#Gig being the only one who is not on top of you or holding you

[making-my-wey-down-town]

November prompt list challenge 2022, Day 14 - Cuddle

Y/N just wanted to rest for a bit on the mat of the daycare. Wrong decision. All the animatronics of the daycare are cuddle bugs. Y/N is now stuck for who knows how long. Body going numb by the minute. And they are too nice to ask for freedom.

[drurrito]

Night Drive (18+)

Summary: You get a new car

AN: 18+ only y'all--we're gonna pretend that there are plenty of other self-driving cars that aren't t*sla...I hope this makes up for me not putting out another part of AYTO yet! All mistakes are mine.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: cursing; reader has a dick; dom//powerbottom!Natasha; sub//top!reader

----------------

You sink lower into your seat as you rev the engine of your new car with the widest grin Natasha can't see. Natasha looks hardly impressed from your view beyond the barely-legal tint of the windows.

You decide to roll down your window and plead your case.

"Hey baby."

Natasha rolls her eyes. You already screw yourself coming right out the gate with pleasantries, Natasha knows you're desperate to get on her good side when you do that.

"So...what do you think?" You vaguely gesture to the rest of the car and Natasha scoffs.

"I think you were a finance bro in your past life," she crosses her arms, and you relent, "probably," you sing as you round the car to lean against the hood. The gun metal gray still holds a shine in the moonlight. This wasn't an impulse purchase, you had been talking about buying a new car for a while now. You would go on little rants about the specs of certain cars whenever you saw them on the road or on TV. It's not like you were waiting when you had the money, being an avenger was a pretty-paying gig. You were just waiting for the right one, at the right time--a method you mastered by the time Natasha came around.

"Wanna go for a joyride?" You offer, already leaning off the hood and spinning the key in your hand.

Natasha wants to keep giving you a hard time, but you look so damn good in front of your sleek, expensive, new backdrop. Your muscles bulge under your fitted black shirt, and you have the cockiest smile on your face, like you knew you were winning this race.

"And if we get pulled over?"

"With SHIELD plates? I'm not worried about it," it almost comes out like it's scripted. You're not above rehearsing a speech for Natasha if it means getting your way. You're pulling out all the stops, but Natasha wants to remind you who's really behind the wheel. Her eyes rake over you slowly, intensely--the same way fresh lava travels over earth. You're standing at attention and you don't even know it.

"You gonna open the door for me or just stand there like you forgot your manners?" Natasha watches in amusement as you fumble for the door handle. She slides onto the cool leather while you make your way into the driver's seat yet again. You wait patiently for her to get comfortable and buckle in.

It's only when you rev the engine with a wink that Natasha muses this might have been a bad idea on her part. You punch the gas pedal and she's quickly acquainted with the back of the cherry red bucket seat.

----------------

Natasha decides that she doesn't like going fast unless the fate of the world depends on it. She also decides this is the one exception when she sees the freeway system of veins in your forearms as you grip the steering wheel. Natasha feels like she's flying when she watches your triceps flex while you turn the wheel or do something as mundane as turning on her seat heater.

Natasha slides her seatbelt off in a way that doesn't set off the sensor--she didn't want this moment to be ruined by a lecture on why it's important to buckle-up. You're too distracted by the beat of your night drive playlist to notice her crawling closer to you.

You feel her lips on the shell of your ear, "eyes on the road, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," you try to say cooly, you don't dare chance a look over at her. She hums with satisfaction and rewards you with a kiss on the skin behind your ear and a nibble on your lobe that tightens the coil in your belly.

Natasha sucks and licks at your neck while her deft fingers work to undo your belt and zipper. Her hand explores the border of your waistband before dipping under and finding what it was looking for. You let out a whisper of a gasp when Natasha admires your full length and girth. Your grip on the wheel tightens, Natasha chuckles when she hears the leather under your fingers groan.

Natasha begins to stroke you slowly, agonizingly so, but that doesn't keep your hips from bucking up into her hand.

"Tash," that only elicits a rumble against your neck. Natasha's other hand curls around your neck and gives a light squeeze that makes your vision blur for a second. Her stroking picks up speed, you have to work impossibly hard to keep your foot off the brakes.

"Natasha, please."

"I like the way you say please, baby," she mumbles with your skin between her teeth.

"What did I tell you?"

"Eyes on the road, ma'am," you say with a quickness that makes the corner of her lips curl up in satisfaction.

"So smart," she praises before you helplessly watch her head lower until you feel her lips greet your cock with a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against your seat with a pathetic moan.

"So desperate," Natasha teases, and your mind feels like it's going a million miles an hour--multitasking is usually your strong suit, but it seems damn near impossible now.

Natasha's tongue travels the length of you, your hips feebly buck into her mouth when she finally grants you entrance. You slow your speed to safely take a hand off the wheel and hold her hair back. She thanks you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh and the prettiest sounds you could have only ever imagined.

Your playlist is already repeating itself by the time Natasha comes up for air. She can barely hear it over your panting anyway. You're rock hard and right where she wants you.

"The car can drive itself, you know," you breathe out. Natasha's brow quirks with curiosity.

"Show me," it's a gentle command, but your fingers rush to press the right sequence of buttons. You ease the seat back with haste, and Natasha just lets you sit there for a few beats to take you in and also leave you in suspense.

Your fingers dumbly flex against your legs while you wait for further instruction from Natasha. She doesn't even try to hide her smirk when your eyes begin to dart between the road and her.

"You're not gonna let us crash right, dove?" Natasha's finger traces a feather-light trail down your arm. It's a genuine question, even though she knows you probably did some sizable research on the safety features of the car before you even entertained buying it.

"No ma'am, you're precious cargo," you give an easy smile and that's Natasha's cue to move and straddle your lap. You help her with your hands on her hips, your hands quickly retreating to your sides when she's situated over you.

Natasha swears your eyes are sparkling as you watch her slide her panties to the side with one hand and take your length in the other.

"Eyes on me, baby, just for a second," she coos and you obey. Natasha can't help but admire the striations of your muscles working overtime to restrain yourself. You've always been intoxicatingly obedient, even when it's downright painful. Your eyes are locked on Natasha's, you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan when she finally eases down onto your cock. She's already working her hips in a way that has your entire body buzzing. You can count on one hand how many cars have passed you by this whole time, just like you expected.

Your fingers dig into the leather of your seat, your eyes periodically glancing at the road to make sure it hasn't veered off course for whatever reason. Natasha steals a few sloppy kisses when she leans into you to get a better angle and bounce on your cock at a speed that should be illegal.

"Tash, I'm gonna-," you choke out between labored breaths.

"What was that baby?" she leans back and oh god, you wish you had the kind of self-control your car has right now. You feel like you're going to pass out watching Natasha ride your cock, you're too blissed out to realize that she's spelling out 'm-i-n-e-' with her hips.

"I'm gonna come so fast."

"I know baby."

That seals your fate. Your arm reaches back to brace yourself against the seat. With a long and drawn-out "fuck," Natasha feels you push deeper into her, filling her up with every last drop of you. You both fall into a sweaty, moaning heap against the seat. Your body trembling with aftershocks as Natasha scratches at the skin on the back of your neck. You only get to drink this feeling in for a few seconds until you see red and blue flashing lights in your rearview mirror.

"Shit," you sit up and Natasha freezes when she sees what you see. You feverishly check your speedometer, you're not speeding. You start rifling through your brain to see if you forgot to do something, insurance? Plates? Registration?

Your questions are answered when you watch the cop car speed off into the night. Natasha lets out a heavy sigh of relief that makes your dick twitch, reminding you both that you're still inside of her.

"Told you," you try not to sound so exasperated. Natasha just rolls her eyes before kissing your temple. Night drives might just become a regular thing now.

[rizsu]

fuck my life; hold me tight. model!gojo satoru ⭒ fem-reader.

satoru came back after his two-week long trip for his modeling gigs. he's the same, but who's this ‘saori’ lady with a thorny stick up her ass? wc : 6.2k · usage of y/n.

+ love ‘su: thou shall not lie, thou shall not cheat! 😝 i left this without the small font bc it's lowkey a lot tbh

one › who's this?

undoubtedly, today’s the most important. you’ve been impatiently crossing off the days on the calendar until satoru returns. familiar with your excitement, he called you prior to hold you back from coming to the airport. it was strange, but nevertheless you thought less of it.

with your day now free, you spent it preparing for satoru. his favorite dishes were made, charcuterie board prepared, and the series you both watched together can be resumed. every time the thought of seeing satoru with your eyes again comes about, you get goosebumps. it’s almost sickening how he’s plagued your mind, becoming the balance-shifting object for your moods.

your eyes shift to the clock, realizing that there’s only an hour until he walks through the door. 4:00 p.m it reads, you’ve yet to shower — let alone choose an outfit. some may say your actions are too much, but nothing is ever “too much” when it comes to satoru. have you lost your marbles? not all, but perhaps you’ve become slightly boy crazy (with justifying reasons!)

4:58 p.m: you’re anxiously switching between apps on your phone, trying your best to not stare at the clock on the top of the screen. it’s insanely tempting, but you won’t give in. there’s no better distraction than window shopping on websites for items you’ll never set free with your credit card.

the door slams open, and soon a cheerful voice follows. they both jerk you out of your trance, leaving you with the pair of a palpitating heart and widened eyes.

“BABY!” a disheveled satoru shouts, recklessly dropping his luggage at the front of the door.

he walk-runs past the furniture, dodging the table corners until he’s nearing the sofa you’re situated on.

“sa-SATORU?!” you’re shocked even though you expected his arrival.

you unconsciously stood up, abandoning your phone as you moved to him. satoru mirrors you, being the first of the two to engulf you into a heartfelt hug. he squeezes you hard, burying his head into the junction between your neck and shoulder. his hand cups the back of your head, pressing softly into your hair.

“i missed you,” he whispers, letting out a shaky breath. “it took an entire week to sleep properly without you.”

“you’re addicted,” you joked, lifting a hand to ruffle his already-ruffled hair.

“not funny.”

“okay, okay, sorry. i missed you too.” you pull away from satoru, smiling at his pouting expression.

your hands move to his shoulders, gripping his puffed jacket to pull them down. he helps you by moving his arms out of it. once it’s off, he rolls his shoulders back, rolling his neck around to stretch his muscles. he’s been cooped up in a sitting position for twelve hours; the last thing he needs are stiff muscles and a sore body.

content with the new, relaxed feeling, satoru looks around. everything’s the same, as expected. nothing changed other than the charcuterie board on the coffee table and the dishes on the dining table. immediately, he recognizes the food. how could he not? it’s the food he labeled as his favorite even when it wasn’t.

in multiple attempts to please your mother on the first meeting, he went along with her words.

the soap opera she’s caught up in? oh, he’s been watching it too!

short videos she found on social media that are painfully unfunny? actually, it’s hilarious!

the lunch she cooked? it’s now something he’s been craving for weeks.

the salad? to you, he hates greens since they’re ‘flavorless’. to your mother? golly! put more on his plate!

he spent the week at your parents’ gaslighting himself until it became the truth. he became a new man after the meeting. lemon water was his new go-to (influenced by your mother) and card games are his forte (influenced by your father).

ever since then the main dish your mother cooked up became his true favorite. maybe it’s because of the warmth that came with it, or maybe it’s because he’s still gaslighting himself. nonetheless, he’ll always eat it.

“did you make all this yourself?” he questions, stealing a bite before you could’ve plated his food.

“hands off,” you slapped his hand, “i didn’t, though. i asked my mother.”

“ah, my mother-in-law. i miss your parents, too. we should visit,” he suggests, rubbing his hand that you heartlessly slapped.

“mhm, soon,” you agreed, sliding his plate to him. “let’s sit and eat.”

──

the plates are cleared, the charcuterie board’s three-quarters finished, and you’re on the final episode of season one of the show. satoru’s head is on your lap, busying his hands by poking at your thigh’s skin. your hand’s following suit, busying itself by playing with his hair strands.

the show was long forgotten, being demoted to background noise the moment you asked satoru to tell you all about the trip. you’ve heard the details beforehand during your calls, but it’s different to hear it face-to-face.

you intently listened as he talked, giving him mhms and yeahs to let him know you’re listening.

“oh, and i met a new co-worker? friend? i dunno but we’re acquainted now,” he speaks, looking up to you.

“really? i’m glad. is he a model too?”

“yeah, but it’s a she.”

you paused for a second. a she? that’s new. you’re not the type to anger yourself over your boyfriend befriending the opposite gender, but you’d still like to see her.

“i’d like to meet her,” you said, looking down at him with a soft smile.

“are you free in two days? i have a meeting that day. she’ll probably be there — no chances though, i never asked about her schedule...” his voice trails off as he ponders, trying to remember if she mentioned anything about being in a meeting after the trip.

“of course i’m free. i took a sick leave on purpose for this week.”

satoru laughs at the new information. you took a sick leave just for him? at your position of head assistant? he’ll never find someone who loves him like you do.

— two days after : the meeting.

you’re walking hand-in-hand with satoru through the hallway. you’re a little — no, incredibly nervous. it’s your first time officially meeting satoru’s business buddies. they know of you, you know of them, but that’s about it.

you dressed yourself up professionally, trying to match the classy rich vibes. it’s times like these you appreciate satoru’s over-the-top, multiple-zeros gifts. you’ll have to remember to give him special thanks for this.

“okay, we’re here,” he says, knocking you out of the nervousness.

“if you start feeling uncomfortable, squeeze my hand, okay? i’ll take you out of there,” reassuring you, he gifts you a peck on your forehead, topping it off with his genuine smile that’s only for you.

his hand turns the door knob, walking in with his model smile as he greets the members. you’re tailing behind him, trying to hide. the sudden energy shift didn’t match yours, so your instinct to hide behind satoru kicked in. unluckily for you, your boyfriend was set to formally introduce you. he uses a hand to hold your wrist, pulling you to the side of him.

“you brought a plus one with you i see,” a guy notes the obvious, smiling at your shyness. he already has an idea of who you are.

his words catch the attention of others. within seconds every pair of eyes landed on you. unfamiliar with the amount of attention, you squeezed satoru’s hand, placing a fake smile to mask your uncomfort.

“nuh uh, get your own. that’s too much staring,” satoru complains, squeezing back your hand. he steps in front of you, leading you both to two reserved seats at the table.

“i’m assuming that lady must be the one you talked everyone’s ears off about,” a lady suggests this time, stretching out her arm to you as she’s on the opposite side, but directly in front of you.

you stretched your arm out to her, accepting her handshake.

“i’m (y/n), pleasure to meet you.”

“it’s a pleasure to meet you too. call me mia,” she introduces herself, ignoring the heated glare of a man who doesn’t like sharing.

similarly, you’re ignoring the gut feeling of someone glaring through your soul. the situation feels similar to your teacher staring at you during an exam when you secretly have cheating materials with you.

the meeting continues on. you were introduced to everyone and met with questions. some complained about satoru to you, and others asked how you’re able to tolerate him. of course, satoru took offense. he flipped them off with the finger that has your matching rings on.

an hour later, you’re in the building’s cafeteria with satoru. it was okay; the atmosphere was friendly — minus that one person who glared at you. you don’t know who they are, nor what they look like as you avoided that corner. your social battery is drained, and you’re hungry for a light snack.

“baby, can you order for us? i gotta let it go. real bad,” satoru says, balling his fingers into a fist to hold back the feeling.

“uh, sure, but what do you mean let it go?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“piss, baby. piss. love you, bye!”

with that, satoru speeds off, almost colliding with another worker in the process.

gathering your order, you looked around for an unoccupied table to sit at. unfortunately, they’re all unoccupied. it’s a little awkward, but you’re left with no other option than to ask someone if satoru has his own office.

“ah, mia!” you called out, spotting her outside the smoking room.

“(y/n)! need anything before i smoke?” she smiles, pointing at the door.

“um, do you know if satoru has his own office?” contrary to your nervousness, your voice came out perfectly.

“take the elevator and press number ten. turn left and stop until you’re at the third room; that’s his office.”

“thanks much, mia!” you gave her a bright smile, turning around to find your new destination.

“no problem, (y/n),” she waves you off, entering the smoking room.

you followed mia’s directions, taking the elevator to floor ten and entering the third room on the left. it’s no doubt that the office is satoru’s. the pineapple-framed mirror confirmed it all. that mirror is the same mirror satoru try to convince you that it’s “in style”.

settling down in his office, you can finally be at rest. placing the food his desk, you plopped yourself down on his chair.

‘it’s comfortable, but surely it doesn’t take that long to pee,’ you think, suspecting that satoru may have gotten caught up in a conversation.

the door clicks, opening to reveal someone. your mind thought of satoru, but it was indeed not. it wasn’t even the right gender. a beautiful girl entered; her aura was a cool, mysterious, “i’m better than you” feel. confusion poured down on you. who is she and why is she here?

you don’t strike a conversation. instead, you simply watch her walk into the office until she’s in front of the desk.

“do you need some—”

“you must be gojo satoru’s bitch.”

“excuse me?” not only were you cut off, you were called a bitch. clearly, she’s not on friendly terms, and who does she think she is?

she looks down at you, placing a taunting smile on her lips. you don’t care since you’re the one on his chair, but who is she calling a bitch?!

“compared to satoru, you’re… low, to put it kindly!”

“okay, but who asked you that?” you questioned her, rolling your eyes.

if you were in a fantasy novel, she’d be the main villainess who’s engaged to the male lead for political reasons. you’re the female lead who’ll become victim to the villainess’ antics as the male lead, satoru, fell for you.

flustered at your sentence, she scoffs. compared to the shy persona you displayed at the meeting, you’re all bitchy now.

“i don’t need someone to ask me something in order to speak my mind.”

“oh my god. i didn’t ask you that, nor do i want your input.” you rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink.

“i don’t like you. you’re not good enough for satoru,” she voices her (unwanted) opinions, scanning you up and down.

“it’s gojo to you, missy. who’s the girlfriend here?” you noted her mistakes while making your position obvious.

she rolls her eyes, offended at being called ‘missy.’

“and it’s saori, not missy. get it right.”

