gloriousbdaniellouquetearthquake

[cuntrytaylor]

fall 23 fashion is like. um. sandy liang i want you biblically

[arcane-vagabond]

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[countess-of-edessa]

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[mv1simp]

Earned It ♥️

Max Verstappen x Wife! Reader

cause girl you’re perfect, you’re always worth it (I see nobody, nobody but you)

The story of how you met your husband, Max Verstappen, is a fan favourite. A classic rags to riches Cinderella story - well, in this case, a working class med student with an outrageous loan meets F1 multimillionaire. For years, you two dodge the questions of having kids, due to your busy careers. But lately, your husband can’t stop thinking about a 3rd addition to your family…and no, he didn’t mean another cat.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, fluff, humour, pregnancy, angst but happy ending, very brief description of sexual harassment (not from Max obviously), simp!Max, brat! reader, smut, size kink, breeding kink (very versatile from me for once), 5.7k WC

Guys, seriously, we��ve talked about this behaviour, you need to be tidier. You look up from your comfortable position on the couch, where you’re typing away one of your research projects, to see your darling husband gently scolding your three pets. You muffle your laughter with your hand, 20karat diamond ring glinting, admiring his toned build as he stands with his hands on his slim hips, reprimanding the two cats - Sassy and Jimmy - and labrador Arlo about the mess they’d made on the patio. Hearing your giggles as you fail to contain yourself, Max turns around, grinning at the pretty sound. All done, schat? Want to go out for some lunch?

You hmm in agreement, standing up to stretch and walking over to him with a cheeky expression. But first I need you to explain just what you’re doing here. You know they can’t understand you right, babe?

Max immediately tells your three so called “kids” to ignore your blasphemous words, making you giggle again at what a dork your husband was. No one would ever guess how sweet and domestic he was with you, compared to the ferocious lion he was when terrorising his rivals on the track. It is a very serious matter, schat, Max says indignantly. You’d let them get away with murder. I’m the only one who upholds any discipline in this household.

You stand on your tippy toes to kiss him lovingly on the cheek to appease him, batting your eyelashes innocently as you say sorry, baby, shall I make it up to you? and any annoyance Max had slips away as he pulls your petite frame against his much larger one to press a kiss to your lips instead. You two had been married for almost two years now, and dating for six before that, but you simply can’t get enough of each other - even now, as your innocent kiss deepens into a steamy make out session that has you panting and grinding against your husband’s thick thighs as he squeezes your plush ass with his large hands. You’re just about to ask him to carry you to the bedroom when your on-call phone rings, signalling an emergency at the hospital. Sorry, baby you say, apologising genuinely this time with a guilty look. I have to get this, go ahead and eat and I’ll make us some dinner when I’m back, ok?

Max reassures you that you have nothing to worry about, and that he’d make dinner of course, you’re going to be tired after sorting out an emergency. Your heart swells at how thoughtful he is of you and your busy career. You give him one last quick kiss before speeding out the door, scrubs on and barking orders over the phone already.

Admittedly, it hadn’t always been like this. When you had started dating, Max had been the considerably busier one - at the peak of his racing career and collecting multiple world championships as if it were child’s play. And the way you met was a classic dinner party story - F1 driver crashes his Ferrari into studious med student. It was hotly debated as to whether the fault lay with him for illegally going 80 in a 40 zone, or with you for walking with your nose buried in a textbook. Regardless, his insane reflexes had slammed on the brakes just in the nick of time to stop any real damage happening, but your textbook had gone flying in the air and straight on top of a passing truck, disappearing for good. You’d been devastated by the loss of it, more concerned with your upcoming final exam rather than any bodily harm, and as Max sprinted out from his car to worriedly ask if you were okay you’d whirled around angrily.

He was immediately struck with your natural beauty, with your pretty caramel skin and full lips and dark curls. Then he realized you were furiously pointing a finger at him and roasting his driving skills. Watch were you’re going! God, what is it with you boy racers speeding through the tiny side streets?

What?! Boy racer? Oh, Max was not going to let this grave insult slide, yelling back that he was a World-class driver, thank you, and you were the one who needs to watch where you’re going cause who reads and walks, that’s just dumb-

You cut him off, demanding to know who he worked for. Uber? Lyft? Monaco Taxi Incorporated? I’ll be sure to leave a scathing Google review, you said hotly.

Max had now realized you had absolutely no clue who he was, so basically he just looked like a complete dickhead - including to all the passerbys who gawked at the incriminating scene of the 6 foot Dutchman childishly arguing with a 5 foot, pouting girl. Deflating, he offers you his insurance information but you rolled your eyes and walked off, muttering about the goddamn Monaco elite in their Ferrari taxis.

He’d forgotten all about you until 6 months later, when he and Lando end up in the emergency department after a padel game gone wrong, only to find you pulling back the curtain - looking for Max, wait, Uber driver Max?! You’d narrowed your gorgeous doe eyes at him, then demanded to know if he was here cause he’d gotten in another hit and run. It was not a hit and run, that is an incredibly misleading statement, Max hissed, ignoring Lando’s goggle eyed stare, cause why on earth was his mate arguing with the pretty doctor who thought he drove for Uber and not F1 World Cup winning team Redbull-

The third time you had run into each other, at a charity ball where both your employers were sponsors, Max was convinced it was fate. Either that, or you were a crazy stalker. But he was, like, 98% sure it was fate as he felt his heart race at the sight of you in a fitted red silk dress and gold stilettos, your short frame still not even brushing his chin. This time round, you knew who he really was, and had an embarrassed flush on your pretty face as you said you know, you could have corrected me, it was a very awkward lunchbreak that day when the nurses starting asking if I’d gotten your signature.

He laughed, finding you adorable, and held out his hand for you to shake, grinning Let’s start over then, shall we? You’d easily returned the gesture, an undeniable spark running up both your arms as you touched. And a few months later, at the exact street where you first met, he pulled out a copy of your missing textbook that you excitedly took, laughing that he remembered only to gasp as you open it to see his messy scrawl - Thanks for not suing me, want to be my girlfriend instead of my victim? And the rest had been history, with you two now blissfully married years later.

