favorite qualities from them?”

“God, it’s all an act! It’s like a role I play! How many times do I have to try and tell you this? I don’t fucking care about every other girl I meet! They’re just fans or acquaintances that I treat with the same behavior! I’ll flirt and charm them into believing what they want to hear and, yes, I was terrible with ending things with the girls that I got with once or twice or had a week long relationship with; but it was different, and I… I was different. And that was before you.”

“How am I supposed to trust you, Jaemin? How do I know that you didn’t say the same thing to every other girl you want to fuck? When you say that I’m ‘the only girl,’ I have no reason to believe you.”

Jaemin sighs, almost defeatedly. “I thought I’d given you several reasons to trust me.”

“You didn’t even answer my first question that was from a little game you came up with for me to learn how to trust you more!”

“Well, I got you out of that club when you had been drugged and –”

“Yeah, after you stalked me there.”

“You’re one of two girls on this planet that I’ve talked to about my family."

You snap your tongue. “How am I supposed to believe that? It could easily be another lie to add to your collection.”

“Fuck…what about all our intimate moments where it felt like it was just you and me and we were the only ones in the universe because everything else faded away. Where we were vulnerable and honest and –”

“You could’ve used those same moments and repeated all the same lines to make them think that they were special to you too. You just said how you charm girls into believing what they want to hear and they wanted you to care about them and you faked those deep, intimate moments to get what you wanted. And what was so different about me? I wanted this so badly that it hurts. I don’t know when it happened but seemingly out of nowhere, I wanted you to think of me as more than just a quick fuck and then I wanted to believe you’d changed because you were soft and I did feel those moments when it was just you and me and no one else in the universe existed but– argh! I can’t put into words how it felt to see you with all those girls at the after party. You were the same –”

“Princess, it was just acting! I was playing a –!”

“No, don’t you dare ‘princess’ me, Jaemin. And don't cut me off,” you snap. “You’re the one who asked ‘can we talk?’ So, please, let me talk.”

Jaemin can feel the threat of stinging tears emerging in his eyes, so much of the waterworks’ impetus being the desperation threaded through your tone. “I’m sorry…go on.”

You take a deep breath and pick up from where you left off. “The closest thing I can think of to how it felt seeing you with those girls fawning over you and you just eating it up, letting them take turns sitting on your lap and feeding you by hand and kissing your neck and…you were having the time of your life while I stood there with Mark and watched. And that was when I finally went up in flames…

When you first walked into the salon two months ago, I knew that you were trouble. I knew your reputation because I heard all the girls gossip about you constantly. I knew getting tangled up with you was playing with fire and getting burned, sooner or later, was almost guaranteed; yet I voluntarily lit the matches – I lit so many fucking matches that eventually I was carrying a torch for you that I never imagined I’d lift for anyone, let alone a guy like you. And in that moment, it slipped from my hand and fell at my feet and the fire that I willingly started engulfed me from the bottom up.” You gulp and wipe your soggy cheeks. “So here I am now, blistered, charred and still smoking with regret… and I never wanna go near fire again.”

You avert your eyes because you can’t stand to see tears rimming his waterline. Examining the dressing room that’s probably home to hundreds, if not thousands, of wonderful memories tied to these four cream painted walls but all you can see is a bare and desolate dressing room that you're stuck in with him and a boatload of feelings you never wanted to scratch the surface of. Even if Jaemin is standing right behind you, you feel alone.

“You have some of the worst trust issues ever. But wanting to be independent and not rely on anyone too much out of fear of getting burned isn’t independence, it’s isolation.”

You scoff, shaking your head at the irony. “Well, it takes one to know one.”

“Hey, I’m trying here. I thought that you knew that? If I could have any wish come true I would want you to have stayed an extra 5 seconds at the party to see me push her off and go after you. I’m tired of the isolation and I’m tired of pretending to be someone that I’m not… when I went running after you I wanted us, together doing the most mundane, average coupley things. It could be literally anything on the planet and I’d have the time of my life being with you, holding your hand, wrapping my arms around you when you’re cold and giving you my leather jacket too. And I don’t want to hide any of it out of fear that the fans would like me less. I would still do it even if some of them created a petition to have me thrown out of the band… I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m so, so incredibly, sincerely sorry and I don’t know what else to do here except…”

Jaemin spares no time tossing his old playbook out the window. He closes the gap between you two, cupping your jaw with both hands, leaning in and bringing your lips to meet in the middle. A fuzzy static numbs your body, mobility defective for a moment, his touch frying your nerves and causing your eyes to pop open widely. Within seconds of the initial shock setting in, you willingly part your lips and let his tongue slip inside your mouth.

Your heart swells, falling victim to what feels like a classic silver screen kiss, romantic and passionate enough to inspire anyone else’s longing for their own other half to show up.

You yelp when he hoists your body up without warning and sits you down on the surface of the vanity desk that isn’t crowded by cosmetic products and styling tools. You instinctively part your thighs for him to slot his body in between your legs and you loop your arms around his neck.

Jaemin caresses the undersides of your thighs and slowly slides his hands further in the direction of your ass. You shift your weight back onto your palms so your upper torso is pressed to the mirror, scooting your lower body closer to the edge for his hard bulge to grind against your covered pussy with better accessibility. Reaching your ass, he squeezes handfuls of your skin and manipulates how you roll your hips exactly how he likes it.

You don’t remember grinding on him accidentally last week but since that momentary arousal, Jaemin has specifically fantasized about you grinding on him and getting yourself off. That idea will have to be saved for another day though. For your first time together, he wants to spoil you. He doesn’t want you to move a finger, just relax and take everything he gives you, appreciative of his efforts.

He hooks his fingers on your belt loops and you lift your hips up from the vanity desk to assist him wrangle your jeans down your legs. He’s determined to remove your remaining clothes in record time, impatient to get you naked since day #1. He yanks the zipper down the thick, dark chocolate jacket you wore this evening with knowledge of how chilly it can get backstage and you refuse to wear anything of Jaemin's, especially his leather jacket, again because you hated him – or at least that’s what you had been trying to convince yourself of. Jaemin grabs the bottom hem of your thin long sleeved shirt, and you raise your arms up for him to whip it over the top of your head.

His mouth returns to yours momentarily, distracting you by trailing wet kisses down your neck and nipping at your earlobe while his hands snake around your back. You squeak, suddenly feeling your bra pop open behind you as the metal clasps are undone masterfully. The stretchy straps are hanging off your shoulders one moment, the next thing you know, the article of clothing he viewed as a material barrier from his hands is flung across the dressing room.

Whereas Jaemin remains fully dressed, he leaves you in only your socks and underwear. Every time you try to reach out and undress him, he gives your hands a light slap to deter you from trying again. After your third attempt, you get the message and give up on that mission.

Your bare ass sits on the cool surface of the vanity and goosebumps appear on your thighs. You sit with your knees pressed together and your arms crossed over your chest to hide your breasts. His gaze is polished with lust, giving your body a once over, pride swelling naturally.

Finally, You're here. And he has you in the palm of his hand. Jaemin smiles, licking the corner of his lips more often than he would regularly (almost 2x as much really) since he knows you think it’s hot.

“What?” you ask him quietly, finally meeting his eyes after averting them when your pants were first removed. Your face is angled at the ground and you peer up at him through your eyelashes timidly.

“I didn’t expect my baby to be so shy,” he comments as he closes in on you.

“i-i’m not shy,” you lie through your teeth. “I’m just cold.”

“Hmm, it’s a good thing I know how to warm you up then,” Jaemin says. He clasps his hands around your wrists and you let him unfold your arms without a struggle. He pins you to the cool mirror behind you and attacks your skin with open mouthed kisses, his frenzied lips meeting your skin and getting to work kissing your newly exposed skin. His mouth trails from your jawline, down the side of your neck, across your collarbone and down the valley of your breasts. Noticing that you watch every move of his, he smirks against your skin.

“Tell me how good this feels on a scale of 1-10,” he instructs you, surveying your facial expressions as well.

His tongue skims the perimeter of your nipple slowly, barely making contact with it before engulfing the bud in his warm mouth softly. You hum blissfully. “Um, 7.”

“Only a 7, huh?” he mumbles before beginning to flick his tongue back and forth on your nipple. He slides your wrists to meet together over your head, securing both of your wrists against the mirror with one hand. His free hand palms your neglected breast, massaging it with mild pressure.

“8… .5.”

“Interesting, interesting,” he muses.

“What is?”

“How rough you like it. Or at least what your limit is.” Jaemin raises his hand to your mouth. “Baby, say ‘ahhh’ for me.” You eagerly part your lips to suck on his pointer and middle fingers for him. “I don’t want to ruin you or use you like my little fucktoy if you’re not ready for it,” Jaemin tells you, tone simultaneously intimidating and sincere. “I don’t want to scare you off.”

He lets you suck for another few seconds before pulling his fingers from the warmth of your mouth, making a little pop sound. He lets your wrists go, lightly running his hands up and down the top of your thighs. “What do you think, princess?”

“I think…” You rub your lips together looking for the right words to say. “... I want to be ruined.”

“Are you sure?” He looks at you hesitantly, stroking your cheek tenderly with the back of his fingers that aren’t coated in your saliva.

“Jaemin, I trust you to use me responsibly,” you answer, voice hardly above a whisper. “Make me your little fucktoy, I want you to, I mean it.”

“God, y/n. I’ve been dreaming of those words coming from your mouth for weeks,” he groans and strokes his erection through his black skinny jeans. His tongue pushes into your mouth, smashing your lips together and you moan into the kiss.

His lips then return to your breasts, alternating between biting and sucking hard enough to make wet, lewd noises with his mouth. His hand roughly squeezes your other breast, pinching or flicking your cold nipple in between rough squeezing.

Jaemin sweeps you off your feet and sets you down on the salon chair. “Princess, can I tie you down so you don’t squirm and I can do my job better?”

“Tie me down with what, exactly?” you ask skeptically.

Jaemin holds up a half dozen zip ties that he had found sitting on one of the speakers that were low to the ground. He didn’t know what he’d use them for, he just took them to have them.

“Where did you get those?”

“I got them from the set director. Now, are you up for this?” Jaemin lightly shakes the zip ties in his hand and like the other times you agree and let him do what he wants.

Jaemin kneels down to secure your wrists to each armrest. He raises the chair so you can see your whole body in the mirror now instead of just the top.

You press your thighs together again, squirming in the chair as he finishes the task. He cups your knees with gentle hands and looks up at you with adoration. “How about you part those legs for me like a good girl… or do you need a little help?” You bite your bottom lip, letting a whine vibrate in the back of your throat to answer on your behalf. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it myself.”

He tightens his grip on your knees and pries your thighs apart for a picture-perfect, close up shot of your wet slit. His eyes flick back and forth between your face and your bare pussy until you close your eyes from embarrassment.

“Hey, baby, no, no! It’s okay! Don’t be embarrassed!” Jaemin coos, getting to his feet and kissing your lips. You try to bring your thighs back together again but his legs get in the way and he pries them open. He tsks his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I need you to keep these open for me. Can you do that?”

You reluctantly nod while feeling your face growing hotter by the second. “Um, okay.”

“Good girl,” Jaemin places a soft kiss on either of your knees. “Has anyone ever told you how stunning you are, princess?” Jaemin kisses up the inside of your thigh until his mouth hovers over his own personal jackpot.

“M’hmm, I’ve been t-” you begin to answer when Jaemin places a tender kiss on your clit. You gasp at the unexpected contact of his mouth to the sensitive spot.

“Well you haven't been told enough,” Jaemin mumbles, mouth still lightly grazing over your slick torturously. Rocking back on his heels, he gently spreads your wet lips with his fingers to admire you closely. “Absolutely…gorgeous.”

The infatuating smile Jaemin flashes you before dragging his tongue through your pussy is one that will haunt your wet dreams for quite possibly the rest of your life. You squeeze your eyes shut and cling onto the armrest as he slowly laps up your arousal, gaging your response by keeping his eyes on your face. He detaches his mouth and stands up, wiping the back of his hand across your favorite pair of messy lips.

“I think you’re too beautiful for only one pair of eyes to be watching,” Jaemin says. He circles around the salon chair until he is directly behind you. “You should see for yourself, baby.”

Slinking his arms around you, his fingers graze your slit from this new position, compelling you to mewl at the sensation of Jaemin rubbing tiny soft circles on your clit. His other hand massages your breast moderately aggressively.

“Keep your eyes open, y/n. You need to see this. Need to see how pretty your pussy is when I play with you.”

You gulp. “Okay, I'll try.”

Jaemin relocates his hand to sternly grasp your throat instead. “No, you will.” He gives your throat a five second squeeze and feels you struggling to swallow against the palm of his hand. “Say it after me: I will keep my eyes open.”

He loosens his grip to hear you swear. “I will keep my eyes open,” you rasp.

“And I will keep my legs open.”

“I w-will keep my legs open.”

Jaemin tightens his grasp again, not as strict as the first time but enough to make you feel a bit floaty. “Mhmm, now that’s my girl.”

You watch yourself wriggle in the salon chair as he increases the pressure applied to your clit. They dip lower and dive inside you, curling up masterfully. By this time, he's got you bucking your hips into his hand to meet the rhythm of his fingers. He smirks with satisfaction, holding eye contact with you in the mirror.

“Am I making you feel good, princess?” You nod lazily but struggle to move much since his hand restricts further mobility. “What about now? Tell me, does this feel better?” He moves his hand, roaming down from your throat, between your breasts, across the span of your stomach to arrive at your clit, focusing now on working you over your limit.

You hiss and attempt to suppress any loud cries, fearful of being caught like this, secured to the styling chair leaking cum on the leather, exposed to anyone that might walk in on you being so feverishly abused by Jaemin’s fingers. “Fuck…y-yeah that’s amazing.”

He leans to the side of your head and kisses your cheek then leaves a short trail of feathered kisses along your jaw and down your neck. “No, you’re amazing,” Jaemin whispers in your ear. He seals his open mouth to the sweet spot just below your ear and sucks on your neck. While the throbbing pressure in your core mounts, the pornographic wet noises from your pussy occupy every inch of the room.

Your eyes roll back in your head and flutter closed momentarily. He pulls his fingers out of you suddenly, slapping your clit briefly and ripping a cry from your lips. “Remember your promise, y/n,” he whispers again, tone less nurturing and more threatening than any tone he’s ever spoken to you with before. He returns back to dutifully ruining you without forcing an apology out of you. Jaemin is aiming to shoot you into the heavens and isn’t settling for anything less. He’s not petty enough to demand an apology when all he wants to bring you is bliss.

You instantly open your eyes and three seconds later, feel the tingly pressure inside you burst and bloom through your body in waves of heat. As insanely difficult as it is, you manage to keep your eyes open the entire, elongated high. Jaemin’s fingers hasten the excessive stimulation and maintain the same merciless motions until you’re bawling and thrashing in the chair.

“Aw, baby, you did so well,” he coos.

“I did? Really?” You look up at him lethargically and he rewards you with a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah.” Jaemin crouches in front of you, smiling to himself when you make no effort to close your legs this time. You jolt from the zing that fires through your abdomen and down to your toes as he touches your aching core and collects some of your arousal on his fingertips. He gets a taste of your wetness and hums delightfully. “Mmmh, your cunt tastes so good,” he compliments you, fully diving two fingers inside you. He recovers another small amount of your juices and rubs it over his lips. “Here, you try, princess.”

Jaemin clasps his hands over yours on the armrests, leaning in close and bestowing upon you the taste he savors so much. Like a dream, you open your mouth against his obediently. He hums, getting to his knees to finish his uneaten meal.

“Jaemin, wait! Are you going to-” You whimper and twitch as his tongue swirls around your folds and slides inside your heat.

He eats you out for a dozen seconds before peering up at you. “Do you want me to stop? It doesn’t sound like you want me to stop but if you rrrreally want me to then–”

You loll your head to the side, breathlessly huffing something that sounds like, “No, don’t stop.”

“Hmm, now that’s what I thought.”

Jaemin pets your walls with two fingers and sucks harshly on your clit until you’re spiraling for the second time and sobbing from the overwhelming pleasure.

He teeters back, looking you up and down like a work of art that he just added to his own personal gallery. “Perfect,” he murmurs to himself. “Perfect and all mine.”

It would be a dream come true if he could ever convince you to let him hang you up in his room for a day. In his fantasy, you would be naked and untouched the entire time to make you desperate beyond imagination and soon enough, he would get to hear you whimper and beg to be put out of your misery but would deny your every request to edge you on further; bonus points if he got to keep his door open all day to show you off.

It’s a nice thought, although thinking from a realistic standpoint, he wouldn’t last an hour without giving you everything you ask for. Plus, now that he thinks about it, he’s not too keen on the idea of sharing you with anyone, so that open door policy is off the table too.

“When can I touch you?” you ask, eyes like a wounded puppy.

Jaemin kisses both of your cheeks, the tip of your nose and finally your lips, mumbling, “say please” against them.

“Please? Can you let me loose… please?”

“God, I’ll never be able to say no to you, y/n,” he says as he clips the zip ties, setting you free.

You quickly scramble to the grimy dressing room floor before he can object. Now on your knees in front of him, you fumble with his belt buckle and unzip his worn-in black jeans. “Baby, I said I wanted to make tonight was about you, remember? I wanna make you happy, this isn’t about me.”

You delay the removal of his pants and question him in an innocent voice. “Well, what if giving you head will make me happy?”

Jaemin grins, huffing air through his nose a few times slightly amused by your eagerness to take him down your throat. He pets the top of your head gently. “Hmm… only if you want to, princess.”

“I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t want to,” you answer, pulling down the garment to reveal his dark gray boxer briefs. There’s a darker spot where his precum has seeped through the material. It’s less prominent than yours but the resemblance is indisputable.

“And you had the audacity to call me out for being wet when you were making a mess in your pants too?”

You peer up at him with a teasing expression that he doesn’t appreciate, but he lets your taunting comment slide when your puckered lips meet his tip. You suck him in with ease, taking your time so you don’t gag right away. His head hits the back of your throat and Jaemin pulls your mouth off of him. A string of spit connects your mouth to his cock which he takes in his hand and gives a few pumps, using your saliva as lubricant.

“I’m not patient enough to wait to be inside you,” Jaemin says in a low voice that demands respect. After clawing at his clothes and ridding his body of the remaining pesky garments getting in the way, he sits himself down on the stylist chair. He motions towards you, beckoning you over for filling to which you oblige, like you will always. You can’t envision a time when you might refuse his advances or propositions.

Before his mouth met yours, you couldn’t stand to be around the person holding their jar of hearts where everyone can see the kind of person they are. It becomes so blatantly apparent, everyone knows how cold his own heart is.

It’s sad when you think about it. He is the kind of someone that holds out a jar of what might as well be honey in front of him, luring bees into the trap and dosing them with white smoke to put them to sleep. Difference between the bees and the girls he cuts loose is that the bees fly away unharmed and with no long term memory of that jar and how the honey was basically their charm.

Obviously, there are girls that are completely fine with one night stands and prefer to hook up once or twice and then never see him again, but a great majority of them end up with shattered hearts, crushed by the hands of none other than Na Jaemin.

Your opinion of him reverted back to that of which you had when you first met him because of the incident you witnessed at the club.

You’re faced with the question: did you actually like Jaemin this whole time but wanted to obliterate those feelings so badly that you found a way around those affections, latching onto an excuse (seeing him at the club) to leave him high and dry? Has your mind created this emotional defense mechanism to save you from heartbreak in the distant future?

It hurts now but it’s almost like you’re choosing this small amount of pain to avoid perhaps suffering through a much deeper, earth shattering pain that could be waiting for you somewhere along in life.

All you know is that his touch on your skin feels right. You welcome every single action he takes gladly, showing him your appreciation by whimpering and moaning when he squeezes your skin, or sticks his fingers or tongue inside one of your needy holes.

Jaemin traces his fingers through your pussy as you stand in front of him, tilting forward a bit and holding your cheeks apart for him to have optimal access to you. When he has gathered enough of your wetness, he smears the natural lubricant all over himself, a mixture of his precum and your arousal making his stiff cock slick and slightly sticky. You let out a whine, impatient to be stuffed full of him to which he chuckles apathetically.

“Awww, poor y/n has to wait a whole 30 seconds,” Jaemin coos with a tone void of pity and painted in sarcasm. “That’s nothing compared to how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

He reaches out to your hips and guides you in the right direction for him to line himself up at your entrance. “Are you ready, princess?”

“M’hmm,” you hum, in a higher pitch than normal. “Fill me up.”