“why must you disturb my tranquility with your nonsense ? please exit, missy.”

“i said it’s—”

“saori? why are you here?” satoru enters, removing his coat in the process.

“that’s what i asked her,” you said, looking at her up and down with a raised eyebrow.

“i wanted to meet your girl-friend, satoru!” suddenly her tone changed. the space she put between the word girlfriend didn’t go unnoticed by you either.

this is ridiculous.

he slowly nods, thinking that the deliberate pause between girlfriend might’ve been his imagination.

“oh, i was gonna introduce you guys. you beat me to it,” he pouts, walking over next to you to give you another kiss.

you smiled at satoru but smirked at saori.

irritated, she huffs, “i’ve seen enough, call me when you’re free from that, satoru.”

both of you watch her walk out in silence. satoru’s now confused.

“what’s that about?” he asks, scratching his head.

“is she the friend you talked about?” you answered his question with your question.

“yeah, but i don’t know why she has such an attitude all of a sudden. did her boyfriend argue with her?”

“pfft— she has a boyfriend?” you scoffed, learning that she’s not only the bitch, but potentially unloyal. why else would she bother you, who’s satoru’s girlfriend, if it wasn’t because she likes him?

he nods, shrugging off the curiosity to know what’s with her shift in behavior.

“whatever, let’s eat, baby.”

──

it’s way past your bedtime, and you’ve just arrived home. the day was eventful, minus the missy encounter, but nonetheless you had fun.

although you’re glad to be acquainted with satoru’s peers, you couldn’t shake off the suspicion that sao-whatever-her-name-is has been making advances to satoru while your presence was absent.

you can tell that satoru holds no affection to her, but you’re still worried. satoru’s loyal, yes, but he’s an oblivious idiot. if he nor you isn’t the one flirting, he wouldn’t notice anything. that’s why her behavior change whenever he’s around is seen as “friendly” and not “i want you so bad” to him.

you sighed, shaking your head to rid it of her. what’s important is that satoru isn’t interested in her. you can sleep with that comforting image in mind.

now that satoru’s home, you’ve been attached to each other like the north and south pole of two magnets. inseparable. it’s been like this for a week, but something changed.

two › is it just you or…?

the sao-still-don’t-remember-her-name missy has been ringing satoru’s phone down whether it’s by messages, voice messages, or calls. at this point, it’s annoying. satoru himself was one call away from blocking her, but he couldn’t.

aside from satoru himself, she’s the other key member in the new project. if he suddenly draws a line between them it can become what kills the project. thankfully, the conversations have been limited to work-related topics… or so you believe.

you’re on the sofa, indulging in a new show as you peeled an apple. the show’s plot became so intense that your eyes are glued to the television instead of the apple.

satoru jugs down the stairs, grabbing his car keys and running over behind you. he bends over to place a kiss on your cheek, notifying you that he’ll be meeting up with saori. not paying any mind to him, you bid him goodbye without thinking.

it’s only after he exits the door you register what he said. ‘meeting up with saori? that bitch? ew,’ you shuddered at the thought of her. she’s not scary, definitely not ugly, but sure as hell is a bitch. at least you remember her name now.

──

after that day, satoru’s free time has been occupied with her. you’re now sure it’s not “just work” that’s been going on. you trust satoru, but you don’t trust her.

there’s no reason for someone to meet up with their co-worker every day for work. work is never that interesting. it’s not like they’re in charge of the project either; the project is within the authority of mia and some other guy.

everything about the situation at hand has been bothering you. was she attached to satoru like this during the trip? were they always within arms length of each other? not even you were that clingy to satoru.

the idea to raise alarm bells to satoru crossed you, but the potential argument that may follow is what has you hesitating. you don’t want to suspect satoru’s friend, but her behavior needs to be discussed.

you waited until satoru’s home, showered, and comfortable in bed to bring forth the question. your palms are sweating, but it needs to be done.

“say satoru, can i ask you something?” you hesitated, looking at him.

“yeah, why not?” he replies, eyes stuck on his phone.

“what do you think of that girl?”

“who’s that— do you mean saori?” he laughs, “she’s cool, if i were to be honest. she’s fun to hang around with.”

“has it ever crossed your mind that she likes you?” you cold sweat, worried that he’ll take offense.

“who wouldn’t like me? i’m sexy,” he jokes, winking at you.

you playfully slap his chest. “i’m being serious here!”

“i don’t think she does— or at least i hope she doesn’t. i don’t want to be her boyfriend’s archenemy,” satoru truthfully responds, feeling his pores raise at the thought of a taken man’s enemy.

if you were to like another man satoru would honestly write a will and erase himself from history. so, it’s only natural that he hopes saori doesn’t become her boyfriend’s pain.

you hum, satisfied with his answer. it’s clear as day now. satoru doesn’t view her in any romantic way, but you know she has a thing or two for him.

not wanting to push your luck, you end it there. pulling satoru’s phone away to throw your body on his.

three › wicked witch of the west.

it’s almost as if the conversation with satoru triggered a chain reaction. for whatever the reason may be, you’ve now seen this woman more than your own parents. she invites herself over almost every day.

every time you open the door it’s her snobby face. it sickens you. you ordered a package recently and whenever someone knocks on the door, you think it’s the delivery guy, but nope! it’s the wicked witch of the west!

today it happened again. someone knocked, you opened, missy appears, satoru unwillingly follows her for the sake of the project, you’re left with murderous intent.

it’s time you talk about this with someone. that’s right, you’ve kept your worries inside you but this is just too much! there’s no reason for a taken lady to follow another man like she’s his shadow — far less for a taken man!

frustrated, you phoned your friend.

“hey, utahime.”

“(y/n), my baby! how are you?”

“i’m okay-ish, how about you?”

“i’m good, but what’s up?”

“well… can i come over? i’ll tell you there. i just need to get out.”

“of course you can! you were always here before that thing of a man took you over.”

“all right, i’ll be there in ten!”

──

utahime’s home always brought you comfort; it’s where you go when you needed to escape. due to her dislike for people outside her circle, not everyone knows of her address— especially not satoru.

she engulfed you in a hug the moment she opened the door. you can’t hide anything from utahime, she knew you were out of it from your face.

“i’ll put ramen on the stove, go make yourself comfortable,” she ordered, closing the door behind you.

you followed her words, throwing yourself face first on her sofa. you loudly groaned, annoyed at the idea of saori getting all touchy-touchy with your satoru.

“let’s talk about it,” utahime speaks, pausing the television before she sits on the floor next to you.

you lift your head to look at her, open your mouth, and close it back. ‘let’s not question it,’ you think, knowing that utahime prefers the floor at home ever since you knew her.

“so… there’s this girl named saori—”

“i knew i should’ve ran over satoru yesterday.”

“and then— wait— HUH???” you sputtered, shocked at utahime’s words.

“i saw him crossing the street by himself yesterday. it took a lot of convincing to not floor the gas pedal,” she sighed, knowing she missed the jackpot. “anyway, continue.”

your mouth hangs open for a few more seconds before you regain yourself.

“right… anyway. she’s satoru’s new co-worker and i don’t like her. on our first meeting she called me ‘satoru’s bitch’ and after that she’s been occupying his free time every-fucking-day. she has a BOYFRIEND! like damn bitch! move away from my boyfriend,” you dumped the information on utahime, shoving your head back into the cushion.

“my baby, just said the word,” utahime faces you, moving her hand to pat your back.

“for what?” your voice comes out muffled.

“to put a bounty on their heads.”

a groan leaves you. there’s no hope.

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding. we can devise a plan, however.”

your head perks up. your attention has been successfully gained. utahime stands up, a bright smile adorns her face. you have a major feeling that something mischievous is going to play out real, real soon. utahime never smiles so brightly unless she’s plotting something despicable.

you squint your eyes at her, watching her back as she walks to the kitchen.

“‘hime…”

“don’t worry; just trust me.”

6:43 p.m: you’re now being a sack of potatoes on utahime’s bed. the day flew by and you haven’t heard from satoru ever since he left. no way it won’t leave a sour taste in your mouth, but you couldn’t find the energy to care at this moment.

you're preoccupied on utahime’s laptop, carefully choosing the perfect inner-walls design for the house game you stumbled upon. interior design might just be your new job.

deep into the game, your phone rings. you groan in annoyance, picking your phone up to see who decided it’ll be a good time to bother you.

satoru is calling you.

clicking your tongue, you slid on the green button.

“satoru, what’s up?”

“babe, are you home?”

“i’m not, why?”

“whyyyyy? i brought food for you.”

“i’ll have it when i’m home. sorry i’m not there right now, satoru.”

“oh, i almost forgot. saori’s here too.”

“ew— i mean, okay. don’t let her near my stuff nor our room.”

“yeah, bye baby. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

“that’s so disgusting. get out of my house,” utahime voices her feelings, screwing her face up at the sight of you being lovey-dovey with satoru.

you laughed at her, returning your attention to the game. utahime walks to her closet, choosing an outfit for the night. she’s fresh out of the shower, wet hair wrapped up in a towel. you can hear her grumbling something along the lines of “i hate couples” as she threw clothes on the floor to look for “that one black pajama shorts.”

once successful, utahime threw herself onto the bed. she took over your phone, going into your messages for her chat to send herself photos you’ve long forgotten to send. never will she ever ask you for photos after the hangout.

“by the way,” she says, “what did that man call for?”

you sigh, looking at her with a blank expression, “saori’s gonna be there.”

“does she even have her own life? that saowhore or whatever you said her name is.” utahime rolls her eyes, her mood immediately soured.

shrugging, you click your tongue, “it is what it is. this game is more important.”

──

it took not one, not two, not three, but five attempts to convince utahime to let you go home. she was completely against the idea of letting you drive home alone when it’s 10 p.m.

you would’ve given in if it wasn’t for the dreadful feeling that you need to be home. you basically sped through the roads, and most definitely ran a red light accidentally. nevertheless, you arrived safely.

suddenly, your heartbeat races. a heat creeps up the back of your head; you can feel a headache in the making. something’s telling you that you’ll need to confront a certain someone.

opening the door as quietly as you can, you stepped in, removing your shoes and tiptoeing inside.

maybe you should’ve let utahime go through with her plans.

the sight before you disgusts you as much as satoru disgusts utahime. why, just why, is this woman still here? is she crazy? why are her legs on satoru, and why is he allowing it?

“goodness, if i didn’t know better i’d ask you if you’re homeless,” you sarcastically spoke, taking the remote to turn the television off.

“get,” you took hold of one of her legs, shoving it off satoru. “off my fucking boyfriend.”

satoru watches, shocked at the scene. his eyes are unfocused; it’s evident that he zoned out a long time ago.

saori scoffs, moving her leg back on satoru’s lap. “why should i?”

you tilt your head, smiling angelically. the smile lasted milliseconds before it dropped. you’ve had quite enough and she’ll be subjected to your anger.

grabbing her arm, you roughly dragged her off the sofa. saori wasn’t one to accept such treatment. she retaliated, shuffling her arm around until she’s off your grip.

“are you fucking crazy?!” saori yelled, eyes wide with heavy breaths.

“not quite!” you pointed towards the door. “get out before i drag you myself.”

satoru’s silent. afraid of angering you, he stays put and watches from a distance.

“fuck off,” saori speaks, “satoru, text me when you’re off your dog collar.”

your anger reached its peak. grabbing the closest thing, which happened to be a mug, you threw it in her direction, aiming to miss her but hit close enough to her.

“ARE YOU INSANE!?” saori’s stumbles to the side, clenching her jaw, looking down at the broken pieces of the ceramic mug.

the scene alarms satoru, he decides to do something. standing up, he reaches for your wrist, pulling you to him.

“i think it’s time you leave, saori. i didn’t even know you were still here,” satoru’s voice is calm, but filled with authority. his words hold truth to them, he zoned out a while ago, unaware that saori’s still around.

clicking her tongue, her eyes twitch. she couldn’t muster up anything to say. being left with no choice but to listen to satoru, she saw herself out.

the quietness settles in. you were right about the headache, it’s definitely coming in.

“baby—”

“save it,” you stopped him, “but who the fuck is she to think i have you on a dog collar? i’ll put her on a collar.”

guilt settles in satoru, he shouldn’t have brought her in.

“i don’t why she said that. you don’t have me ‘on a dog collar’ i swear,” he rambles, placing a hand on his chest.

your gaze settled on satoru. you’re tired, a headache is there, and you probably went overboard. you’re not in the mood to hear him.

“satoru, i trust you. but i don’t trust her.”

“i’ll make her apologize.”

“ew, no.” you shivered at the thought of her apologizing. “i don’t want you near her anymore. her intentions are too fucking obvious.”

satoru physically hesitates. swallowing a gulp, his words come out quietly, “i can’t ignore her just like that..”

just as you were about to walk away, your head whipped to satoru as if you were slapped in that direction.

“what?”

“the project’s still ongoing, baby. i can’t ignore her just because you want me too.”

“fucking hell. kiss my ass, satoru. kiss her ass too while you’re at it,” you spat, flipping him off as you walked away.

if he can’t ignore her “just because you said so” then he can be ignored by you. maybe he did said something to make her think he’s on a dog collar.

you hear satoru calling for you, but you gave him no attention. you’ll deal with it tomorrow.

four › satoru’s new piercing idea: a bullet through his head.

satoru fucked up. he knows he fucked up. he should’ve said that after you calmed down. it couldn’t have gotten worse than this. the night flew by with you facing your back to him, the morning came with you acting as if he’s invisible.

sure, he fucked up, but at least reply to his good morning?!

he doesn’t know what to do. this is the first time you were angered to this point. usually, he’d be the one to better your mood, but he’s apart of the reason you’re as mad as you are.

your behavior went on for three days. far longer than satoru had anticipated. he’s given you your space, but now he can’t focus on his job.

his co-workers knew something was off with satoru. he’s not his usual self. they knew something happened the moment he declined a free meal. secretly, they gathered around, holding a confidential meeting to discuss satoru’s behavior.

everyone gave their opinions until an agreement was made: a couple’s argument had occurred.

evidence to support? satoru refrained from mentioning you, gave awkward answers when someone asked about you, and sulked when he looked at his lockscreen which was you.

saori, however, advanced her advancements to satoru. today was another day of her throwing her cleavage at him.

the photoshoot theme included two persons, but they weren’t meant to touch. they needed to act like enemies, but saori’s touching satoru as if he’s an all-you-can-touch event.

her hands slid down his chest, stopping at his abs. satoru doesn’t react— his eyes are empty, it’s clear that he wants the photoshoot to be over.

mia observed the two ever since the business trip, and she came to the conclusion that saori’s craving a place she was never meant to have.

“well aren’t you a little handsy, miss saori,” mia calls out, stopping the cameraman. “had i not known your boyfriend, i would've thought you were single.”

“who asked?” saori gives an attitude, but she moves her hand from satoru. the mention of her boyfriend bothered her.

the staff goes silent. a tension forms in the atmosphere. the calm before the storm, as they call it.

mia walks towards the two, placing a hand on saori’s shoulder when she nears her.

squeezing her shoulder, she leans down to saori’s level, “who’s the boss here? you’re chatty for a little girl who wants others’ belongings.” mia taunts, her voice cold.

saori gulps, slapping mia’s hand off her.

the action doesn’t bother mia in the slightest. instead, she leans to saori’s ears, whispering the unfortunate truth to her, “satoru will never want you, saori. remember that.”

straightening her posture, mia turns around to walk back to her designated position.

“back to work, everyone!”

with her order, everyone returns back to their previous doings. the tension is still heavy, and satoru’s still holds his empty gaze.

──

a thirty-minute break was called. at this moment, to each their own. the staff scrambled around, but satoru stayed put.

“saori,” his voice drags, “let’s talk alone.”

her expression brightens, feeling the butterflies tingle in her stomach. but little does she know, satoru’s about to act out of the character she knows him to be.

“s-sure! let’s do it in your dressing room,” she suggests, pulling satoru there.

once they’re in, she locks the door behind them. satoru sighs at the sight, but he doesn’t say anything about it. there’s something else he came here for.

“saori, do you like me? romantically?” he asks, leaning on the wall with crossed arms.

“i do,” she boldly confirms.

“then stop. you’re getting in between my relationship with (y/n),” he glares at saori, deciding it’s time to draw the line.

“ha, you’re still on that leash i see,” she scoffs, walking towards satoru until they’re face-to-face. “i’m better, satoru. you should choose me.”

satoru unfolds his arms, using one to push her away.

“saori, i’ve thought of you as nothing but a co-worker, a friend. you cannot be (y/n). so please, stop.”

clenching her jaw, saori tugs at satoru’s shirt’s collar, “i don’t give a flying fuck! you should be mine.”

satoru feels disgusted, a chain of chills cover his body. has saori always been like this?

“you have a boyfriend, for fuck’s sake!” he slaps her hand away, moving towards the door.

before he unlocks the door, he stops, turning around to clarify something before he forgets to, “oh, and if anything, the truth is that i’m the one who placed a dog collar on myself. so watch your mouth.”

with that, he leaves her alone, walking to where mia’s positioned.

“mia,” he calls for her.

mia turns to him, eyes wide for a second before she returns to her usual expression.

“need something, lovesick boy?” she teases, raising her eyebrows at him.

“if saori isn’t withdrawn from this project, then i’ll withdraw myself,” he threatens, running a hand through his hair exposing his forehead.

‘i’m not sure if this is unexpected or expected,’ mia thinks, not surprised at satoru’s request. it was only a matter of time.

“i’ll withdraw her. she pissed me off, too,” giving satoru her answer she pauses, and then continues, “but you really need to learn how to tell apart platonic actions from romantic.”

satoru cringes at her words, “ugh, leave me alone. i’m leaving.”

“you’ll be penalized for leaving during working hours!”

“blah blah blah.”

──

satoru’s destination was obvious. it’s your shared home. he would make his business to break the ice first.

messily unlocking the door, he kicks his shoes off, immediately looking for you. you’re not on the sofa, not in the bathroom, not in the kitchen, where the fuck are you?!

checking off your usual spots, he’s left with one: the bedroom.

quietly opening the door, he peeks in, observing the room for you. once he found you, he tiptoed in.

your back was turned to the door. whether you were sleeping or not was the least of his problems. he’ll wake you up if he has to.