Sure, you had your fair share of ups and downs, just like any couple did. Before your marriage, Max’s busy career meant that he was away more often than not, and although it helped that you had a busy life yourself, he knew you missed having him there at home after a long day or by your side at friends’ weddings where you’d have to attend solo. But you never complained, never asked for more because you understood that at this time of his life, his career would be first priority, and always supported him with diligently made meal preps, looking after his cats when he went away, and late night debriefs after arguments with his demanding father, your soothing voice helping calm down the burning anger in his chest.

And although you couldn’t attend every race like the other WAGs, you’d always do your very best to make it. He still grins when he remembers his last Monaco race, where you’d gotten held up in emergency surgery and had sprinted straight to the track, not having time to change into the Chanel outfit you’d sweetly picked out the night before (from a very large pile Max had generously insisted you fund with his black Amex). You’d made it just in time to see him cross the line in P1, and the pictures of you happily crying for his win as you jumped into his arms, still in your scrubs, long curls flying as he whirled you around went absolutely viral on social media. He was glad for it too, because you received so much online hate for not always being dressed like a model and by his side at every event - and knew that deep down, you felt guilty about it, even though it was such an unfair double standard. So he’d framed that famous shot of you and hung it in the entryway, so it would be the first thing everyone would see when they walk in, and understand why Max’s heart swelled with pure love and adoration whenever he looked at you.

So when he had gotten his fill with his eight - eight! - world championships and wanted to spend his Sunday mornings waking you up with his skilled tongue in between your soft thighs instead of on a racing track halfway across the world, he had promptly quit F1 - to the outrage of his father and thousands of fans - and stepped back to coach his own team instead. It was quite an accomplishment, you had thought amusedly when reading the headlines that year, to be known as the woman who had "seduced Max Verstappen to retire and become her trophy husband". Of course, Max stood for none of the media circus, retaining his infamous status as Mad Max when he openly shut down that storyline in a media statement that had blown up, making it clear that this had always been his plan and he would not be tolerating any slander of his beautiful wife whom he loved very much - who, by the way, was now the associate head of the emergency department, had they heard?

As time passed the fans eventually relaxed and enjoyed the new talent that came on, with your husband still a common figure on the paddock as coach. He'd had more time these past two years to look after you now - cooking your favourite meals and meeting you on the hospital rooftop for lunch and making all the nurses blush at how romantic your husband was, picking you up from a late shift in his Ferrari, taking you jewellery shopping in Paris one weekend then stiletto shopping in Milan the next with all your bags in his hands and his Amex in yours, and listening attentively in the living room as you practised your powerpoints on Intracranial Haemorrhage: Do early CAT scans change mortality rates? Your personal favourite gift, though, had to be when he'd brought home a 2 month old golden labrador as your birthday present. You'd always wanted a dog but had never had time for one on top of his two cats - but now, with Max home more often, he was able to look after all 3 of your kids, as you both affectionately referred to them.

And speaking of kids - the topic was something that had increasingly come up over the family events and meetups with friends you two went to. Of course, when it had first been asked, the two of you had dismissed it given there was simply no time with your careers. You religiously used contraception - with you on the pill and Max using condoms everytime. At one point, though, you both realised you rather enjoyed doing it raw - when the condom had broken after a particular rough session post 6th WDC win. Max still remembered your blushing face as he came down from what had been one of the most intense orgasms of his life, already addicted to the feeling of spilling inside you. You had bit your lip, shyly saying you know Maxie, the pill is 99% effective, I don't think we need to use condoms anymore-

He'd cut you off with a pleased growl, sealing his lips back onto yours for Round 2 as the thought of getting to fill you up every night sent all the blood rushing to his cock. Safe to say, there hadn't been a box of condoms in your home for a very long time. But as time passed after your marriage, Max started to feel an unfamiliar desire simmer in his gut everytime he saw you playing with his nieces and nephews, or when he would be showing Daniel's toddler how to operate a racekart, or when he’d finish inside you, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure, and wonder what would happen if you weren’t on the pill. He avoided saying anything as your answer to the kids? question at Family Xmas was still not right now.

But lately he hadn't been able to deny the aching yearn he felt any longer, and especially not when you two had been celebrating Charles' and Alex's pregnancy announcement on their yacht last weekend. You'd looked so happy for the couple, congratulating Alex on her glow and admiring the ultrasound pictures but all Max could think about was how amazing he was sure you'd look carrying his child, how he wanted to have your baby scans on the fridge door and argue over names, how he was sure you would be the most amazing mother to his kids and he couldn’t have picked a better wife. He must have been looking quite jealously at the scene because Charles comes upto him, greeting him with a Hey, mate and a knowing smirk. Max grunts, sipping his G&T, then realises he might be acting in a way you would refer to as "dickhead behaviour", so he also throws in a gruff congratulations.

Charles' is not having it though, having recognised the intensity which Max was staring you down with. You know, he starts, prompting Max out of his one-way thoughts, You could always try bringing it up directly with her instead of expecting her to read your mind, hmm? Max glanced at him side ways. Already practising your fatherly advice? He joked, diffusing the tension, before the conversation moved onto how the new young F1 drivers just didn’t appreciate a good wheel to wheel battle like back in their karting days.

Charles' words stuck with him throughout the week, and one night as you both settled down for bed, he decided it was time to ask. Schatje? he begun, watching you from his position in the bed as you brushed out your damp curls in the mirror, dressed in a cute silk nightie. You hmmed at him, slightly distracted by a tangle in your hair but prompting him to continue. You know, I was, well -whatdoyouthinkaboutgettingpregnant?

You frowned slightly, still distracted by the tangle in your hair. Who, Alex and Charles? I think it's great, they've wanted kids for a while now, right?

Max takes a deep breath, tells himself to stop being a pussy, and walks over to you, taking the comb away as he brushes out the tangle himself. You look at him curiously as he tilts your head up with his large palm, brushing your cheek lovingly as his ice blue eyes meet yours. No, shcat he murmurs gently. I mean us, getting pregnant, having a baby. How do you feel about that?

Your jaw drops open at his words as your brain temporarily stopped working. You feel your face blush from the thought of your husband getting you pregnant. As hot as it sounded, out of all the things, you hadn't expected him to say that. You realise your surprised silence was making Max freak out, the telltale sign of a crinkle between his brows. You scramble to come up with a response, stuttering that Oh, sorry, I hadn't really thought about it, I guess and that we'd both been busy with work for so long it kind of...slipped my mind?