Jaemin holds the base of his cock, keeping himself in place as you slowly sink down, inch by inch. You pinch your eyes shut from the sting of your walls spreading further by every second. He leans back to observe your reaction to the ceremonious first thrust inside you through the reflection of the mirror. From your mouth slips a broken, mildly pained whimper as your pussy sucks in his entire length, not stopping until your ass is pressed firmly against his lap and his cock has completely disappeared inside you.

“y/n… you feel like heaven,” he purrs close to your ear, skilled lips barely feathering your ear lobe. The tight sensation is infinitely better than what he imagined you would feel like. His hands get a stern grip on your waist, rolling your hips in his lap while he’s buried deep inside you.

You gasp and wince. “J-Jaemin? i, um, it hurts, can w–”

“Baby, just focus on your breathing. I’m right here, okay? I’m right here,” he couches you through the transition from empty to stuffed full, rubbing your back soothingly. “Just relax. The pain will be over soon, I promise.”

“i– okay. If you say so,” you snivel.

He stays still for nearly a minute before softly rolling your hips again. “Better?”

“Better,” you sigh, this time blissfully.

Jaemin’s fingers dig into your skin and he starts off by lifting you off his lap slightly. He repeats this level of intensity of shallow thrusts for about half a minute before accelerating. He won't bounce you with the highest degree of brutality until he deems your hole has stretched enough to handle more.

Picking up the pace, he awakens something inside you, eliciting a weak cry from your parted lips. Your eyes bulge out of your head, preferring not to get caught if you’re too loud. You squeeze them shut, focusing on your attempt at silencing your involuntary noises. Although, even if you tuck your lips together between your teeth, he can still hear your tiny, pleasured whimpering half suppressed in the back of your throat.

“Feeling good, princess?” he grunts, clearly hearing how he’s making you feel beyond simply ‘good.’

You open one eye and then two a moment later, making eye contact with him in the mirror. “Sooo fucking good.”

Jaemin licks his lips, smiling wickedly, in total contrast to how he is in the outside world. He has his moments when he’s a gentle softie; however, the mysterious bad boy look has always screamed dark, hard and sore – three words you would confirm.

“Baby, what’s up?” Jaemin asks when you close your eyes.

“Hm? I didn’t s-say anything.”

“You promised me you’d keep your eyes open…and I expect that from you the whole time, got it?”

Jaemin’s arm wraps around your front to deliver a light slap to your clit. You squeak and move the position of your hands to the armrests instead of your quivering thighs. He gains momentum, lifting you above his lap and then forcefully bringing you down. You weakly try to help him, bouncing on his cock with an exhilaration that ultimately overwhelms your limited life bar.

Arriving at that point where your body is too worn out to contribute a single ounce of energy into riding him, you cry out for him to stop. When he does, you finally relinquish control, telling him through soft whimpers that he can use your body however he wants, while you'll graciously take everything he gives you. For Jaemin, hearing you completely submit to him, and 100% soberly hand over the reins to your body willingly, is nearly enough to make him shoot his cum inside you on the spot.

“God, y/n…so you really are mine then, huh? You belong to me now? You’re just a hole for me and me alone to fuck and use up however I want?” Jaemin asks, a possessive, crazed glint shining in his eyes. Paradoxically, at the end of every question, he gently presses a kiss to your neck.

“I’m yours, Jaemin,” you rasp. “All yours.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re allll mine,” he says with a haunting dominance.

He rapidly slams you down his cock, heaving your body into the air, almost to the point where he slides out, but every time, yanking you down, shoving himself deeper inside you over and over and over again until you feel high as a kite from the experience of having your walls roughly spread.

The sound of your naked bodies slapping together, as you ride him and bounce on his cock, rings around the room. He gives it to you passionately with his endless defiling and gushing pleasure, almost brimming, almost too much. He doesn’t restrain himself, snapping his hips up and fucking you so savagely that he'll have to carry you out tonight, since you'll struggle to walk after he's pummeled your pussy with such high intensity. Jaemin is dead set on watching you melt in his lap, right before his eyes, and he won’t stop bouncing you on his cock for anything, using you like a lifeless sex doll and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.

You feel a rush of tingly pressure quickly forming, on the precipice of mounting your senses. The icing on the cake is his abuse of your aching clit, hurried circles with skillful fingers, whispering sweet words of praise in your ear to trigger your high. Your consciousness levitates off the ground, every sensation besides a numbing tightness ceasing to exist. You dig your nails into the chair and quiver against his chest uncontrollably. The faded dissociation from reality like an edible suddenly hitting out of nowhere after you've waited nearly an hour for the feeling to conquer your body completely.

You wilt back against his chest, dropping your head on his shoulder, which bobs every time he bounces your body. He continues to pound you vigorously into oblivion, in tune with him this time. Jaemin, again, rubs your puffy clit ruthlessly, ensuring that you, once more, peak at the same time he does. He watches your face twist up in pleasure while you convulse against him.

“Hold onto that feeling. Hold on a tiny bit longer, okay? Do it for me, y/n."

“I’ll…I’ll try,” you pant. Your walls clench around his cock, concentrating with difficulty on the pulsating pressure as long as possible. A mere seven grueling seconds in heaven, that honestly feel a lot like hell, pass before you’re too overwhelmed by your orgasm to carry on, twitching erratically. “Jaem, I c-can’t-”

Your pleading is drowned out by his shaky huffing, his lazy thrusts picking up speed before he reaches his breaking point, toppling over the edge of pleasure as euphoria surges through his veins. Jaemin shoots his cum deep inside your pussy, blessing you with a warm, full feeling. A distorted version of your name woven into a thick, gravelly moan tumbles from his lips.

When he’s completely emptied himself into you, he heaves your connected bodies up, carefully guiding you both over to the couch with his cock still buried inside. The two of you lethargically collapse there, on the black Egyptian cotton. He turns you on your side after a handful of seconds, and then cautiously pulls his softened cock out. He keeps an eye on the white cum that dribbles from your throbbing hole. In an attempt to keep it inside you, you roll on your stomach, causing Jaemin to snicker briefly.

He nudges your thighs apart, aiming to clean up the mess he made of you. "Up on your knees, princess." You whine but do as he says, leaning your front half on your elbows and arching your back for him to watch the cum leak out of you.

“Can I take a picture of you? It won’t have your face, just your pretty dripping pussy…please?”

“Yeah. Jaemin, it belongs to you, remember?”

“Fuck, yeah. I can’t believe I forgot about that,” he mutters to himself.

He gets his phone and the roll of paper towels on the vanity as quickly as possible but some of the cum drips on the couch in brief moment he steps away. He curses and dabs the material, trying his best to clean the newly forming stain. Folding a paper towel underneath you as a precaution, he finally gets to capture the image of how well he fucked you into the stars.

He takes a video of his fingers reaching out and parting your glistening lips, getting a good close up of the cum trickling from your pussy. The pussy he owns. “I love the sound of that…your pussy belonging to me. You’re mine…are you okay with that, y/n?” He smears the cum through your folds, brushing your overly sensitive clit and forcing a whimper up your throat, involuntarily.

“I’m-I'm more than okay with being yours. Every part of me being yours,” you answer sincerely, unashamed to admit what you really want now. Jaemin hums and massages your bare ass for a moment after cleaning you up with the paper towels, thinking of his marvelous, treasured new ownership.

He throws a blanket that Jeno forgot on the couch over your limp body and climbs underneath it. Wedging himself between you and the back of the stained couch, he wraps his arms around your frame, skin pressed to skin, your back nested to his muscular chest as you and Jaemin spoon happily.

─────────────────────

You spent weeks trying to perfect your tactics for facing him in tempting, tense moments but your iron borders had grown faulty. At some point or another, you were willingly unlocking the door to let him in easier and you had been fearful of the weakness that he brought out of you. You might even hold the door open for him at some point. You would be waiting and waiting for him to return soon, holding your breath, and leaning against the front door in hopes that he will come back at all.

And yet despite that fear he would ghost like the others prior to your introduction – that massive red flag you could see from a galaxy away – you felt your strength deteriorating and the weakness seeping into you and you did nearly nothing about it because you had a shred of hope it wouldn’t turn out that way. And by some miracle, your fantasy of true love encased in glass and vulnerable to shattering at any moment, wasn’t so illogical or impossible as before. Maybe you and Jaemin will embody that fantasy and for the first time in a long time you have pure hope, not the kind where you try to convince yourself things will turn out well or looking forward to something insignificant in the grand scheme of things; it’s a hope that empty is nothing but a distant memory to you and him alike.

Lying on the couch with you encompassed in his arms, Jaemin feels something more than high, restless, horny and empty. There’s no turning back once he musters up the courage to leap off the top of his secluded, emotionally distant nest because you’ve promised to teach him how to fly. Looking in the mirror, he recognizes himself again, and it’s no coincidence that you will be by his side practically every time he sees his reflection in the styling chair.

His brooding eyes now sparkling, the dazzling smile on his face genuine, the inconsistent silly, erratic behavior he does to entertain his friends and the playful, flirty comments that slip from his tempting lips aren't for the purpose of getting some girl naked backstage, but to make you laugh instead.

He chews on his lip subconsciously while he ruminates on the word “forever” for the billionth time today until reaching a conclusion: even if you and him fall apart someday and the heartache eats him alive, having you for even the tiniest pinch of time, would be worth it.

All the unforgettable memories he’ll cherish until he’s six feet under, the meaningful, romantic moments that seem nearly too good to be true, the passionate, steamy nights and days where he’s always determined to make you come first, and the pure, tenderhearted love that flows through his veins because your name is written on his heart with blue ink, in swirly, scribbled cursive letters just like the contract you signed that brought you two together at last.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask softly.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just about how Renjun’s going to kill me for getting cum on the dressing room couch.”

Amused by something so trivial to murder a person over, you crane your head around with a smile to look at him. Jaemin abruptly attaches your lips for a brief moment, like you would vanish into the crowd if he didn’t kiss you that very instant.

“What was that for?”

He hums sweetly in contentment, tightening his embrace. “I feel whole when I’m with you and no matter what happens, no matter what life throws at us, I promise I’ll be by your side, forever holding your hand for as long as you’ll let me.”

Holding your body close to his chest protectively, he has faith that your bubble of budding love won’t burst, leaving behind the insecurity and fear of attachment for the sake of saving oneself from heartbreak. He knows the girl in his arms worth the risk.

taglist: @chitaphrrrr @sweetjaemss @domhyuckie @nominsgirl @jaeymark @youryuno @hwasatiny @rinasluvs @aedreamzy ─────────────────────

bro...THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 5K WORDS ???

seriously though, I'm sorry for delaying the release of ROCK ME a thousand times. i hope you think it was worth the wait ? i know a ton of you were disappointed. the reason it was so late is mainly attributed to it's length. i was banking on it having a shorter word count & then it kept growing and somehow it ended up being this long fucking story that actually has a plot. i type ultra slow & couldn't keep up with the dates i thought i would post by. don't hate me. shit happens.

this is the longest thing i've ever written and i'm really proud of it! i poured my heart into this one, so please take 2 minutes to give me feedback!

okay, i think that's all i have to say. i hope you and your loved ones are/stay healthy and safe!

stream Red Velvet's *Feel My Rhythm* & *WILDSIDE* (my fav song of the year so far)

and, ofc, stream *Glitch Mode*

─────────────────────

➾my masterlist

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#jaemin #jaemin smut #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fic #nct #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct jaemin #nct jaemin smut #nct fic #nct dream fic #na jaemin

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ HIGHER

tw. incest, size kink, unprotected sex, lil violence mention, ken is a good big bro wordcount. 2k

a/n. cross-post from my other blog, i promise i'll write new stuff again soon i just haven't been feeling in a smutty mood so i'm crossposting content for now ♡

ryuguji/draken x fem!reader

It’s late going on early when he finally returns to you, letting the door fall into lock too hard. Heavy feet drag over the planks to the bedside, and you barely have enough awareness to crack open one eye and follow him mull about. He unbuttons his shirt and tosses it over the single chair in your room, before turning over his shoulder to watch you shift on bed. “M’sorry for waking you up,” his low voice comes softly, faintly, and from a distance you almost believe he means it.

But he undoes his belt and drops it with the heavy clang of metal to the floor, and then his pants too, before placing a knee onto the mattress and dipping you towards him. You drag your fingers up his calf, along his knee and up to his thigh to let it rest there, palm on the flexing muscle hidden under that toughened skin.

And you stay quiet like that for what feels like hours, watching him watch you. Draken puffs out his chest a little, before pushing more weight onto his leg to jiggle you again. “Scoot.”

With the push of his large hand to your shoulder, you eventually do, leaving the warmth of your spot however begrudgingly to watch him lift the blankets, crawling in beside you with a slight cough. “It’s cold in here,” he mumbles, pulling the band out of his dark hair before he drops his head into the pillow with too much show, then reaches for you. “Crawl in close, yeah?”

“Missed y’, nii—chan,” you mouth back, heavy lashes almost brushing your cheeks again. You don’t crawl in close, instead rolling onto your stomach and pressing your cheek into the cool pillow. He only blinks back a few seconds, before propping himself up onto his elbow, catching your legs in his and pulling your bottom half closer anyway. Your cold feet warm a little when pressed against his calves, and his one hand is quick to pull on the edge of your shirt— his shirt, until your arm is pressed to his chest and he can tuck you under his chin.

That’s just how it goes with Draken. He asks and when you don’t give, he takes anyway, because you’re the only person he has left to care for so deeply. The only real family he has, he always reminds you, not that you could ever forget. It’s always been you and niichan, from the very beginning. Even when he was little, he was the one taking care of you, clothing you, feeding you, holding you. When you were freezing he gave you his jacket to put on, and when you cried about missing your mom, your dad, anyone you had never really had- that was what you could hang your faith onto. “I’ll always be here,” he promised.

“You always leave for so long,” you complain when his hands start roaming, already knowing his lips will come even before he presses them to the soft skin under your ear, dragging his warm breath down the surface along your throat. Feels like now he only comes back to you when he can’t handle being alone anymore. You hate it. You love him. He doesn’t make a sound when sliding one arm underneath, holding you steady as he rolls over you and starts picking at the panties you might as well have left on the floor with the other clothing, before finally nudging your face to turn so he can look at you.

The metal of his piercings glints in the faint light of the moon as he kisses you full on the mouth, sighing into it. “If I could stay here I would, you know that,” he breathes against your mouth, slowly starting to rut his hips against your ass. He steals another kiss, this time pushing his tongue against the seam of your lips and humming into it when you let him in and suck on the pink muscle. The panties get pushed down your thighs, strings of sticky wetness snapping as he keeps kissing, deeper and harder. His hips go faster too, pushing his swelling cock between your ass, groaning. It’s so hot, sweat starting to form on your temples and cheeks with your cheek still pressed into the pillow as your big brother fucks himself against you.

“Lift your leg,” he mumbles, helping you to give him more access, something he takes instantly and sinks his long, calloused fingers up to his bruised knuckles into you. “Missed this wet cunt so much, fuck,” his low voice pressed to your lips, your jaw, dragged along your neck. His boxers are getting soiled with precum that beads at the wet patch he’s rubbing along you, curling his fingers deep inside you and scissoring them apart a few times.

You’re already dripping, you can’t help it. Just being close to him now is enough to have your body anticipating, waiting and aching for your big, strong brother to fill you up, rut you into that blissful headspace. It’s nothing like the way you stuff your hands down your panties when he can only manage dropping by for a quick hello, pressing some bills into your hands before he’s back down the stairs, with no promise of when he’ll return.

It’s nothing like the way he bends you over the sink or the bed for all of ten minutes either, begging for more time to a god that never had any intention of listening to you. “Love you, niichan,” you croak out as he sucks hard at the crook of your neck, pulling his fingers out of you to wipe them on his boxers.

“I love you too, baby,” his hair brushes along your neck as he kisses a line down your spine, gripping your hips and finally, finally getting up on his knees between your legs. “Wanna be inside you.” You want that too, fuck, you want that more than anything. It bubbles over into little tears along your lashes, you shaking your hips side to side as he stares at your glistening cunt, gripping himself through his boxers and giving it a slow pump. You look over your shoulder to watch him peel the boxers from his abs down strong thighs, letting the flushed, hard cock bounce heavy between his legs. “Wanna be inside you so bad, little one, please,” he mumbles again, taking your silence as hesitation.

With his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and his hair a dark halo around his pretty face, it’s almost impossible to think there was a time you fought him on the intimacy. A time where you kicked and bit and threw the broken shard of your picture frame at his face. There’s still a little scar at the end of his eyebrow where it hit. But that was then, and now things have changed. You don’t fight him anymore when he links his hands with yours, because maybe you’ve finally shattered your pride enough to know that this is all you want. So you bite your lip too, sucking on it for comfort, before you nod. “Want you more than anything, Draken, please fuck me. Please, please, I’m yours. Your little sister.”

He’s too quick crawling over you, covering your body with his as he places his elbows next to your head and his hips rest on your ass, one hand lining himself up as you spread your thighs wider, tilting your pelvis to give him more access. “Love you,” he whispers, promises, “love you,” as he coats himself with your slick, trembling a little as your heartbeat pounds between your ears. “No condom?” he whispers when you roll your hips back against him, and you almost cry in pure frustration at feeling the hot, flushed head so close yet so fucking far.

“No, Ken nii please, just like this,” you hide your face into the pillow as you beg, fists balled so tight in your pillowcase. He lets out a shuddered agreement, before pushing into your heat and instantly moaning at it.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. My little sister’s pussy is so tight, hm? Only letting big brother in here, begging for it like this. Shit- y’feel so fucking good, you’re gripping me so tight,” it’s a tumble of words puffed into your hair as more of his weight pushes you into the matress as he slides further and further, thick cock spreading you open so much. Your mouth drops open as you drool into the pillow, hearing him bottom out with a loud smack as his heavy balls meet your skin, then pulling back. The rhythm he sets when you adjust to him a little is unfair. It drives the rattling headboard into the wall and makes your toes curl with how good he hits that spot inside you, mewling his name and shaking your head with tears and drool and sweat.

The hard sound of each thrust in filling the room in the dead of night, as you cling to your sanity. His cock fucks into your wetness until you’re creaming around him, squeezing him so hard it almost makes him pull out, shaking over you and dripping sweat from his chest onto your back. But it doesn’t matter, because he drives in again and again until you can’t form any coherent words anymore, gripping you so hard you hope it leaves permanent indents.

“Never leave me,” he breathes into your mouth when you pout for another kiss, and you only cling to him harder. ‘Never, never, never’ is what you mouth back to him, letting him fuck into you even harder, letting his balls hit your clit, his large hands pinch your nipples. For just now, it doesn’t matter that you know this is an unfair fate. And when you cum, you don’t bother muffling your moans of his name for the neighbors.

Niichan’s always been the one to take care of you.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2021. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

#tokrev smut #draken smut #tokyo revengers smut #draken tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers #tw.incest #tw.overstimulation

[pellucid-constellations]

Undisclosed - Ten

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: A little angsty, me not knowing how the legal system works, beefy!bucky being very soft

a/n: The last leg before the epilogue!! I hope you enjoy it and, as always, I love feedback and appreciate feedback!! Thank you for reading 🤍🤍

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

~~

The trunk slammed, Bucky’s palms firm against the metal as he secured your belongings inside. Between the two of you, there wasn’t much. But as spring turned into a barely there summer in Stowe Mills, and that summer began dissipating into a harsh winter, you knew you would need warmer clothes to brave the New York chill. So, your suitcases were stuffed full of sweaters and hats and gloves, along with business casual attire—for the courthouse, of course. 

You used to have an entire closet full of clothes fit for any event, but since your move to this small town in the middle of the woods, you found that supply dwindling. That is, until the state of New York began their case against Beck. And your parents. 

Now, you and Bucky had quite the wardrobe, his crisp, white button downs always fitting him just a little too snug in all the right places. And maybe you let your gaze linger a little longer when he wore those tailored pants the lawyer suggested he buy since the last case was being televised. Maybe you had trouble keeping your hands to yourself each time he pulled at the tie around his neck. 

You couldn’t really be blamed; looking at Bucky all dressed up, his hair pulled back into a bun and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he stood tall next to you in every hearing—that was one of your only joys amidst this whole mess. 

They sentenced Beck first.

That process had been simple because Beck, as it turned out, was a rat. Quick to let every name fall from his lips to buy him less time in prison, his entire operation turned to shambles in an instant. He sat in that courtroom and let every last detail permeate the air until all that was left were lies exposed. 