“baby,” he carefully speaks, sitting on the edge of the bed with a hand on your blanketed figure.

you don’t answer him, but you do turn around to face him.

“i talked to saori. we won’t be in contact any time soon.”

“oh wow,” you said.

he clears his throat at your sarcasm, “ahem— anyway, i told her off, and asked for her to be removed from the project.”

“what made this sudden change? i thought you were glued to her.”

“she was glued to me!” he clarifies.

“tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.”

ignoring your snarky remarks, he continues, “i told her about the ‘dog collar’ comment. i even told her to watch her mouth. i’ll cut contact with her on my phone, too.”

“so she’s gone? completely?” you questioned, removing a hand from under the blanket.

“yeah, i received a divine revelation and came to my senses. really, i thought she saw me as platonic as i saw her. i swear!” he confirms his innocence, staring at you with sadden eyes.

“you’re still a bitch,” you said, “i almost allowed utahime to go through with her bounty plan.”

sitting up, you took one of satoru’s fingers in your hand, “i’m glad you did that, but i’m still mad. you made me want to tell you to go fuck her and done with it.”

satoru’s mouth hangs open at the newly gained information.

“i didn’t, as you can see. i still love you so such words would never be spoken.”

“‘still’ she said.”

“don’t push it.”

a laugh escapes him. not listening to your warning, he pulls you into a hug. this time, it was a hug of desperation and relief. his head’s buried in your neck, breathing in the body mist you always wear at home.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“dear god, fuck that bitch i hope she dies,” you comforted satoru, returning his hug and patting his back.

do you have an issue with satoru? no, but he did set you off when he refused to cut contact with her when you asked.

it took him quite some days to see the vision, and you’re glad he did.

hey guys 😣 if anyone’s confused about this part:

“what made this sudden change? i thought you were glued to her.”

“she was glued to me!” he clarifies.

“tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.”

it simply means “what’s the difference?”

when (y/n) said she thought satoru was glued to saori, satoru responded with “she’s glued to me!”

(y/n) says “tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.” because it doesn’t matter how you pronounce it since it’s the same word. there’s no difference.

satoru was glued to saori and vice versa so what’s the difference fr

hope this helped 😜

[beenbaanbuun]

the show w/ choi jongho

thinking about meeting jongho at a hardcore gig. you don’t really know the band that’s playing, but you’ve heard of them and after finding yourself alone and bored on a random tuesday night, you figure you might as well!

so you take a trip down to your local alternative music club, an oversized band t-shirt handing loosely over the tiny skirt you decided to wear. you can barely see the hem of it before your fishnet-covered thighs are exposed. they bulge over the top of your thigh highs, looking just as soft as squishy as you wanted them to. on your feet rest a pair of old skool vans, beat up and a little gross after years of abuse in mosh pits and venues so disgusting that the floor always seems to be covered by a thick layer of grunge. they’re your favourite pair of shoes, the memories they hold being worth more than their prettiness.

the venue hits you in the face with the scent of stale beer and sweat; it’s gross but you can’t help but smile as you head towards the bar. theres just something so familiar about the foul smell.

“excuse me,” you say to the group of men huddling around the counter, all with full cups of beer in their grasp. they’re too engrossed in conversation to even notice you as you stand there tapping your foot, and you can’t help but let out an agitated sigh, “or just don’t move, i guess; that works too.”

you take a step forward, about to physically push your way through them. the beer that is guaranteed to be spilled down your top is just residual damage. it’s bound to happen anyway since no one can keep their drinks in their hands once a band steps on stage. you brace yourself for the angry grunts you’re about to get and then—

a hand cups your shoulder, holding you back. it’s warm, and as you look down at it, surprisingly well manicured. huh… you didn’t know men who listened to hardcore knew how to take care of themselves to that extent. you follow his arm up, slightly disappointed at the way his beige crew neck covers his arms—with the way his hand is gripping you, you can tell he’s got strength. your gaze shifts past his neck, taking note of the cute little freckle, before moving up to his face.

holy hell.

your lips part a little and you take in a shuddery breath. he’s beautiful.

his skin glows like honey in the sunlight, looking flawless even in the dim lighting of the club. the muscles in his jaw ripple beneath his skin as he clenches it; you swallow thickly. “‘scuse us, gents,” he says, his perfect lips moving in a way that has you unable to stop staring at them. and his voice? god, you want to obey every word that he says in that syrupy cadence.

you don’t even notice when the men part, only moving forward when the handsome stranger puts pressure on your shoulder to guide you through the crowd. you let him, happy to go wherever he takes you as long as his warm hand never leaves your shoulder.

he only stops when the two of you meet the bar and his gaze shifts down to meet yours. you feel your insides melt at the sight of his black irises that seem to glitter as if they hold the universe within them. you suck in a sharp breath though your nose and— holy fuck, is it him that smells that good? the scent of spices fills your head and you feel your knees go weak. your hand finds the bar, ignoring the stickiness in favour of keeping yourself upright.

“what are you drinking?” he asks in that smooth voice. the question almost doesn’t register, your brain too invested in him to even think about anything else. it takes a moment or two for you to realise that oh! he’s taking to you? and a moment or two more for you to pull yourself together enough to give a coherent answer.

“uh, beer?” you say, trying to come off as cool. he smiles and it’s the prettiest thing you think you’ve ever seen.

“you don’t sound too sure about that,” there’s a hint of amusement in his voice and it makes you wonder what his laugh sounds like. probably as beautiful as the rest of him. “i wouldn’t so sure be either; beer is gross. that’s why i’ll be having a double vodka cran… want one?”

you nod silently and his smile grows until you can see his gums. it’s adorable, and it makes your heart beat at an almost concerning pace. is it too early to break out the L word? probably, you tell yourself.

“a vodka cran it is, pretty girl,” he says, and you die a little inside. pretty girl? it’s like he’s trying to send your heart into overdrive, “i’ll have it in your hands in no time. i’m great at flagging down bar staff.” he wiggles his eyebrows as if his self proclaimed sufficiency at bars is something for you to be impressed by. you find yourself giggling, which only makes his face light up more. you swear he mumbles a quick ‘cute’ under his breath, but perhaps that’s just your delusions speaking.

he’s right, though. he does have your drink in your hand in a matter of minutes. he passes it to you with a wink and a click of the tongue before leaning over to grab two straws from the bar. he slips one into his own drink before passing you the other. you take it and slide it into your cup.

“how much was it?” you ask before descending on your straw. even as you take a sip, you never once look away from him. you watch his adams apple bob when you wrap your lips around the paper and suck; you think nothing of it.

“for you? free,” he slips his own straw in his mouth, gulping down a few mouthfuls before pulling a face at the taste. you have to agree, the vodka they use has always been pretty foul; no amount of watered down mixer can mask the taste of the cheap spirit.

you tug the straw away; the strangers eyes flick down to see the lipstick stain left on the paper. he finds himself sending a mental thank you to whoever decided to play the pre-show playlist at an unnecessary volume; at least it hides the involuntary groan he lets out at the sight.

“and for you?” you ask as you swirl your cup in your hand in the hopes of mixing it a little better, “how much was my drink?”

he goes back in for another sip, shrugging as he grins around the straw. it’s soon wiped away by the taste of the beverage, you laugh as you watch a shiver go down his spine. he pulls away and coughs.

“a gentleman never talks about money,” he says with a strained voice, “but just know it was fucking overpriced for how it tastes. does it always taste like this?”

you nod, a pained smile taking over your expression.

“unfortunately so,” you take another sip, only to find out that your ‘mixing’ had done nothing; it still tastes like shit. you purse your lips as you pull away, tensing to stop your own body from shivering. it doesn’t work; the man still lets out a chuckle as he watches you shudder. “what do you usually get?”

a sheepish look takes over his face.

“beer-”

“beer?!” you scoff, leaning forward to hit his arm gently with your fist. it can’t have hurt him, but he pulls a faux pained expression anyway, rubbing over the flesh with his other hand. it brings a smile onto your face to see him play into your antics. “you told me you didn’t like beer!”

he shrugs.

“i didn’t want you to think i’d judge you for drinking something ‘girly’,” he warps his voice and rolls his eyes as he mentions the gendered drinks you hold in your hands, clearly expressing his dismissal of the concept. “but now i’ve tasted it, maybe i am judging you. it really does taste like shit.”

“i know,” you agree.

you fall into a comfortable silence, the both of you slowly getting your drinks down you as the world seems to carry on around you. the bar bustles behind you, but you ignore it in favour of watching the man in front of you. his expressions as he rips the straw free and tips the last bit of his drink down his throat has you giggling. the way he glares at the man who bumps into you has you swooning. how he bops his head in time to the music has you falling deeper and deeper into this pit you’d found yourself in. it’s too soon for the L-word—you don’t even know his name yet—but you’re almost positive that this is how it’s supposed to feel.

you finish up your drink, wincing as the vodka burns your throat on the way down. your lips pull away from the straw and almost immediately, a warm hand covers yours. your stranger pulls the empty cup from your hand and puts it on the ledge to be taken away later. you smile, grateful for the tiny act of service that realistically shouldn’t be making your heart ache to the level it is doing. you don’t even know the man…

“what’s your name?” the sudden question startles him; clearly he wasn’t expecting the lull in conversation to be broken so quickly. he soon recovers, though, smirking at you as if your simple question was akin to you flirting with him.

“choi jongho,” he hums, “what’s yours?”

you tell him. he smiles in response, “pretty name for a pretty girl…” heat burns under your skin; you hope the poor lighting is enough to hide the way your cheeks darken.

“thanks,” you purr, “yours isn’t so bad either.”

he huffs out a breath of laughter through his nose before opening his mouth to say something else. it’s just his luck that the moment he does, the lights dim even further and a loud drumbeat kicks in from the stage.

“good fucking evening! we are—”

the microphone peaks, making you wince at the screech that echos through the venue. jongho’s eyes scrunch shut as he tries to block out the sound, but it’s too abrasive to ignore. he grabs your hand and leans in close.

“i have a feeling this is going to fucking suck,” he yells over the guitar that’s begun to warble tunelessly through the club. you nod wordlessly against him, too distracted by the sudden proximity to actually speak. “i know a pretty cool cafe near-by. it’s open late and they serve really good coffee… do you maybe want to get out of here before we lose our hearing and out will to live?”

again, you nod.

“good,” he leans in to press a warm kiss to your cheek. your heart does a fucking backflip in your rib cage. “it’s a date…”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Sweet indulgence 🛼

Written for the Valentine's Day pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles blog.

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Flirting; Sexual Tension; Record label owner!Eddie; Waiter!Steve; Steve in roller skates; First date (Eddie says it counts 💖)

Notes: continued from this one.

"You can’t be fucking serious,” Steve says. 

“Why not?” Eddie throws the garishly pink flier back down on the table. “It’s still Valentine’s Day.” 

“For thirteen more minutes,” Steve bristles, pen pressing down on his little notepad so hard that Eddie is afraid he’ll punch a hole through it. “You don’t even have a date.” 

“Didn’t know that was required,” Eddie grins. “All I’m saying is, if you offer a Valentine’s Day special, then that special should be available for the entirety of Valentine’s Day, so …” 

Steve makes an exasperated sound, but still jots down the order. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he barks over his shoulder as he pushes away from the table and disappears into the kitchen. “Just so you know.” 

Eddie watches him glide away, legs and ass a meal in their own right in those shorts and knee-highs and the fucking roller skates. 

Maybe the boy has a point. Maybe he is being ridiculous. 

It’s not exactly normal behavior, discovering that your former high school king is now a waiter at the diner down the street, and then promptly declaring said diner your new after-work dinner spot. But Eddie never claimed to be normal. And he’s always been a tad bit obsessed with Steve Harrington, so here they are. 

Steve has long resigned himself to his nightly visits. Never once has he acknowledged their shared history, and Eddie hasn’t pushed. Instead, he’s slowly putting together all the little puzzle pieces he’s been collecting. 

Steve will grumble and scowl and bitch over Eddie’s absurd orders and constant attempts at flirting, but he never fails to pocket his generous tips, so he must be struggling financially. He’s pulling at least one job besides the one at the diner. Most likely a babysitting gig, as indicated by the sparkly hair clips and stickers that Eddie regularly spots in his hair and on his clothes. He’s also not seeing anyone, because if he was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be working the night shift on Valentine’s Day. 

He also hasn’t eaten in a while, if the tummy rumble as he brings the order is anything to go by. Eddie quirks a brow. Steve blushes and hugs the tray to his chest. 

“Enjoy your meal,” he says, but Eddie holds up a hand and gestures invitingly at the empty seat opposite him. 

“Join me?” 

Steve’s brow furrows. “I’m on the clock.” 

“Oh yeah, and super fucking busy, I can see,” Eddie quips. “Indulge me, my liege.” 

Steve chews on his bottom lip, casting a hesitant glance towards the kitchen. Finally, he sighs and slips into the free seat. Eddie hands over one of the two cupcakes on his plate, decorated in a lopsided tower of frosting and a smattering of heart-shaped sprinkles. Steve devours nearly half of it with two enormous bites, and if triumph blooms warm and heavy in Eddie’s chest, that’s neither here nor there. 

“So,” he drawls, ignoring his own cupcake in favor of stacking his chin on top of his folded hands, peering at Steve over the rim of his sunglasses. “How was your day? Been handing out lots of these little babies?” 

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, sure,” he says around a mouthful of frosting. “Have you seen this place? Premium date spot. So classy and romantic.” 

They lapse into silence for a few seconds. Steve grabs the milkshake with the two straws without waiting for an invitation and takes an enormous sip. There’s a tiny pink sprinkle at the corner of his mouth. Eddie resists the temptation to reach out and wipe it away. 

“What about you, huh? You own the record label down the street, right? Surely your day was much more interesting than mine.” 

So he isn’t the only one who’s been puzzling, Eddie thinks. 

“Hellfire Records,” he nods, happy to ramble about his baby, even though Steve’s attempt at diverting the topic is not nearly as subtle as the boy may think. “We have some pretty cool bands, but I’m not sure they’re your taste, exactly.” 

“Oh?” Steve shoves the last bit of cupcake into his mouth, licking leftover frosting off his fingers. “Bold of you to assume that you’d know my taste. Indulge me?” 

Eddie does. 

Steve does, it turns out, know fuck all about metal and grunge, but he’s surprisingly interested and open-minded. Much more open-minded than Eddie would’ve expected from Hawkins High royalty. By the time they wrap up their little talk and make their way over to the counter, Steve has finished not only the milkshake, but also the second cupcake.

When Eddie hands over the usual fifty, Steve hesitates. 

“You already gave me all the food.” 

Eddie smiles easily. “So? Gotta let my favorite waiter know I appreciate him on this fine holiday.” 

Something flits over Steve’s face, something open and vulnerable, but it’s gone as soon as it came. 

“Don’t think you can buy my affection, Eddie,” he murmurs, snatching the bank note from Eddie’s fingers and stuffing it into his apron pocket. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie winks and saunters towards the door - carefully making sure to keep the giddy spring out of his step. Steve called him Eddie. Not Munson. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Good,” Steve calls after him. “See you tomorrow?” 

“You bet, big boy,” Eddie says. He’s just about to leave when something else occurs to him. “And I’ll be sure to pick a nicer spot for our second date, promise.” 

Steve’s blush is as pink as the sprinkle that’s still stuck at the corner of his mouth. Eddie doesn’t wait for his retort, just shuts the door and makes for home, grinning like a maniac.

🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕

Tagging some ppl who expressed interest last time: @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon @steddhie @formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

[mattslolita]

hi bae its aid. ok I NEED NEED A enemies to lovers type shit where matt is in a band and hes like hella rock boy omg stop im already shivering just typing this LMAOAOA ok and ik ur ass can deliver with the smut. i luh u

i wanna be your slave - m. sturniolo

in which ... you were so mesmerized by the lead guitarist of your friend's band — who you couldn't stand. and he had felt the same way — or did he? rockstar!matt x black!fem reader

warnings ; smut , oral ( female receiving ) , dom!matt , semi-public sex

"𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚, 𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

matthew sturniolo.

you hated him, just couldn't stand him and his arrogance. but, you assumed that's what came with a guy who thought he was the shit just because he was in a band.

it didn't help that you found him extremely attractive too, and he played the fucking guitar to top it off — the only reason you knew these things is because even still, you were best friends with his older triplet brother nick and his friend madi, making the three of you a trio. nick was the photographer for his brother's band, and you and madi were basically the band's best friends.

you were currently backstage with madi, nick, chris, matt, and the band's vocal singer maxine at one of their gigs — the backstage area was spacious, containing all the bands equipment.

chris, madi, and maxine were in a debate about something whilst you sat with nick and conversed with him — matt had his attention on tuning his guitar, a cigarette at the end of his lips, and every few minutes you'd glance over at him to see the way his ring clad fingers plucked at the strings. he looked so focused as his gaze never left the guitar.

"y/n!" nick said, tapping you lightly.

"huh?" you said, snapping back into reality. upon realizing you zoned out, your eyes widened as you turned back to nick. "sorry."

nick raised an eyebrow skeptically and was about to start speaking again until the band's manager walked into the backstage area. "alright, you guys are on in ten. you ladies need to leave now."

nick sighed and pouted at you playfully, and you pouted back. "don't worry, we'll be back as soon as y'all finish!"

"or you can stay gone," matt's voice says sarcastically, his eyes finally fixated on you as he shrugs to you mockingly.