But what do you think, liefje, your husband pressed, hopeful. Do you want to try? You honestly weren't sure, this was all so sudden and you needed a bit more time to process it - but when you told Max this you didn't miss the hurt look that flashes across his face as his insecurities rise up. He asked if the problem was that you didn't want to have kids with him, because how could you possibly not have thought about it, all our friends and family constantly bring it up all the time-

I don't know! you'd responded defensively, arms crossed. We'd been focusing on your racing for so long that I just stopped thinking about stuff like that. The argument had spiralled out of control quickly, Max demanding to know when you were going to stop holding that over him, and when you wanted to think about it then, you two weren't any younger, after all - prompting you to angrily accuse him of always putting his job above yours, because now that he had his fill he was ready to start a family but what about your career?!

You hadn’t been able to stop the tears that dripped down your face as the argument escalated into a full blown fight. Max had sighed seeing that, deflating and saying you should both head to bed for now. You’d lain next to him, feeling so cold without his usual warm bicep pulling you against him, trying to hold back more tears before you drifted into a fitful sleep. Max hadn’t been any better either, only falling asleep in the early hours of the morning and when he woke up, you were already gone. He’d started trying to look for you but then remembered you had a conference in London today you’d had to fly out for - you wouldn’t be back for a week, he reads on the note you’d left on the fridge.

Fuck, it had been a bad night to have such an ugly fight considering you two had left so much unresolved. Later, when he’s visiting his sister’s for dinner and watching her kids with the same burning want in his heart, his mother corners him and demands to know why he had shown up looking like a kicked puppy. Your wife’s been gone one day and you’re already so hopeless? She’d joked, but clearly had a concerned look in her eyes. He couldn’t stop himself then, opening up about the horrible fight. He feels terrible that you had ended up crying, but still can’t help feel that you were being purposely selfish, he explains, after all, we’d be raising the baby together, she can still have her career, no?

His mother had been silent for a while, taking it all in, before she gently reminded Max about how she, too, had been in the peak of her very successful karting career when Jos had gotten her pregnant. Your wife isn’t me, and you certainly are not your father, she said firmly. But she’s scared, Max, it’s not personal. She’s scared she could lose everything she’s spent years building while you get to have it all. It isn’t as easy for a mother to put her career on hold as it is for a father. Even if he’s as loving and caring as you will be, she reassures.

Max looked troubled, then, as your responses last night now started to make sense. God, he was such a terrible husband, how had he not considered that before? Sensing her son’s brain was running at 100 miles a minute, the older woman lays a soothing hand on his shoulder. Just give her some space, Max. Let her come to you. You two will work through this.

So he gives you the space, and 6 days later he’s standing at the arrivals area of the airport, stonily looking out the window at the planes landing but internally fighting a storm of emotions. You two had never had these many days of no contact in your whole marriage, and he’d said some vicious things that night, and what if in the time away you had decided you would be better off without him? His jaw clenched at the idea of losing you. God, maybe he shouldn’t have given you space but spammed your phone, begging for forgiveness. Why was marriage so much more confusing than driving a car at 200kmph?

Suddenly, he hears the click of your familiar YSL heels walking up to him and he turns frantically to see your petite figure come to a stop a few feet away. Your face looks just as troubled as his, but as soon as your eyes meet you can’t control yourself and run forward to jump into his arms. Max welcomes you eagerly, all his tension releasing as he hugs you tightly, broad arms easily lifting you up and pressing his face into your neck to breathe in your perfume. You’re rapidly saying something about how you were so sorry, you had overreacted - You don’t have to apologise for anything, liefje, Max says fiercely, God, I missed you so, so much. I shouldn’t have brought it up so suddenly. Take all the time you need, okay?

You blink back happy tears, heart so full at your understanding husband as you looked up into his blue eyes adoringly before sharing a loving kiss. Passerbys smiled at the sweet scene you two made. Max took you home, one hand carrying your luggage and the other firmly around your waist, as if he was paranoid you were going to disappear. Again, in the car, his hand stayed glued to your thigh, softly stroking it as you told him about your week in London. And then at home, you had to stop him as he got ready to climb into the shower with you, giggling and saying you were starving, baby, did he want to grab some dinner for you two?

He’d pouted, but then perked up excitedly once you promised you two could go for a swim in the pool after dinner instead. Need anything else while I’m out, schat? He asked, grabbing the Ferrari keys. You hesitated, making him turn around, as you blushed a little and said Would you mind grabbing some condoms, Maxie? I forgot to take my pill to London so I haven’t been on anything for a week…

You search his face for any hint that he’s upset you still needed time, but found none, only a gentle expression on his face as he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. Of course, schatje, he says lovingly before heading out. You watch him go, a devious smirk now on your face. A part of you felt bad for the game that you were planning on playing with your husband later that evening - but, oh well, you had to have some fun in a marriage, right? And your sweet, darling, perfect husband had passed the test with flying colours tonight, showing his dedication to putting your needs first.

The truth was, you’d also reflected on your marriage and its future in London. You’d thought and thought until you could think no more about whether or not it was time to have kids, if you should even have kids, not because you didn’t want them but because you were so worried about how it would derail the career you’d worked so hard to build. And then you’d remembered how Max would spend hours quizzing you for your residency exams, while you were on the toilet or in the kitchen, making sure you got every answer right and you’d passed with full marks.

Or how you knew you loved Max for the first time, when he had stood by your side and steadied you as you shakily reported to your boss about a supervisor who’d developed a nasty habit of feeling you up at work and barring you from surgeries if you said no. Max had stood by you through it all, his large, gentle hands holding your own, a contrast to the thunderous expression on his face at anyone who tried to give you a hard time when you came forward - and he didn’t ease up until the creep had been permanently stripped of his medical license. Even now, when you’d sometimes shiver at the memory, he’d pull you into his safe arms, murmuring how proud he was of you, schat, you were so brave for speaking up.

You thought about how warm you’d felt seeing Max gently rock his nephew in his strong arms, or how impressed you had been seeing how he taught the kids how to drive a kart, or how devoted he was to your marriage and your three pets, always being there to provide for you and support you however you needed him to be - mentally, physically, emotionally. Max really was the best husband to you, and he’d be the best father to your kids. And you knew you had your answer.