He still ended up getting 45 years. 

You cried in the hotel that night, sobs pressed close to Bucky as he held you on the ironed out sheets of an unfamiliar bed. His hands ran down your shoulders, past the stiff material of the jacket meant for someone you used to be, until he shed the material from your body and found solace in the skin of your back. 

He shushed you with kind words and gentle kisses until your sobs turned into hiccups and his whispers turned into the hum of the window heater. You were okay now, he kept reminding you, he was gone and nothing was going to happen to you if Bucky had any say in it. 

The next morning you felt much better, renewed even. You showed Bucky around New York. He didn’t have much to say, per usual, but you could tell by his eyes that he was a little more than intrigued. Maybe in the city, maybe more in the way you reacted to the city. 

He held your hand as you rambled on about the coffee shop by your old middle school and pressed a kiss to your hair when you yanked him into the pizza parlor you frequented in college. He never rushed you, always eager to bask in your excitement and your newfound freeness that he had yet to witness; even when you were in Stowe Mills, your secrets then Bucky’s to bear, you still held a part of yourself back. 

That day in New York, your clothes whipping back on the Brooklyn Bridge and your hands always pushing Bucky in a new direction, you let Bucky in, completely. 

And then you got the letter about your parents’ hearing. 

A simple Tuesday at the library, the first signs of a new snow creeping into the corners of windows, the mail shipment was much smaller that month. The door chimed and then quickly slammed—always the telltale sign that the mailman had graced Stowe Mills—and the bag at your feet was only about a foot wide. 

“Probably forgot the rest, those good for nothing government workers,” Greta cursed, a sneer hidden behind the book she was pretending to read. You found she did that a lot, eager to look busy so that no one bothered her. 

“Greta, I’m pretty sure we’re considered government workers,” you chuckled, hauling the bag onto the counter and beginning to sort through it. “Actually, yeah. Libraries are government run.” 

“Well then quit your yappin’ before I report you to the government. Fake librarian.” 

Your laugh continued as you pulled your name out from the bottom of the pile, the thick manilla envelope suspicious for someone that didn’t usually receive any mail. You took half a second to admire the way your name looked on top of Bucky’s address—your address. A home. 

But then the papers were out of their packaging and the words burning onto your iris sucked every drop of joy from your body. The sound of the packet dropping to the floor was loud enough to make Greta jump from her stool from the other side of the room, but you didn’t notice. You couldn’t notice, not when reality was shoving a white-hot branding iron directly down your throat. 

Your parents were going to go to prison. You knew this was coming; from the moment you saw that pitying look in your mother’s eyes you knew they were both guilty. But you hadn’t thought about how it would feel, how painful it would be to come to terms with the fact that they were such bad people until this very moment. 

The same packet came in the mail when Beck was tried—a request to testify, an opportunity to let your story be heard. When that packet came you ran out of the library and down to the lumberyard in a flash, tackling Bucky in a hug and shoving the folder in Steve’s face as your boyfriend spun you in circles. 

But this one—this one had a sobering effect on you, pressing you backward until you were sliding down the back wall behind the return counter. Pulling out strings of your sanity one by one until you were left gasping for breath on the floor, papers scattered around you, palms digging into your forehead. 

Greta was kneeling in front of you, and her lips were moving, but this alternate reality you had slipped into made her sound distorted. Her face was wrinkled into a bout of concern unfamiliar to you, her hands fiddling with her cellphone that still had an antenna sprouting out the top of it. 

It felt like it had been seconds since you closed your eyes, unable to face the stimulation with such rampant thoughts bouncing off of the inner walls of your mind. But when calloused hands cupped at your cheeks, you knew it must have been longer—enough time for Greta to call Bucky and for him to most likely run up the hill to get to you, at least. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” he all but cooed, the kindness in his eyes unwavering. “You focusin’ on me alright? Try to match my breaths if you can. You’re gonna make yourself pass out if you keep that up.” 

Your gaze trailed down to his shoulders as he exaggerated each breath, and it was then that you realized your own lungs were burning in exertion. Eyelashes fluttering, you focused on the way Bucky’s hands felt as they caressed your skin, the way the air sounded as it left his nose. The way he smelled and the way the paper sounded under his boots as he shifted in front of you. 

“That’s it, y/n. Just keep on breathin’, doll. Me and you here, that’s all.” 

The panic gripping at your chest felt more and more hollow as you fell into Bucky’s eyes, the comfort there enveloping you like warm honey and the way skin feels under plush blankets. Like Bucky after a long day, the endearing way he knocked his boots by the front door and small action of only ever hanging up his jacket with his right hand. 

And after a short while, you were able to grapple with words again. 

“My parents have a court date. I’m being asked to testify.” 

Bucky’s face crumbled. “Oh, my sweet girl.” 

He gathered you in his arms, propping himself up on the wall as you sat on his legs. This would probably be embarrassing if you hadn’t had a breakdown in front of Greta already. But Bucky, of course, didn’t seem to mind, gentle fingers brushing your hair behind your ear as he listened to you stumble over your words, trying to explain how this was the worst thing to ever happen to you and the best, all at the same time. 

Greta had found somewhere else to be anyway. 

She was probably still listening from behind closed doors—saving you from embarrassment, but never one to be far from information. 

“Do you think I should do it?” you sniffed, a long-winded explanation finally out in the open. 

Bucky sighed and pressed you closer to his chest. “I think that’s up to you, doll.” His next words were spoken into the skin of your temple. “I’ll be right there next to you no matter what you choose, but this one’s gotta be from you, y/n.” 

It had taken you about three days, but after those three days, your decision was absolute. You were going to testify. The world and everyone associated with the victims deserved justice, and even though that involved your parents, justice would be served. 

And it had crossed your mind for one selfish, fleeting moment that when you were sitting up on that podium, they would have to be paying attention to you. Just like you wanted. 

For one last time. 

“You remember to call me, you got that Jame Buchanan Barnes? I waited for an entire day the last time you two jetted off for New York and I was worried sick!” Sarah huffed over a worried lip, arms crossed beside the taxi. 

Bucky sent her a guilty smile. “Last time there was a problem with the flights, Sarah. Remember? I’d never leave you to worry over nothin’.”  

“Well, it’s a little late for that because every time you leave, I’m stuck here, worrying up a storm. Steve worries too, you know? I know it because he does that cute pout and then he starts knitting and I just—” 

“Ma!” Steve cut in, hands full of the airport dinner Sam had made for you and Bucky. “Stop tellin’ people all that, will ya?” 

Sarah scoffed. “Oh well. Just know that we all love you two. And if you don’t come home safe we’re gonna have some problems.” She engulfed you in a hug so full of warmth, you were sure it could only be replicated by a mother. The thought made your heart hurt as she whispered in your ear, “Just make sure you get back safe. Back home safe.” 

It made your heart hurt less.

“Sarah, I’ll make sure our girl is fine,” Bucky assured, a light hand on your back as you pulled away. “Everything’ll work out. Maybe we’ll bring back souvenirs this time.” 

Steve chuckled, nudging Bucky’s arm and sending you a painfully fond smile. “Just bring back what you can.” 

“Yeah, or, you know, you could bring me back a magnet. I love magnets.” Sam’s shout from above was clear in the empty street, his head hanging out of his apartment window. “Just something to think about while you’re eating those sandwiches I made for you with my bare hands.” 

“Always so dramatic,” you sang back. A hand brushing you off through the balcony window was all you got in return. 

But Stan’s honk from inside that cab was evidence enough that it was time to go anyway. 

These goodbyes were always hard, but the more court hearings you had to attend, the more the people of Stowe Mills were assured that you were always going to come back. You hadn’t even realized it was a fear of theirs when you left the first time. 

It was just a three day trip, one of the smaller hearings for an accomplice you only spoke to a few times. Beck had been quick to sell them out for a few years off of his sentence. 

So it was shocking, to say the least, when you opened the cab door and were immediately met with a crushing hug from Steve. Followed by Maria, and then Natasha, and then Sam. Each person was quick to tell you how glad they were that you were back, and it was impossible to miss the slight affirming nod they shared with Bucky.

How silly they were to ever think you were going to leave a place like this. 

But all those times, on all those trips, there was still more to come. More hearings and more people to put in jail; the case wasn’t completely over. After your parents’ sentencing, it would be. 

The finality of it all wasn’t lost on Bucky. 

The impending closure to such a large chapter in your life. The chapter that brought you to him. 

He didn’t share those thoughts with you.

~~

When the lawyer told you the case was being televised, you thought that meant a camera in the courtroom. Maybe there would be a few reporters on the steps outside asking questions, but only a few. You would still be able to walk inside without hassle, as you had all the other times. 

As it seemed, your lawyer did not prepare you for the sheer amount of press this case was getting. 

It made sense; your family name was known by millions—the richest lineage alive, the lucky ones. If people loved one thing, it was watching the rich fall. And your parents were experiencing possibly the greatest fall from grace. 

Which left you in their wake, as usual, enduring the residual overhaul of reporters and people holding angry signs and microphones shoved in your face. To his credit, the lawyer did try to clear the way a few paces ahead of you when he got out of the cab, but that solution was short lived. You would have been fine sorting through this mass of people with your head down and your arms pulled in tight. 

Bucky disagreed. 

His hand pressed firmly to your back, and an uncomfortable, disgruntled grimace on his face that had never been directed toward you, Bucky weaved you in between the flashing cameras and blocked out the intrusive questions. You kept a constant grip on the lapel of his suit jacket, your fingers turning white from the strain. It wasn’t until you felt a tug at the back of your dress that Bucky said anything. 

“Hey! You don’t touch her, got that?” Bucky gritted out, his free hand pointing an accusatory finger at the reporter. She stood dumbfounded, her microphone looking uncomfortable in her hand. 

“It’s okay, Buck,” you whispered. “We have to go inside. She didn’t mean anything by it.” 

You knew he wanted to press more. Bucky didn’t particularly like crowds, so New York as a whole was tough for him to get used to. And after what happened with Beck, Bucky really didn’t like crowds around you. His hands would always twitch on your hips as he guided you through busy streets and crowded intersections, his head on a constant swivel. You figured it would take him a while to get past the glaring repercussions of that night in the run down cabin. 

That it would take him a while before he could handle you being around so many people he didn’t know, possible dangers encroaching from all sides. 

Guilt always licked up into your chest when you saw the unease in his gaze, so right now, with the reporter’s hand slowly falling back to her side and Bucky’s glare burning, you felt the worst. 

He huffed, pulling you closer to his side and trying to block your eyes from the cameras as you made your way up the steps to the courthouse. You wanted to tell him that the cameras didn’t bother you, that what would hurt even more than the harsh lights was seeing your parents in those jumpsuits, pleading not guilty to something they so obviously did. 

But instead, you let him shield you from the things on the outside; it made him feel better, and at least one of you should get that. 

Pressing past the doors was a half-relief. You got out of the angry, intrusive crowd, but were then met with the harsh reality that Bucky had carefully guided you away from the day you got the notice in the mail. And this time, there were no gentle touches or afternoons filled with apple cider and old movies to calm your nerves. This time there were only suits and crisp papers and too many words that you had never learned in college, each one—

“Are you okay?” Soft words snapped you away from the downward spiral you were inching toward. “You wanna take a second in the hall or somethin’? I can probably hold off that Murdock guy or whatever his name is.” 

You grounded yourself in the deepness of Bucky’s voice. “No. No—I can do this. It’s just my story, right? It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong. And they never really loved me anyway so I’m sure they aren’t too upset that I’m—” 

The pain on Bucky’s face stopped you in your tracks, along with the hands he was quick to gather your waist into, pulling you close and burying his face into your neck. “Don’t say that,” he whispered into your skin. “Don’t say they didn’t love you. I can’t imagine anyone knowin’ you for that long and not just loving the life outta you. Give yourself more credit than that, doll.” 

You could feel the tears welling up in your waterline as his lips impressed the words upon your neck. You hadn’t cried since you found out about the case; you hadn’t really allowed yourself to feel anything other than that initial shock. It was a tough thing to grapple with—going against your parents, even when they’d only granted you with a lifetime of unattainable love. 

But now was hardly the time to sort through your feelings for your parents, not with them on the other side of the door, your fingers clutching at the speech that would send them to prison. You focused on Bucky’s warmth instead, tried to remember the way it felt pulling you into his cabin back at home, broad shoulders embracing you, soft smiles melting any ice left in your chest. 

Back at home. 

“It’s okay, Bucky,” you assured, pulling back to cup his face between your hands. “It’s okay, because I have you now. And I love you enough for the both of us.” 

The corner of his mouth turned up as he leaned into your touch on instinct. “You do have me.” His eyes flickered up to the small scar that ran along your brow bone, a reminder and an unkind promise. He did that often, always worrying his lip as he ran a gentle thumb along the mark. He didn’t touch it this time. “And I’m gonna make sure you’re so happy that you never even think about these people after today, you got that?” 

“I got it, tough guy.” 

“Good.” He reached up and lowered your wrists from his face, pressing a kiss to each palm.

“Are you both ready?” Matt asked, his place in front of the courtroom doors never wavering. 

You didn’t drop your gaze from Bucky’s as you affirmed, “Yeah, we’re ready.” 

~~

A resounding success. 

You knew it would be; with Matt Murdock defending the opposing side and so much evidence mounted against them, you knew your parents never stood a chance. Your mother had given you devastated looks the second you took the stand, and your father avoided your eyes like the plague, but with Bucky there to whisper reassurances into your hair afterward, that was all okay with you. 

Well, maybe it wasn’t completely okay with you—not yet. But you would get there with time. And with the comfort that Stowe Mills afforded you. 

You already missed home. After the sentencing you received a phone call with about three too many people on the other line and a chorus of unintelligible praises. The arguing that followed made you want to hop on a plane the second Natasha started teasing Steve for freaking out in front of the television, but Bucky said you should wait; he wanted you to take some more time to enjoy New York. 

You disagreed.

“Buck, there’s a return flight in just about six hours. I think I could book it with my leftover air miles if you don’t mind first class.” 

Bucky rounded the corner of the hotel bathroom and pulled the toothbrush from his mouth, brows furrowed. “Doll, we just got back from the trial. I thought you wanted to stay a few days this time. You know, so you can take in the city and all that.” 

“No, you said I wanted to see the city,” you teased, a fond smile finding its way onto your face. “I said I wanted to get home in time to watch that movie Sam keeps going on about.” You shuffled to the edge of the bed, Bucky slotted between your legs as they dangled off. “And don’t you have to get back to work? Those trees aren’t going to chop themselves and winter is right around the corner.”

His hands now free, Bucky reached up to fiddle with your hair as he mumbled. “Right, back home.” 

“What, you don’t want to go home?” 

The change in Bucky’s eyes was, unfortunately, familiar to you. He looked at you that way all those months ago and when he caught you calling a cab outside the diner and when you told him you couldn’t stay in Stowe Mills after Christmas. When you first started falling for him, you caught this look a lot; it was a sort of desperate longing you could never quite put your finger on, not until you felt it yourself after Beck had slammed you into a car. 

Bucky stayed silent, your question going unanswered until it was forgotten and melted into the frosted hotel window. He shifted his weight from one foot to the next and you reached out to tug at his sweatpants and draw him closer. You were used to his quiet disposition, but this was something else. 

“Bucky,” you began, reproach clear in the inflection of your tone. “What are you thinking about?” 

He sighed. 

It was an anguished sigh, the type that had you holding him close as he sunk into bed on the anniversary of his Ma’s passing or when he missed his sister too much. It certainly wasn’t something you were expecting when he talked about taking you home after such a long, grueling process. The sound made you ache. 

“I don’t know, sweet girl, I just—” he paused, the fingers in your hair brushing down to press loving touches to your face. His focus shifted from the wall above your head to the blacks of your eyes. “I guess I’m just worried now that it’s all over. I mean you were in Stowe because of all these people that just got locked away. You were runnin’ from them.” 

His thoughts made your stomach turn, an uneasiness rooting there and sprouting up into the tips of your fingers. He thought you were going to leave. After everything—after you had fallen so in love with him he consumed you, his comfort like a drug you sought out with practiced motions—he thought you were going to pack up and move back to the city just because you could. 

He kept going before you could cut in. “And I’m not saying I wish they were free—god, I’m not saying that at all. Knowin’ that you’re safe and sound is the greatest goddamned gifted I could ever ask for. But now you can go anywhere. A girl like you, you deserve to go anywhere.

“I wouldn’t even blame ya if you wanted to stay here.” His posture deflated, the hands on your face never faltering as his shoulders caved in on themselves. “But I thought if we stayed here a little more it’d show you that we don’t always have to stay in Stowe Mills. I can… take you places, just you and me. I can’t move away but I’m tryin’ my best here and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to stay because—”

You pulled him in by the back of his neck, his messy, endearing speech lost on your lips. His hands on your face froze, and then they moved, mere seconds separating his shock from his action. 

This kiss was needy and it was desperate. It was Bucky trying to pour himself into you and it was you trying to show him that he had already done enough. Reaching under your thighs as you sat on the bed, Bucky picked you up and laid you down in the center, his frame hovering above yours as he kissed you deeper, more rushed. 

You’d kissed him a thousand times, and yet, you’d never grow tired of it. Not when he pressed his body into yours in every way you liked, the weight a grounding reminder that this was yours, for as long as you wanted it. And you did want it; you’d never wanted anything quite like you wanted Bucky. 

Words weren’t able to capture that, and so you kissed him. 

His groan felt full on your lips as he trailed his hands down the curves of your body, relishing in the way you felt even though he’d been given the opportunity to map it countless times before. He could probably recreate your shape in any context, and yet, he’d never grow tired of you or your body or the way you felt against him. He’d always want more. 

You’d always give him more. 

“Bucky,” you breathed, his name like a secret between bodies. “Bucky, I’m not leaving. It’s me and you. You said that yourself.” 

He kissed you harder. He pressed you further into the bed. He brushed your hair from your cheeks and slid hands over your hips and he kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. Until he couldn’t breathe. 

“I’d do it for you, sweet girl. I’d take you anywhere you wanted to go if it meant you were mine,” Bucky panted, his forehead pressed to yours. 

“I’m already yours. Take me home.” 

“Anywhere you wanna go, and you wanna go home?” 

His face was playful and light as he stared down at you, but it struck you then—just how much you wanted this. This life with Bucky would be good and easy and it was nothing you had planned when you were growing up, but it was everything you needed. 

You reached up and caressed the apple of his cheek, the joy there evident and warm. 

“Yeah, Bucky. I want to go home.” 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #lumberjack bucky #modern!bucky

[hanuh]

Lights, Cameras, and Tabloids

|1| Trailer Two 

Word count | 5.5k

Pairing | Eren x Reader, Armin x Reader

Genre | Actor AU, Modern AU, Love Triangle

Chapter Notes | no warnings this chapter! just lots of film lingo

Chapter Summary | A world where Attack On Titan is just an Emmy Award-winning series and you've been an actor in the series since you were fourteen years old. Flash forward nearly a decade, you’re arriving to set for the first day of filming the final season.

“Good morning Vancouver!” A chipper radio voice echoes throughout your car. Your nose scrunches at the voice being much too loud and much too lively for your eardrums at this ungodly hour. You pull into your assigned parking spot, the cast and crew lot already being pretty full due to today’s extra early call time. “The time is 4:45 AM and I’m here to bring you nonstop hits this Wednesday morning. Next, we have-” You shift the car into to park and press the off button, the radio host’s voice being abruptly cut off. 

‘4:45 AM’ you groan internally, dragging a hand down your face and resting your head against the leather headrest. You glance over to the seat next to you seeing a faint light illuminate the car paired with a soft vibration. A hoard of notifications flood your phone. Your whole body moves sluggishly reaching over to check the messages, already knowing who would be blowing up your phone this early. You squint and adjust to the artificial brightness your tired eyes seem to be rejecting this morning. 

 4:35 AM

Sasha B: Jean’s assistant brought donuts in!! Score. Worth. I don’t regret waking up anymore. 

4:39 AM

Sasha B: You better hurry I don’t know how long they’ll last with Connie around. He’s lurking. I can see him eyeing them up. They’re in danger. I repeat. The donuts are in danger.

4:40 AM

Sasha B: Ok I saved you a maple donut!! I’m heading to trailer two meet me there!!!

Sasha B: FALSE ALARM! I’VE BEEN AMBUSHED! HE’S TAKEN A BITE

4:42 AM

Connie S: Sasha is a fucking snake. She ate your donut. 

4:43 AM

Jean K: Don’t listen to either of them, they both ate your donut. 