"boy, you wish you could get rid of me that easily," you snorted at him with an eye roll, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest.

it caused matt's eyes to shift down to your cleavage area, as your outfit was pretty revealing considering the way your top did little to hide your breasts and your leather skirt had nearly showed your lacy blue thong you wore underneath.

you rolled your eyes at the way he shamelessly had roved over your body, licking his lips as he did so. taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he put it in the ashtray and dumped it, then stood up to stretch and you could get a clear view of his happy trail.

you looked away before he could catch you staring and followed madi who was walking outside towards where the stage area was.

being that you were the best friends of the band, you and madi were able to secure spots in the front row, where the band would be easily visible.

you had both settled there as the lights dimmed, signaling that the show was about to start. madi nudged your shoulder excitedly, and you giggled at her enthusiasm as people began cheering for them.

the lights were now all the way dim as chris, matt, and maxine came onto the stage — however, your eyes find themselves fixated on matt as he grins whilst holding onto his guitar.

the dim lighting makes his skin look an eerily glowy purple color as you admire the way his muscles flex underneath his wife beater tank top, his black jeans glistening in the light due to the chains that dangle from them. the horse chain around his neck swing slightly as he begins playing his guitar, his ring clad fingers strumming over the chords rythmetically.

you're so mesmerized by the way his fingers move over the guitar you don't see the way that his eyes have found yours as he plays the notes — you inhale sharply as you look up to meet his icy blue gaze, and his lips contort into a content smirk which causes your heart rate to increase.

it's as if only you and him are in the moment, as both of your gazes are unwavering — you're surprised that you haven't looked away, but his gaze keeps you locked in and you feel it beginning to suffocate you as he licks his lips and gives you a once over.

you feel guilty for not even paying attention to the way chris is going insane on the drums or the way maxine's beautiful vocals carry out throughout the club. you've almost forgotten about madi's presence as well, as she was recording them ( which you should've been doing ).

as the song comes to a closing, maxine steps back as matt suddenly takes the center of the stage to play his guitar solo — nick mentioned it when you were talking backstage, but due him already being on your mind you didn't even comprehend it.

sweat beads formed on his forehead as it creased, whilst he slightly bopped his head up and down while he strummed the chords — out of her peripheral vision you could see the other girls in the crowd foaming at the mouth over him, causing you to frown slightly.

his brown locks bounced against his forehead as he lifted his head back up, his gaze finding yours once more as he finishes the last notes — a long, final strum of the guitar as he maintained eye contact with you sent you over the edge.

you needed him.

chris, matt, and maxine came to the center of the stage and bowed, waving and saying their goodbyes to everyone as they all applauded the band.

they exited the stage, and you found your eyes traveling to see where matt had went off to so quickly. "oh my gosh, they did so amazing!"

"uh huh," you said, turning to madi before she got too suspicious, a smile forming onto your face, "that was fucking amazing."

"girl," madi grinned, a small giggle escaping her lips as she nudged your shoulder, "you know i saw how matt was looking at you, right?"

"what?" you say, your eyes widening as you both slowly make your way backstage again.

"y/n, he was clearly looking at you almost the entire time," madi pointed out. "i swear you both are so oblivious."

you both had once again successfully made it backstage, and you almost lost your breath when the first face you saw was matt's — his eyes were trained on yours and you could feel a wetness pool underneath your skirt.

"i'm gonna go use the bathroom," you tell nobody in particular, quickly exiting the room.

you rush to the bathroom, grateful that there was no line, and quickly shut it behind yourself as you looked in the mirror — unfortunately, the door opened and you whirled around, being met with matt and his signature smug smirk as he reached behind him and locked the door.

before you were able to get a word out, he caged you against the sink, both of his arms on it as your ass was pressed firmly against the sink.

he smashed his lips onto yours, and you immediately melted into his hungrily, having been waiting for this the entire night. your hands find the back of his neck as his arms wrap around your waist, slowly inching their way down to your ass, giving it a squeeze.

you gasp into the kiss which grants him access to slip his tongue inside, as you pull you ever so closer — a moan escapes your lips as the sensation causing him to smirk against your lips.

not breaking the kiss his hand travels to the side of the waist and down slowly until they reach the hem of your skirt. you whimper as he sinks his hand inside, rubbing his thumb against your thong.

"matt..." you breathe out, breaking the kiss.

"where do you want me, sweetheart?" he rasps against your neck, beginning to leave kisses there. one finger goes under your underwear as it grazes where you need him most, "...here?"

"please," you beg him, looking up at him with lustful eyes, his eyes darkening at the sight and sound of you.

he quickly pulls your skirt down leaving you in the blue thong, his lustfilled gaze hungry as he eyes you up and down — he leaves more kisses on your neck, slow and sensual as he dips his fingers into your underwear, lightly rubbing on your aching clit.

"fuck, don't tease me," you breathe out, a smirk residing on his face.

"didn't plan on it, baby," he says.

without warning, one finger delves into your folds as you feel the tension finally start to alleviate when it enters inside of you.

"fuckk..." you moan out, throwing your head back at the feeling, giving him more access to suck on your neck, a dark purple mark now covering the brown skin there.

"you like the way i touch you, angel?" he whispers in your ear, speeding his movements up.

"y-yes, matt," you whine out, biting your lip to suppress that so desperately threatened to escape your throat.

"yeah, wore this pretty little thong for me, didn't you?" matt continues, inserting another finger causing a lewd moan to escape your throat, "knew i'd wanna be inside you after seeing this."

"matt, fuck, keep going," you moan, his fingers speeding up.

the squelching of your wet cunt vibrated off the walls and you were sure by now someone could hear what was happening — matt's movements inside you never ceased and you could feel that band tightening in your stomach.

"m' so close," you whined out, gripping his shoulder to steady yourself, feeling your legs go weak.

"yeah?" matt says, leaving another kiss on the right side of your neck, "give it to me, angel."

the band in your stomach snaps and you release all over his fingers, a moan leaving your mouth as you do so — with a grin he takes his fingers out of you and turns you around, licking his fingers clean as he look at you through the mirror.

"let me take these off, yeah?" matt asks and you nod your head and bite your lip as he hurriedly removes your blue thong and throws them to the side.

he quickly undoes his pants and slides them to the side, along with his boxers — his cock springs free from its confines, the tip a pretty but angry pink color as it leaks with precum.

matt drags his tip against your still wet cunt slowly, lubricating it in your juices, causing a moan to fall past both of your lips — you throw your head back as he enters you slowly, letting you adjust to his size before he starts to move.

"mm, yes baby, right there," you moan out, his hips snapping back and forth as he thrusts into you from behind.

"fuck, you're so tight," matt grunts, one hand coming up under your shirt to pinch your nipples causing you to whine. "you like when i fuck you like this, don't you, pretty girl?"

"feels so good," you moan, his thrusts speeding up.

"such a good girl, taking me from behind," matt praises, his other hand holding onto your waist as his cock repeatedly hits your cervix just the way you like.

you feel your second orgasm approaching again, and quickly. "m' gonna cum again, baby."

"i'm close too, angel," matt moans out, "hold it till i say so."

the pace of his thrusts are relentless as his cock repeatedly abuses your cunt — they start to get sloppy which lets you know he's close. he begins leaving sloppy kisses along your neck, sucking harshly on a different spot making another purple bruise on your brown skin yet again. marking his spot.

"fuck, let me cum in this pussy gorgeous," matt grunts and you let out an inaudible noise to let him know he can.

you feel his cum shoot inside of you, painting your walls a creamy color as a lewd moan of your name slips past his lips which causes your orgasm to wash over you as well, your juices mixing with his own.

coming down from your high he pulls out of you as you both catch your breath.

matt looks around for something to clean up with, finding a towel on a rack as he walks over to you with a grin whilst cleaning your legs. "so, how'd you like the show?"

"beside you eye fucking me the entire time, i enjoyed it," you shrugged, a smirk adorning your features.

"oh, but you got what you wanted, didn't you?" matt smirks back, presses a kiss to your lips as he throws the towel in the trash, handing you your underwear.

you slip them on quickly along with your skirt, washing your hands afterward — matt was also now fully dressed as well and before you could try and leave he stops you in your tracks.

"i'll leave first, try not to leave too fast after," he says and before you object, he's already gone and closing the door behind him.

you roll your eyes, but a small smile graces your features at the memory of what the both of you had just done.

lil💌

this should've been out MONTHS AGO😭😭 she's finally here though, hope y'all fw this🫦

💌 : @luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @guccifrog @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @v33angel @ilovechrissturniolo1 @e1ias3 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturn777 @stasiesturn @prettypinkprincess15 @breeloveschris @summerssover @mayhem-72 @riasturns @chrissturniolossidehoe @moonk1ss3d @v33angel @h3arts4harry @stargirll567 @bitchydragonparadise @heartsforchrisandmatt @pepsienthusiasts @tillies33ssss @thenickgirl @sturnprime

[writinandcrying]

TMNT HEADCANONS - Taking naps with the turtles / having a sleepy S/O

As someone who has accidentally slept for 23 hours straight and literally has a nickname as “snooze” I’m obligated to do this (I tried to look for a cute / aesthetic gift but that pup is my spirit animal fr)

I’ve been digging how @oozedninjas does their Headcanons (as long with their writing, I seriously eat it up everytime yum yum yum)

as much as I love looooong Headcanons, sometimes I only have some blurbs going on in my mind, I also think this keeps things so dynamic, every interaction can be seen and everyone is happy yipee (I hope you don’t mind me using your writing style? Headcanon Set-up? Layout? as reference! Pls let me know if so, I’ll def take it out or reference you on new ones!)

English is not my first language and I didn’t proof read this, if there is any gramatical erros pls don’t hesitate to tell me!

• Isn’t the one for naps, lowkey thinks it’s a waste of time, he rather do activities with you! Time is precious! That being your hobbies or his, talking, playing games or reading, he has his mind set on it… until you flutter your lashes at him, giving him puppy eyes, and suddenly at the warm of your embrace, the way you hum over his plastron, how cute and serene you look… he starts questions himself, why haven’t you two done this sooner?

2003, 2012, Rottmnt Donnie

2003, MM Raph

2003, MM Mikey

All Leo’s (minus MM and rise) lmao

• Has been waiting for it. Since you two have been officially a thing, he has been patiently waiting for it. wants to do nap dates, casual napping after Sunday lunches, accidentally napping from watching a boring film, coming home late and you are tired? Lay on top of him babe, let him will take care of you 🫶🏼 adores the innocence of holding you close, caressing your skin as you caress him back, finally admiring your features while you sleep, he longs for it, absolutely eats it up

MM AND ROTTMNT LEO !!

2007, 2012, ROTTMNT, Bayverse Mikey (keeping bayverse and 2012 still would be A Task (but anyways BOTH WANTS IT) 2007 is probably tired all the time bc of his gigs lol)

Bayverse, ROTTMNT RAPH !!!!

2007 and 2003 Donnie

• How come you are always this sleepy? This doesn’t make sense, something has to be wrong with your vitamins levels, have you been sleeping at night? Are you having nightmares? What kind of meds are you taking? Your sleep schedule and how you can just simply fall asleep everywhere is astonishingly worrisome, he will look into it

Take a wild guess (all versions)

Doctor feelings

• HE is the who Needs a nap. Drag him to his bed. Hold him close, put ambient music, kiss him softly and don’t let go.

2007 Leo, Future!Rottmnt Leo

2003, 2007, Future!Rottmnt DONNIE !

Future!rottmnt and Last Ronin Mikey

Future!Rottmnt, bayverse, 2007 Raph

Everyone in IDW-TMNT

Not a turtle, but Rottmnt Casey Jones

• can’t take naps (light sleeper or doesn’t want to mess their sleeping schedule) but enjoys you being by his side anyways, will give a dirty look to whoever makes loud noises next to you, tries to always save the most comfortable spots for you on movie nights, he knows you are bound to fall asleep. will takes embarrassing pics of you tho

Take another wild guess (all versions)

And another one (all versions as well)

Mm Donnie

[v1olentdelights]

We'll Be Waiting For You

bau x fem!reader Summary: What was supposed to be a fun surprise, turned into something much worse. TW: Kidnapping, blood, drugging, torture (self inflicted, it is just cutting but please don't read if that is triggering), the mention of bugs (guys I couldn't think of anything else), and probably bad writing. ALSO!! Spoilers for Mr. Scratch! I am actually awful at recounting things, so I know this is wrong, but for the sake of the fic, lets pretend it isn't a/n: I apologize for the plot holes, there are definitely pieces that don't go along with the actual storyline, and I'm probably adding people in at the wrong times, but please enjoy! @shadowmoonlight0604 you inspired me to write a pt 2, so thank you! <3 This is so bad, I am so sorry

You had spent a few years in Europe, and over that time you had come back to visit as much as you could. You have seen things change every trip back. One of those being Aaron and Jack being put into protective custody. You were able to see him one last time via facetime, it had ended in a long conversation with a final decision that you both were safer if you stopped seeing one another. For Jack’s and your safety. And though it hurt, you knew it would be what’s best for all of you. 

After that you decided that it was time for you to come home. After talking with the new lead, Emily Prentiss, and your longtime best friend, you were invited back to the BAU. It was meant to be a surprise, you even had it planned out you would be sitting down at your old desk with a cup of coffee. And of course would make some comment about how they finally replaced the coffee machine. But what was supposed to be a fun surprise, turned into something much worse.

It was an early Monday morning, you had brought a bag full of some small goodies for your team, and even something for the new recruits. It felt good to be back in Quantico, in the stain ridden parking garage that had a certain weird smell to it. What you hadn’t expected was to have the back of your leg cut as you stepped out of the car, maybe you had been out of the profiling gig too long, or maybe they were just that good. It didn’t matter which it was, all that mattered was that as soon as you fell to the ground someone was on top of you and shoving something over your mouth. You knew better than to breathe in, but you could only hold your breath for so long. 

“Come on little bird, take a breath.” the person said. And though you tried, you couldn’t help but gasp for air, and you knew it was over. 

— — — —

It was that time of morning where everyone had filed in but weren't quite awake enough to be fully working. Penelope had perched herself on the edge of Luke Alvez’s desk while making conversation with him and JJ. Tara Lewis, Matt Simmons, and Spencer were in a deep discussion about the actual effects of coffee as the latter two were worried about Spencer's consumption. But Rossi storming in caught everyone’s attention. 

“Prentiss, her car is here but the driver side door was left open and her coffee is cold.” There was some kind of urgency in his voice that had everyone shedding the morning drowsiness. Emily stepped out of her office, holding her phone to her ear. 

“I know, she won’t pick up my calls.” Panic was written all over their faces. Spencer had now gotten up from his seat and made his way towards where Emily stood. 

“Who?” he was almost scared to ask. 

“Well what was supposed to be a surprise, is now a case. Y/N was coming back-” 

“Is. You mean she is coming back to work!” Penelope interrupted, Luke had put his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. 

“Let’s get going then.” Emily put on her Unit Chief tone, putting her team to work. 

— — — —

“Wake up, little bird.” You felt something brush against your stomach, your shoulder ached, and you were sure that you were drenched in sweat. “Don’t make me ask again.” This time the brush against your stomach was more forceful, almost like something was trying to grab you. Instinctually, you sucked your stomach in. “Oh so she is awake.” The person grabbed your hair and yanked it so you were forced to meet their eyes, slowly you opened yours. 

If you hadn’t been scared and weren’t currently tied up, you’d think the gray eyes were beautiful. All you could do was see Spencer’s face, his teary eyes when you said goodbye to him before you left. You had heard about all he had been through since you left, and all you want to do now is hug him. Suddenly it hit you that the only people who knew you were back in town for good, or even at all, were Emily and David. You had almost wished they would stay out of this, but a bigger part of you started to count the minutes until they found you.

“There she is.” Taking in his appearance you almost wanted to shrink away from him, and it was only because of his awfully horrific smile. “BAU Princess, if you ask me. Emily was so excited to see you too, her last message was; ‘Y/N I made sure your usual parking spot is open for you! I have a little gift for you too, see you soon!’ I mean, exclamation points from the Unit Chief, that seems pretty big to me.” You tried to look away from him, but his grip on your face was almost bruisingly strong. 

“What do you want?” you asked as passively as you could, you didn’t know anything about this man, it was best to try and keep the situation from escalating by remaining neutral. Looking around a bit, you noticed you were in a cage-like structure, great.

“I just want to have a bit of fun, you see, I have been watching you for a long time. I have watched your team even longer, and I know you mean oh so much to them.” Letting go of your face he takes a few steps back and reaches to grab a mask, one resembling a gas mask. At this point, you know there is no reason to try and get away from it, so you simply accept the gas that then fills the room. Your brain began to grow fuzzy, but it almost felt nice. 

— — — — 

Seeing your face up on the board was more than enough to get the whole team to give 110%. They had pulled every file about you that they had access to. They also gathered the case files from some of the major cases they had worked on with you. 

“Guys, I think we are overlooking the obvious suspect.” Luke hadn’t ever met you, but from your files, you seemed like a reasonable person. “I know none of us want it to be true, but Mr. Scratch has been attacking us. What if he took her?” The room was silent, Emily finally spoke up. 

“Okay, then we need to get one step ahead of him. How do we do that?” She looked around the table at everyones expressions, anger, hurt, and guilt. “She is strong, we know this. Let’s channel our anger into finding her, not worrying about her.” 

“Easier said than done.” Rossi muttered under his breath. 

— — — —

You couldn’t tell how long it has been since you were taken. But you were lucky enough to know that the man would take his sweet time getting to you. 

“There is another one!” you felt something tickling your leg, when you looked down you saw another massive bug. Why were there so many? It felt as if you had been slashing at bugs for hours. You were told to cut and slice, and only when you were given the order to stab, would you follow through, it was only a few times . “Oh no…” the voice sounded nervous, which only spurred your anxiety and fear more. 

“WHAT?!” You cried out at the thought of another bug. 

“It's right on your upper arm now.” With that information you began frantically cutting around your left arm, it felt like it was stinging, but that was probably just the bug crawling around. “You’ve almost got it.” a few moments later “You did it!” Letting out a cry of relief you dropped the knife. 

You couldn’t make much out, but there was a lot of red around you. Red means blood. Blood means bad things, usually that someone is hurt. You slowly started to piece together why the blood was so close to you. “I think it’s time for a nap.” Suddenly gas filled the room again, but this time you wanted to fight back. 

“NO! No, don't do this! I can’t walk! PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU!!” But your words began to slur, and you knew it was over. 

“Goodnight little bird.” 