So now, after eating your favourite dinner of Italian pasta, expensive red wine and tiramisu for dessert, you got changed into your bikini, a skimpy pink number Max always enjoyed, and slipped on a gold choker with matching anklets, all adorned with the letter M - a custom made Cartier set he’d brought for you on his birthday, as a gift to himself. The box of condoms he’d picked up lays on the bedside table. You smirk at them as you pass by - they won’t be needed much longer. Not that your husband had any clue of that - yet, and you couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face when he figured out just how you were going to reward his devotion tonight. Picking up a second bottle of wine, you take a good swig and make your way out to the dark backyard where Max is shirtless, the pool’s neon lights reflecting the water droplets that slide down his large, muscular back. Shit, you had to stay extra focused if he was going to be looking so delectable tonight!

He turns as he hears your anklets tinkle, smirking as he takes in your dolled up appearance, all for him. Coming in, schat? He calls huskily, feeling his cock hardening at the sight of you after a whole maddening week away. Just admiring the view, you say cheekily, taking another swig from the wine and slowly stepping into the pool. You can feel your husband’s hungry gaze sliding up your curvy body, and you shiver, feeling rather like a deer caught in a lion’s trap even though you were the one playing games tonight. You come to a stop in front of him, your head barely reaching his upper chest, giving him a generous view as your tits spilled around the tiny bikini. You sultrily gaze right into his darkening blue eyes as you take yet another sip of the wine, your pink tongue darting out to circle the tip of the bottle in quite the slutty manoeuvre. Missed you, Maxie you say coyly. Especially missed having you inside me.

He growls lowly at your teasing, easily taking the bottle off you and downing the rest before discarding it to the side. You whine as he puts a stop to your antics, pouty lips and large doe eyes staring up at him invitingly. Chuckling, he places a large palm across your ass and lifts you up against him. Your thighs wrap themselves around his toned waist and your hands tangle in his soft hair, gently tugging on the strands just the way he likes it. Now face to face, you tease him further, whispering in his ear about how lonely you’d been while away, how normally you’d call him and have him talk you through an orgasm, and how your tiny fingers hadn’t been able to make you cum all week because you needed his thick ones to stretch you open.

Fuckkk, schat, Max breathes, feeling his cock grow impossibly hard, his blue eyes completely darkened by lust. I missed that filthy little mouth of yours so much. He glides his thumb along your pink lips and you part them easily, taking him in and swirling your tongue around him. He can’t hold himself back any longer, pulling you in and replacing his thumb with his tongue. You moan into the dirty kiss, running your hands along his muscular shoulders, addicted to the feeling of his strong, thick biceps caging you against him. Your bikini strings are deftly untied as he practically rips it off of you, breaking the kiss to lean you back and suck on your pretty nipples. You squeal as he gently bites down, murmuring maybe you shouldn’t have been such a cocktease, schat.

You’re now grinding your pussy against his abs, begging him for more, please, Maxie and asking him to take you to bed. He smirks at how easily you fall apart under his tongue, squeezing your ass as he carries you inside, always giving you what you wanted like the devoted husband he is. You two have no regard for the sheets as you drip water all over them, foreplay long forgotten as your bikini bottoms are yanked off, followed by his trunks. You’d honestly forgotten about the damn condoms by this point but Max hadn’t, hurriedly ripping open a packet with his teeth as you whine at him to hurry up, Maxie, I can’t take it- Oh!

You moan blissfully as he buries himself inside you. Feels like coming home everytime, schat, he breathes out as he holds his position for a few beats before he starts thrusting into you. Holy shit, that felt sooo good. You didn’t think you were going to last very long at all - putting a time limit on your plan. You let him get a few more thrusts in you before you start begging again, this time asking Maxie, wait, can-can we please take the condom off?

He looks down at you in surprise, saying you hadn’t been on the pill this week schat, it’ll be risky-

Oh, your darling husband still hadn’t caught on to your suprise, and as you whine that it’s okay, you can just pull out, right Maxie? you almost giggle from the strained expression on his face as he considers that feat of self restraint. But he wasn’t going to say no to you, not when you were below him with your lush dark curls spread around you and looking up at him so adoringly, so he reaches down and pulls the condom off and sinks back inside you.

Shit. He swears at the vice grip you have his cock in, one hand automatically going to grasp the headboard to try and maintain some control and ground himself. But you’re begging for more and it feels so good to be back inside you, raw, feeling your slick heat up on his thick cock that his thrusts start getting sloppier. He’s panting above you, both hands now gripping the headboard to hold himself back from the urge to cum inside you.

Your devilish eyes don’t miss this, and you grab his thick wrists to pull them down so his hands rest on your bouncing tits, begging him to play with them, please. Oh, shit, he feels his orgasm quickly approaching from your positively filthy demands tonight. But as he starts to pull back you wrap your legs around him tightly, keeping him in place as you make your final demand - Noo, Maxie, don’t pull out, you can come inside me, it’s ok-

Perplexed, knowing he can break your grip around him in half a second, your husband is now very confused as he points out with gritted teeth that no condom and no pill and no pulling out meant-Yes, yes, I know! You whine impatiently. I want it Maxie, I’m ready now, come inside, I want to get pregnant!

Max pauses above you, this time being the one to have his brain function temporarily suspended as he slowly figures out just what you’re saying. Are you sure, schat-

You roll your eyes, sinking yourself down onto his cock, making him moan, and hoping he gets the message. Oh, I’m definitely sure, dear husband, you say sultrily. Now, are you going to fuck a baby into me or what?

He finally clicks, his confused gaze now morphing into pure joy as he grins down at you, and you can’t help but grin back, the two of you finally ready to progress into the next step of your marriage together. He pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, catching you off guard. You know I love you right, schat? He murmurs, and you nod, confused where he was taking this. Good, cause I’m about to fuck you like I hate you. That was a dirty game you played, yeah? Edging me all night when you were gonna let me fuck you raw all along. Gonna have to punish you real good for that. He growls darkly, his large hand coming to squeeze your throat, making you gasp in delight.

Oh, you loved when Mad Max came out to play. Your legs are tossed over his shoulders and then pressed all the way back against your soft tummy, into a mating press. The unfamiliar position has you screaming in pleasure, your anklets dangling by your face as he thrusts his way back into you. Your husband chuckles wickedly at your reaction, pumping into you deeply and making the headboard bang against the wall each time.