You shake your head as a breathy laugh slips pat your lips. You friends are idiots, but god you love them. Are you butt hurt about your donut? Yes. Will you just feast on the craft service table in between scenes instead? Absolutely. 

You toss your phone and keys into your canvas bag that lays in disarray on your car floor from a very sharp turn you took earlier on your drive over. You unbuckle your seat belt and exit the car. The cool fall air immediately attacks your body. Knowing you’d spend most of the day in your stealth scout suit inside the studio most likely dangling from suspended wires, you decided to ditch your coat last minute. You could’ve always stored your jacket in your sizeable trailer, but you decided that was far too much effort. No matter how many years you’ve spent filming in Canada you’ll never be used to how skin penetrating the wind can be before the sun makes its daily appearance. If push comes to shove you have no shame walking around set in between scenes donning the light green fleece bathrobe that waits patiently for you in your trailer. 

You hug your arms tightly around yourself for warmth as you quickly pace yourself towards the glowing film studio in the distance. You can already see the bright set lights twinkling around the large metal structures and all the crew preparing for a long day of filming in the distance. The setting is comforting and homelike to you.  

A low voice breaks through the wind calling your name and taking you out of your slight daze. A knowing smile spreads across your face as you turn and find a tall blond man with his arms open. His golden eyes glow even through the darkness of the early morning. You take off towards him ready to jump in his arms. 

“Reiner!” You spring into his embrace squeezing him with all your might. “I didn’t know you were on set today!” Your voice mirrors the same excitement that a kid on Christmas day would have. 

“I got called in last minute,” He squeezes you back. You remove yourself from his arms. “I think they want me to get a few extra voiceovers for the Liberio scenes done today. A couple of recordings got corrupted or something.” He grins.

“Well,” You turn back towards the industrial-looking studio. Linking your arm with his you continue your stride over to set. “My morning just got so much better. I swear I haven’t seen you for six months!” Scrunching your nose, you look up towards him.

He lets out a small laugh. “How have you been lately? Was your first day back on set last week?” 

You nod, “ Yeah, I was just filming promos and doing fittings last week. Today’s my first day back in full swing. How’ve you been?”

“Great! I’ve been here for the past couple of weeks with team Marley and Eren but I’m excited to have the whole family back.” He releases a small laugh before continuing. “Speaking of the old crew, I’ve seen a lot of you and Armin on my Twitter lately.” He wiggles his eyebrows resulting in a dramatic eye roll from you only making him laugh more.

“Not you too.” You groan. 

“Hey hey hey,” He voices teasingly. “on-screen lovers turned to off-screen lovers? If that’s not a tabloid’s wet dream I don’t know what is.” He nudges you. “Doesn’t help that I read you two are co-starring in a Netflix movie together next year. Well, rumour has it at least.”

“You’re such a shit disturber, you know? Have you realized you can text me? Pick up your phone and ask? Not get your news from Twitter?” You laugh out pestering him. 

The two of you walk on to set, everyone around you hard at work setting up the lights, dollys, cameras, and every other odd and end needed for a day on set. The hair and makeup trailers are just a few meters ahead as the pair of you slow your pace with Trailer Two in your sights. 

Trailer Two has been your assigned trailer since day one. You, Mikasa, Sasha, Annie, and Krista take its occupancy, well and Ymir before she was killed off. Your days have always started at Trailer Two, even long before the Pilot episode, back in the days of being fourteen and the group of you having to film your promos, cast interviews, and test shots. It’s your home away from home. The metal walls of the trailer have heard many girl talks and have seen the many different ups and downs you all have gone through in the past near-decade. 

With Trailer Two comes the two stylists that work within it. Lynn, the hairstylist of the trailer, and Rosie who’s been doing your makeup since day one. Lynn was now in her early fifties, she has long auburn hair with flecks of greys sprinkled throughout which is normally tossed in a messy half updo. She always sports a pair of loose blue jeans and a fitted black tank top that showcases her floral tattoo sleeves. She wears thick-framed dark green glasses which makes her deep brown eyes the focal point of her face. She has the vibe of a cool boozy aunt who travels the world only showing up on holidays. Rosie was much younger, just barely in her thirties. Rosie is a new mom, opting to bring her one-year-old on set most days. Her son Finn looks exactly like her, matching with pale blond hair and eyes as green as shamrocks. Rosie was always that older sister figure to you girls. Both of them like family to you, especially since during your teen years you saw more of them than even your own parents. 

You smile fondly, already hearing Sasha’s giggling travelling from within Trailer Two. 

“Alright. I’m off to the sound booth.” Reiner nods his head in the opposite direction of hair and makeup. He adjusts the backpack on his shoulder and tilts his head.  “Wanna grab dinner? Maybe? Hopefully? I have a mad craving for some greasy bar food if you’re in. Invite the rest of the crew too!”

You beam. “Consider it a date! Well, if Connie and Jean can keep down the takes and stay on a schedule that is.” You both share a quick laugh. Your mind quickly thinks back to the days when you were all teenagers during your first season of filming and the many times your older castmates would groan at the shenanigans of the entirety of the younger cast. 

Mainly the shenanigans of Jean and Connie. 

Especially the ones of Jean and Connie.

“They really do be the majority of the blooper reel don’t they?” He chuckles thinking back to the time Jean and himself filled Dot Pixis’ flask with real whiskey.

“Honestly I think the production crew is calling us in early today because they know they have to make it through a lot of their scenes.” You step towards the trailer “Pray for us.” You wave off to him and he begins to walk into the warehouse-looking building as you enter the trailer. Sasha’s giggles clearly echo through the space, Lynn laughing with her as she holds her hair fixing it in Sasha’s signature ponytail. Sasha’s eyes flicker to yours through the mirror. Panic flushes her face.

“okaydontbemadbutImayhave-” She rushes out incoherently.

“Sasha slow down.” You grin and occupy the chair to her right, your name embroidered in gold across the back of it. You plop your bag next to the chair, a couple of items falling out onto the ground. You don’t care enough to pick it up so instead you focus back on a nervous Sasha.

“I ate it.”

“I know.”

She turns abruptly, earning a chirp from Lynn. “The donut? How do you know?”

“Jean.” You giggle, at Sasha’s instant mood change from panic to anger.

“Jean?” She seethes, earning another scold from Lynn who’s just trying to get her camera ready. Sasha mumbles ‘narc’ under her breath.

“He texted me.” Your eyes narrow teasingly. “Weren’t you protecting it from Connie? And you two just ate it?” You hold back a smile that toys at your lips not even being able to fake being upset towards her.

“Well protecting it took a lot of energy from me and I needed to fuel up again.” Her hands race up to her sides in defence causing Lynn to chastise her as she attempts to fix up her bangs.

You stare her down before a giggle slips past your lips. Sasha is quick to join in as the two of you boom with laughter now. You hear another person’s chuckle come from the left of Sasha and you peer over, still giggling. Your eyes are met with the dark silver of Mikasa’s that stare back in amusement. “I told them you’d be here in a moment, but they couldn’t wait.”

“You’re always looking out for me Mikasa,” You smile at her, leaning back into your chair. “Unlike some people I know.” You shoot Sasha another teasing glare. She rolls her eyes back at you and pulls out her phone, quickly snapping a picture of your weak glare. You watch her tap away at her phone for a moment before feeling your’s buzz in your lap. A ton of notifications litter your screen but the most recent one being is Instagram saying sashaa.b has mentioned you in their story. You shake your head as you open the notification. A picture of you and your pitiful glare stares back at you and probably the other thousands of people who have already checked Sasha’s story. Sasha wrote ‘Day One of filming and she’s already planning on murdering me’ You shift your focus to the background of the picture. You squint at a figure that looms in the back trailer, leaning against the doorframe. Before you have a chance to turn and check who was there, you feel a face move next to your ear. 

“I think you look more adorable than menacing.” A low whisper tickles your ear, butterflies flutter up your stomach at the soft voice. “But then again I’m not the person who ate your breakfast.” 

Moving your gaze up the mirror in front of you, you find the bright emerald eyes belonging to Eren Jaeger staring back at you with the same playfulness they always do. You can't stop the smile, that's basically reflex at this point, from spreading across your face as you take in his body leaning down near yours. He smiles back, tossing you a subtle wink. 

"Eren," Sasha groans, "I will not take this slander. Connie basically forced me to eat it."

"Yeah okay, likely excuse." Eren stands straight, twisting his back to release a series of cracks. You to take this moment to watch his form, something you've found yourself doing more and more as time goes on. 

He's dressed in his Marley uniform, tissues tucked in along the collar so the special effects makeup of his Titan Shifting markings don’t rub off on the uniform in between filming. His hair is still in the half bun he normally wears off-screen, not yet touched by his stylist. Your eyes trail across his strong jawline, it clenches as a yawn slips past his lips. Before you can find yourself lost in watching the movement of his lips, his voice tears you from your thoughts. "Ran into Reiner on his way to the sound booth. Told me he saw you walking onto set and thought I'd check in on you and give you this." He moves his arm up from his side and drops a small paper bag on your lap. Your eyes twinkle with childlike giddiness, catching Eren's breath in his throat. You open the bag with your nimble fingers, reaching in and find a carrot muffin that’s still warm. "I had my assistant pick up an extra one on her way."

"It's like you know me or something," You glance over to Eren as he moves to lean against the counter that's littered with all sorts of makeup and hair products. Your smile softens and you tear a piece of the muffin popping it into your mouth. Sweet, spicy, and full of the warmth your body has craved all morning. "Thanks, Eren."

Eren's mouth opens but is quickly cut off before he can let out a word. "Jaeger," A call comes from outside. You turn and find the show's executive stylist walking into the trailer casually sipping on a paper coffee cup. He adjusts his baseball cap before taking another sip, his glasses sliding with the tilt of his head. He tosses the now empty cup in the trash right by the door before turning back to Eren. "You're wanted in trailer four, I think they're ready to finish up your hair."

"You got it, boss." Eren swiftly walks out of the trailer, the older male following suit. Before out of sight he gives you a meek wave and you return it as he disappears.

You turn back to face the mirror, taking another piece of the muffin and chewing on it slowly. You're about to grab your phone but you find both Mikasa and Sasha staring at you, both sharing a knowing smirk. 

"What?" You question, making even Lynn shakes her auburn head. "Seriously, what?"

"You're hopeless." Mikasa sighs grabbing her phone, leaning deeper into her chair. "You're both hopeless."

"Wait, what?" You glare, trying to coax more out of her. "How am I hopeless?"

Sasha stares back at herself through the mirror. She makes eye contact with Lynn, both snickering. The right corner of Lynn's mouth rests in a smirk, having worked hair and makeup on Attack On Titan since the Pilot episode, she knows all too well of the behind-the-scenes moments and feelings that have sprung over the years. She gives Sasha's dark hair a hefty spritz of hairspray feeling fond, almost like watching her kids grow up. At this point, Rosie who's currently painting bruises, blood, and filth onto the pale skin of Mikasa's face, has picked up on the conversation at hand as well. 

"Oh sweet, sweet, (Y/N), don't act like we haven't seen how you and Eren look at each other. Almost as if we all haven't spent the past like nine years with the two of you or anything." Sasha rolls her eyes, picking up her phone.    

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and the soft flush that is spreading across your cheeks."I don't know what you-" You’re quickly cut off by Sasha.

“Remember that one time a fan was going through Eren’s Twitter follows a few years ago and he followed not one, but two accounts dedicated to the two of your characters being together?”

If you had only a light blush mere seconds ago, you were up in flames. “That doesn’t-”

“Or,” It’s now Mikasa’s turn to chime in. “When Armin, him, and I were doing the press tour last season and he even said in an interview that you’re his celebrity crush.”

“He was only joking-”

 Rosie smirks, “I saw him pump himself up for ten minutes outside the trailer to even just ask if you wanted to share a car to the Emmys a few years back.”

Maybe you’re dead. 

Maybe this is hell. 

Maybe, just maybe that corner you took a bit too sharp this morning actually killed you. That’s the only explanation of how your heart can be beating this fast without you dropping dead right here right now. You’re already dead.

“Don’t act like I haven’t heard what the boys talk about in Trailer Four when I need to grab some extra supplies.” Lynn shakes her head as you chew at the inside of your lip. Lynn smooths down a few more of Sasha’s strands before approaching your chair to start working on you for the day. She laughs, nodding her head towards the hair washing station. “Admit it, you are hopeless.” 

You toss a quick side-eye towards the watchful women as you get up, sticking your phone into your pants pocket, heading to the workstation. 

Yep, this is hell. 

You take a seat in the plush leather chair, tilting your head back into the attached sink. Lynn fiddles around with the temperature before moving the shower head towards your scalp. You focus your attention on the feeling of Lynn’s fingers scrubbing at your scalp and the sound of her quiet humming to whatever son is playing in the background. It takes everything in your mind to not spiral at the idea of Eren Jaeger as a whole. 

‘Hopeless’ you think to yourself. ‘I’m not hopeless.’

Well, there goes trying not to spiral.

Your mind races through every small moment that Eren may have showcased his feelings towards you, and normally you’re able to find a reasonable explanation as to why he’s done and said certain things to you. Today is proving to be more of a challenge to find such explanations because clearly he wouldn’t harbour feelings for you... Right? 

“Okay,” Lynn’s smooth voice brings you partially back to reality. “Done.” Holding a towel, you watch her wrap it around your head carefully trying to not get your clothes wet. You stand up, heading back to your chair. The chattering happening between Mikasa and Sasha sounds faint through your roaring thoughts. You feel as if you’re on autopilot as your brain wracks through everything the girls were saying to you. Not before long, the loud noise of a blowdryer being directed to your hair is finally able to grab your attention. You decide to reach down to your pocket, grasping your phone to swipe through social media as your hair gets dried. 

Unlocking your phone, you find a handful of texts from your manager that shows no urgency to answer, a couple from your family, two from your assistant Erik, one from Armin, and dozens of others you just forgot to respond to. You click on Armin’s contact. 

3:56 AM

Armin A: Be happy you’re not a shifter and have SFX call times, I’ve been here since 3:30

 You smile, sending him a late response. 

 4:59 AM

(Y/N): How’s the makeup coming along? Just in hair and makeup now, meet me in my trailer before filming?

You tap out of the conversation deciding to check Twitter. You scroll through a handful of tweets from your co-stars about the first day of filming. You retweet a post from Eren that’s a picture of him taking a selfie with Armin in the back passed out with his stylist layering on latex to his sleeping face. You chuckle to yourself, catching Lynn’s attention as she holds the dryer over your head. Lynn watches you as you pinch your fingers on the screen, zooming into Eren’s face. “Hopeless.” She mumbles under her breath knowing you can’t hear a single thing over the dryer. 

A few more moments pass of you checking your socials when the dryer quiets down, leaving you with soft, dry hair. You click your phone off, moving your gaze up to the mirror. Lynn is walking across the trailer to grab your lookbook for today’s filming, Meanwhile, Rosie is situated next to you carefully painting dirt and small flecks of blood onto Sasha’s skin. You turn your head looking for Mikasa but find no signs of the dark-haired girl. Her call time was much earlier than yours, so you assume she’s probably heading towards set with Eren right about now. You reach your hand down to the large pocket fixated on the right side of your chair, feeling around for today’s script and schedule. Finding it, you flip to the very back where the daily schedule is found, you skim your eyes across it. 

5:15 AM- Eren Jeager and Mikasa Ackerman on INDOOR Set #5- WARHAMMER BATTLE CLOSE UP SHOTS

You shift your gaze to the clock situated above the mirror reading 5:27 AM. Well, that answers that. You continue to read the schedule, searching for your first scene of the day. 

8:15 AM- Armin Arlert, Hange Zoe, and (Y/N) (L/N) on INDOOR set #9- AIRSHIP SCENES  

Flipping back to the start of your script, you find the Airship scene. Before looking over your lines, you watch as Lynn walks back towards your chair, pulling a cart alongside her. The cart is full of every kind of product needed to make you camera-ready and in the role of your character. She turns to the page marked with today’s date, opening it to pictures of your face from different angles of what makeup and hair look is needed for the Airship scene. The lookbook was made last week with you spending lots of time in this chair having Lynn and Rosie paint your face and tug at your hair for hours on end. 

Feeling satisfied with her workstation, she pulls the cart a touch closer and begins sectioning off your hair. Your character is one of the few who never has their hair up. Instead, you have a few strands of hair near the front pinned back with a few strands framing your face, almost like a half-updo but not quite, allowing you to be combat-ready with not having your hair flying in too much disarray. Lynn starts to straighten your hair and with that, you decide to review your lines for the day. 

Your pupils scan over the scene with Armin talking to Onyankopon and Hange in the Airship shortly after nuking the city. You learn their lines, especially the hidden meaning behind Armin and Hange’s words, contemplating what emotion you want to exude in the next scene. Once Armin exits through the right side of the front half of set #9, that’ll be your cue. After a quick camera and lighting change, you’ll be the centre of the next shot. Patiently waiting, leaning against the wall, this will be your first appearance of the season when it airs. Thinking about it that way, you stop your reading to breathe for a moment. 

It’s your last first appearance.

How bittersweet. 

With the entirety of this final season there will be a lot of final moments you’ll have to endure and it makes you feel so proud of the show you’ve come to be a huge part of and yet so sombre at the same time. You stare at yourself in the mirror, briefly watching your eyes glimmer in near tears, before continuing with your script. 

Armin will leave the control centre of the Airship finding you waiting outside the door. He’ll waste no time in taking you into his arms, taking this moment to break down. He’ll ramble through his moral dilemma, keeping a theme of how Erwin should’ve been picked, and mentioning Bertholdt and how he must’ve felt. He’ll completely come undone within your arms. You’ll do your best to soothe him, petting his head and kissing his hairline. He will place a small peck on your lips before the scene cuts thus continuing the battle within Liberio. 

You know with sharing this tender moment the fans will squeal and jump in their seats when it airs. Hell, even at the table reading you did a month ago, most of the cast was holding back cheesy smiles. Since halfway through season two you and Armin were some of the most talked-about characters on all of television and solely because the fans couldn’t get enough of the bashful emotions both of you felt for each other on-screen. Come season three, just before the Shiganshina Arc, Armin grew the courage to kiss you before the battle. You two were trending for forty-eight hours straight. This will be the first time you’re seen as a couple after the time skip, showing the fans just how much you’ve grown together. 

“(Y/N),” You’re taken out of the scene you’ve built in your head by Sasha’s voice. You look towards her, finding her completely camera-ready minus her scout costume. Her face looks full of sorrow. With how mournful she looks and her body covered by the battle makeup it almost looks like she’s actually in the world of Attack on Titan for a second. “We’re filming my death scene at noon.”

Your breath is caught in your throat. “Hey,” You feel Lynn’s hand stop moving the straightener through your tresses as you adjust your head so it’s facing Sasha. “You’re not out for the season. You still have so much more to film. Plus, you know they like filming those scenes first instead of waiting last minute.” You reassure her. 

Sasha takes a couple of steps towards you, touching her hand lightly to yours that rests on the wooden armrest of your chair. “I know,” She takes a shaky breath. “I just don’t want it to be over.” 

“I know,” You turn your hand, giving her a sentimental squeeze. “None of us do.”

You stare into her eyes, the same colour as henna, and she stares deeply into yours. You feel the tingling sensation in your eyes you’ve been fighting off grow stronger, a pressure building in your chest. You’re about to open the floodgates when Lynn rests a soothing hand on your back, her other on Sasha’s shoulder. “You two better not mess up my hard work.” She whispers, trying to break the tension. Sasha laughs, bringing a hand up to fan her eyes. You laugh through a toothy smile, looking over to the redhead. Lynn stares down with a sympathetic look gleaming through her glasses. “Sasha you better head on over to wardrobe for any last-minute fittings. Leave this one to me and Rosie.”Sasha’s head eagerly nods up and down, she practically sprints out the door and heads to the wardrobe department. Rosie pulls her cart in front of you, ready to start on your makeup. You turn your head to face the mirror, Rosie’s focused green eyes the only thing in your line of sight. Lynn picks up the straighter she’d put off to the side, getting situated behind you again. “Okay kid, let’s get you ready for that camera.”

Time passes quickly as the two women transform you into the scouting legion badass you play, not adding any blood or filth since your first scene of the day is when you’re safe inside the airship. Your brain is repeating your lines over and over until you catch a shocking sentence from the small talk Rosie and Lynn are tossing back and forth. 

"I saw Levi here already at the training gym, " Lynn tells Rosie as she smooths down your hair with a styling serum. "Good lord, I would climb that man like a tree."