— — — — 

It had been hours, now being well into the late evening, everyone seemed to be defeated, coffee cups were strewn across the table along with some take out boxes. Just when the team thought they were getting nowhere, Penelope and Spencer had somehow triangulated an approximate spot where you were likely being kept. 

“Okay, pack up everyone!” Emily announced while tossing her blazer to the side. The team packed up in the cars and were speeding off. 

— — — —

You were chained up by the wrists again, this time though, you were a little more aware of your surroundings.  Something you were sure of was that you were in your underwear and your work blouse. The neat updo you had in the morning was falling out, there was sweat on your face, probably from the stress and thrashing around. The worst thing, however, was the blood. You could feel it dripping down your left arm, a trickle of it went over your armpit and you could feel it seeping into your bra. Then there were your legs. With the way you were strung up, your toes were holding you up, but you could feel blood collecting there as well. There was a small puddle collecting around your feet that threatened to make you slip and break your wrists. 

“How is my little bird doing?” You hated his voice, it was disgusting. Turning away he clicked his tongue, before digging into one of the deeper cuts on your left arm eliciting a yelp. “We only have a small amount of time together, so I suggest you cooperate or I will dispose of you.” You took a moment to contemplate your options. Would death be better than the embarrassment of being found? You had already lost so much.

“I’m fine.” You spit in his face. He simply smirked, and it made you want to vomit. 

“Well, I have enjoyed our time together, little bird, though I must get going. I want you to remember all of this, take it all in.” And then he turned to leave you. 

— — — —

The team was restless the whole ride to the warehouse, some even went as far as to put their vests on. Though as they pulled to a stop, Emily made a move to stop everyone from entering. “We need to wait for backup.” It wasn’t a suggestion. 

“Like hell we are going to wait! One of our own is in there. Y/N is in there!” JJ exclaimed. And before Emily even got the chance to protest, Luke pushed past her. Spencer, Matt, and JJ followed behind him.

“Screw it.” Rossi followed up behind her as they entered the building.

A few minutes after entering, Luke came over the coms saying he had caught sight of Scratch and was going to pursue, JJ and Tara followed him. Now it was up to the others to find you.

— — — — 

It had been such an exhausting day, and at this point you didn’t know what was real, things were still fuzzy. And you certainly did not expect the man to come back, but the rattling of the cage walls told you. It seemed pathetic, especially given that you had just spit in his face, but you were scared. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prepared for the worst.

“NO, please I can’t take it anymore!” you let the tears fall, telling yourself you could be strong another day. “I will do anything else, please!” what would Aaron think if he were here? 

“Hey, hey, hey, It’s okay. You’re safe now.” This voice was different, more calming. But it could be a lie. 

“No. No, really. I can’t do this, please just- just don’t.” Unbeknownst to you it was the newest member of the BAU, Matt, and that Spencer and Rossi had entered the room as well, Emily surveyed the surrounding area, just in case. 

“I’m going to get you down, but you have to promise to try and be still. I don’t want to hurt your wrists more than they already are. Okay?” And for some reason you put your faith in the unknown. As you shook your head you felt hands on your wrists, and they hurt so very bad. But the touch was gentle. You felt the release before you heard the click, and your whole body gave out. The person caught you and slowly brought your body to the ground.  “There we go.” 

Opening your eyes you saw that it wasn’t the man from before, but a new person. Your eyes were still adjusting but you were sure you were seeing Spencer behind him, and is that Rossi beside Spencer? This was too much to take in, it was all too much. Your chest began to rise and fall quicker, your eyes widened. Who you thought to be Spencer crouched down next to you reaching out a hand. You loosened your grip on the other man's bicep and reached out to take his hand. That is when you decided it had to be your Spencer, because his hands were so cold, and he had the watch you bought him for his birthday the year before you left. Tears spilled over the edge as you fully let go and reached for Spencer. 

“Spence, it’s really you.” He couldn’t form any words so he just squeezed you tighter. 

— — — — 

You were sitting in a hospital bed looking out the window. It was early morning now, and you were sure you could hear your entire team busting down the hall. There was a quiet knock on the door, and in walked Spencer, and the team filing in behind him. You could tell JJ had cried by the redness of her nose. Penelope was wearing her brightest clothes, probably to try and lighten the mood. Emily and Rossi stood next to one another, and for a moment you thought they looked like parents. The other three you hadn’t met officially, well that was a lie. The tall dark haired man had helped you out of chains the day before. 

“Surprise!” you said half heartedly as you let out a water chuckle. “This was meant to be a fun surprise,  and I was supposed to meet you all under better circumstances.” you gesture to the three new BAU members. 

“I’m Luke,” one smiled while stretching out his hand as you attempted your best smile. You felt like you were in some kind of tv show, the rest of the team was watching your every move, and it all felt fake. 

“Tara Lewis, I’m glad to see you are recovering well physically.” And finally the man who saved you. He moved to shake your hand, but you pulled him down into an awkward hug. 

“Thank you.” It was quiet, but meaningful. He rubbed his hand up and down your back once in a comforting motion. 

“Of course.” And even though you had been through something so traumatic you were sure to never forget the feeling of his hands on your face, you realized how lucky you are to have your team, your family.

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

iii. one for the money, two for the show.

— the one where you were never ready, so you watched him go.

warnings: war flashbacks to the miami gp, more insight into y/n (look i have to give a lot of context for my own sanity), not really proofread sorry, 2.4k words.

masterlist ✢ next

FROM “WHAT’S NEXT FOR AIDAN KIM?” POSTED IN THE US WEEKLY YOUTUBE CHANNEL MAY 2023

You are looking at the top comments.

aidanbabes nooo my baby😭 he looks so sad!

flowerbedkim I swear to god y/n better count her fucking days

halleyc don’t come at me but this sounds like he proposed

ynbby why is he talking about this though? y/n has been super private and he’s telling US WEEKLY THIS?

ynaidan i hate being a child of divorce😭

Miami, Florida May 6th

GRAND Prix number two with Elix, attempt number two by Mr. Stuart Schafer to get into your pants. Can it get any worse?

Yes, yes it can. Because as long as you have “a job” you don’t have to come to these sponsor events. Which sucks for you, not having an acting job for the moment has never felt more like a punishment from the universe.

Artists, from actors to singers are here promoting their gigs while all you do, again, is take pictures with men in jeans and loafers and try not to barf every time you consume Elix.

You’re watching your career crumble in front of your eyes and you can’t do anything to save it from burning when it hits the floor. Mildred has called you several times during the course of the weekend to inform you of canceled interviews, revoked invitations and “sorry we’re just looking for something else” calls from casting agents.

Part of you is in disbelief that a five minute interview from your ex-boyfriend is feeding the fire, part of you expected it all the same. Women are the preferred villain in the narrative, and if it means putting a man above them, the media has had the choice made for a while.

Did you really have it coming, though? There have been endless comments about how it was about time people realized the type of person you are.

But what are you? Who are you really?

You’re a coward. You tell that to yourself in the mirror first thing in the morning.

Many people have the luxury to say they can’t pinpoint the exact moment where they went wrong. You can’t afford the pleasure of such obliviousness, because the exact moment everything went wrong was when Aidan got down on one knee.

And when the question that left his lips went from "Will you marry me?" to "Why won't you?" You knew there was no turning back.

Marriage wasn’t a foreign concept to you, but while it is generally seen as a milestone, for you it was just another stepping stone. The roles of The Wife and The Mother were something you might eventually grow into, but on the night of your third anniversary, you realized you weren't even ready for that of The Fiancée.

Was it genuinely a surprise for Aidan that you had to close the velvet box he was holding in front of you, hiding the diamond ring from your sight, before he dropped his other knee to the ground and whispered 'Why?'

Never, in the three years you'd been together, had you seriously talked about marriage. It was another bridge you would cross once you got there, and in your mistaken calculations, you thought it would be around the time your relationship turned five. That's the limit for romantic relationships without a ring involved according to most women's magazines, and your own mom. At least neither know the ring was the cause of the breakup.

It's a little pathetic how lucky you consider yourself that the tabloids don't know you rejected an engagement. They're cruel enough as it is, things can only go further downhill, straight to hell.

"You good?"

Your best friend in the world, Victoria Presley, is able to join you in the VIP area of the Paddock thanks to a couple pictures on instagram where she tagged Elix. God bless the era of influencers. Or, family connections. Being the daughter of Sony Music executive Luke Presley and celebrity life coach Claire Walker can open many doors. Well it isn't Vic's fault being born into a rich and influential family, at least she's doing her own thing with her beauty products.

"Yes, I am," you shrug. Q3 is going on right now and although you try your best to keep your focus on the two red cars around the circuit, you find it hard to get out of your head. Plus it's so hot in here you feel sticky and gross.

"I lost you for a moment there," she insists, sipping her glass of champagne, the eyebrow raise she gives you after means she needs more info into what was going through your head just seconds ago.

"Not getting any call backs right now," you sigh, taking the flute from her although all it would take for you to get your own is a few steps. "I'm kind of frustrated."

"I'm sorry babe," Vic rubs your back, unbothered by your stealing. "You'll get something soon."

"And E! cancelled my interview, AND—"

Tires screech and an 'ooooh' goes through the grand stands before the screens show a red car embedded in the barriers. A groan of "It's Leclerc!" passes through the people around you in the VIP Lounge.

You grimace, focused on the circuit again as Charles leaves his car, shaking his arms before hitting the halo several times, frustrated.

"See everyone has bad streaks," Vic has gotten her own champagne again and is pointing to the screen, where the Ferrari driver is being followed on his way out. "It's his second crash, no?"

Other people's disgrace doesn't soothe your own, so you give Vic a stern look, causing her to shrug.

Q3 is done and Ferrari has mixed feelings about their two drivers' results. As for you, the faster you can get back to your hotel, the better.

─────────

Vic drags you to dinner with a couple of her influencer friends. Everyone and their mother is in attendance at Miami, and they’re here to have fun.

"They're here!" the girl to Vic's left whisper-yells, stretching her neck to look over at the entrance of the restaurant.

The place has been completely full the whole time you've been here, which has been a while, you're done with your dinner and have a few drinks on you, yet Vic has begged you twice to stay 'just a little longer'.

Of course Vic is having the time of her life, talking about promotion agreements and posting schedules, and although you hang out with lots of influencers and social media stars on your daily life, you're not clicking with any of them tonight. Have you become bitter? No, of course not.

"y/n knows them, she can just introduce us," another one giggles, and she cheers with her tequila sunrise to your own half-empty drink that's resting on the table.

"Hmm, what?" you chuckle, unsure of how you missed the part where you entered the story.

"The Ferrari Drivers," the first girl answers in that 'obviously' tone you hate when people use with you. "You're with Ferrari all the time lately, aren't you?"

"I'm with Elix," you clear up, best as you can as they're not really paying attention, their eyes following the group of men that are being escorted by a hostess to their table. "So you know, it's not really—"

"But you've met them,"

"Well, yes but..."

Yes but, you've seen them in scattered moments where they nod and smile at you passing by and the three times you've had to take pictures drinking Elix. You don't even get to the coworker level of knowing them.

"Well let's go!"

"Hold on Holly," Vic speaks up for the first time, "I mean, they literally just got here."

"Which is why we came here," Holly can't seem to get rid of that know-it-all tone, and it's frankly starting to annoy you even if she has a different target now.

It's time to use the angry eyes with Vic, again,in less than 24 hours. That's why she kept asking you to wait just a little longer.

"How did you know they'd be here?" you question, although you already know what a cleveage can do to get any information you want. Can't blame a girl for using her tools.

“I have my ways,” Holly says, and does in fact, fix her cleavage. Fair enough.

"Vic..." you whisper, as the rest of them regather in their own conversation. "What's happening?"

"I just– they said they really wanted to meet the Ferrari guys, y/n," Vic half whines. She's doing the most to impress the other girls, which is a very Vic thing to do, but still you don't like it. "And since you work with them, well it would be easier to approach them, right?"

Wrong.

"I- Vic, I don't work with these guys. We don't even work for the same people, and... it would be weird to approach them while they're trying to have dinner peacefully."

You are not a big fan of interruptions because you've heard enough of your coworkers talk about how annoying it is. As for yourself, sometimes you mind, sometimes you don't. It all depends.

You can barely distinguish their table with all the movement around the restaurant, but you manage a peek at Carlos' hair. Both of them are there, surrounded by a bunch of other Ferrari guys.

"So? Let's go," Holly is speaking again, downing the rest of her alcoholic Shirley Temple.

"I have to use the bathroom," you announce, dropping the napkin that covered your lap on the table.

"Right now?" the other girl—you feel guilty for not remembering her name— groans.

You refrain from replying, and try not to stomp to the bathroom like a toddler throwing a tantrum. If there’s anything that you hate is feeling used, and it hurts a lot more when it comes from Victoria.

It’s something else when she uses her doe-eyed stare and says “please, please, please” to get her way even with you, rather than set you up to impress her other friends.

You take your time to reapply lipstick in the bathroom and soothe your annoyance. You have told Vic before that she needs to ask for things, not just push you into awkward situations. At least she didn’t follow you to the restroom.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bathroom, wondering how to go on about this. It’s very likely that things get twisted and it is you who’ll look like she wants to brag about knowing the Ferrari guys, which you’re sure they’re used to—being bragged about. But you don’t want that.

There are many clichés that you have experienced, both as a character in RomComs where the biggest makeover that is done to your character is to apply a little mascara and remove the glasses (you hate that, what’s wrong with wearing glasses?). And in real life, with big romantic gestures like receiving a bouquet with a hundred roses and one is artificial… Blah blah.

This cliché is a little more ridiculous, though, as you crash into Charles Leclerc while leaving the restroom.

“Oh, sorry,” you half-smile back at him, he’s already smiling, showing dimples and everything. You see his appeal no matter how much you don’t want to notice it. Tall, green-blue eyes and those stupid dimples. Not to mention the fact that you suddenly find accents charming. Again, stupid.

“Hey y/n,” he says still smiling, “Did you just get here?”

“Uh, no actually we’re leaving in a few minutes,” you move out of the way of a lady that wants to get into the restroom, she eyes you both for a moment before continuing on her way.

“Are you here with your friends? Or is it with Elix?”

“My friends. Thank God I get to be away from Elix for a few hours.”

Charles chuckles and the moment runs long enough to become awkward. You’re still outside of the bathrooms and another guy has too given you an off look as he made his way inside.

"Let me walk you back to your table," Charles offers as a way of breaking the silence and you shake your head no.

"You don't have to, my friends are probably on the way out already, anyway."

Are you being selfish by keeping Vic's friends away from him? It doesn't matter to you, not really. But really a small part of you doesn't want things to go their way.

Charles doesn't listen to your refusal anyway, and asks you to lead the way with a gesture.

"I didn't see you at the Ferrari Suite after Quali," he mentions as he follows you a step behind.

"I was in the VIP Lounge with a friend," you explain, "I'll be at the Suite tomorrow, though."

You stop at your table, where the three girls are still doing their best to ogle at the Ferrari guys.

"Hey," you get their attention back and not one in the three of them even attempt to hide the pleasant surprise that Charles' presence gives them. "Are you ready to go?"

It's Vic's turn to give you a look. One that tells you to not be unfair, things have just started to go as they planned.

While you return the pointed look to Vic, Holly strikes a conversation with Charles. Lightning quick.

"Let's go," you repeat, "Gotta be up early tomorrow."

"Can we get a picture, though?" the other girl—lord, if you could remember her name you'd feel a little better —adds quickly.

"Do you mind?" you ask Charles before he can reply. You don't want to make a fuss and have half the restaurant acknowledging his presence and his disposition to take pictures and sign autographs while he's trying to have dinner.

"Not at all," he shakes his head and waits patiently for everyone to be camera-ready while you stare. "Aren't you getting in the picture?"

"I'll take it," you hold your hand out for an iPhone, and get Holly's bedazzled one. Charles frowns but you just say 'okay, ready?' before pointing the camera at them.

No one else argues the fact that you're not in the picture.

A chorus of 'thank you's' passes quickly as you return the iPhone and the three influencers start checking the picture. They're probably better photographers than you, you can accept that.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, y/n," Charles leans towards you, leaving the group to their own thing after he pleased their request. "Right?"

"I'll be the one drinking Elix," you joke, half-whining.

"I'll be the one in the red car," Charles jokes back, a wide smile spreading on his face.

You laugh, fighting against the sudden shyness caused by the familiarity.

"Goodnight," he calls quietly, and the girls wish him a goodnight and good luck for the race before he snakes through tables back to his friends.

Not another thank you is directed at you as your group leaves the restaurant to wait for the Uber back to the hotel.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! thank you for reading! I'm really grateful for everyone who has interacted with this story, I hope you're enjoying it so far ♡❞

[keylimeyunho]

hard to ignore: part 1

part 1: “your dream”

pairing: reader x fuckboyidol!san genre: smut, fluff word count: 4.1k warning(s): none for this chapter

“the concert starts promptly at 7:30. make sure they’re ready by 5.”

he threw the keys in your lap, placed a folded paper on the table of your new trailer, and held out his hand. you immediately shook it.

“welcome to the team.”

you beamed proudly and nodded your head aggressively. yes, of course, they would be ready by 5, maybe even 4:30 if you got a head start. but the man proceeded to just stand in your trailer and stare you down.

“with this being your first time working with the boys,” he cleared his throat “i’m going to give a little word of advice before you head to their dressing room.”

he walked over to the couch across from where you sat at your trailer’s kitchen table, and relaxed his arm over its cusion. he stared you down once again, looking into your pupils as if he was scanning for information about you that he didn’t already know, or couldn’t find in your resume.

“there’s eight of them… and some of them are…different. don’t let them get to you.”

you tilted your head and laughed, but only a little. of course, they would each be different; they’re human, after all. why would you need to be warned about something so trivial? “what do you mean by 'different'?”

he kept a thin lipped smile and just exhaled out his nose, silently, keeping the eye contact. “you’ll soon find out.” the man then stood up, straightened his jacket, and headed towards the trailer door. “just…be cautious. we want this tour to go smoothly, okay? no mishaps.”