And true to his word, he punishes you thoroughly, not stopping despite your overstimulated pleas as you repeatedly orgasm, instead cumming inside you over and over and over again, leaving you obscenely full with his thick load.

And when you finally pass out into blissful darkness, he meanly fucks you awake again, demanding that you take another round from him like the good little wife you are, aren’t you, so obedient for me, hmm? Gonna fuck you stupid until you’re finally pregnant with my kids, like you always should have been.

Safe to say, you didn’t get much sleep that night, or for many nights after 💖

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A/N: damn this is a whole ass essay. I love simp husband max so much tho I couldn’t help it 🥺might make a part 2 about the pregnancy and protective max hehe if people like this! Lmk what you think 🫶🫶

[gamblersdoll]

cw: age gap pro hero dynamite, bakugou is twenty nine , reader is nineteen. big beefy bakugou, daddy kink, nsfw, size kink implied.

pro hero bakugou who’s already at the top now, usually competing with deku for the number one pro hero position and grows more fame.

pro hero bakugou who also hasnt had a girlfriend in years, usually seeing some of his fans throw themselves at him and hes just disinterested, not because of looks or anything, just that he wants a specific type.

a younger girl he can fucking destroy, destroy, destroy.

and he finally meets you at some little coffee shop, finishing up freshman year of college and paying off your student loans. he’s surprised, already finishing up payments?

its also the cape that you wear, it wrapped around your waist and showing your curves. he finds that you could be easily worn out, but fuck did you have ambitions.

and that spirals into a one night stand, the smell of sex just permeates the air and slapping of his balls against your clit. hes big and mean, six foot three and all muscle. he wasnt a body builder, but shit was he huge.

how did we get here? he took you to a fancy diner and you called him “big daddy.” he simply stared at you, mid bite and took the food order to go. his calloused hands just squeezing your thigh until you got to his place.

and he puts you in a mating press, holding your hips and grinding his cock into your creamy walls, taking his and and placing it at the base and just firmly shaking it in your cunt.

“jus’ let older men take advantage of you? yeah? how many?” he coos, acting disappointed and disgusted but hes thrilled, harder even. he might have to get shittyhair or dunceface in the mix..

[pathologicalreid]

orange juice | S.R.

you and spencer have an announcement to make, but you're not quite sure how to do it

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: bau!reader, pregnant!reader, nausea and pregnancy symptoms, slightly protective spencer, mentions blood tests and doctors, not proofread word count: 906 a/n: this week has been so atrocious and awful and stressful!!! fuck cancer!! fuck student loans!!! i need spencer reid fluff!!!

“Drink it,” Spencer murmured, keeping his eyes trained on the file on his desk in front of him while noting the way you hadn’t so much as budged in his periphery. You were leaning a bit too far to the left, and the more he observed you, the more he worried that you were going to topple over. “It’ll make you feel better,” he prodded.

Your head jolted as he continued to watch you as if he had woken you from a deep sleep, “What? Sorry,” you mumbled, eyes focusing on the bottle of orange juice that he had placed on your desk upon your arrival at the BAU.

A laugh caught your attention as you slowly turned your office chair around, “Late night, pretty girl?” Derek quipped, winking in your direction before turning back to his own work.

Turning back around, you shared a look with Spencer while rolling your chair closer to your desk, hoping to be able to better prop your head up. The real answer was that you had an early morning, woken up by a roiling stomach courtesy of the first trimester.

Spencer had gotten up with you at five this morning and your queasiness showed no sign of faltering. Your stomach had nothing left to give by the time you went to your doctor’s appointment, but you assured your husband that you were fine when you arrived in Quantico after having your blood drawn.

The issue was that no one knew. Other than Hotch – for obvious personal safety reasons – no members of the BAU were aware that you were pregnant. It started as wariness, wanting to reach a certain milestone before letting your team know, but it quickly turned into a different form of anxiety. You hadn’t let your team know you were even talking about having a baby. Neither of you were entirely sure how to broach the subject or announce your pregnancy, so you didn’t.

Hidden in plain sight, resting on Spencer’s desk was a sonogram, a three-by-five, black-and-white photo of your baby, the two of you were simply waiting for a profiler observant enough to notice. You weren’t showing, yet, as you encroached upon the second trimester, you worried you were running out of time.

His theory was that your nausea was being exacerbated by low blood sugar, which is why he made sure to give you orange juice – you weren’t so convinced, orange juice was brutal coming back out.

You heard the familiar woosh of the glass doors to the bullpen swing as someone entered, the click-clack of Garcia’s heels snapping you back to attention, it was almost time for morning debrief. If you were lucky, you’d remain at your desk for the rest of the day. If your luck ran out, you’d have to pop a Zofran before getting on the jet.

Sighing, you rested your chin in your hand before going back to clicking through your emails, pausing for just a moment when Spencer reached across the short barrier between your desks and opened the bottle for you. To appease him, you took a small sip of the orange juice, pleased when you saw him settle in his desk chair.

“What’s that?” Garcia asked, nearly stumbling to a stop behind Spencer’s desk as her eyes snagged on something on the surface. “No, no I know what that is,” she continued, stammering and flicking her eyes between you and Spencer.

Penelope’s rising voice garnered the attention of other people in the bullpen, bringing them to your and Spencer’s adjacent desks. “What’s wrong, baby girl?” Derek piped up, making his way over and setting a hand on the back of your chair.

Pointing at you, the technical analyst wagged her finger as she made the connections in her brain. The doctor’s appointments and the sudden aversion to girl’s night made sense to her now, and you could see it in the way her gaze softened when she stepped around the desks in order to give you a hug, “Is that real?”

As you reciprocated her hug, you nodded, glancing over at your husband as you knew your secret was now out. “Yeah,” you mumbled into her blonde hair, “It’s real.”

“Would somebody please tell me what’s going on?” Morgan said, looking around, sharing a confused look with Emily but earning a ‘dude, really?’ look from JJ.

Releasing you from the hug, Penelope reached over the acrylic barrier, plucked the sonogram off Spencer’s desk, and presented it to the rest of the team Vanna White style, “Baby genius is imminent!” She announced, beaming at you and Spencer as you snuck around them to stand at his side.