Your eyes widen, Rosie laughing deafeningly by your face. “Lynn!” You shout.

Lynn shrugs, laughing at the shrillness of your voice. “When you get to be my age you give no shits about what you say, sweetie.” She sprays your hair with some hairspray, finishing up. “Especially when I’m just speaking facts.” She checks if the pins are secure before giving you a nod. “Okay, I’m done here.”

“Just a little more setting powder and I’m-” Rosie’s fluffy brush dusts across your nose. “Done.” She moves off to the side, allowing you to look in the mirror at yourself. Your hair is smooth and perfectly done, not yet tainted by battle and your makeup is natural-looking only amplifying your natural features. 

You smile at the two women, “Thanks, guys!”

“No problem, kid.” Lynn starts to clean her station. “We’ll see you on set for any touch-ups.”

You wave at them as you grab your tote bag, collecting the protein bar and chapstick that fell out earlier, and stride out of the trailer. The cool air envelops your body once again, making your pace quicken as you head to the backlots full of cast trailers. The sky is now a lighter blue, the sun teasing the skyline. The faint sound of birds flying around the studio creates a peaceful ambiance that makes a sense of calmness spread throughout your body. With your trailer in view, you slow your pace down. Your hands rub up and down your bicep for a moment of warmth, dreaming of the fluffy robe that awaits you. You reach inside your bag searching for your lanyard with your trailer’s key. You dig for a moment when you arrive at the doorstep and pull out a cow print lanyard. 

“(Y/N)!” You freeze at the soft call of your name. You turn your head to the left, finding Armin approaching you with a small smile, not even able to make it any bigger due to the latex titan shifter markings on his face. 

“Armin! I figured you’d be passed out.”

“Oh, you saw that too?” Armin runs a hand through his golden hair. “Eren’s such a shit. Last I checked there were almost a hundred thousand retweets.”

You giggle, “I'm definitely one of those retweets.” Your smile falters as a shiver up your spine.

“Where’s your jacket?” Armin asks, concern laced in his voice. His selfless reflexes instantly have him tearing his own jacket off his body, draping it around your shoulders for warmth. “Take this, can’t have my leading lady catching a cold.”

You look up to him and smile. There used to be days when you’d tower over Armin, but that’s not the case anymore. “Why thank you kind sir.” You stick your key in the lock, unlocking it. You over dramatically wave your arms at the door as if silently saying ‘After you’. Armin chuckles and enters the trailer ahead of you. “You ready to get destroyed in cards, Armin?”

“You always have such big talk for a girl who wins one out of ten times.” Armin looks back at you as you walk into the warmth of the trailer. “And that’s being generous." Armin tosses his backpack on your coffee table. He sighs knowing he’s unable to turn down your suggestion. Partly because you’re stubborn and won’t take no as an answer, and the other part being that when you’re excited you get a sparkle in your eyes that has Armin ready to do anything to keep them shining at him like that."Okay, one round then let's practice our lines.”

You roll your eyes playfully and shut the door. You puff out your cheeks as you follow closely behind Armin. "Deal." 

You're both laughing inside blissfully unaware of the person stalking away from the backlot with a Cheshire grin. This person had taken pictures of Armin giving you his jacket just mere moments ago knowing they will be sold off for a pretty penny, only fuelling the fire of the tabloids further. 

After all, as Reiner said, on-screen lovers turned to off-screen lovers are a tabloid’s wet dream.

next chapter: TBD

Hope you enjoyed! Any feedback?

#eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaegar #eren yaeger x reader #eren x you #armin arlert #armin x you #armin x reader #armin arlet x reader #armin arlet x you #aot anime #lct #lct series

[sebstan2020]

Good Girl

Pairings: Dom Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’ve been kidnapped by none other than the winter soldier and his mission is to do whatever he likes with you 

Warnings: NSFW, BDSM, SMUT, Bondage, Dom/Sub, Possessive Bucky, Slapping, Fingering, Choking, Shock Collar, Orgasm Denial, Sir Kink, Punishment

You twisted and turned your wrists in the thick metal shackles wrapped around your slender wrists, cold metal stinging you. Both of your hands were chained above your head, a meter apart to a bar hanging from the ceiling. Your knees were turning numb from being knelt for so long. You weren’t sure how long you were even kneeling for. This was how you woke up. Your ankles were chained to the floor, the cold concrete also burning your skin with iciness.

You groaned softly as you wiggled about in your restraints, the position uncomfortable and straining your arms. Your body shivered in the cold room as you were stripped of your clothes, having no idea where they were. The only thing you were wearing was a black mask across your face, covering from your nose to your jaw. It was hot underneath it and kept your voice to a minimum.

The room was dark with only the light flooding in through a window at the top. You couldn’t turn around to see what was behind you but in front was a table with some items on top that you couldn’t make out.

Your day had been going normal, having just finished your shift at the hospital and then making your way home through the streets of D.C. but then as you had turned the corner to head down the street leading to your apartment, someone grabbed you from behind, pushed you against the wall and injected you with some drug that passed you out. And now you were here, chained like an animal, naked and scared.

The chains rattled in the otherwise silent room, and you huffed as your arms were starting to ache now. But then, the door behind you slammed open, a bright light beaming inside and projecting on the wall in front. There was a shadow of a tall man, broad shoulders, and long arms as he stood behind. You stared wide eyed at the shadow and as they moved in, shutting the door behind them, your heart started to beat with fear as they stood behind you. You could feel the presence and it made you shiver. A light flickered on, and you squinted as it was so bright compared to the looming darkness you had been sat in for so long.

Your hands ceased their struggle with the chains, and you kept your head forward, eyes locked onto one spot on the floor, waiting for the assailant to show himself. His boots scuffed on the floor, walking past you and you whimpered like a little puppy under the mask, eyes drawn to the tall man now standing in front of you. His pack was towards you so you couldn’t see his face however it didn’t stop you from taking in his features.

Dressed in tactical gear, tight black trousers, big chunky boots, and a leather jacket. His hair was long, dark, and wavy. But what really spoke to you was his arm. Full on metal from shoulder to fingers, the shiny arm glinting in the light. It was muscular and strong and nothing you had ever seen before.

The man fiddled with some items on the table before he slowly turned around, his face now visible to you. His jawline was sharp and snatched, with a short muzzle of hair. His eyes were bright blue and locked straight onto yours, the look of intimidation dripping onto you. You wiggled in the chains, gulping down a hard lump in the back of your throat. It was him… the winter soldier. Formally known as Sargent James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, he used to work with your dad, Steve Rogers until he supposedly died fighting for his country. But then it was found that he was taken by Hydra, brainwashed, and manipulated into a soldier to fight for them, to kill anyone who was a threat. But you wondered why you were here, naked and tied up.

Surely you weren’t a threat to Hydra. Yes, your father was trying to take them down and had down all those years ago but by kidnap you and keep you alive, this wasn’t his style.

Bucky stepped forward, standing closer to you now and he slowly crouched down, arms resting on his knees. his eyes wandered across your body, taking in the sight of you and you swallowed again. You felt vulnerable and exposed, your naked body on display for him and there was no way to cover yourself up.

His metal arm twitched, and his fingers clenched together, the metal clacking which made your stomach turn over itself, a sick feeling in the pit. Bucky took a deep breath, his eyes coming back to yours. His metal hand reached out, grabbing your throat, and squeezed slowly, cutting off the air. You whimpered under the mask, eyes wide and fearful as Bucky leaned forward, pressing his nose into your hair, and breathing deeply, taking in your sweet scent. His nose ran down the side of your face, lips close to your check, teasing the skin and sending shivers down your spine.

He moaned softly, taking pleasure in taking your scent in. You closed your eyes, trying to ignore it all, trying to think of something to distract you from the fact your dad’s former best friend has you currently tied and at his disposal.

His lips lingered over your temple and suddenly his tongue darted out, licking the side of your face. You groaned, whimpering, and trying to move your head away but his grip was too tight. His lips grew into a devilish smirk.

“Does this scare you?” he asked softly, his voice just above a whisper and you nodded. Not only scared but intimidated you. His control he had was total and you had nothing.

“Scared about what I’m going to do with you” he whispered, and you nodded again. What was he going to do with you?

He chuckled softly and he let go of your throat. You gasped for as much air as you could get through the mask, heaving and coughing.

Bucky reached behind your head and unclipped the mask, pulling it away and throwing it to the side, hearing it clatter on the concrete. You gasped, heavy shuddery breaths as the cold air hit your face, almost like a sting from a bee.

“Please, you don’t have to do this” you pleaded, and Bucky smirked, standing up and walking to the table.

“Please, please just let me go, I won’t tell anyone about this” you begged, and Bucky shook his head.

“I can’t do that” he said simply.

“Why” you whispered, and he turned back around, staring down at you with those dominant eyes.

“Because you are my mission” he grabbed something from the table and started to walk back over to you. You tried to push yourself back but didn’t go very far as the chains stopped you and you started to panic.

“What’s that?” in his hand was some sort of collar with a box on the front. Bucky crouched down before you and unbuckled it.

“Something to keep you in line” he grabbed your hair and yanked your head forwards causing you to yelp and he forced the collar around your neck, locking it tightly at the back. The box on the front had two metal prongs sticking into your neck and it was tight and restricting. Tears started to well behind your eyes and then your head was pulled back, exposing your neck to Bucky. He checked the collar, rattling it to make sure it was secure.

“Wh-what are you going to do with me” you whimpered, and Bucky grabbed your jaw in his human hand, tightening it around your chin so you were staring right at each other.

“Whatever I want, you are my mission, and I was given orders that I’m able to do whatever I like with you, so long as your father plays along”.

“My father will kill you; he’ll find you and-ahhh” Bucky gripped your face tighter and stared at you with those deadly blue eyes.

“Your father is a dead man, and when he finds out where his daughter his, he will play into our hands. Now you can make this easy on yourself and do as your told… are you going to be a good girl?” he asked, and you nodded your head slowly. His lips curled into a smile, and he lent forward, kissing you hard, his tongue prying your lips open and swirling inside your mouth.

His kiss was hot and despite it, you felt a tingle run down your body to between your legs, the hotness of the kiss turning you on. You groaned into his lips, unable to move as his hand had a hold of you still. His teeth grazed your bottom lip and tugged hard, pulling it away and snapping it back like a rubber band.

“That’s right, you’re going to be a good little girl for me” he whispered.

“Bucky please” you begged.

“My name isn’t Bucky… it’s Sir” he said into your ear, his hot breath sending sensations down your spine.

His hand let go of your face and slowly started to run down your body, touching every inch of your chest, grabbing one of your tits and squeezing. You gasped and looked down, watching as his hand started to go lower.

Oh no please

His hand reached the top of your crotch, fingers now walking across the skin to the clit. They dived deeper, gently stroking over your flaps and down to your hole, curling up inside and you jumped in fright from both pleasure and unexpectancy. His fingers rubbed small circles across your clit, sensations clouding your mind and you couldn’t help the moan escape you.

“Does that feel good, you like my fingers touching your little clit” he whispered in your ear, and you shuddered, not wanting to give the truth… it did feel good.

“Mmm” was all you answered with.

“Speak up, that’s an order” he commanded dominantly, and you swallowed.

“Yes” you squeaked, and the hand came back to your throat, squeezing tightly.

“Yes what?”.

“Yes Sir” you croaked and Bucky grinned, dropping his hand and returning to your pussy. His long fingers delved deeper inside you, curling and stroking, sending tingles up your body and a sweat started to break. The pleasure was real, and you were trying hard to not enjoy this. His strokes began to turn faster and deeper, sending a spiral of pulses through you as your orgasm began its journey. You didn’t want him to stop but at the same time you knew you shouldn’t be enjoying this. They are only doing this to get back at your father.

“Ohhh” you moaned under your breath.

“What’s that, does this little slut want to come?” Bucky teased and you whimpered, nodding, eyes squeaked tightly to avoid those dark blue eyes of his, the humiliation beating down on you.

His fingers moved quicker, rubbing harsh circles on your clit and it pulsed and twitched as your climax was near the finish line. He pumped his fingers in and out of your hole, slapping your pussy as he did and making your body shake with pleasure.

“Oh god” you cried, and you were ready to release.

“If you want to come, you’re going to beg me” he gritted in your ear, and you whimpered. You wanted this torture over and done with.

“Please, please Sir let me come” you blushed as you spoke the words. A few more pumps and your pussy was ready to explode. You sucked in a deep breath, ready for the climax but suddenly the pleasure drifted away as Bucky pulled his hand away, cold air hitting your warm spot and you shook with withdrawal. You looked over to him with wide eyes, mouth dropped open in shock. He was so in control he took away your pleasure just like that. His mouth was turned into a smirk, and he titled his head to the side.

“What, you got something to say?” he teased, and you breathed heavily, chest huffing up and down. Bucky stood up, shuffling over to the table. You glared at him, gripping the chains tightly in your hands. You were furious.

“Did you think I was going to let you come that easily” he said.

“Fuck you” you spat back, and Bucky turned around, eyebrow raised.

“That’s not very nice now” he sounded hurt, but you knew he was only putting it on for show.

“Good” you answered, and Bucky sighed, walking back to you.

“You keep that up and I’ll have to punish you” he threatened.

“So, do you worst-ahhh” a sharp slap hit your face as it whipped to the side, a sting burning you on the left cheek. The metal from his hand really cut into your skin and the paleness turned a bright red. His hand grabbed your face, turning it back to look him in the eye as he leaned down, towering over you.

“I thought you said you were going to be a good girl” he murmured, and you swallowed.

“Do I have to punish you harder” he asked, and you shook your head.

“Good, because I will if I have to” he threw your head down and you sighed. Your arms were now completely numb from being held up for so long, hands turning a deep purple from the loss of blood. You looked up as you heard a belt buckle unbuckling and saw Bucky began to remove his gear, throwing the hardness with his guns on the table, slapping his knife on top and then moving to his trousers, unzipping the zip on the front.

“And now it’s time for me to take what’s mine” he smirked and stalked around the back of you, His hands gripped your waist and tugged you, so you were leaning forward slightly, ass in the air. He knelt behind you, rubbing his hand along your pussy once again, fingers collecting your slick and rubbing it to lube you up.

“You ready to get fucked” he said closely, and you moaned as the tip of his cock rubbed against you hole. You knew you shouldn’t enjoy this, but it was turning you on, the solider having complete and utter control despite your defiance.

“Yes” you whispered, and his metal hand gripped around your throat, tugging you back gently.

“Yes what… how many times do I have to remind you” he said.

“Yes Sir” you corrected and moaned softly as his teeth took your ear, biting softly and licking the side of your face, tasting you.

“That’s right, who’s your master” he sunk deep into you, thrusting slowly as he teased you.

“You are” you groaned, vision now becoming distorted from the air supply being cut off.

“That’s right, who do you belong to”.

“You Sir, I belong to you” your voice was just above a whisper and Bucky grinned, kissing you softly.

“Good girl” he began to fuck you, thrusting back and forth, balls slapping against your pussy. His metal hand stayed put on your throat, both holding you in place physically and mentally. His cock was so big, and you felt full up. His body slammed against yours as he began to pick up the pace. Pleasure swarmed your body. It was like nothing you had felt before. perhaps it was the super soldier in him that was making you feel this way.

Your pussy was on fire now, your juices dripping down your thighs, the hotness making you sweat. You were moaning at the top of your lungs, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your back arched as he pulled back on your throat, tongue darting out to lick your naked back, licking the sweat pooling in the crook.

“God, you taste delicious” he moaned.

His teeth grazed the skin, leaving red marks down your flesh. It was all so intense, the biting, the hand gripping your throat, metal to skin, the pleasure sinking deep to your core. Your orgasm was coming back and this time you were hoping to release. There was nothing worse than being denied the pleasure you wanted.

His other hand gripped your waist, digging into your skin and leaving finger marks. You gasped in shock as suddenly a sharp slap hit your ass, the sting radiating across. You dug yourself deeper into the floor, your mind spinning out of control and reality.

Bucky grabbed your hair, pulling your head back and his lips attacked your neck, biting the skin and leaving marks across, deep and purple. You were his and he was going to make sure you remembered.

“Oh my god” you moaned as your orgasm was getting closer and legs starting to shake.

“Fuck I can feel you clenching around me, you want to come so badly don’t you” he teased, and you nodded.

“Oh, please Sir” you begged. It was what he wanted to hear and if it got you what you wanted then so be it.

“Please what” he teased again.

“Please let me come” you moaned, closing your eyes and falling into a dark place of submission and pleasure.

“What will you do if I let you come” he asked, fucking you hard and deep. His cock was slamming into you now and you were losing the control to hold back.

“Whatever you want me to do Sir” you gave into his control, his possession. You’d do anything to receive the pleasure.

“Anything I want right, because you belong to me don’t you” he said in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine in a good way.

“Yes Sir, I belong to you, please let me come” you whispered, squeezing tightly so you didn’t come without his permission. You didn’t want to be punished, you wanted this over.

Bucky pounded you hard and fast and you could feel your pussy twitching just waiting to release. You moaned loudly, almost screaming as it was becoming too much.

“Come for me” as the words left his lips, you gave in, releasing your orgasm and climaxing around his cock. You fell forwards, the only thing holding you up being the restraints and let yourself come. Your pussy was hot and slightly sore from the intense fucking Bucky had given you. But he didn’t stop there. His cum covered cock continued as he started to reach his own climax.

Bucky groaned, gritting his teeth onto his lip and when he felt his cock begin to twitch inside you, he yanked himself out, quickly moving in front of you, holding your head in place as he came in your mouth, squirting his juice inside. You were exhausted and thoroughly fucked. You didn’t resist, you didn’t defy. You did as he wanted… to be a good girl.

His come covered your mouth and you looked up with tried hooded eyes as he calmed down, taking steady breaths. He rubbed his thumb across your lips, feeding more of his come inside you and you sucked on his thumb, tasting his juice.

“That’s it, take all of my come” he breathed. His forehead was lined with sweat, long hair messy and crouched down, taking your face in his hand before kissing you roughly. He pulled away with a smack of your lips and smirked.

“I’ll be back, you be a good girl while I’m gone” he whispered and you nodded, staring into those deep blue eyes, the ones so captivating.

“Yes… Sir” you murmured and when he let go, your head dropped, breathing deeply. His footsteps disappeared as he left the room, the last thing you hearing was the door slamming shut and you were left alone.

Hey so I hope you liked this little one shot with Bucky, let me know in the comments what you think and if you think I should continue this in some way. I am also thinking about doing a BDSM/ SMUT alphabet with Bucky, what do you guys think, let me know in the comments. Don’t forget to like and reblog :)

#bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes dom #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #Captain America the winter soldier

[wholesome-holland]

Look Whose Got a Torch

request for: no one!

pairing: fezco x welder!fem!reader

warning: swearing, mentions of drugs, reference to sex

part two

Fezco absolutely loved everything about his girlfriend. He loved her kindness, how caring she was, how stunning she was, the way she never took no shit from anyone— everything. He could go on and on and on about it. One of his favorite things about her was her profession. Y/n was a welder. A badass MIG and TIG welder, to be exact. She had her own welder that she brought to Fez's when she moved in that is a multipurpose welder so she can do either process she pleases, and she also has a job at an actual shop. Even though welding is a male dominated field, she kicks ass at what she does and does not give a flying fuck what any man has to say about it. And Fez adores it.

When she comes home from work, a couple burns here and there, smelling of metal and sweat, he finds it so hot. Most people would find it disgusting, but something about it drives him insane in the best way. He is always so proud of her for what she does, loves hearing all about her days at the shop. He could sit and listen to how enthusiastic she is about her career forever and ever. Ashtray liked it too, he thought it was fuckin' gangster. He liked to watch her weld and see the finished product, at first he would watch from a distance outside but Y/n decided he needed his own welding shield to prevent him from, ya know, going blind. She even got a nice lil' welding jacket for when he was watching her MIG weld to prevent from burning any holes in his clothes.

     One particular day, Y/n was late getting home from work. Fez was a bit worried something had happened to her granted she was never late. Just as he went to call her a second time, he finally got a text from her, reading: come outside both of you i need help carrying shit.

     He headed outside, Ashtray following behind, and there Y/n had a trunk full of metal scraps in a variety of shapes and sizes. "Put these on," she said, tossing them each a pair of thick MIG gloves. "And pretty please help me carry these out back to the garage."

     "Why the fuck do we gotta wear gloves? I can't move my fuckin' fingers in there," Ash said, trying to get used to the stiffness of the gloves.