“now what does that mean?” you wanted to say but you kept that thought to yourself and just held a thin-lipped smile in return, holding a strong thumbs up to let him know yes, of course. because **you weren’t about to risk losing the only job you ever wanted on day one.t

you raised an eyebrow and kept eye contact with him. “no mishaps. i swear it."

—

after dumping out your enormous stash of makeup out of your suitcase, you realized you may have overpacked. every size brush dispersed over at least ten shades of concealer and a mountain of eye shadow palettes looked up at you. but you also knew it was best to not make the rookie mistake of giving these boys the wrong products, let alone the wrong shades.

after almost three years of cosmotology school, thousands of dollars in scholarships, and a handful of temporary salon jobs, you had finally landed your first big gig. and you weren’t going to be just any stylist. you were going to be working for one of the biggest names in music, in k-pop.

kq entertainment was one of the last companies you expected to even glance at your application, let alone accept it, but they were pleasantly surprised with your extensive resume of internships and recommendations from clients at your old job. and besides, they had just lost a series of stylists so they were desperate for someone to work immediately and last-minute. and with you eager to leave a job that could not pay your rent or even just your coffee every week, that made you the perfect candidate.

especially since you graduated top of your class and spent the entirety of your undergrad working as a nail tech and shampooer right after tech school, you had more experience and drive than anyone in the running because most people just worked to pass so they could get a mediocre job at their local hair salon, getting paid maybe 30k a year (if they’re lucky) to dye greying old ladies’ hairlines various shades of brown.

but this..this was your dream. creating something original and getting to express your love of fashion, hair, and makeup to put on a show. and doing that for a group as big as ateez was absolutely surreal.

you didn’t know much about them, besides the fact they were outselling arenas all over the nation. you never paid much attention to guys, anyway, even the ones who sat next to you in class and tried to write notes to you in the margins of your paper. but you were usually too consumed in what was on the board than what the guy next to you was doing. like you said, this was your dream. not the lackluster boys who were definitely failing out of their classes. and besides, those boys were never that memorable in looks, anyway.

closing the door to your trailer, you hit the dirt with your platforms and headed towards the boys dressing room. you decided to put on your most original look you could think of that was not too over the top for complete strangers. you strapped on some ankle boots paired with a lavender maxi skirt that matched the purple satin bustier you donned under a cropped leather jacket. you made sure to showcase your personality patches of your favorite bands that you sewed onto your messenger bag.

unfolding the paper the director had given you, you looked carefully down at the order of of which member you would style first:

y/n,

the boys are trailer 1024. the order for the makeup cycle will be

wooyoung, jongho, mingi, seonghwa, yeosang, hongjoong, san, yunho

today we only need you to prepare their makeup for the show. it’s their first night in seoul since the pandemic so tonight, they need to make an impact. play off their show outfits and give us something fresh.

- kq creative team

the list was new for you and the first time you heard any of the members’ names. despite the fact you had already met with the kq staff running this concert, you still had yet to meet any of the actual members. you shouldn’t be that surprised, considering they’re famous celebrities who definitely don’t have time to meet and greet all their staff. but since you were about to spend the next few months alongside them at every tour stop, your first official meeting with them being the tour’s kick-off was a bit nerve-wracking but nevertheless exciting.

walking through the rows of trailers full of kq staff, you finally located trailer 1024 about a couple doors down from yours. you saw a door with the word ARTIST in huge red letters printed on a paper taped on the door.

this will make it so much easier to get them ready everyday, you thought. not that far a walk.

you straightened your jacket and smiled at your reflection in the trailer window before knocking.

no mishaps.

the trailer door opened almost immediately, as if the person inside was waiting for you to rap on their door. A red-haired guy with bright brown eyes and a sharp jawline stood at the door. he was in a white tanktop, but below his waist were dress pants and dance shoes. he looked like he was halfway dressed to perform on stage and he looked a little too pretty to be their manager.

you held your smile tightly, waiting for him to say the first words.

“ah, are you y/n?” he said, leaning his elbow above his head on the edge of the door, flashing an unsurprisingly perfect smile

you nodded and bowed quickly, handing him the paper the director had given you. “at your service!”

keeping his elbow on the door, he took the paper out of your hands and scanned over it quickly. “nice to finally meet you, y/n.” he moved out of the way and reached out his hand to you. “i’m wooyoung. come in.”

you thanked him and he closed the door behind you as you took your first steps inside. it was double the size of your trailer but since they were the artists and you just came on tour for their makeup, it made sense they would have more leg room after each show.

you were expecting to see eight boys sitting on the couch waiting patiently for their makeup stylist; however, wooyoung seemed to be the only around.

“here- catch!” he catches you off guard and as you turn around, a drink can flies towards your head.

you were so entranced by the sheer size of their place that you didn’t see wooyoung go into their fridge and take out two redbulls. you catch the redbull with one hand, surprising yourself. he smirks a little before cracking open his own can. “nice. quick reflexes. you’re gonna need those if you want to work with us.”

what does that even mean? “everyone has been saying things like that about you guys. what exactly am i preparing for?” you crack the can open, as well, and take a gulp.

wooyoung plops on the couch and downs the can in under a few seconds. he sighs and runs his fingers through his red hair. “it means you’re our third stylist this month.” he tosses the now empty can like a basketball across the room and of course it lands with a perfect swish into the trash can next to the door. “and i don’t want to move onto a fourth.”

you sip carefully on the redbull can. between the director and now wooyoung’s words, you start to wonder if working with ateez was not what you had expected it to be. maybe these boys are going to be more work than just opening up a few eye shadow palettes and blowing drying their hair.

but wooyoung smiles at you softly before you let that thought fully form. “but don’t worry about it too much. with your experience, i’m sure we’ll be light work compared to the clients you’ve had before.”

that was true. working with screaming nine-year-olds and their 35-year old mothers was definitely the lowest you could have reached. you took wooyoung’s words with a grain of salt and stuck them in your back pocket.

“thanks.” you respond “but i do have one question…” you down the rest of the can and mimic wooyoung, tossing it behind you. “where are the rest of the members?”

wooyoung laughs. “we rotate, usually. the rest of them are getting changed or getting their hair done first. meanwhile, i’m scheduled for makeup first.” he gets up and starts heading down to one of the other doors in the trailer. “we each have about 20 minutes per rotation, so once you finish with me, the next one of us will coming knocking on the door.”

you looked at the clock on the wall in the trailer kitchen. five minutes had already past, giving you only 15 minutes left with wooyoung.

as if he could read your mind, wooyoung opens one of the doors. “welcome to the official ateez dressing room. come on in”

—

contrary to what everyone was saying, these boys were actually quite pleasant. for being famous celebrities who had fans cheering for them every night, you expected artists like them would walk around like they were above your pay grade (which they were) and deserved your utmost respect. but to your surprise, they were just- normal. some of them even shy.

for being the 6’2 rapper, mingi had trouble keeping eye contact with you while you looked at his face before starting, trying to get the lay of the land (or his visage). his fire red and orange hair intimidated you but as soon as you stopped looking he burst out . “i-i just want to say, i love your hairstyle.”

you touched your hair and looked away for a second. did he just compliment me? my hair?

“wow, um..thank you.” you blushed. “i think your hair is pretty nice, too..if not even better than mine.”

and even seonghwa, the greek god of a man with some of the most perfect features you’d ever admired kept giggling at every joke you made, some that weren’t even your best. you tried not to mess up his perfectly tousled blonde hair when powdering his face and drawing on his eyeliner carefully, but he flinched at your every touch.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m just scared i’ll mess you up." seonghwa says, looking away and scratching his arm nervously. "we haven’t had eyeliner in years, i'm happy you're bringing it back”

“really?” you lifted an eyebrow. out of all the concept photos you studied before today, you remember looking that the “say my name” era with smokey eyeliner was your favorite look. “well, good thing i’m here. i think it's time for a change."

seonghwa looked down and smiled slightly. “yeah..good thing.”

now, when jongho waltzed in, he had the most adorable smile you'd ever seen on an idol. stubby teeth and gums showing ever so slightly that made your eyes soften proved he was obviously the maknae. but you would never know because his vocals did not match that face.

he had begun practicing one of their sets. it made your heart flutter. you never heard such a powerful and angelic voice. (and you get to do his makeup?)

“you have such a beautiful voice” you said to him as you brushed the contour over the crest of his forehead. he flashed his gummy smile again and looked down shyly. “but, i will be honest, though," you admitted with a twinge of shame. "i really haven't heard much of your music."

jongho raised an eyebrow but quickly retracted it, at as to not mess up the contour. he didn't respond, but simply grabbed his phone out of his pocket, opening spotify.

the beginning note of a song began to play. he finally replies, “well, you should change that then.” the beginning note of their song "answer" begins to echo through the cool air of the dressing room. the music bounces around the room while you listen to his studio version which sounds just like the vocals you heard minutes prior.

now yeosang was the member who brought out your first real laugh of the day. walking into the room, he waved to you excitedly. "hi! i'm yeosang, nice to finally see your fa-"

yeosang didn’t notice your messenger bag by the door and is caught off as he trips over it. but instead of hitting the floor, yeosang somersaults over the bag and gets up like nothing just happened. standing there, stunned and surprised himself, he says, “you didnt see that.”

he looked down at your bag, about to pretend to kick it out the door, when he notices your patches. “pierce the veil? who is that?”

you smiled and this time, you take out spotify yourself to show yeosang your playlists.

next, hongjoong walked into the room. his hair was a striking royal blue and he was all suited up with a gold trim, black jacket. a regal look you were sure would make his fans go absolutely wild for him.

"y/n? it's so nice to finally meet you." he stuck out his hand. "our new stylist"

still holding eyeshadow brushes and cotton rounds in your hands, you weren't expecting such a nice greeting. you quickly set everything down and straighten yourself up to shake his hand. "that's me."

hongjoong settles down in the chair in front of you and closes his eyes.

"what are you doing?" you laugh, as you look for primer to start him off.

hongjoong immediately opens his eyes again. "oh.." he says nervously. "are you not starting yet?"

you chuckle to yourself, what an interesting guy. "i haven't even got the primer out yet."

his palm hits his face and slides down slowly in shame. "i'm sorry, i'm a bit of a mess. it's our first show since the pandemic and... i don't know. i'm excited to meet our fans again, but nervous they won't like what we have in store for them. it's just been so long since our last show..almost two years"

you stop rummaging in your bag to stare at him in shock. "what? of course they'll love you" you couldn't believe you were becoming a celebrity therapist, too. "and besides, you have an awesome stylist that will make you look out of this world."

hongjoong scratches his head and laughs lightly. "yeah..yeah you're right. i just love our fans so much, they mean the world to us"

you look at hongjoong as he continues to nervously scratch his head. where was the notion that these guys would be too much to handle? after only six members had finished their makeup, it seemed they were some of the sweetest and most devoted people you have ever worked with, even met. the stylists that decide to leave these angelic boys dropped the ball, big time.

—

as hongjoong thanked you for your hard work and walked out, you began looking at the list to see which member was next to come in. before you got your answer, you jumped as the door opened right as hongjoong closed it.

wearing another gold trim velvet jacket, held together by a single button, the most attractive- no, stunning man you have ever came across walked right through the dressing room door.

you never usually got starstruck and even the previous members were encapsulating beautiful. but this man, with his black hair still wet and slick from his shower and his jawline locked towards you, something about him made you almost stumble off your stool.

"oh. um..h-hi. n-nice to finally meet you" you said as you regained balanced, cringing at your own words.

he chuckled and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "oh, i already know you." he stepped a couple feet closer so you were now right under his gaze, under his chin. you could smell the faint cologne coming off his skin, making you want to get even closer to him to get another whiff, but you just stood there, in awe.

it took you a second to register what he just said. "wait..what does that mean?"

his brown eyes glinted and you could feel his breath on your face. a smile peeked at the corner of his lips and he said almost at a whisper, "you're that beautiful girl who lives three doors down from our trailer, right?"

looking into the dressing room mirror behind him, you gawk at yourself. is he talking about me?

turning to back to face him, you shrug. "n-no. i'm just your stylist." you go into your pocket and dig out the folded paper the director gave you to prove the truth: you really were just some girl kq hired to put makeup on him. he was getting you confused with someone else, someone much more interesting than you, right?

he took the paper out of your hand and suddenly began ripping it, shred after shred, letting the paper fall to the ground in between you. he bends down to look into your eyes.

my god, you didn't realize how large he was. you were too distracted by his broad shoulders that looked like they were about to burst out of his jacket. you could see right down the center of his shirt and you could almost see-

"i'm san and you're y/n, my stylist, the fine girl with the patches on her bookbag who lives in trailer 1021." he tilted his head and smirked, the tip of his tongue peeking out the corner of his lips. "don't act like i don't know exactly who you are. i know a pretty girl when i see one."

you stood there, stunned. there's no way he was still talking about you. "i'm not sure what you mean..san."

san stands back up. "tsk, tsk," he sighed, shaking his head so the water droplets fell off his soaking hair onto your shirt. you watch the droplets seep into the cotto, wondering if some of his sweat was mixed in. "don't worry, pretty girl. we'll get to know each other soon enough."

he proceeds to sit in the chair in front of you, innocently looking up with his adorable brown eyes, as if he was not just full-on flirting with his stylist seconds before. "just put the makeup on me, if you will."

you roll your eyes with a smile and start setting the concealer on his face.

"sorry, i-" you start to say, but your own giggles cut you off. "i just- i never heard someone say that kind of thing about me. caught me off guard, that's all."

san's eyes droop and he pouts. "you mean no one has ever told you how beautiful your hair falls off you." he touches the hand by your side, grazing his fingertips over your own. "or how hard you are making it to sit in my chair right now"

oh my god, you think to yourself, this has to be a all in my head. a member of ateez was sitting here flirting with you and trying to hold your hand, looking so enchantingly into your eyes.

part of you wants to grab his hand and rope your fingers between his and tell him, no one's ever told me that before, but i'll let you be the first. you sigh at the thought.

"no mishaps." the director's words ring in you're ears. you're here for one thing and one only. don't fuck it up.

as if he read your mind, san starts to drag his fingers over your palm, but you yank your hand away before he gets that far.

"nope, no one." you turn back to your makeup bag. "bow, please be silent while i draw on your eyeliner." you assert your dominance back in the conversation, trying to diffuse the hot tension boiling between you and the finest, yet most annoying man you've ever met.

san pouts again and his pupils grow, almost like a kitten's. he folds his hand in his lap and heaves out a sigh that you try to ignore. "alright, i guess. but at least let me see your face, pretty girl, one more time.. if i can't compliment it"

you turn around and give him a pity smile. "fine. now, close your eyes."

surprisingly, he does what you say, a thin-lipped smile stuck on his face as if he was satisfied with being nowhere else but here with you, letting you do whatever you want to him.

"so, who's your favorite?"

san's question causes you to shake and run a streak of eyeliner down his face.

"shit! sorry- um," you race to clean him up as he remains unbothered, waiting patiently for your answer. you wipe his face and admit, "i honestly don't have one, i mean, i just met all. of you "

san chuckles lightly, "don't lie, i know you have a favorite."

your face turns a shade of red that he thankfully can't see because he still waits patiently for your eyeliner with his lids closed. "i still have one member left after you. i'll let you know who i decide later."

"okay." san lifts his hand up. "shake on it."

now he's lost it. you know for a fact he just wants you to succumb to his charms (which you almost did, but you remained strong) and say oh, san, it's you, of course! but you were his stylist. you worked for him. an obvious power imbalance and obviously something that would mess up your career, and everything you worked for.

"i'm all good. i'll let you know my answer, if i feel like it." you assert with him. this time, san opens his eyes and smirks.

"well, princess, i don't think you-"

"all done!" you snap the blush pad closed, sarcasm hanging off your lips and not realizing he was about to say something. "thanks for being such an amazing client!"

this cannot happen again, before anyone finds out you and san were just within inches of each other, breathing on each other and feeling on each other's hands and-

"wait, y/n, can i-" san starts.

"i'm all good, actually, whatever it is. you need to keep the cycle moving anyway" you usher him out. however, he snatches the folded paper off the table and rips a small piece off, quickly scribbling something onto it.

he hands you the paper back, re-folded, and whispers in your ear, hot breath rubbing against your eardrums and making you squirm.

"for when you're ready."

he bows to you and closes the dressing room door carefully, leaving you in silence, standing with a paper in your hand and the air conditioner running loudly. you unfold the paper carefully and your jaw drops at its contents:

a phone number scrawled hastily onto the paper, attached with only the words, "for when my pretty girl decides to tell me i'm her favorite :)"

series masterlist | next chapter

tag list: @atinytinaa @cloudysannie @s10an

[w1ldthoughts]

Top of the Food Chain

Anon Requested

Disclaimer: this is a work of FICTION, the characters are fictionalized versions of real life situations and real people. It’s all based on my imagination.

Masterlist

This was all a part of the gig. People assumed things about you, people talked. They sometimes even asked you questions that you couldn’t believe you were hearing, especially from the other moms at Remi’s preschool.

Does your husband give you a weekly allowance?

Do you have a credit card exclusively to shop?

Are any of his teammates single?

You hated the politics. The fake smiles and even more fake compliments when you knew that they were probably talking about you behind your back. The school itself was amazing though and gave your daughter the freedom to be a kid without completely invading her privacy. So in turn, if all you had to do was rub elbows with some people who you weren’t the biggest fan of, it was a small sacrifice that you were absolutely willing to make.

Part of those small sacrifices was following rules and guidelines set for school sponsored events. Remi’s school was hosting a bake sale tonight to raise funds for a local family’s medical expenses. Justin really didn’t want to go after you’d been telling him the various drop-off stories about the other parents so he suggested writing a check and skipping the whole thing.

“I did not bake these vegan, gluten-free, peanut free, yet still delicious football brownies for no reason. Plus, I already promised Remi she could have some treats today. Do you really want to explain to her that she’s going to be staying home while all of her friends eat dessert at school? Be my guest.”

He looks at you like he’s really thinking about it, but then he remembers his baby’s sweet face talking about how excited she was this morning and he can’t disappoint her. “You know what? I’m actually ready to go. I’ll go get Remi and we can leave.”