One by one, Emily, JJ, and Derek embraced both you and Spencer, “Wait, how long has that picture been there?” Emily questioned, arching a dark brow at you and Spencer.

“Two weeks,” Spencer answered quickly, snaking an arm around you and resting a hand on your hip, squeezing it reassuringly.

You leaned into him slightly before nodding in affirmation, “Yeah, some profilers you guys are!”

Rolling his eyes, Morgan came back at you for another hug, holding you so tightly that your feet lifted slightly off the ground. “Woah, hey, be careful,” Spencer said, waiting expectantly for your coworker to let you go.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped back to where Spencer was standing while Emily spoke again, “Oh, he’s going to be insufferable by the end of this.”

[theorphicangel]

“𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?” | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: you have a valentine’s date tomorrow and you’re somewhat excited for it. but there’s just one thing you’re unsure about…thankfully your trusted roommate can help. right?

tags: roommate au! (Here we go again), smut, 18+, oral (m.receiving), blowjob, praise, mutual pining, these mfs are in DENIAL smh

PART ONE.

“You have a valentine’s date?”

“God, O’Hara don’t even try to hide the surprise in your voice, why don’t you.”

You cross your arms, frowning at your roommate who was currently sitting next to you on the couch. The two of you were watching a remake of a new movie that had come out recently. An hour or so had passed, the both of you stuck within a comfortable silence before your words had distracted him.

“How could you blame me?” He begins, his gaze still on the television screen. “I’ve never seen you bring anyone home before.”

“So you keep notice on who I bring home?”

A pause runs between the two of you.

“No.”

“Liar.”

Miguel clears his throat. “It’s none of my business anyways, what you do.”

After a few beats of silence, Miguel speaks again, this time with a teasing tone. “I wouldn’t want to be like you anyways, keeping track of who I sleep with.”

“I do not keep track!” you exclaimed.

“How come you remembered Cindy’s name then?”

You hesitate, stuttering off. “You–you talk about her a lot.”

“Bullshit.” A grin creeps up across his lips.

“You jerk, I was gonna ask you for a favor but since you wanna play that game, nevermind.” You crossed your arms, turning your attention back to the screen. Simultaneously, you had just sparked off Miguel’s own curiosity.

“What’s the favor?”

“I don’t want to ask you anymore, I’ll ask someone else.”

“Like who? Peter?”

“Don’t be mean, mig’.”

The movie continues to play in the background for a minute or two before Miguel starts getting restless.

“So who's the guy then? Someone you paid?” Miguel’s grin doesn’t have the time to stretch across his lips this time as you throw a pillow to his face.

“Hey!”

“Watch your mouth, O’hara.”

The two of you had been roommates for just under a year. You had moved in due to an emergency situation. A few troubles with your finances, student loans and the loss of your job resulted in you desperately responding to a roommate advert posted on the internet. Moving in at the beginning was awkward, the two of you avoiding each other, minimal conversation revolving around the weather and who would take out the trash.

But all it took was one night for the both of you to open up to each other, a shift in your realization that Miguel wasn’t as bad as you thought. A few too many drinks one night led you to learn a lot about each other. Like how he didn’t like the dark yet had a weird obsession with space. You found that he had a brother, a few years younger than him who was almost a spitting image. For him, he learned how you once had wanted to be a painter but soon switched career paths to psychology as well as taking up a foreign language.

Ever since that night, you’ve managed to maintain a good friendship with Miguel, completed with a little teasing here and there. On some nights, when you were left alone in your room, you laid back and stared at the ceiling, thinking about him. Particularly, thinking about him and the girls which he brought home. Your mind wandered to the possibilities of what he would be like with them. Imagining what it would be like to be in their position.

How would he touch you, feel you, look at you? Would he be gentle and take his time or does he rush, his passion taking over his whole body? It was questions like these that plagued your mind. You began to create a fantasy in your head, touching yourself at the thought of him touching you; imagining his movements to be slow and cautious, taking you all for himself.

Speaking of, you’ve recently noticed his lack of…visitors lately. Instead of hiding away with them in his room, he’s recently been spending a lot of late nights in your company.

“What’s your plans for Valentine's Day?” you queried, trying to maintain a casual tone. “Taking Cindy out for a romantic dinner?”

Miguel scoffs, shaking his head a little. “Why don’t you ask her out yourself, since you’re so obsessed with the woman?”

A small wave of ease flows through your mind at his answer. Yet it wasn’t exactly the answer you wanted. You pat Miguel on the chest mockingly.

“I knew she said no to you. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here you kno—” Unfortunately you weren’t able to finish your sentence as a small scream left your mouth, as Miguel pinched your thigh.

“Watch it, imbécil.” he glared, before changing the topic. “But I’m serious, who's the poor guy then?”

You shoot an offended glare back before repositioning yourself on the couch, turning your body to face him properly.

“Someone asked me from work.”

“And you didn’t have to get on your knees and beg them first?” Playfully, you hit him on the arm and he lets out a fake wince of pain.

“Shut up. And no, for your information, I didn’t.”

Miguel hums, his eyes quickly glancing back to the television screen as he tries his best to ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment in his lower abdomen. Guess he should cancel tomorrow then.

“But I had a favor to ask you.” you turn your body, shifting your position to face him. Miguel merely raises a brow, humming deeply again with his eyes still glued on the screen.

“I was wondering if you’d…show me how to—uhhh how do I put this? Suck someone off.”

Miguel froze. Oh, now you had his attention.

“¿Qué?”

You freeze, clearing your throat as his eyes snap back to you. “I mean it was just a suggestion– I-I’ve watched a few videos but I’m still kinda—I just— I mean, I don’t–”

“You don’t know how to give a blowjob?”

It was a bit more blunt than you had wanted to put it but…yes.

You nodded silently, now choosing to avoid eye contact. “I just wanted some tips, y’know? What do guys generally like? I’ve read that some like it differently than others so…”

“Why are you asking me?”

Ah yes, the million dollar question. Why were you asking your hot ass roommate for blowjob tips? You had the choice to ask anyone: your best friend, or another friend or even a random stranger on the internet. Why him?

“You’re…experienced.” was all that you could come up with. “And not in a bad way!” You quickly correct. “ but I can assume you’ve had your good shares of…that.”