     "They're brand new. You gotta wear 'em, break 'em in a bit before they're more flexible. And if you don't wear 'em, you'll cut your hand and get tetanus." She explained, handing him a small stack of metal.

     "I've had my shots—"

     "Shhhh, child."

     "I don't know who you think you're callin' a fuckin' child, but it sure as hell ain't me." Ash scoffed, half chuckling as he carried it around to her section in the garage. Y/n gave Fez his own stack before carrying her own, the three of them all going stack by stack until all the metal was all back there.

     The three stood looking at all the metal next to her welder, "thank you boys!" Y/n exclaimed, kissing both their cheeks promptly. She ran back to close her trunk and lock her car, then back around to organize it all into the different containers she had set aside. Y/n was very organized when it came to her welding gear and materials, as well as the space it took up in the garage. At first, she was just gonna leave it at her mom's house but Fez insisted she brought it to her new home.

     "Come on ma, this is your home now. I want it to feel like home to ya,"

     Fez was in the entrance way of the garage smoking and watching her get all specific about which metal went where. He chuckled to himself, seeing how she cussed out her metal out for not doing what she wanted, which was pretty typical for her. He found it adorable and hilarious.

     The girl turned to see who it was, "what are you laughing at, big guy?"

     "I'm chucklin' at how funny you are, lil mama." Fez laughed as he walked towards her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, then her lips. "You know, Ash was tellin' me how excited he is 'bout all the new fuckin' metal you got, how he can watch ya weld again."

     You nodded, "oh really?" She asked, placing the last piece of metal away.

     "Yeah, he's real excited. He loves this shit," he explained, hitting his joint. "Makes me happy that he's got somethin' else to do besides drug deals and video games."

     Y/n thought to herself for a few moments, debating if she should ask what she was thinking. Due to her only having a TIG and MIG welder, she wouldn't have to worry about a fire setting or anything. The worst that could happen is a burn from the splatter of the MIG weld, or a bit of a shock if he touches the tungsten from the TIG torch while touching her metal table.

     "Would it be okay if I showed him how to weld? If he's interested in trying it?" She inquired, wanting to make sure she had his permission since Ash was his responsibility.

     Fez blew a puff of smoke as he nodded his head yes, "hell yeah that's alright. He'd fuckin' love that." Y/n was excited upon getting approval to teach the boy how to weld. She had always thought about it but wasn't sure if Fez would be down for it, for safety reasons. But he trusted she would be careful and take care of Ashtray, not that he couldn't do that himself.

     The next morning, Y/n woke up bright and early. The sun was shining, it wasn't too hot or too cold nor windy, and it was gonna be a great day teaching Ashtray a new skill that could take him far if he decides he likes it. She made a big breakfast for herself, the boys, and Faye and just as it was almost done she ran through the house to wake everyone up. Faye was excited to wake up smelling bacon, because who wouldn't be excited about that?

"Fezzy! Wake up! It's breakfast time!" Y/n exclaimed, jumping on the man and straddling his lap. The ginger quickly woke up, mumbling a quick "what the fuck". "I made breakfast, getchyo fine ass up!" She pecked his cheek, then heading to Ashtray's room.

"Wakey wakey little man," she said, shaking him. "Come onnnnnn, get up, or I'll torch your ass up." She joked as she turned his bedroom light on. Now, the boys weren't exactly happy about having to wake up so early but the food made up for it. Y/n was always the best cook in the house. The four sat at the table, enjoying the fine grub when she decided to ask Ashtray if he was down for what she had planned.

"So, Ash," she began, the boy looking up at her as he bit his piece of bacon. "How would you like it if I taught you how to weld?" That immediately sparked his interest and he sat up a bit straighter, an excited twinkle in his eye.

"Really? You're serious?" He asked, his jaw agape. "Fuck yeah! I'd fuckin' love that!"

     Y/n loved his enthusiasm. Both she and Ashtray scarfed the rest of their food down before washing and drying their hands. She suggested he changed into jeans and an old t-shirt so he wouldn't wreck his good clothes, he obliged and she got changed into her work clothes as well before heading out to the garage. Y/n opened the big door to make sure they had enough air coming through to ventilate the area before showing him how to properly wear his welding gear.

     "Okay, we're gonna start with MIG so you'll need your welding coat on. Make sure to button it all the way up," she explained. Ash did as she instructed, watching as she did as well. "I always put my welding hood on before putting the gloves on, so here take this—" she tossed him a beanie. "And put it on before putting on the hood."

     The boy put on the beanie, then grabbing the welding hood and putting that on as well, holding it up before it fell down. "How do I adjust the hood to fit? It's a little big on me,"

     Y/n walked over and twisted the knob to the left, "tell me if it's too tight."

     "That's good." The boy stated once it was a comfortable fit. Y/n grinned at him, thinking he looked adorable.

     "Next, welding gloves. Put them on with the ends of your sleeves tucked into them so they won't fall off." After making sure he did it correctly, she took a moment to throw her hair up in a bun, and putting a beanie and welding hood on.

     "Then, we're gonna turn on the welder and adjust the wire speed and voltage. I'm just gonna have you start out with a pad of beads, so we can have it on 170 for the wire speed and 17 for the voltage. It should always be close to the same, and it'll vary depending on your work piece." She adjusted the settings, instructing Ashtray how to do so and read the machine correctly before grabbing the metal clamp. "This will attach to your work space, so for us it'll be my big, metal table. If your workpiece is big enough, however, you can clamp it right to that."

     Ashtray watched in astonishment as she attached the clamp to the table. It was so simple yet so detrimental to what they were doing, he felt like he was already learning so much. Next was picking out the right metal. Y/n gave Ashtray the freedom to pick out what plate he wanted to experiment on, and picking out a bigish plate, roughlty a 3" by 6". After that, he put the plate on the table— one Y/n actually built and welded herself— and she handed the boy the mid gun.

“So, you have to hold it at a certain angle. Try to keep the end where the filler wire comes out close to the workpiece. That distance between the two is your arc length, and you want it to be tight. When you’re ready to weld, put your hood down, always make sure if someone is around you that they also have their hood down, line the nozzle up to the work piece and press on the trigger. When welding, you can either use a push or drag motion, you’ll have to learn the right speed that works for the settings to get the bead perfect. For this, don’t go too fast, let the bead get a lil’ thick in width.” Y/n explained, Ashtray listening carefully to every word. He was pretty sure he understood what she was saying, so he nodded his head downward to get his hood down.

“Ready?” He asked her, waiting for her to pull her hood down.

“Ready!” With that, he pressed down on the MIG gun trigger and started welding. Y/n was giving little pointers here and there, but he was really getting it really fast. She didn’t know what to expect, but it was almost like he had a natural talent with it. He ran a couple beads in a row before setting the MIG gun on a holder attached to the table, grabbing pliers and picking the piece up with the pliers.

“It’s hot as fuck,” he said. “How do I cool it off?”

“Over here, I have a lil’ bucket of water which I use as my quench tank. You dunk it in the water for a few seconds til it stops steaming when you pull it out of the water, then you can use an air thing to dry it off or find some other way to do it. I have an air thingy to blow the water off,” she explained, leading him to both the quench tank and air blower. He studied his welds, not sure if they were good or bad, but still amazed with himself.

“Dude, those look fuckin’ good for being your first ever time welding! I’m so proud of you, bud.” Y/n praised, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“Thanks, Y/n/n.” Ash beamed, staring in awe at his work. “Can I do more?” He sheepishly asked.

“Uh, hell yeah you can! I’ll teach you how to do t-joints, lap-joints, inner and outer corner joints, open butt joints—” Ashtray snorted, cutting her off.

“Open butt joints? Really?” He raised an eyebrow at the girl.

“Oh yes, they exist. And they are hell on earth. Especially in the vertical down position, you’ll see. I’ll teach you everything, even TIG welding if you want.” Y/n offered, already so excited about all the possibilities.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fuckin’ down. Who knows, maybe I’ll become a better welder than you,” Ashtray joked, elbowing her side playfully.

“Don’t get too cocky, kid. I can still weld all your zippers closed.”

“Fair point.”

Later on, you were raving to Fezco about how good Ashtray was doing and how excited you were. “—And, he didn’t even burn himself that many times! When he did he would cuss his hand or the metal out, and keep on going. I felt like a proud mom at graduation.”

Fez laughed, passing you his joint. You took a hit, coughing slightly. “Man, the only thing that sucks is my back is killing me. Thank God I have tomorrow off.” She breathed.

“I checked on you both earlier, you make a good teacher. A fine one, too,” Fez told her. “You so gorgeous, ma. I love seeing you in yo’ work clothes. ”

“Thank you, baby. Those boot cut jeans do make my ass look good.” The girl laughed, tooting her own horn a bit.

“You goddamn right, ma. How about you let me take care of you for the night, after all that hard work you did?” Fezco offered with a large grin.

Y/n chuckled and blushed, “by “taking care of me” do you mean sex?”

Fez shrugged, “maybe, maybe not. I was thinkin’ we start with a back massage since you been carryin’ all that heavy shit and showing Ash how to use yo’ shit, and see where it goes.”

“Fez, I love you, but sometimes you are such a horn-dog.” The girl joked, scooting closer and sitting in his lap.

“How can I not be? You sexy lil’ badass.”

Needless to say, Fez showed Y/n just how sexy he thought she was that night.

okay so no one asked for this but im in school for welding and i COULDNT HELP BUT WRITE ABOUT IT LMAO but also i loved the idea of fez finding his gf being a badass so seggsy so boom here we go, i hope y’all liked this!!

#euphoria #euphoria fanfic #fezco x reader #fezco o'neill #platonic ashtray x reader #ashtray #ashtray o’neill #welder reader #fezco x welder!reader #platonic!ashtray x welder!reader #look whose got a torch series #not requested

[buckysouvenir]

leather jackets.

summary: bucky keeps ripping his jackets so you decide to get him a new one.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader.

word count: 600.

author's note: just a quick drabble.

reblogs, likes and comments are always encouraged and highly appreciated! thank you ♡

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

no, because imagine bucky keeps ripping his jackets left arm because in the heat of the moment, he needs full mobility of his metal arm to fight so he's running out of actual jackets for day to day life.

so you're walking on the streets of new york and you see a black leather jacket through a store window, and decided to get in. he's gonna like this one because it looks remotely like the other ones he has, you think to yourself.

you go back home and put the bag on top of the bed while you go shower and wait for him to get home.

usually, when he comes to your apartment later at night, he comes with take-out, so you don't even mind finding something for the both of you to eat. even though the relationship is relatively new, it's a stated fact.

you come out of the shower, putting some comfy clothes and socks, going to the sofa to watch something to distract you till he gets there

15 minutes later, you give up and put on a a random show just to pass the time.

you hear the door ring so you get up excitedly to open the door.

"hi" you say smiling.

"hi sweetheart" he says, kissing your lips while his right hand grabs your waist.

you close the door, "i missed you"

"missed you too" he says smiling, handling you a bouquet of pink roses. "for you"

"they're beautiful bucky, thank you" you say, smelling the flowers. you feel like your cheeks are gonna rip from how much you're smiling.

the both of you walk to the kitchen. you search for a vase for the flowers while he puts the food down on the kitchen island.

"i got something for you too" you say, heading over to the bedroom.

"oh really?" he follow you with a smirk on his face.

you give him a light slap on the arm, "not that dummy" you laugh.

"oh"

"i mean, not yet"

you both chuckle.

the both of you get to the bedroom, you grab the bag and handle it to him smiling.

"...what?"

"i bought you something earlier"

you sit down on the bed, as he starts to open the bag.

he has a shocked look on his face, "why- when-"

you chuckle, "i mean, you keep ruining your jackets so i guessed you need a new one. also this one is black, so it matches everything, it's great. i love your red one, and the blue one too but black goes with everything"

he's speechless, with the jacket in his hands.

"what? you don't like it?"

"NO! it's not that sweetheart, i love it, i really do"

"then what's wrong?"

"nothing. absolutely nothing" he smiles. "i just... i just haven't received a gift in like 70 years so i lost my touch in reacting to things"

you both laugh.

"but thank you darling"

"you're welcome buck... now put it on, i wanna know if it fits, common" you kneel on the bed excited.

he puts the jacket on, and smiles. "it fits... perfectly" he walks closer to you.

"it really does. you look great in it too, i got it right twice" you laugh, grabbing him by the jacket and kissing him.

his hands reaches your face gently, "thank you... and i promise i won't rip this one out, doesn't matter what happens"

you laugh, "you better not"

and even though none of you reached the next phase in the relationship, the only thing in his mind while looking you in the eyes, was love.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #txt #bucky.txt

[denim-devil]

Make-Up

Bucky Barnes x Male reader

PROMPT - ❛ are you wearing my shirt? ❜ + ❛ i’m going to ruin you. ❜ Requested by the lovely @buckletsfuck thank you!

After a heated argument, Bucky comes home to a unfamiliar sight…he doesn’t complain, instead instigates…

A/N - I hope you enjoy lovely! (Pt 2 = detailed smut anyone?)

—/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/—

It all happened so quickly Bucky wasn’t even sure how much he had hurt you with his poisonous words. Sighing to himself he walked up the stairs slowly, sniffling after being exposed to the winter air.

His blue shirt clung to his damp body as well as his brown jacket. Keeping his eyes on the floor Bucky marched up the stairs with urgency, understanding how much he hurt you.

Already he had made his way to your shared apartment door, inhaling deep, rabid breaths as he twists the key, hearing the latch unlock to allow him inside.

He stood still, thoughts running through his head…telling him he’s ruined this, what you had…shaking his head he kicks his black boots off beside the now closed door, shrugging of his jacket before slumping it over the back of the couch.

Everything was silent…were you still in a mood? Still tucked under your covers crying to yourself? He could feel his heart wrench at the thought of you hurt, so doing it himself always had this affect on him.

He shook his head, gaining enough courage to enter your shared bedroom, eyes scanning your peaceful figure.

One thing that stood out to Bucky was the red shirt you had on, clearly it was his it was to many sizes big for you judging by the way he draped by your knees.

He smiled, his chest warming up to the thought of you wearing his things…if anything he could feel himself twitch in his denim jeans, the tight material giving him enough to rut against whilst drinking in the sight of you.

Your light snoring only eggs Bucky on, his knees sink into the mattress as he approaches you, his body heat already warming up your back allowing a few shuddered gasps to leave your open mouth.

His flesh hand finally settled upon your waist, allowing him to slip into the covers behind you, pulling you closer to make you feel him…you knew exactly why.

Your cheeks heat up at the thought of Bucky finding you like this, in one of his shirts half naked…hot.

“Doll…”

He trails off getting you to turn your body to face him, your face met with his chest. You smile looking up at him, it was a stupid fight about joining Steve on a mission…you couldn’t go through what you had with him again.

“I forgive you” you whisper lovingly, gazing up into his already lust-filled eyes. You shiver in his grip as you wiggly yourself up slightly until you brush your lips together, enticing him to meet you half way.

He chuckles before latching onto your lips, tongue already gaining access to your awaiting mouth, slipping inside to play with your own in hopes of showing you who’s in charge.

The kiss is needy, but enough for now. You pull away, watching as Bucky flashes a toothy grin. “Are you wearing my shirt” he growls, his metal hand now clutching onto the hair at the back of your head, pulling it back slightly.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you whimper, nodding slowly. His flesh hand sneaks downwards, pulling up the shirt to reveal your naked ass. He couldn’t resist the slap he left behind…

A guttural moan rumbles from your chest, it was sinful and full of lust, judging the way your body reacted, Bucky knew just how much you loved being submissive, especially towards him.

Squeezing your chin, he forces you to face him, eyes meeting yours again within a fierce gaze, “I’m going to ruin you” his teeth bite into his bottom lip as you nod, pushing your ass into his crotch, practically begging for him.

Oh…you were really in for it now.

#male reader #x male reader #smut #bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes x male reader

[itmakesastatement]

hey if you’re still writing and what not. could you please write a dating private cowboy headcanon and possibly a private joker headcanon too?

no pressure or any rush, just asking

-G❤️

Dating Private Cowboy~

A/N: fhdhehdhdh I love him so much, sorry for any typos b, also if you feel it needs a redo lemme know

———————————————————

First of all he’s such a gentleman

He always pulls his chair out for you, holds doors, walks you to your door from his car and all that good jazz

Cowboy is probably a little introverted after the war, so dates are probably mostly at home or something outdoors with just the two of you

Cowboy is actually surprisingly clingy, he would always hold your hand in public or have an arm around you

Also!! This mans preferred method of cuddling is laying on top of you, I will take no criticism

While he is a lot calmer than he was before the war, he still has his moments where he can be very playful

During times like that he loves teasing you, ruffling your hair, randomly picking you up or maybe even throwing you on the bed

Because of his trauma from ya know, watching his friends die, he does switch from having good days and bad days

Though now that he’s started dating you, he’s started having a lot more good days :)))

Also he’s totally taken you to a rodeo before, and while he isn’t very social, he loved showing you off

On his bad days you can typically tell because he’ll have nightmares the night before

How long this periods can last depends really, sometimes it won’t even be the full day, other times it will last for weeks

During these he’ll be very sluggish, melancholic, You’ll probably have to remind him to eat and drink water

Honestly just like, make this man a homemade meal or force him to dress up and go dancing with you, he’ll be grumpy about having to do anything at first but it will eventually cheer him up

Jumping on his back and forcing him to carry you 🤌🤌🤌

Also you can’t convince me he DOESN’T buy a ranch and fill it with horses

If you can’t already ride, he’ll def teach you

He definitely plans on marrying you if you’re up for it

And if it’s modern au he’s one of people who have Pinterest boards dedicated to his dream wedding-

#full metal jacket matchups #full metal jacket preferences #full metal jacket x reader #private cowboy x reader #private cowboy headcanons #arliss howard x reader

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating James T. Davis

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You first met James when the two of you were young. He was a friend of your older brothers and had; on account of this, spent countless days at your house.

- He relentlessly teased you and; at times, completely infuriated you, but he could also be a sweetheart when he wanted to be. Like the time he’d driven an hour out of his way to pick you up after your date; whom he had told you from the start was an asshat, bailed on you or when he’d tutored you for months on end so that you could pass physics.

- While he oftentimes adamantly denied it, it was obvious that he cared about you; though at first it was in a purely platonic, brotherly way. It was when the two of you were in highschool that that all changed.

- Your brother had graduated the year before leaving both you and his best buddy behind in your crappy highschool. James was in his senior year and you were a sophomore.

- Your brother had asked James to keep an eye on you while he was off at college; not that he really had to since the boy was planning on doing so anyway. Because of that, you and the boy started to hang out more and more which is why you were comfortable shyly admitting that you had a crush on; and a budding romance with, a boy in your class

“Who?” James wrinkled his nose, squinting his eyes as he scanned the parking lot of your highschool, hands stilling inside his backpack where they were once fishing for his car keys.

“Don’t be so obvious!” You whisper yelled and he glanced down at you for a split second before moving his eyes to search for the boy once more. “He’s the one by the red car, the one with the denim jacket.”

“Him?” He’d asked as though it were ridiculous that you liked him.

“Yes him,” you replied defensively. “Why? ...what’s wrong with him?”

“Nah, nah, nothing,” He told you initially though the way he said it betrayed the words. “C’mon, lets go. I can see the drool starting to show and I don’t want to mess up my shoes.”

- That night, James laid in bed, staring at his ceiling, an indescribable feeling washing over him. His mind ran through everything you told him, touching upon this and that and wondering why it all made him so ...angry?

- Sure that was part of it, but there was something else to it, something much more complicated. He glanced at the clock in his bedroom and sighed; it was going to be a long night.

- He took a few days to watch you closer detail and think things through. It was during that time that he came to a realization.

- He wasn’t sure when it all started but he’d begun to find you ...cute, and not in that “oh she’s such a cute little girl” sort of way either, he found you pretty, beautiful even. Perhaps that was part of the reason why it made him so angry to see another boy pursuing you and why it bothered him so much that you seemed to like him back.

- His feelings for you grew more and more, or maybe he was just more perceptive to them now that he knew how he felt about you. Either way, he’d officially fallen for you and had begun to think of ways to ask you out.

- Everything came to a head the day you found out your crush; and the boy who flirted with you, got himself a girlfriend. You felt silly getting upset over it but you couldn’t help it. You felt stupid, you felt like you weren’t good enough for anybody.

- It was enough to make you feel sick, so much so that you weren’t even lying when you went to the nurse to tell her you didn’t feel good. You’d walked home in the middle of the school day after the nurse excused you from class and spent the rest of the afternoon in bed.