You continue to pack up your brownies in your trays as you laugh to yourself. She really does have him wrapped around her little fingers.

Thing One and Thing Two waltz back into the kitchen as soon as you’re done and Remi’s eyes bulge out of her head.

“Mama, those look yummy. Are you a chef?” She asks, looking amazed. She’s been really big on compliments lately, always calling her dad “handsome” because she heard you say it once.

“I am a chef sometimes, only for you though sweet girl. Are you ready to go back to school?”

She nods excitedly, holding her hands out for Justin to carry her. “We going to the cookie party?”

“We are going to the cookie party,” he coos, “but remember mini, we’re only getting three treats, so you have to choose your favorites and that’s it. Deal?”

“Deal.“ She gives him a kiss on the cheek and he gives you a wink before heading into the garage to get her settled.

The entire car ride consisted of Remi making guesses on what snacks people were going to bring and how she couldn’t wait to see her friends.

Luckily when your husband pulled into the parking lot there weren’t very many people there. Remi insisted on helping you carry in a tray of brownies and was walking very carefully next to you so she wouldn’t drop them.

“I got it mama. I’m strong.”

“Yes you are sugar. Thank you for being such an amazing helper.” You gave her a smile which she happily returns.

Justin walks behind the two of you, smiling to himself at the sweet interaction. Remi was definitely a daddy’s girl but she also worshipped the ground you walked on and it was a funny thing to see. He was definitely her best friend and she wanted to spend every waking moment in life with him but nobody could convince the three year old that you weren’t a Disney princess. And if anyone asked her who her favorite Disney princess was, she’d say her mommy, because no one in this world was more magical to her than you.

The three of you had almost made it inside before a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh hi Herbert family! I’m so glad you all could make it. Wasn’t sure it fit into your busy schedule.” She said the last part not so subtly playing with her hair while staring at Justin.

He gives her a sideways glance before forcing a smile. “Well we promised Remi she could have some special treats tonight and didn’t want to go back on that promise.” On cue, your daughter handed you the other tray of brownies, feeling her arms getting tired and knowing this would be a long conversation.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Mason’s mom, you just couldn’t remember her name and it was too late to ask. She was also the main person always in your business about being an NFL wife like it was some secret society she was dying to be a part of. She batted her eyes through her lash extensions and give your husband another look. “Justin if you don’t mind, could you please help me carry these cupcakes inside? I may have gone overboard and now I can’t carry all of these by myself.”

“Sure,” he sighs, leaning into her car and grabbing three trays. Mason and Remi were already starting to walk inside so you hesitantly followed them, not wanting to leave Justin alone.

“Ugh, you are an absolute lifesaver.” She runs a hand down his arm before grabbing the rest of the cupcakes and heads inside, keeping the distance between them minimal.

With the evening the full swing, you were at your wit’s end. It was like watching a pack of hyenas fighting each other for a piece of meat. Every time you looked someone was pulling him away to offer him their dessert or to ask him questions in a flirty tone. One mom even went as far as asking him when she’d be invited to a game. You couldn’t roll your eyes anymore or they might get stuck in the back of your head. So you tried to drown your sour feelings in a root beer float while watching your daughter play with her classmates.

You sat alone at one of the tables and Remi came to find you to give you her three treats she was taking home. Before you could say anything, she was gone and back to playing tag. A warm hand on your shoulder eased your annoyance, only slightly. “Are you clocking out for the night?” You giggle at his look of exhaustion. His social meter probably ran out 30 minutes ago.

Giving you a pointed look, he grabs your drink off the table and starts digging in as you rub his back. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to fake laugh this much in my entire life. Not even during interviews. Those women can talk.”

“Definitely that, they love Justin Herbert. Especially Mason’s mom.” You tried to keep the bite out of your tone, you really did. His shoulders perked up at your comment but the ice cream was really taking up a lot of his attention.

“Isabel?” Oh…that was her name. “Yeah she was laying it on pretty thick but she’s harmless.”

“Harmless?” You scoff, “I saw her carry two 15 pound boxes last week and now that you’re here suddenly she’s a damsel in distress? I’m not buying it.”

“Easy tiger I’m on your side here.” He jokes, clearly amused, even if you weren’t. “You know…it’s really cute when you’re jealous.” Justin scoots his chair closer and puts a hand on your thigh.

“I’m not jealous I just don’t like that she keeps staring at you like she’s trying to picture you naked.” It wasn’t the first time she’d acted this way and it was just really…gross to watch.

He looks over at where Isabel is standing and she gives him a wave before he turns his back to her, whispering in your ear, “well you don’t have to picture it…you’ve seen it.”

“You’re right, I should tell her that.”

“Babe,” he shakes his head with a small laugh. “You remember Remington right? About 3 feet tall, blonde hair, green eyes, adorable little voice? We made an actual child together. I think she knows we’ve seen each other naked. A few times.”

Taking a deep breath, you allow your husband to bring you back down to Earth. You place your hand on top of his and hold on tight. Sometimes it felt like his hands were made to hold yours. The look you give each other is enough to discourage any other woman from coming up to him the rest of the night. It was a look of love in its purest form, like two souls that had worked tirelessly to find each other. And now that they had, there was no letting go.

A few minutes later Remi found her way into Justin’s arms. ”Mama, I need my bed.” You can tell how serious she is by the way she’s rubbing her eyes with her fist.

“I hear you sister, I need my bed too. Maybe it’s time for us to go home?”

She nods slowly and the three of you stand up, with one of Justin’s arms holding Remi and one hand wrapped in yours. He was definitely ready to get his girls home.

[istadris]

More about that plotbunny of Bowser hiring Luigi as a dealer for one of his casinos.

(Disclaimer: lots and lots of artistic liberties about how casinos and card games work, this is Mario world after all)

At first, Bowser doesn't want to hire Luigi. At. ALL. If it was just up to him, he would just punt the nerd back to Mushroom Kingdom.

But as Kamek points out, not only did he give his word, but if he fires someone just for being good for the job they're applying for, what kind of message is it sending ? If there is one reason Bowser's kingdom is running smoothly despite the regular beatings the kings gets from a pair of silly plumbers, it's the good work relationship between Bowser and his troops : he's a demanding boss, but not an unfair one.

Plus, it's bad enough he fails regularly his world invasions, but hey, world conquest is a hard job, so that's forgivable. But being a sore loser at a card games ?? That's not a good look for Bowser.

So fine. Green Mario is hired in a big show of pretending to acknowledge his enemy's skills. At least Bowser will be able to pretend he's bossing around the actual Mario for a while.

Doesn't mean he can't get his revenge otherwise.

Yes, he can't fire Luigi...but if Luigi is too weak to hold under pressure and quit, that's not on Bowser, is it ?

So Bowser nonchalantly orders the casino manager to make sure the new hire knows what he's in for. Or in other words, push him so hard he quits on his own.

At first Luigi is just put on slot machine filling duty; a boring, tedious job with a lot of noises and loud clients everywhere. Luigi bears it ; he's done that gig before and he's seen much worse as a full time plumber. And while he's doing that job, he befriends several of the maintenant workers, who for the most part are kinda curious about what a human (and a Mario Brother, no less) is doing here.

He's also very, very clumsy. To the point the manager starts to wonder how this is the same guy who beat Bowser at poker. And you know what, he's curious. Screw what Bowser said, until the king butted his head in the job interview, the human had an interesting resume and the manager is not losing more money, he wants to know what the new guy can actually do.

He puts Luigi at one of the tables as his last chance. Either he makes money, or he's out.

And Luigi makes money.

A.

Lot.

Of money.

Bowser visits the casino around about that time, already gloating inside : surely by now that wimp has run back to Mario crying, right ?

Instead he sees Luigi at one of the main Picture Poker tables, charming up the players (and it's something Bowser never expected to see, Luigi being confident and charming -wait why is he finding him charming ??) and large piles of coins piling up on his table.

Turns out, when your casino's style is mostly built around reminding players how tough and impossible to beat you are, a friendly and innocent-looking dealer who encourages you with dorky catchphrases and a cute little laugh is a BIG draw for players who think they still have a chance.

Bowser is FURIOUS (and just slightly horny). But he still can't fire Luigi; not only is he good at his job, but by now word has spread of how Luigi has been hired in the first place, making it very hard to not look like he's a sore loser who can't even win a card came against the "weaker" Mario Brother.

Brother who has the GALL to offer him to play at his table. And smiling on top of that!! That cheeky little thing !!

On his way out, Bowser grabs the manager by the collar : next time he's back, Luigi better has walked out on his own.

The manager appreciates Luigi's work, but he's not putting his job on the line for the new guy. But he's here to make money, and now he's decided to squeeze Luigi out of every coin the human can bring to the casino.

He increases his hours, raises the amount of money he's supposed to make every night, gives him back-to-back shifts, sends the most agressive players to his table (although the bouncers step in if things get too heated).

Usually a dealer is just here to deal, keep count, welcome players, announce hands, that sort of thing. But in Darklands casinos, there are special tables where you can play against the dealer, either on one-on-one or as a normal table; the games there are very high-stake, in an all-or-nothing fashion : you win against the casino, you earn a LOT.

It's the toughest job of the casino : not only the dealer is both player and house, but given these are high stakes games, you can't just put a newbie in charge there. You need a shark, a cold-blooded, lucky son of a bitch who can handle pressure.

The manager sends Luigi there : "you screw up, you're out". Piling up more and more pressure on the poor human's shoulders. As for the other dealers, they feel sorry for the new guy but they certainly won't stick out their necks for him.

But despite the stress and hostile conditions, Luigi isn't Mario's brother for nothing : despite his meek, non confrontational personality, Luigi can be extremely stubborn. He doesn't want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him quit and so he holds on.

Thankfully, he's got unexpected allies on his side : the maintenance/cleaning crew he's befriended before are outraged at the treatment and decide to help him out. Sneaking him treats and drinks on long night, disturbing games so he's got an easier time winning, arranging tables and chairs to make the other tables less attractive, hiding stuff around. Of course the other dealers notice and some of them are furious...but some start to realise that if Luigi is expected to hold up such high standards, what if these standards become the norm ? And they realise they really don't want such workplace conditions.

Things are getting out off hand. Revolt is brewing in the casino. Bowser gets winds of it and is tempted to close everything on a whim, but Kamek steps in yelling about the revenues the casino makes and how Bowser should get the situation back under control.

Screaming won't solve things, as the entire crew is one bad word away from quitting or going on strike. And he's not going to negotiate with Luigi!

Kamek : "Sir, either fire him or get revenge on him but DO SOMETHING ! He's the mastermind behind this conspiracy!

(He's really not.)

...fine, Bowser decides, he's going to negotiate with Luigi.

Who still doesn't want to quit.

But offers Bowser a deal :

One game a night, until they go through all the casino games. They count each victory and once the total is done, if Bowser has more points, Luigi walks out. If Luigi has more, he gets back a normal work schedule and he can finally focus on his damn job.

It's a stupid wager. It's ridiculous. It's outrageous. Insulting, even.

And Bowser still takes the wager.

Because he finally picks up on something: for some reason, even after everything, Luigi wants to play against him.

You can guess where this goes.

[heartofwritiing]

I don’t deserve you, you deserve the world.

paring: cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

summary: a very drunk wilbur makes a belated confession to you about how he has be feeling lately.

authors note: I literally had this in my drafts since february and forgot about it XD this is two times I've used lyrics of your sister was right as a fic title ahha! this is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only! hope you enjoyyy

warnings: wilbur has negative thoughts about himself (i love writing sensitive boys lol) alcohol consumption, fluff, pet names, wrote wil as a happy little drunk with mood swings, swearing, short, not proofread, unedited!

Wilbur stumbled through his apartment, leaning on a tipsy Joe, who was trying to not let Wilbur bump into anything.

After another very successful gig, the band decided that going out for drinks to end the night was the best thing to do to blow off the adrenaline.

Wilbur had taken one glance at his drink and thought fuck it, with the way his mindset had been, he needed something to numb his brain, even if it was just for a little while, and downed his first drink in one gulp. Letting the alcohol settle into his system.

One drink turned into three, then four, then by his sixth cup he was ready to fist fight a very amused Ash who had truly hadn’t consumed a single drop of alcohol that night.

-

You had been sleeping over at Wilbur's tonight. You said you wanted to see him after his show since you could not make it due to personal circumstances, but you would definitely be at the next lovejoy gig. He told you not to sweat about it and told you he wouldn't be home not too long after the performance.

Luckily Ash had messaged you notifying you that Wilbur would be home late due to getting drinks as a post show ritual after-party. You didn't mind, the band was getting more recognition which they deserved. He was so endlessly talented that he should have the right to celebrate the success along with his bandmates. So it was no surprise that around 11:40 pm you heard noises coming from the front room. You crawled out of your comfy position in Wilbur's bed and pushed yourself to the living room.

You then walk in on Joe kneeling over Wilbur who had fallen to the ground and was giggling incoherently about something. Joe had taken one sympathetic look at you and said “he’s all yours” offering Wilbur's hand to you that was clutching his wrist.

You bid goodnight to the boys, You waved to Mark and Ash who watched the interaction from the front doorway. When they shut the door behind them it was just you and Wilbur in in silence.

Glancing down at Wilbur you couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face at his state. His hair was disheveled, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top revealing his skin, and he looked so sleepy you felt so bad. He tried to pull himself off the ground, but he tripped over his feet, nearly causing you to topple over him. Luckily you caught yourself before you could fall.

Wilbur looked up at you his lips had the cutest pout resting on them but he shifted into a dopey grin upon realizing you were holding his hand. He was lifting your connected hands up like he was seeing you for the first time.

"darling! What are you doing here?" his voice was hoarse as he spoke, you knew it was the singing and the exhaustion catching up with him finally.

He must've forgotten in all the mist of the evening that you were staying over. Nonetheless, you didn't blame him, he had a pretty busy night.

Wilbur leans forward to attach himself to your waist, wrapping his free arm around your hip and pressing his face into your tummy. Warmth increased on your face at the gesture. Wilbur pressing so close to you made butterflies burst in your chest, which you didn’t mind at all he was being so clingy.

"I told you I wanted to stay over tonight, remember?" you said gently, carding your fingers through his locks. He hummed almost like a cat purring at your touch, nuzzling you further. "is that okay with you? I can leave?"

"no!" he instantly gripped your waist tighter, not wanting you to leave. "please, stay."

"Okay! I'll stay," You giggle, feeling his arms untighten slightly. "Let's get you into bed, yeah?"

Wilbur nods against your belly, and you pull him to stand up.

“I don’t deserve you..” he mumbled in your ear as he leaned on your for support had you walked to his bedroom. You didn’t quiet catch it you thought he was muttering something incoherent to himself. You shook of the frown

In his bedroom you help him to take off his shoes while he stumbles and almost tips over his feet. He mostly got himself undressed and put on his pajamas, which were just an old band shirt and sweatpants. Both of you crawled into bed with the hopes he would sleep off this drunken high and be his old self again in the morning.

Wilbur was curled into your side pulling you so close under the covers. You ran your hands through his hair as he blinked up at you.

“Darling do you love me?” he asked sincerely.

Your brain did a one-eighty with the tender tone of his voice. From his comment a minute ago to now this, It almost sounded like he had doubts about your feelings. You pulled back from him slightly so you could see him. exhaustion written all over his face.

“Of course I love you bub,” you reassured. “Why would you think I don’t?”

He looked away from you shyly like a kid who had gotten in trouble for doing something they knew was wrong. His hand came up to trace along the bottom of your shirt when it caught attention his eye.

“Well… sometimes I don’t think I'm good enough for you, that I have always not been good, and I'm scared that one day you’ll leave me just like everyone has in my life.”

Your heart sank at his drunken confession, but you could tell it was coming from a place of trueness and insecurity. It completely shattered you to hear this coming from Wilbur. Who was so wonderful and beyond anything you ever hopped for. To hear that he doubted himself and your relationship brought tears to your eyes. Your feelings for him were more than fondness, you loved him with everything you were and you couldn’t let him leave your life. he was your light at the end of the very dark tunnel, and you would just have to show him that.

“I'm too busy with my band, with my streaming, I feel like I neglect you too much, and I want you to have something better than all of this,” his lips slightly quiver. He moves to lower his head and bury it in your chest. However, you stop him with your hands coming up to gently cup around his face, to make him look you in the eyes. His eyes widened and his hands followed yours to grasp your face the same way in his woozy state. It was comical and made you smile at how he was trying to mimic your own action.

“I love you more than anything Wil, you’re so kind, supportive in everything I do, and- I would be so lost without you. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else. You’re more than enough for me. You’re everything. I would never leave you, not even if you kicked me out of your life I am always gonna be here for you. nothing is ever gonna change that.” You let your heart take over with your words.

Wilburs eyes lit up and gloss over with tears, the contentment of your words hitting him through his senses making him break out into a dopey grin.

“Do you really mean that, love?” he croaks.

You nod.

He lets out a shaky breath and pulls you closer to him until your legs are intertwined.

“I know I'm super drunk right now and probably won’t remember much of this tomorrow but, I love you too, thank you for saying those nice things about me.“

You giggled and pulled him in for a short kiss to seal your own confession.

“I’ll gladly say them again.”

You pampered his face with kisses until he was a bright red giggling mess copying you, delivering even more kisses to your face. Once you finished, the small lamp on the bedside was turned off, and you succumbed to darkness, intertwining your limbs once more to settle down.

Sleep was just about to take over you when Wilburs slurred voice suddenly teased out to you through the dark.

“So what else do you love about me?”

“oh shut up,” you laugh.

-

Im gonna be starting a new tag list so please commet/reblog if you want to be added!

[destroymeinherz]

The Party

A little while back someone posted about a fantasy of being passed around a stethoscope party, with different people listening to their heart. I don’t remember who did so if it was you, I hope you like this. It sparked creativity,

I could continue if anyone wants another part. But I wanted to do the basic idea.

The Party

I’d just signed with a modeling agency. It wasn’t the most exclusive, sometimes the jobs weren’t exactly what I hoped but college was expensive, so I took what I could. How bad could it be? It’s not like I planned to run for office or something.