Miguel raises a brow again, swallowing thickly. Anxiety was now bubbling at the base of his stomach. You were asking him how to please a man and immediately his mind jumped at the thought of you with your valentine’s date at the end of the night. Ah, you were asking for your date.

“Well, did you just want tips or did you…” he trails off without finishing the sentence, thinking how weird it would be to finish the sentence that had popped up in his mind.

“ ‘Or did I’ what?” You repeat, tilting your head ever so innocently.

“Or did you want to practice on me?”

/

And that’s how you got here. Kneeling on the floor between the thighs of your very own roommate whom you have only known for less than a year. Was this what you were expecting when asking for advice? Of course not. But there was a sense of excitement that grew in the pit of your stomach and you weren’t going to complain about it.

“So how do I start?” You glance up at Miguel, your eyes wide with innocence and curiosity to learn. Just from the way that you looked at him, he was already beginning to get hard.

“Well, you just start.”

You roll your eyes, “Okay, doofus. So you expect me to just get into it? No foreplay or anything?”

“There’ll probably be some foreplay with your date and stuff but…we don’t have to do that.”

For a split second there’s an aura of hesitation between the two of you; him regretting his last words and you almost wanting to reject his assumption. Mutually, there’s a little voice inside of you that tempts you both to take the chance and do this properly.

But of course, this was a lesson.

A mere, innocent favor from a roommate. With no strings attached. Or feelings for that matter.

Even if it killed you both to suppress them.

You nod silently, taking mental notes. Miguel raised his hips a little to pull down his sweatpants, enough so that you could access him with ease. Now you’re starting to get nervous. Your heart was palpitating so much that you could hear your own heartbeat thump in your ears. “I-”

“If you don’t want to, we can stop.” He quips quickly, noticing your hesitation.

You pause, reflecting for the final time whether or not you wanted to do it. Once you made your decision, you glanced up at Miguel.

“It’s not like I have much time left to practice, right?”

Miguel raises a brow. After all, Valentine's day was tomorrow so you needed all the practice that you could get. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” you vocalized, trying to sound more confident in this way.

“Okay, lemme just–” Miguel mumbled to himself as tugs down his boxers. You noticed the way the bottom of his shirt hiked up a little, presenting his happy trail; a dark bush of hair leading all the way down to his…

Oh.

It’s big. Bigger than you thought. And he’s not even hard yet.

Miguel seethes a little, his cock only semi-hard. He pumps himself a few times before removing his hand, leaving it up to you. His arms now rest on the back edge of the couch, widening his thighs a little more for accessibility.

‘Holy shit’, you think to yourself, how the fuck were you supposed to deal with this?

Miguel caught onto your expression, panic drawn all over your face. “We can–”

“No.” you interrupt him, reading his apprehension too. His concern for you is more than obvious. “I want to.”

Miguel chuckles a little, “I was going to suggest to take it slow but yeah, if you’re still up for it.”

You swallow thickly, edging nearer before planting your hands on his thighs. This is so alien to you. After many months of tiptoeing around him at a distance, it was scary how fast you found yourself in a position of intimacy with him.

Sure, many times before have you fantasized about what it would be like to get close to him. With the sounds of moans coming from his bedroom late at night, it wasn’t hard for you to figure out how much of a woman pleaser he was.

Slowly, your hand wraps around his cock, feeling him get harder and harder with every second that passes. You think back to the videos that you had watched previous to this, noticing that most of the women decide to give a few strokes before going in with their mouth. You imitate them easily, watching your hand move.

You take in every fine detail: every vein, every twitch, every shade leading from the tip to the base. The crown of his cock is thick, becoming redder with every stroke as juices of pre-cum subtly spilling away.

“Jus’ like that.” Miguel murmurs and you notice how his tone is a little lighter than before. “When you’re ready, you can lick the tip a little, warm yourself up to it.”

You hum in response. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, not yet at least.

Once again, you think back to the porn videos you had watched, imitating the women by tracing little circles across the tip of his dick. Miguel lets out a drawn out groan and little by little you can feel his body relax as you continue on. It tastes salty. The tip of his cock is reddened and soft.

For a minute or two you continue to trace circles, closing your eyes in the moment, allowing yourself to relax and get rid of any nerves or doubt. Miguel says nothing more, his teeth softly biting down on his lower lip, he watches as you hesitate, unsure of how to continue from here.

Miguel’s hand soon reaches for your chin, causing you to pause and tilt your head up towards him. His hand cups right under your lips and your face turns to confusion for a split second before he lets out his command.

“Spit.”

For some reason, your body listens to him without a second thought.

“It’s okay if it gets messy,” he advises, “the messier the better.”

You make a mental note of that.

You make sure to be careful with your teeth as your lips part around his cock. Once again you take it slow, letting your mouth adjust to his size. He’s bigger and thicker than you had expected, barely halfway before he already fills up your mouth. Your eyes water as you attempt to take him whole, a decision which you realize quickly was too hasty as you reach your gag reflex.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t– mierda!” Miguel sits up a little, trying to pace you. Your eyes water and saliva continues to pool out of your mouth, dripping down to his balls. Your cheeks are full of his cock and as if following his instincts, Miguel almost wants to hold your head there. It takes all of his resilience not to place his hand at the back of your head. He let out a grunt at the warmth of your mouth, coaxing him to stay a little longer. But unfortunately if he does, then he may cum sooner rather than later.

You feel his fingers tap your shoulder, “Hey–” he manages to draw out, “brea–breathe through your nose.” You attempt to do so, just letting off a few inches of his dick, letting your hand stroke whatever you can’t take. With you, you can build up a pace more freely, bobbing your head up and down. You close your eyes, concentrating on keeping your rhythm, a steady pace for now.

Fuck it, Miguel gives into his instincts, letting a hand cup the back of your head ever so lightly.

“Fuck, keep going… you’re doing so well.”

Miguel’s praises boost your confidence, the simple phrase removing past doubts that had cast over you. You pause to allow yourself to breathe, your hand stroking his length in the meanwhile and Miguel seems to cup your chin again.

“Mírame.”

One simple order and he has you hooked and, god, you have a gorgeous view.