- James came to check on you after school, a bit worried that something had happened after you didn’t meet him for a ride home. He let himself into your house, knocking on your bedroom door until you hesitantly and weakly called for him to come in.

- The minute he saw you, he immediately asked what was wrong and refused to let you deny that you weren’t upset until you finally admitted everything. A little ways into your explanation, he’d made himself comfortable on your bed and pulled you into a hug, all but cuddling you as you ranted to him miserably.

- He interrupted you as soon as you began to put yourself down, softly telling you that the kid was an idiot if he chose someone else over you and listing off a bunch of things that made you a “total catch”. You sniffled and laughed as he made a light hearted joke, resting your head on his shoulder as the two of you sat in a comfortable silence.

“Hey, y/n?” He asked and you’d replied curiously. “...Did you really like that kid?”

“I don’t know,” You answered truthfully. “I think; more than anything, I liked him because I thought he liked me.”

“...I like you.”

“I know.”

“No y/n, I mean I like you,” he straightened up, letting go of you in the process and turning so that you were facing each other. “Listen, I know that this might come as a surprise to you and that it might be a bit strange but I can’t help it.”

“I know I can be a bit of a jerk sometimes and that I don’t drive a stupid looking Oldsmobile fiesta; how could you look at that thing and still want to get in that guys pants is beyond me.” he shook his head as though he were clearing his thoughts.

“But I do like you, no, I love you. And if you like me, even if it’s just a little bit, then I would appreciate it if you told me so that I can stop feeling so stupid and at least get my ass beat by your brother for a good reason.”

- You should have seen his smile when you admitted that you’d always thought he was kinda cute. He asked if you’d like to go do something with him and you smiled for the first time that day. You spent the next couple of hours driving around town and stopping to do whatever the two of you thought looked fun. You doubt that you could ever have as much fun just mindlessly wandering around with someone as you did with him.

- The two of you shared your first kiss on your third date. You’d gone to a carnival with him and he’d insisted that he could win you the big teddy bear prize that one of the games had had. You didn’t get your hopes up but a small part of you did get a little excited.

- Much to your surprise, he actually won and you were soon the proud owner of a four foot tall stuffed animal.

“Think that earns me a kiss?” He asked teasingly.

- You most certainly did.

- He’s always happy to touch you so don’t expect him to hold back when you’re out in public. He wants his hands on you constantly, usually in an innocent way though he does get an inexplicable urge to smack your ass in public.

- That being said: ass smacks, usually out of nowhere.

- Long hard kisses, especially after not seeing each other for a while or after he’s had a really rough day.

- Slow makeout sessions. He likes savoring the time he spends with your lips pressed against his, his hands wandering and the world around you disappearing.

- Hand kisses. Whenever you grab his, he’ll pull your connected hands up to his face and press a kiss to the back of yours.

- Long hugs.

- Ruffling each other’s hair.

- Soft punches and play wrestling.

- Dancing to records together.

- He’s got a thing for brunch. The two of you go out; at least, every week and get it together.

- Tons of nicknames, namely sweetheart and angel; he’s particularly fond of those.

- Private Joker, obviously he’s a pretty funny guy. He always seems to know how to make you laugh or smile. And he loves hearing you laugh, it’s like music to his ears.

- He leans his head on your shoulder whenever you’re sitting together. It’s sort of funny since; considering his height, he needs to bend completely out of shape or sit a good foot away from you to do so.

- Lazy mornings spent in bed. He always wakes up really early but usually just glances at the clock and groans, cuddling closer into you as he falls back asleep. He definitely spent like a full three days just sleeping after he got back from Vietnam, only taking breaks to eat, go to the bathroom, and give you a kiss.

- He refuses to sleep on his back once he gets home from the war. He cuddles close to you, wrapping himself around you like he’s giving you a bear hug in his sleep. Every now and again his arms will tighten around you the slightest bit more or he’ll wake up with a start, nuzzling closer as he tries to steady his breathing.

- Comforting him after nightmares. Sometimes you’ll just sit and stay awake with him for the whole night because he doesn’t want to go back to sleep. He insists that you don’t have to but you wouldn’t feel right just leaving him by himself like that.

- He doesn’t talk a whole lot about the time that he spent in Vietnam or recruitment camp but he does tell you about Cowboy and some of the sights that he saw.

- He most likely brought you back something when he was discharged; maybe some pressed flowers or coins, a knickknack, something like that.

“Either my eyes are going or you’ve gotten even more beautiful since the last time I saw you.”

- He moans over your cooking. He’s had to eat shitty MRE meals everyday for months so anything else is a blessing to him.

- Clingy boy, especially after he got back. He didn’t have the company of a decent woman for a long time so he feels like he has to make up for it, although, even before he left for war, he was still a touchy, needy little shit.

- Sometimes, he likes to act like he’s some big tough army guy; a trained killer and all that jazz, but he’s actually just a huge softie, especially when it comes to you. You can baby and tease him all you want and half the time he’ll just lay down and take it contentedly.

- Anytime you ask him those embarrassing coupley questions, he always replies with a shy “I am” and an uncontrollable smile.

- He likes when you put your hand on the side of his face. Feeling your touch; so soft and warm against his own skin, always makes him feel content.

- He likes going out and doing things for dates. Amusement park and carnival visits, bowling, mini golf, roller skating, going to the movies. He’s fine with sitting alone, and on some days he prefers it, but generally, he likes adventures.

- Watching westerns together.

- He’s always there to help you when you need it and he’s always the sweetest about it too. He never belittles you for what you don’t know, he just shows you how to do it/explains it and praises you when you learn.

- He likes helping you get ready in the morning/night: brushing your hair, helping you put on your coat, etc. He knows you don’t need him to but sometimes he needs it, the monotony and closeness of it calms and soothes him.

- So many compliments. You get; at least, one a day from him. R.I.P. your ears when he catches you feeling insecure, he’s going to list every single thing that he loves about you until your ego is so inflated that you could pop at any minute. 

- Looking over his writing for him. I’m convinced he got a job in journalism. 

- Exchanging letters when he’s active duty. He; quite literally, kisses them whenever they arrive, a big smile plastered across his face.

- He carried a photo and/or wore something of yours; like a ring or bracelet, wherever he went while he was deployed. It helped him to not feel too homesick and remind him of all the good things he has waiting for him at the end of the line, specifically you.

- You may or may not be the star of his erect nipple wet dreams and great homecoming fuck fantasies.

- He enjoys annoying you, but in an endearing way. Goofily attacking your neck with his lips as you squeal and push him away, messing with your hair, talking about stuff he knows you dislike (like insects or gore). He likes getting a rise out of you.

- There’s no way he got out of the war unscathed and without any lingering trauma. I’m sure he gets his fair share of nightmares and days where he’s far worse for wear; both from his time spent in combat and his final day at the recruitment camp.

- For a long while, he didn’t know if he was gonna last until thirty so he’s thankful for everyday he gets to spend with you.

- He’ll occasionally get jealous for real but mainly, he finds people being attracted to you amusing; because he has you and they don’t. He’s so smug about it too, pulling you into a kiss right in front of them and giving them an arrogant smile once you break apart.

- Overprotective. He’s lost a lot of people that he’s cared about so he never wants to drag you into anything dangerous or see you; potentially, get hurt in any way. So, while some of the things he disapproves certainly won’t kill you, you can sort of understand where he’s coming from.

- Having to hold him back from fighting people; he can be a bit of a hothead at times. As stressful as it can be, you can’t say that it isn’t attractive when he bites his lip and breathes all heavy.

- The two of you don’t fight very often; he can never stay mad at you. He’ll try to give you the silent treatment but it isn’t long before he caves and talks to you. If the two of you get really riled up, he has a tendency to smash his lips to yours and release all his pent up frustration in other ways.

- Depending on the situation, he’ll be a bit reluctant to apologize but will at some point, usually when he can’t stand not talking to you anymore. Although, sometimes neither of you will apologize; especially if you use an ...alternative method to release your frustration.

- He says he loves you all the time, mainly because he values you above everything else and never wants you to doubt that he does. Even though he tends to say the words with a lingering, joking tone, you still know that he means them from the way that he looks at you.

- He’s had a bit of time to think about what he wants to do with his life and you’ve been a doll: loyal, loving, caring. He can’t wait to marry and start a family with you. He can’t think of anyone better to spend the rest of his life with.

#80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon #full metal jacket x reader #full metal jacket headcanon #full metal jacket headcanons #full metal jacket imagine #James t Davis imagine #James t Davis headcanons #James t Davis headcanon #private joker imagine #private joker headcanons #private joker headcanon

[bump1nthen1ght]

Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would 😊

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your  fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

--------------

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add  cat food to your grocery list.

--------------

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check  on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed  a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

--------------

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.  

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it���s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

--------------

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat.  Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.

#my writing #gender neutral reader #shadow monster #monster/human #monster x reader

[barnesafterglow]

how you get the girl

summary: the one where bucky falls in love at first sight. and then is an idiot

pairing: bucky x bartender!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: explicit language, modern au, reader has tattoos (full sleeve mention), use of marijuana (mention of reader smoking a joint), consumption of alcohol, simp master bucky barnes, nat and maria are everyone's fav lesbian couple, steve and sam are cockblocks (but they don't mean it), if natasha was my best friend i would get more shit done, taylor swift dont sue me for the title

a/n: nobody asked for this and yet here it is. shout out to the three people who said they wanted me to post, this is for you besties xoxo

sorta beta read by @sweetdreamsbuck but all mistakes are my own bc i refuse to proofread 90% of the time

main masterlist

Bucky didn’t want to be out. He would much rather be on the couch with Alpine, watching New Girl, but Natasha was very persuasive. It was an unfortunate circumstance.

And now Nat had disappeared to the bathroom with Maria and god knows they wouldn’t be back for a while. That girl had stamina.

Steve, Tony, and Sam had been “on their way” for twenty minutes now, which meant Tony was being a diva and Steve had bailed, and Sam was doing his damn best to convince them to still come out. All in all, Bucky figured he had at least another 30 minutes before he was faced with one of his friends again, and what the hell was he supposed to do until then?

He contemplated facing Natasha’s wrath in the morning and just heading home before she got back, when he caught sight of a new bartender he hadn’t seen yet. It must have been a shift change, because you did some sort of elaborate handshake with the bartender that had previously been serving him, before he shrugged on his jacket and headed back through the kitchen door.

He was mesmerized by your movements - washing glasses and filling a line of shots for the rowdy frat boys on the other end of the bar - but his jaw dropped when you finally shed your own jacket and revealed a full tattoo sleeve on your left arm, beautiful florals and nature and everything in between. It reminded him so much of the tattoos on his own arm, before the accident that left him with a hunk of metal in its place. He was so captivated, he swore he had to wipe a line of drool from his mouth before you saw it.

But you had that stunning look of I will fuck you up if you even try me that Bucky so often donned, and he’s pretty sure he fell in love right then and there. He was ready to put aside every qualm he had about socialization and ask you out.

Until you spoke to him.

“What can I get ya, babe?” Your voice sounded like something from his dreams - soft and sweet and nothing like your exterior appearance. His words turned to ash on his tongue, and the surprise must have shown across his face, because you broke out into a bought laughter. “You’re cute, I’ll give ya another beer on the house.”

You turned away to grab another bottle, and he downed what was left of his own in a desperate attempt to keep from word vomiting his undying love for you. What the hell was wrong with him?

Once you finished serving another few people and made your way back to his end of the bar, he had finished his first drink and got to quick work on the second one you handed him. He felt your eyes study him intently as the cool liquid made its way down his throat, and you were still staring when he set the bottle back down on the bartop.

He didn’t know what to do, and you seemed to snap out of whatever trance you were in and gave him a slow smile.

“You waiting for someone?” Your voice sounded hesitant in a way that didn’t match your demeanor, and this helped dissipate a bit of his nervousness.

“Kinda. A few of my friends are on their way, maybe, and I’m pretty sure my best friend is screwing her girlfriend in your bathroom. Sorry.”

You threw your head back laughing at this, as if you were not at all surprised, and he could tell by your slight flush that it was genuine.

“I thought I saw her dragging someone in there on my way in. Good for her.” There was a mischievous glint in your eye at that, and it caused an easy smile to spread across his face.

“Yeah, they’re in love, it’s pretty gross,” was his reply, but the joking tone in his voice kept that grin on your face. Was this love?

No, no fucking way.

He took another swig from his beer, looking for an excuse to calm down his racing thoughts. He was just about to reply, something stupid, probably, when a burly man called your name from the other side of the bar.

And what a fitting name it was, beautiful to match the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. His heart did loops as he watched you mix a drink with expert precision, and he knew he had to up his game. You were the type of girl who deserved a lot more than cheesy pickup lines at her work place, but he had to start somewhere.

“So, doll, what-” and he was cut off by the clasp of a large hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Steve to his left, with Sam just behind him. Great. Awesome.

By the time he turned back to the bar, you had moved in the opposite direction, something that may have been disappointment on your face, or maybe that was just his wishful thinking.

He didn’t get to speak to you after that, besides ordering another round, and when he tried again, Nat and Maria were finally back, looking more than a little disheveled. It wasn’t until a few hours, and his friends were finally calling it a night, that he got to say more than a couple words to you.

He had told everyone else he would catch up with them, and waited by the end of the bar for you to finish with another group of customers. You looked happy, if not a little shocked, to see him waiting for you, but made your way over anyway.

“Ya need something, sugar?” The lilt in your voice made him smile, and he mustered all the courage he had been saving throughout the night.

“Uh, yeah, kinda. I know you probably get this a lot, especially working here, but I think you’re gorgeous. And I would love to get to know you better. So. Yeah.”

Your giggle set him into a flurry of thoughts, and he wasn’t able to tell if you were laughing at him or merely the situation. Then you held your hand out, another fit of giggles at the confused look in his face, before he finally understood what you wanted, and he put his phone in your hand.

Once you were finished, you slipped it back into the pocket of his jacket.

“Have a good night…”

“Bucky,” he supplied, realizing he never told you his name. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Have a good night, Bucky Barnes.” You threw a wink his way, before getting back to work.

He caught up to Steve and the others with a new number in his phone and a lightness in his heart.

–

And then Bucky stared at your contact for two days straight, not sure what to say or how to say it or when to say it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been on a date. He didn’t remember it being this hard.

He finally settled on a short message, something he hoped would get you to answer, but not too eager.

Bucky: How do you feel about coffee?

Y/N: is that a trick question?

Y/N: meet me at the coffee shop on myrtle in an hour &lt;3

A heart? A heart. Maybe he did have a chance.

He got there 12 minutes early, wanting to see you when you came in, not wanting you to wait on him. He had only just sat down with his coffee when you came in the door, somehow more beautiful than the last time he had seen you.

You waved as soon as you spotted him, but made your way to the counter to order coffee first. When you finally settled in across from him, he had a smile to wide his cheeks hurt, just from watching the grace in your movements.

“So, you stare at me enough yet?” Your voice snapped him out of his trace, and his smile turned a bit sheepish. You laughed at the blush that spread across his cheeks before continuing. “I’m kidding. Mostly. I think it’s cute.”

“I think you’re cute. Uh, I mean. Wait, no, that’s exactly what I mean.” Something about your warm demeanor made it easy for him to loosen up, and soon he felt just as comfortable talking to you as any of his other friends - this was a big deal for him, considering he didn’t socialize much outside of his circle.

It felt like hours had passed, the two of you talking about nothing and everything, before you finally got up, saying you had to be at the bar for your shift soon. He took your cup from your hand, throwing it away before following you out to the sidewalk. There was a breath of awkward silence, neither of you sure how to say goodbye.

Finally, as if you were sick of whatever little game was playing out, you leaned forward, tilting your head up to face him. Instead of kissing you - right there on the crowded sidewalk, like both of you wanted - he turned his head, and your lips caught his cheek instead.

When you took a step back, he felt his heart drop to his feet, because you looked so thoroughly gutted, he felt like he had just kicked your dog.

“See ya later, Barnes.” Your voice was so quiet and meek, so unlike the fiery personality he had come to know, and it hurt him even more as he watched you turn on your heel and head in the direction of the bar.

He didn’t know how much time he spent there, staring at the corner where you turned longingly, but he finally accepted defeat and headed back to his apartment.

To his surprise, Natasha was on his couch with a bowl of popcorn when he walked through the door. He regretted ever giving her a key, not that she really needed it. My mother was a Russian spy, she always said. Sure.

“How was your little date?” Because of course that was the first thing she would ask. Perks of telling his best friend everything, is she never let it go.

So, instead of playing off as no big deal, he sulked into the couch and told her everything.

“Boo,” she said, throwing a handful of popcorn at him. “You suck.”

“I know.” Trust her to make him feel even worse.

“I’m giving you exactly one episode to mope, and then you’re going to that bar and fixing your fuck up.” And that was that, because you don’t argue with Natasha.

Fifty minutes later, he was outside the bar, working up the courage to go in, when he spotted you down the alley that lay just beside it.

Not giving himself a chance to think about all the ways this could go wrong, he headed towards you. As he approached you, the strong scent of weed hit his nostrils, and he realized you were smoking a joint right outside the kitchen door. You were his fucking dream girl.

You finally spotted him as he was a couple feet away, looking up from your phone at the sound of gravel under his boots.

“Oh, hey,” you said, promptly looking back down at your phone again. Okay, he deserved that a little.

“I’m sorry, doll. I know I’m an idiot. It’s just been a while for me, and I wanna do right by ya. Give me a second chance?” He knew good and well he was whipping out the puppy dog eyes, trying to at least get a laugh out of you before you kicked his ass to the curb. And laugh you did; a full, hearty laugh, smoke streaming from your mouth and nose, before you snubbed out the joint and slipped your phone in your jeans pocket, taking a step towards him.

“Okay, Barnes, how are you gonna make it up to me then?” You were so close he could smell the floral undertones of your perfume, still there under the scent of the weed and the bar. To him, it smelled like everything you were - perfection.

“Well, first, I’d like to start by kissin’ you, if that’s okay.”

“Took ya long enough,” was your only reply before you pulled him towards you by the front of his jacket, reaching on your tiptoes to press his lips to yours.

taglist *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@mrsbarnesinmyimagination @ducky2104 @demongirl1917 @writing-for-marvel @zbutx @asgardwinter @thesneakylittleminx @winth0rsoldier @carrotfantasimp @cutelittletwistedhorror @enchantedbarnes @tlcwrites @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @subwaysurf45 @intrepidacious @ambrosiase @riverevelations @nexusnyx @buckydaddy @babycap @aquariusbarnes @gray-reads @starbuckie @lovinggbarnes @igotnoname4thisblog @signofthebarnes @cupidsbarnes @lostyx  @silentkiller2374 @blossomedfloweroflove @red42985 @bennibabie @thesneakylittleminx  @theokatz @fyeahatised @smokeinherperfume @miyadarling @awaywithtime @fandoms-writings @povlvr @pellucid-constellations @sweetdreamsbuck @clementinesjourney @beefybuckrrito @pineprincess @scxrletrecsmarvel @vivalakatee @dihra-vesa @peachyprism @emmabarnes @goldustwomun @scxrletrecsmarvel @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @the-iceni-bitch

i've been shit at keeping up with who goes where on my taglist, so if you would like to be removed from the permanent one and onto another (series only, bucky only, steve only, etc) just shoot me a message!

#bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x bartender!reader #mcu #marvel #tiff writes #how you get the girl

[suna-reversed]

Talking to the moon🌙

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

minors DNI‼️

3k+ words

(quote^^ by- Richard Siken)

warnings/tags- blood and violence. oral (f.recieving), vaginal sex, anal, dacryphilia, slight praise, slight degradation, fingering. age gap. toxic relationship. mentions of harassment. yandere themes implied. heartbreak, moving on. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort. (all characters are aged up!)

Gojo Satoru is the moon. Ever changing and radiant. Beaming with light, even when he doesn't have any of his own. And much like the moon, parts of him stay hidden in an ominous darkness as he leaves you cold and alone in the tangled mess of sheets, wondering why your lover disappears at the crack of every dawn.

You had met him a while ago when he had first come into the bakery you worked at part-time, dazzling pearls on show as he ordered every single flavour of mochi off the menu. You didn’t know where it started; how the simple exchanges turned into conversations that lasted up to hours, your manager practically having to shoo him away so that you’d stop getting distracted.

You got used to him visiting you in the day during work, sitting on the barstool near the bakery counter, talking your ear off about the most random of things while he stuffed his face with mochi. You sometimes wondered how you happened to have so much in common with a man so much more older than you. 