My agent called me after classes one afternoon asking if I’d be interested in a gig that was more unconventional. After a few basic questions for my safety, nothing seemed too offensive even if it was secretive, and a rep from the agency would be there in case of trouble, I decided to take it.

Friday night I arrived at a big mansion just outside the city. From the looks of it this was old money, probably descendants of oil barons and railway tycoons. Which meant the paycheck would be huge. They’d promised a large payout for anyone who stayed til midnight.

I was let into a large foyer and usher back to a small hallway to a butlers parlor. A woman checked my ID, checked my name off a list and then looked me over.

“You will be required to wear one of two outfits tonight,” She instructed, pulling two hangers off a rack of clothes. “Black is standard, you are willing to do anything that would be clothes on. Call it PG-13.”

She held up a black Herve Luger bandage dress for emphasis. Then in her other hand, she held up a red one nearly identical to the former.

“Red,” She continued. “You are open to sexual behavior, and by wearing red you are giving consent to sexual advance,”

Well, I was single and I was never a prude, so I took the red. Might as well have a bit of fun. Once I accepted my color choice, she handed me an iPad with a waiver basically stating that I would take proper precautions, assert myself and under no circumstances attempt to contact anyone I met here after the event. I would ask for aid if I felt unsafe and leave without a scene. If I did not make it to midnight, I’d be compensated $200 per hour worked.

I shrugged and signed. She then held back a curtain for me to change in a small closet. I slipped inside, squeezed into the dress and as I was ushered to a door she fit me with a bracelet.

“If you need out, press the red button. Security will extract you.” She informed. “Are you ready?”

I blinked. Extracted? My heart started to pound, suddenly feeling crushed by the tight dress. What did I get myself into. But… the money was clouding my judgement. So I nodded, and the door opened. Once I cleared the threshold, it closed behind me.

Just walk around. Be eye candy. That was my only instruction. So that is what I did.

The room was a parlor, antique and dimly lit. It was full of golds and deep rich red textiles, dark wood and gold finishes. Old leather bound editions of classic literature adorned the bookshelves. I felt like I’d gone back in time. Or I was in a vampire’s house. My heart thudded at the thought.

The room was also full of people, in fine clothes, expensive tuxes and dresses. All of them wore masks like a masquerade. As I started to work through the crowd they watched me, with hungry eyes. Maybe I was in a vampire’s den. I was about to be dinner. There were a few other girls dressed in the red or black, varying heights and hair colors and skin tones.

I swallowed and tried to will my poor heart to stop trying to escape my chest. Until finally, a man approached me.

“Well, aren’t you lovely,” He said, holding out his hand.

I took his hand, and he brought it to his lips. He then moved his fingers down my wrist, stopping to feel my pulse. He offered him a soft smile. Then, he nodded before he motioned a waiter over.

The waiter came with a silver cloche, removing the dome top and extending the tray to the man. But there wasn’t food. It was a line of various stethoscopes. His fingers danced along them as he made his selection, a red tube that matched my dress.

He waved the man off, then examined it before placing the buds in his ears.

“Now, deep breath for me. Like a doctor’s office.” He said as he placed the diaphragm on my chest,

I was surprised, but I did as he asked, breathing in deeply and feeling my heart kick in my chest. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

He must have enjoyed the sound of my heart because he moved the diaphragm around my chest, smiling to himself and eventually he stopped. He listened for a long time, and even behind a mask I could see his eyes were closed.

I blushed. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

Finally, he opened his eyes and moved the diaphragm away. He took the ear pieces out and looked around. Then he must have seen who he needed, because he waved to someone.

“You have a perfect heart, my dear.” He said.

“Uh, thanks…” I replied.

Another man approached, he also had a stethoscope. He looked to the first man oblivious to me and waited for why he’d been called over.

“I think she’s the one. Take a listen.”

The new man finally looked at me. I smiled at him but he simply leaned in with his own stethoscope and listened to my heart. I took a deep breath like I had before.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

“I think you’re right,” He replied. “Take her in, I’ll grab the others.”

The others? I blinked in surprise. Is this all it was? A bunch of cosplayers listening to my heart for a few hours? That didn’t seem so bad. Even if they wanted to listen to it during sex or something. That was actually, kinda hot.

“Come with me,” The first man said.

I nodded as he took my hand again. This time he lead me down another hallway to a different room. He opened the door and brought me in, then closed it behind me. It was more of a sitting room with a beautiful chaise in the center, raised up on a platform.

I recognized some medical equipment from various movies or doctors visits. Nothing seemed too concerning.

“Now, lay down on the chaise,” He instructed. “You may stay clothed for now. But do remove your shoes as to not damage the upholstery.”

I did as he asked. Once I was settled, he returned to my side. He brought the steth out again and gently placed it on my chest. He let out a content sigh as he listened to my heart pound.

As he listened, others started to fill the room. They lined up behind him. I had never expected anything like this. Just lay here and let them hear my heart beat.

“Before we continue, could I get you anything? Water, soda, wine?”

I smiled. “What would you like me to have?”

“Oh you are cheeky.” He grinned. “Perhaps a little caffeine, to stimulate you. What does everyone think?”

There was a nod of agreement from the group and some muttering of approval. The first man smiled and had one of the caterers being me a soda can on a platter with a straw beside it.

“Go ahead and open it, then use the straw to limit your movement to drink.” He instructed.

I did as he asked. Once the can was open and the straw was in, in leaned over to the table where it sat and drank a few gulps. As I did, the man placed the diaphragm on my chest again.

He closed his eyes, listening and seemingly very content with the sound. Finally he opened them, took my hand and kissed the back of it. He stepped aside and the next person in line stepped up.

There was no clock in the room but it felt like time slowed in this room. Each person took their turn stepping up to my seat and just listening to my heartbeat. Some had me drink the soda, some had me lay down, some had me sit and stand quickly. I’d stand there and pant through running in place and jumping jacks in a too tight dress, as they listened to my heart’s reaction and then recovery.

Ba-dumpba-dumpba-dumpba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I had to admit, this was fun.

The last person was a woman, she couldn’t have been much older than me. She seemed more keen then the men had. Her eyes were bright behind her mask. She took a deep breath as her gold and white stethoscope settled on my chest.

“My… your heart… it’s by far one of the loveliest I’ve heard.” She said to me, her voice was lustful. “May I rest my head on your chest? Hear it directly with my ear?”

“Sure. I don’t see why not.” I replied.

“Would you like to hear your heart while I do?” She removed the stethoscope and offered it.

The people in the room all watched, eager to see how I would respond. Well, why not? If it made them happy it was my job tonight. I don’t think I’d ever heard my heartbeat before, not like this anyway.

“Okay. Sure” I replied with a smile.

That was the right answer as she grinned with excitement and placed the ear pieces in my ears. Then she placed the diaphragm down on my skin and rested her ear next to it.

I inhaled as I had before and my head filled with the rhythmic thumping they’d all been indulging in for the last few hours.

Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I closed my own eyes and lost myself in the sound. Maybe I should come to these parties more often. Hearing the steady beat, knowing it was mine… that was intoxicating.

“Do you like it?” She asked.

“Yeah. I think I get the vibe.” I responded.

“Are you ready to try something a little more interesting?” The first man asked, approaching me slowly. “You can refuse any of the requests, we won’t take offense or change your compensation. These would be granting special requests.”

The stethoscope was removed from my ears and I almost whined about it. I liked hearing my heart, understanding what they were hearing. What they enjoyed that brought me here.

“Sure,” I said. “What do you have in mind?”

End?

[elsaellaelys]

Bittersweet consequences

summary: JJ finds his girlfriend smoking his weed and having fun on her own, without him.

1.400 words

WARNINGS: 18+, smoking, weed.

a/n: God, is been so long since I posted! I'm sorry, I just couldn't write. But here is what I've been working on. Maybe I'll come back to detail it more.

And... Easter eggs for future fics. <3

--★--

Y/N just couldn't hold herself anymore, she was tightening her cunt around nothing for so many hours she was afraid of cumming right there with a single press in her clit. When anybody was looking she crossed her legs, clenched it together and it made she want to moan, but - God! - Mr. Heyward was right there,  and JJ wouldn't take good her actions, but the thought only made her more horny and suddenly she was mad at him, for neglecting her during the whole day.

The dream she had with him didn't helped, actually it was when it started. In her dream JJ was taking her from behind, griping her neck as her back arched away from his chest, his other hand in her clit, pressing circles on it, making her toes curl; and he was moaning in her ear, just like he does when the pleasure is so good that his mind goes blank, totally inconsistent words and groans leaving his mouth. But she woke up with no orgasm, and no body beside her in the bed, JJ entered the room, only a towel in his hips, looking for clean clothes in the mess of his room, dropping the towel and getting dressed like always.

"JJ." she whispered, laying on her side, lingerie very visible, but he didn't seemed to see her how she wanted.

"Hey babe, had a good sleep?" he asked, kissing her lips so softly. "I'm going to meet Pope, I can drop you at your house in the way."

"But I want to stay with you on the bed." she pouted.

"Well, you can go with me, I can buy you a cupcake for breakfast, what'ya think?"

She agreed, thinking the - his - sweetness would help her calm her down. But it didn't. Only when he sitted on his bike she notice the tight shirt he was using - Oh my God, JJ, his bike, his cargo shorts, his boots and this goddamn t-shirt! -. Ignoring was completely impossible, Y/N got up from the little bench in front of the Heyward's Seafood, walking to where JJ and Pope were, leaning against a pillar, talking about surf - ridiculous, how could he think about surfing when she was all thoughts about him balls deep into her?! -.

"J, can you take me home?" she softly asked, tugging the hem of his shirt.

"I have to help Pope with some delivers, babe." He said, curling and putting her hair behind her ear. "But if you go, I can meet you there at five, what'ya think?"

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, clearly unhappy with the idea of spending more two hour without him, but it was his job gig, he needed the money, she wasn't going to be spoiled - even though he was the one who spoiled her - in front of Pope, and make JJ feel bad for being responsible, once in a lifetime. So she just nodded, kissed him on the cheek - cause if she kissed his lips she wouldn't be able to stop- and headed to home.

The sun and the heat wasn't helping, the wind was sliding through her flowing dress and she could feel it in the wet spot of her panties, suddenly she was thinking about skinny dipping with JJ, getting to feel his hard length under the water, getting him to touch her under water. Y/N arrived her house, finally, after a long and tortuous walk, she unlock the door, took off her shoes, changed into loose shirt and panties, it was in a middle of a water drink that she remembered the joint JJ forgot on top of her dresser. It was everything she needed, right? So she looked the front door and headed to her room, next thing, her clothes was far at her bed foot. She laid down, blunt between her fingers, between her lips, between her fingers and repeat. The weed was making her mind fuzzy, but it didn't got in the way between her fingers and clit, soon she was sweating in everywhere, slowly entering her pussy, curving her fingertips to reach her G-stop.

She was so worked up, toes curling, free hand gripping the mattress into her knuckles were white, she didn't realized the sound of JJ's bike in the front yard or his spare keys in the door, JJ heard the muffed moans coming from the bedroom, he knew them very well, how many times he saw she biting her lips to stop her pleasure cries. He approached the bedroom door, seeing his pretty girlfriend lying down, gripping hard the mattress, all spread open, fingers looking so deep lost inside her tight cunt. Her eyes were screwed shut, she only noticed his presence when he letted out a hard breath.

"Fuck. That's why you wanted to go home?" Because of the scare her fingers draw out so quickly it almost hurted, eyes wide with the frustration of getting caught in such a needy shameful position. "Do you me to leave?..." he asked, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

"No!"

JJ smirked, eyes traveling through her bare body, her tights squeezing together with the disappointment of the impended orgasm. Her boyfriend sitted in her bed beside her, hands running down and up her legs. "I'm such a bad boyfriend, uh baby?" he said, smiling when she pouted. "Let me make it up for you."

Leaning down to untie his shoes and comfortable his vision stop at the just-smoked blunt on the floor. He looked at her eyes, redish and dilated. "You're planing on making this a big fun, without me? Smoking MY weed and fucking yourself when you know that is my job."

"I'm sorry! You were neglecting me."

"Neglecting you? I was working." She bitted her bottom lip in a tin line, ashamed. "You're so spoiled." he said, wicked look in his eyes, Y/N rushed to stop him from going away, grabing his wrist, to needy to care about anything else.

"Please Jay." He was not actually mad, holding his smile, he nodded softly, she was sitting in her knees, hips smashed by her tights, boobs hanging freely and eyes so pleading, he couldn't say no, even if he wanted to, and he sure didn't.

"Okay." JJ agreed, taking his shoes off he stared at her. "What you're waiting for?"

She gladly accepted, taking his shirt off, kissing him while working on unbuttoning his shorts, she whimpered in the kiss, remembering how much she waited for that. Pushing him down on the mattress she climbed his hips, he held her above him taking his half hard cock off of his boxers slipping it through her folds, she moaned loudly, hands gripping the back of his neck, pushing him to her hanging boobs. JJ knew he'd slip easily inside her, but he wanted her to do it, since she was the one desperate - not really the only one by now - so he letted go of her, putting his arms behind his head.

"Do it. You're the cock whore, act like the one you are."

She whined and moaned at same time when his tip found her entrance, he bitted his lip with the feeling of her around him and she was mesmerized, the boy she is crazily in love with, the prettiest boyfriend she had been eyeing the whole day, right there, completely undressed, under her, inside her, wide blue eyes staring at her boobs boucing as her hips starting to go up and down on him, lazily since her mind was blank, his groint rubbing her clit provoking a pleasure almost unsupportable.

"Look at you, such a cock whore, princess. You wanted it, then work for it." JJ said, touching her only to pinch her nipples.

"Oh Jay!" Y/N sinked her nails in his shoulders, her cunt squeezing him tightly as she reached her high. His dirt, sweet, degrading talk sending her over the edge. She moved her hands to the mattress in each side of his head, slowly pushing herself off him.

"No, no, no, no, baby. You're gonna ride me until I cum, and when I do, you're gonna make yourself cum, so many times you'll forget your own name." He order, pushing his dick deep inside her.

Y/N opened her mouth in a silent moan, tears starting to sprout in her eyes, she swore she was feeling him in her guts. "Fuck." she whispered.

"Yeah, I know. Now go on."

[lowkeyrobin]

mcyts with a music artist partner? more specifically a singer/drummer but whatever works best would be neat !!

ooooo I like all these musically inclined readers I'm getting [does the evil villain finger laugh] ; I tried to do 50/50 with both singer and drummer so djsnnsnss ; rlly couldn't think of any new ideas for more people so I'm sorry LMAO

MCYT ; singer/drummer reader

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu & quackity

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

constantly brags about you being in a band, even though you're the drummer and most drummers are very overlooked

he's your biggest fan, no one will be able to top him

he'll post clips and basically make a scenepack of you doing your thing during gigs to influence people editing you and give you some attention

your band already has a couple thousand fans on top of the monthly listeners and followers, and people were already starting to edit with your music/your performances

he'll constantly post pictures of you behind your drum setup, he thinks its so badass

you guys have that moment where he basically sits on your lap (/ns) and you hold his wrists to show him certain chords and shit

"what's the stuff around your fingers for?"

"prevents strain in my hands and protects jammed knuckles"

"ohhhhhh. keep doing that. it's healthy and badass"

TUBBO

you're the voice he needs to go with his amazing dj bangers or his piano drabbles

if you sing along to a song he'll instantly notice and only tune into you and not the song

constantly promoting you, always playing your music on stream and sending out tweets when you drop a new song

he helps you with new songs and helps with ideas for them

loves taking videos of you at gigs like he's at a concert

he'll never miss a gig for the life of him, if he has to, he'll watch you through a livestream set up on your phone, trusted by a friend

he'll pop it up on screen and be quiet as possible to let the viewers listen to you

music videos? he's on it

he's in nearly every single music video or at least behind the camera

loves making you mv thumbnails as well to match the whole album aesthetic

he's your number one fan and no one can beat him, he can sing along word for word bar for bar, each and every song

RANBOO

totally infatuated with the fact you're a singer

"look at my famous partner guys, go show them some love please, their music is so good"

they will be at every single gig, recording you like it's a concert

plays your music on stream all the time

listens to your music religiously, whether it be traveling or cleaning the house

loves looking at fanart where you're like singing to him in the crowd and he obviously sticks out like a sore thumb

you guys karaoke your music on stream all the time

if you make heavier music/scream a lot in it, he goes silent for you to do all that LMFAO

will break out the GarageBand to make you beats so you can on site make up lyrics like a rapper BAHAHAH

FREDDIE BADLINU

finds it so cool you can play drums

sometimes he'll sit down with you while you're practicing and play guitar behind you while you can't hear

yk like the drumset charlie spring has? you got one of those now, that way you can play without making a ton of noise, especially while he's sleeping or streaming

loves putting stickers on your cymbals and your bass drum

loves taking pictures of you with finger tape on to just stare at later

constantly brags about you being in a band and always listens to your music

even uses your music in videos and stuff

in the desc he'll put a little "my partners band ____ is playing in the background, go check them out!"

thinks you're so badass for playing drums LMAO

he also tries to play them while you guide his hands

cutie patootie

NIKI NIHACHU

thinks you're so fucking cool

will always record you at gigs

and loves putting finger tape on for you

changes her insta bio to "claimed by a bitch who plays drums 🙏🙏" or something like that

you learn how to cover some of her favorite songs and she's literally so excited

your band make pins or lanyards or any sort of merch? it's all sold out now, she's bought it all

will play your music on stream and shout out the name and leave link to the merch store at any given chance

always reposting fanart she sees of you/you two together

especially if it's you on your drums playing for her

ALEX QUACKITY

you're the voice to his guitar because he's too shy to show off his true singing voice

(the I got a feeling that tonight we are getting 2 subs clip)

obsessed with your voice

also records you at gigs

if he's at the barrier you'll constantly wave to him or wink at him, etc etc

all to make him flustered 💪💪💪

will constantly plug your band and always wears your merch

hypes you up if you're having writers block with lyrics or are having one of those days where you feel like you don't sound good

if you're singing along to a song, he'll tune in only to your voice and not the song at all

simp