You couldn't exactly remember how those innocent conversations turned into you being splayed across the marble kitchen countertop of your apartment at 3 am, the joyous man now turned into a ferocious beast as he devoured you whole, holding your legs apart, tongue licking in between your folds with such fervour that made it seem as if it was the last meal of his life. 

In all honesty, you didn’t know a lot about him, except for the fact that he worked at a private institute and often travelled overseas. He’d be as silent as a mouse as he slipped out of your place before sunrise each time. He never told you why, and eventually you stopped asking- the warmth and comfort of his body too addictive to have to give up for the question of ‘what are we?’ being answered.

On days that you’d find yourself waking up early, you’d simply let your eyes roam over the muscles of his back, adoring the dimples at the bottom of his spine, memorising each blemish, scar and mark as if you’d never see it again. You sometimes found yourself wishing he’d take off the peculiar fabric covering his eyes- your mind could barely fathom the shade of his orbs.

You knew that he was always aware of you being awake. But he didn’t acknowledge it, whether by accident or choice, you could never tell. So every time he’d finish pulling his shirt over his head, you’d roll away, focusing your mind out the window on the half disappearing moon instead of the crushing weight on your chest. 

Perhaps, this was the love they never told you about. The love that wasn’t afternoon picnics and obnoxious public displays of affection. The love that wasn’t late night grocery runs and feeding each other food at cafes.

Instead, this was the love that had you deleting messages and cleaning up the strands of ashy hair from your shower drain. The love that had you lying to your friends about the marks on your neck and pretending like he didn’t just have you pinned down beneath him the night before as you served him coffee.

Every morning that you woke up alone in bed, sore and unclothed from the events of the previous night, you found yourself thinking of ways that you’d turn him away the next time he showed up at your door. But then the bell would ring, and your feet would be carrying you to the half broken man covered in bruises and blood before you could think of it.

This time, you’re sure you tell him to go away, to stop treating you as if you were some toy, slamming the door in his crestfallen face. But then why do you find yourself clutching onto his scarlet stained jacket in the bathroom? The first aid box discarded to the side as you sob into his chest, a hand stroking your hair as he assures you he’s fine. 

That night, you find him buried deep inside of you, your heavy breathing filling the silence of the air, your back to his chest. The arms around you feel unbearably tight as he pulls you even closer to him. Why is he trying to snatch all the warmth from your body?

The hot breath of his mouth is right next to your ear. He’s telling you he wants to be tender and merciful while his teeth are digging into your jugular, the hand around your throat tightening as his hips rut into you harder. He does not wipe away the tears flowing freely down your face.

The next morning, you find a burning sensation rising in your chest as you stare at the empty space next to you; his underlying scent of strawberries and citrus still lingering.

What had you been expecting? Why would this night have been different from any other?

That question is answered when you realise the unfamilair feeling of a cold metal wrapped around your ankle while climbing out of bed. Looking down, you see that it's a thin silver anklet with two charms hanging off of it.

His initials and a crescent moon.

You can’t help the smile that’s on your face for the rest of the day.

--------

You're panting, the drumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, vision blurring as you try to make it back home. You’re gripping onto the walls to keep yourself from falling, the pain in your body near unbearable as you somehow manage to unlock the door, not even making it past the entrance as you crumble apart right there, curling in on yourself as broken sobs leave your chest. 

The sound of footsteps has you shutting your eyes, flinching from the pain and fear of knowing you can’t fight. The terror of your attacker being in your home makes your cries even louder.

Instead, you find your senses being flooded by the familiar scent of strawberries and the cologne that you bought him- warm muscular arms come to wrap around your figure, lifting you up. You’re still crying as he settles you down onto the bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

He lifts your shirt to reveal the expanse of wounds littered across your abdomen. An unreadable expression remains on his face as he skillfully cleans off the blood, fixing you up like you’ve done for him a dozen times. You don’t remember telling him where you were injured. Could the blood be seen through your shirt? None of it matters as he pushes you back down onto the plush mattress, your eyes fluttering close you as fall into a deep fitful slumber. 

It’s a full moon tonight, the light cascading through your window providing you an odd sense of comfort. You turn over in the dark, gasping a little as your eyes lock onto a pair of strange azure ones. Your mind is still heavy from the medicines you took, perhaps that’s why you don’t react, simply staring into the unfamiliar eyes on a face that you recognised better than the back of your own hand.

His slender pale fingers are trailing over the skin of your abdomen. Shouldn't it hurt more? A hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your chin as he examines the scratch on your jaw. Your heart skips a beat as his soft lips press a chaste kiss onto your brow. His voice is low and tense, anger barely restrained as he asks,

“Who did this to you?”

You try to form a response, but all you can hear is the shallow echo of the beating of your half-dead heart. Your chest feels hollow as words finally rise to the tip of your tongue, eyes dry as you tell him all of it. How a strange force had pinned you against a wall when you were walking back home, how the man who appeared from the shadows of the dark alley didn’t even lift a finger, yet it felt like each bone in your body was being cracked apart. How you barely felt the pain of the broken bottle that impaled your flesh as you were thrown aside, the stranger parting from you with just four words,

“Consider this a warning.”

You don’t care how crazy you sound as you explain the bizarre events that occurred. You don’t care that his orbs are as blue and twice as deep as the mariana trench. You don’t care that for once, his eyes hold something other than just lust as he looks at you.

Your throat feels raw by the time you finish, and it hurts to look at his pitiful face so you roll onto your side, fixing your eyes on the shimmering celestial body outside your window. You both lay in silence for a while.

“I liked thinking of you as the moon at times.”

The calm in your voice startles Gojo, but he remains quiet, wanting you to continue. It doesn’t matter if it's gibberish, doesn't matter if it’s words of hatred, of doubt, of regret; he’ll take it as long as there’s something- as long as you’re speaking. His arms tremble around you a little as a bitter laugh escapes your chest. 

“But at the end of the day,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “...all I am, is a mere star in a galaxy full of constellations.”

The raw sob that rips from your chest is a surprise to both you and Gojo.

“Tell me who cares about a star that burns out and explodes?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn around to face him.

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru can’t joke, fight or fuck his way out of a situation. A strange weight has been on his chest ever since he saw your eyes. The light and joy stripped out of them as he found himself staring back at his own reflection. 

His eyes glance down at the dip of your collarbone, the arch of your shoulder that he wanted to reside in forever, now covered in small scars. He knows who hurt you. 

He pulls you closer to him, tangling his feet with yours, the strip of metal around your ankle clinking at the movement. Perhaps it was a huge mistake to have bought you something so carelessly, knowing that the eyes of a few dozen enemies followed him wherever he went. 

He finds himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melds his lips with yours. You sigh into his mouth and he kisses you even deeper, almost desperately as if trying to pass over his own breaths to you- as if trying to bring you back to life. He finds the taste of salt on his tongue and the wet drops falling onto his cheeks makes his flesh burn. He doesn't know whose they are as he continues to try and cling onto the shell of what was once a whole person. 

“Please” he finds himself mumbling as he pulls you even closer, heart cracking as you continue sniffing into his chest. 

“It hurts- it hurts- so much” You’re sobbing now, his own body shaking in tandem with yours.

Who is he to deny you when you look up at him, the broken plea leaving your mouth, 

“Make it stop please.”

---

Gojo finds the cold metal of his own initials pressing against the side of his face as he hoists your legs over his shoulder. His fingers are pressing down against your sensitive nub, spreading around your slick before he pumps two of his fingers into you. You buck your hips up, cries escaping you as his tongue licks your clit, suctioning it into his mouth as he increases the pace of his fingers.

You’re cumming undone within seconds, begging him to fill you up. He’s never so easily given in to your demands, but tonight, it’s as if he’s only there to serve your wishes. The sickening thought of getting hurt again just so that you’d get this treatment creeps up in the back of your mind. 

You moan as you feel him line his thick girth with your entrance, the tip catching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rubs it between your dripping heat. He leans forward, pushing your legs up and safely tucking them against your chest, before crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy and rushed; tongue against tongue, spit drooling out as he pushes himself inside of you in one long stroke. The burn of it has you groaning into his mouth, hands moving to tangle into his hair. His thrusts are deep and angled, the feeling of it settling deep in your belly. 

“Fuck- you look so-fucking-pretty underneath me like this”

His words of praise are muffled against your lips, further drowned out by your moans as one of his hands moves down to play with your clit. You’re screaming his name as the coil in your stomach snaps, his own restraint breaking as he finishes, painting your walls with his seed. 

It’s not the first time you find yourself screaming and moaning that night. His cock is inside of you in one way or the other through the entirety of the next few hours- whether it be deep down your throat as his hands pull your hips down to his face, moaning at the taste of himself leaking from your cunt - or stretching the walls of your puckered asshole, the lube he pumped in with his slender fingers dripping out as he presses you to the shower wall, a hand coming forward to fondle your tits as his face falls onto your shoulder, grunting into your ear while he pistons in and out of your tight hole. 

You can barely move a muscle by the time you’re done, body and mind numb from both the exhaustion and overstimulation as he pulls the covers over the two of you, limbs entangled with each other’s, skin against skin, his hands rubbing circles onto your spine.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.” 

You’re barely conscious as he whispers that, humming and burying your face deeper into his cozy heat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You do not notice the solemn drop of moisture that escapes his eye, falling onto your cheek, a thumb brushing it away just as quickly, as if it was never there. Just as he wishes he could brush away his own existence from your life- no- just as he was going to.

“...I promise.”

---

When your eyes flutter open, they are not met with the moon.

Instead, the light of the rising sun casts a rosy hue across your room. And for once, you do not feel cold as you spread out your legs to take more of the space on the expanse of your empty bed. The sunlight does not feel like a curse anymore, even if the nostalgia of the moon’s glow stays buried somewhere deep in your heart. 

But at least there’s no more crying going to bed alone each night; no more hours of scrolling through social media looking for someone who doesn’t exist; no more one night stands and low grade hookups trying to fulfil the ever-growing void in your heart. 

In fact, you find yourself going out more, singing along to songs in the shower once again, even making friends with a regular trio that starts coming into your bakery every other day. They told you they’re college students too, all around your age, and you find yourself smiling a little more than necessary at one of them, even if a pair of ocean eyes floods the back of your mind each time that you do. You’re still hurting and healing, but at least you are moving forward. 

“At least he kept his promise”  You find yourself thinking as you climb out of bed, sighing in disappointment at the clinking of charms around your ankle. 

—-

“At least I kept my promise.” 

It had become Gojo’s new-found mantra. Every time he saw you drunk out of your mind at a bar, deftly bribing the bartender to replace your ordered shots with water instead. Every time he saw a random body pressed to yours, their tongue exploring your sweet mouth as you pushed them into your apartment. And especially that one time he found himself standing over the half-beaten body of the man who had tried to grope you on the bus. 

“At least I kept my promise- at least she’s safe.”

He knew his actions were of a mad man. Even though he took care of the problem which had hurt you in the first place, he still found himself paranoid. Following you around every other night, making sure you were still here- still alive under the same sky as him, under the same sun and moon and stars. He told himself he was doing it for you- even if he found his heart swell every time he saw the familiar glint of the silver trinket around your ankle.

-----

“No way!” You find yourself laughing around a mouth full of mochi.  

“No- I swear he likes you, he just doesn't want to admit it, you know how he-” 

“What are you two talking about?”

You both immediately snap your mouths shut as he returns from the restroom, sliding into the seat on his side of the booth. 

“Nothing!” you reply in unison. 

“Anyways, do you want me to get you anything else? Something that this idiot wouldn't shove into my mouth?” You joke, tapping your pen against the notepad. 

“Hey! I just wanted you to taste how delicious the mochi was!”

“I know- I made it!”

A loud cough breaks your banter with the light haired boy, 

“I-I do actually want to ask for something”

“Of course, what can I get you? The ginger tea you like?”

“Well- what I want is-” he pauses, and you don’t miss the mischievous glint in the eyes of his friend sitting across the table. 

“I’d like to take you to the festival at the park.”

You’re halfway through writing it down on the notepad before you realise what he’s asked, your head snapping up to see the slightly flushed tint on his cheeks as he glares at the howling boy across the table. Your own face heats up as he looks towards you expectantly. 

“You don’t have to if you-”

“Pick me up at 4”

“Oh” butterflies race in your stomach at the smile that he gives you, “...okay, 4 it is.” 

------

Weeks go by and you don’t realise the slow mending of your heart. Your broken pieces coming together each time he holds your hand, each time he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, each time he whispers words of affirmations into your ear, and each time he comforts your shaking body, apologising for kissing your brow- even if he doesn’t understand why it made you cry. 

Eventually, you learn to not mind being just a mere star in the vast expanse of the cosmo.

You didn’t care because he looked at you like you held the universe in your eyes, cradling your face with such gentleness as if you were precious china. You didn’t care because when his lips came down onto yours, it felt like the collision of stars- your own little supernovae in the curve of his cupid’s bow. You didn’t care because when you woke up, you’d find him peppering kisses across the purple constellations he left the night before. 

You didn’t care because you never woke up cold and alone anymore.

------

“I’ll be back in just a second.” 

You find yourself saying as you move your head off his lap, waving to your other two friends, their own counterparts lounging beside them. 

“Is everything okay?’ 

He’s always so tender- except for when he has you splayed across the bed on your stomach, hips thrusting into yours as he tells you what a good slut you are for him- just for him. Heat crawls up your face at the memory from a few nights ago. The fingers wrapping your hand snap your mind out of its perverse refuge. Looking down, you find concern-filled eyes staring back at you. 

“Yeah, I just want to take a walk alone by the beach- get some air.” You reply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.  

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore in the dark and the fresh sea breeze on your face is refreshing. You make a mental note to thank Nobara for dragging you onto this trip. You stop as you find a cozy spot in the sand, giving you a perfect view of the moonlit sea.

You don’t know how long you sit there, thinking of a particular set of emerald eyes and long lashes, your smile faltering as the promise ring on your finger grazes the forgotten metal on your ankle. Your face remains neutral as you unhook it, even if it feels like cutting your own hand off, but that’s all there is to it - familiarity and nostalgia. There’s no blackhole in your chest, ready to open up and swallow you whole, there are no tears shed as you bury the piece of junk into the sand, and there is no looking back as you walk away, back into the arms of your precious ‘gumi. 

Gojo stands at the rooftop, one hand clutching the sand covered jewellery, the other pulling down a side of his blindfold as he watches you entangle yourself in the arms of another, laughing as he places a kiss on the top of your brow. You’re happy, that’s all that matters- still, the irony of the situation pricks at him - especially after all he did to keep you away from his world. 

He had initially found himself at a loss for words when you had told him that he was the moon, and you, just a star. If you were to ask him again, Gojo would agree, but with only half of it.

He may have been the moon, but you were a galaxy full of stars and planets that harboured dreams and wishes he could never fathom. His mind kept flickering back to the constellations he littered your body with as he now watched his own disciple press kisses into the crook of your neck. 

Nonetheless, he found his own lips twitching upwards- almost tragically, but the warmth in his chest was real as he saw the joy on your face. You were right; he was the moon after all. He had shone as bright as the sun itself despite not having any light of his own. Now he stood there watching the same light reflect off the dark-haired boy who held you in his arms, and suddenly, it all made sense.

Perhaps he should have found another way back then. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his ability to be able to protect you. Perhaps- 

it didn’t matter now. 

perhaps at the end of the day, the moon was nothing but a dreamer.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo tw #gojo satoru headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen tw #jjk x you #gojo angst #megumi x reader #megumi smut #sukuna smut #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #toji fushiguro

[basilly]

high school random blurbs | hs!au mcyts x reader

note: haha hi guys- surprise surprise but these are TOTALLY not based off of real life events-

included: feral boys + wilbur !

pronouns: none mentioned

not edited

dream:

you're wearing his letterman's jacket, cheering on the football team, lungs burning from screaming dream's name. a jacket, very so obviously not yours, with giant white letters on the back displaying 'wastaken', was wrapped around your figure. you could barely hear the footsteps against the metal bleachers approaching you, the speakers blared old pop songs.

"niki! hi!" "y/n- you made it!" "mhm."

you nervously fiddled with the sleeves of the jacket, this was the first time you've worn it. niki took one glance and immediately shot you a grin.

"nice jacket."

sapnap:

sitting at a small table in the corner of the library was a spot you often found yourself with sapnap, mostly while you studied and he watched. he always claims he should be studying, but when does he ever?

"sapnap, shouldn't you be reviewing for the history test tomorrow?" "it's history- the answers have already happened!"

as much as you wanted to laugh, you suppressed it, shaking your head instead.

"mhm okay- then what did you get on the last test?"

he paused, narrowing his eyes playfully at you.

"i hate you." "no you don't." "yea, you're right- i love you."

your jaw fell, you weren't sure if he was being serious or not. sapnap's frown formed into a smirk, crossing his arms in enjoyment over your speechlessness.

"look who's quiet now." "go away."

george:

"this is so difficult." "oh come on george- you're doing good, just keep going!"

the small square of paper in his palm looked like a folded mess while yours looked so clean and flat. you had suggested that the two of you follow a tutorial from youtube for origami cat hearts and hesitant to say no, here he was besides you.

"y/n- mine looks so dumb." "look!"

you held up a perfect little heart with a cat peaking up above it to his face, an excited smile on your features. he couldn't help but feel his heart melt a bit, cheeks tinging red.

"it's cute-"

you picked his up, observing its imperfect and lopsided heart. it was endearing in its own way, you loved it.

"awww i love yours george, here let's swap." "o-okay."

tucking it away into the front of your binder, you bid farewell, getting to your next class. staring at the little cat heart, george crashed his face into his hands, cheeks into a full out blush.

y/n's so cute.

karl:

"karl!"

stopping in his step, he turned around, eyes widening when you almost run straight into him. steadying you, placing his hands on your shoulders, he sends you a concerned look.

"woah there, slow down- what's up?" "pick four colors."

in your hand was an old cookie tin but now filled with a whole array of colored thread.

"uh- yellow, blue, purple, and green?" "okay thanks!" "you're... welcome?"

he couldn't do much but stare at your disappearing figure, wondering what the hell was going on.

scirbbling down the notes he had missed, karl sat himself in the corner of the cafeteria, in order to stay focused. a colorful paper box dropped in front of him, causing him to look up.

"here you are- i couldn't find you." "yea i had to get some notes from george- what's this?" "open it and find out!"

slowly lifting the box cover, a small bracelet lay inside. a simple bracelet that you would often find at summer camps or stowaway trips.

"wait is this what you had me pick colors for?"

you shook your head eagerly before pulling up your sleeve.

"we're matching! i made one for myself as well"

karl quickly slipped it on, grinning from ear to ear.

"thank you y/n- i'm going to wear this everyday."

quackity:

a black and purple jersey hung around your chest, fitting right into the spirit day. as most others wore their favorite famous football or baseball's players jerseys, you sat in your seat wearing one of your own school's players.

"y/n- who's jersey are you wearing?"

your teacher had been asking everyone, finally landing on you.

"oh- it was my siblings." "awh that's sweet."

you nod your head slowly, avoidding eye contact with a certain brunette that sat scross the class.

truthfully, you had said you didn't have a jersey and you loved spirit days- so who were you to say no when a cute duck boy offered you his extra jersey?

your best friend shot you a questioning look, knowing your sibling didn't play football. finally looking towards him, he looked like he couldn't contain his laughter. his lips mouthed silent words, ones you could barely catch.

you fucking liar

wilbur:

your eyes swept the dance floor, trying to find your friend amongst the huge crowd of people. homecoming was nearing its end, people slowly filed out, the numerous booths shutting down. wilbur stood closely besides you to not lose you. he had been with his friends for a majority of the dance but ended up hanging out with you and your friends.

"did you find them yet karl?" "no! i'll text them though."

wilbur checked his phone, five minutes till closing time. gently nudging your side, he leaned down so you could hear him over the music.

"hey do you want to go to the photobooth? i think the line is gone."

your eyes widened in shock before nodding.

"hey karl! we'll be right back!" "ok!"

approaching the booth, you heard some chaperones calling out for people to head out.

"hurry wilbur-"

he clicked the button before getting into postion. you felt your face warm as he wrapped an arm around your waist before smiling.

3...2....1

"okay- peace signs next!"

3...2...1

"what now-" "i dont know im bad at posing-" "we dont have time!"

wilbur quickly put up a goofy face, causing you to collapse into laughter.

*click*

"ew im mid-laugh" "it's cute."

@inniterhq @earthtooz @yamturds @cherios @mitzimania @ttakinou

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