His dark brows are deeply furrowed. Chest rising and falling heavily, His hands are now by his side, prominent veins from his other arm lead to the back of his hand which currently grips a pillow on the couch. His eyes are beginning to droop, with his head tilted back slightly. You notice how his Adam apple bobs in his throat with every guttural hum that he makes. His mouth is just about agape enough for you to spot his pink tongue peeking out at you.

And as for him? The sight of you is more wondrous than he could ever imagine. Your eyes are also heavy-lidded. Lips plump and wet with saliva dripping down your chin. This is a side of you that he’s never seen before. Your eyes glow with submission, the innocence and inexperience peeling off of you. If you keep looking at him with that expression, he’s not particularly confident that he’ll be able to hold on for that long.

“Don’t stop looking at me, okay?”

You hum a little before your lips open wide to wrap around his cock again. Yet this time, you manage to keep eye contact. Another unrestrained grunt leaves Miguel’s mouth, his lips parting once more.

You’d say that you’re confident now, relaxed more than ever – confident enough to begin exploring. Keeping his cock in your mouth, you begin to bob your head at a rhythmic pace and at the same time a free hand reaches down to his base, lightly tracing over his balls.

A sharp inhale leaves his mouth. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that, nena?”

You hum in response, the vibration of your mouth causing a helpless moan from your roommate. You focus near the tip of his cock, returning back to tracing circles over the slit. One hand still pumps the rest of him whilst the other gently teases his balls with your fingertips.

He’s closer than you think. And you can tell by the way that his hips begin to shift a little as if he’s trying to get more of your touch. He tilts his head back, chest rising and falling at a more dramatic pace. “Shit–shit–shit-m’gonna, m’gonna cum– if– if you keep going… oh fuck!”

“Wan’ me to swallow it all?”

You’re practically teasing him at this point. Fuck, he’ll do anything, anything. And this time he doesn’t hold back in vocalizing this, the words ‘yes’ falling from his tongue, pleading, begging you to continue. “Yes, yes, don’t fucking stop.”

You decide to grant him his wishes, turning to a faster pace as you stroke his length with your hand. You can feel his cock twitching, thick veins rubbing against your palm.

“You close, mig’?” you taunt, watching as he closes his eyes in pure euphoria. He nods, inchorant words fall from his lips in a babble as his hips jerk upwards and his thighs tense around you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck m’cumming! M’gonna–”

Miguel manages to cut himself off with a deep groan, lifting his hips up as you wrap your lips around him for the last time. His cock twitches, veins pulsating as your mouth is filled with his white seed. You swallow as much as you can, trying to bear the salty taste. His cum is thick, spurting so much out you think you won’t be able to keep up. Some leaks out, dripping down his shaft. As soon as you’ve swallowed, you lap up what you missed.

“Fuck, wait, wait–”

“M’cleaning you up.” you mumble. You can tell how sensitive he is. Just from your tongue lightly licking his length so as to not waste anything, his cock twitches. Once satisfied, you pull away, your tongue licking at your bottom lip.

Apart from the sound of the now forgotten movie playing in the background and the sound of light panting coming from Miguel, there’s a silence between the both of you.

You lean back, resting on your heels as you begin to grow aware of your actions.

You’ve just sucked off your roommate. Correction. Your hot ass roommate.

Neither of you know what to say. You begin to avoid his eye contact, feeling the awkwardness creep in. Yet, it fails to fully entrap you as Miguel chooses to bite the dust and speaks first.

“For someone with a mouth that doesn’t shut up, I’m surprised you know how to use it well.” he mutters, pulling up his boxers and sweatpants.

All tension from your body begins to evaporate, a slight smile appearing on your lips.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” you frown, wiping off remnants of his cum mixed with your saliva from your lips with the back of your hand.

“Nothing, nothing. You were just…good for someone who hadn’t done anything like this before.”

Unlike when you were sucking him off, his praise causes heat to rise to your cheeks, your face burning up. And like a few moments ago too, you continue to avoid his eyes.

Clearing your throat, you move to stand, gesturing that you’re about to go to your room. The movie is just about over but neither you nor him were worried about that anymore.

“Any other advice that I should take?” you say.

Miguel frowns, taking a few moments to think deeply. If he’s being completely honest with himself, that orgasm has crushed him. Leaving him with nothing but thoughts of you and that sweet mouth of yours. Just thinking about it almost makes him hard again.

A part of him almost dares to tell you to forget your date tomorrow and to go out with him tomorrow. The card and flowers addressed to you, wait patiently in his room, a last-minute gift after weeks of building up the courage to ask you. All that courage is lost now though.

He’s too late.

“No.” He says, finally, going against his instincts. “Just do exactly what you did for me.”

“No complaints?”

“No complaints.” He clarifies. A deep pit of regret and hurt builds up again in his lower stomach, a feeling that he’ll have to start getting used to. He deserves it, he thinks, for not asking you sooner. He has no right to be jealous that someone else beat him to it. Not when he wasn’t dropping enough signs to prove that…

he’s falling in love with you.

Before entering your bedroom, you pause, the door leading to your bedroom slightly ajar. “Hey.”

Miguel glancing up to look at you.

“Thanks.”

Miguel says nothing more and really he should be the one thanking you for the heaven that you’ve just taken him to. He waits until he hears your bedroom door close and lock before letting out a sigh that he didn’t know he was holding in.

After he’s sure that you won’t return, Miguel pulls out his phone, tapping his screen until he reaches a certain page.

‘Are you sure you want to cancel your reservation for a ‘table for two’ on the 14th of February ?’

After a mere moment of hesitation, he confirms. His thumb clicking on ‘yes’.

part 2.

[silassinclair]

Hi! It's me the "Maddox with a sassy y/n" annon. Omg i just saw your post and it made my Whole Week! 😭

Thank you so much!

Anyway, i have a new request (if that is alright). I saw that you have a yandere Boxer but i didn't see to much info on him.

Could we get an introduction or some information for him? I'm really curious.

As always, have great day/night! ✨

Sorry this took a while to answer, just came back from the Philippines and I saw this req in my inbox. I’ve been waiting to write for him so now I have the chance to!! Hope you like it :D Also the beginning of this is really long, boring, and angsty but bear with me ya'll :) Also the Russian is google translate so it may be inaccurate :(

Masterlist Here!!

Next Part Here!!

Yandere Boxer x Reader

Viktor Markov was not the man you thought he was; well, not anymore. You both were raised in a small eastern European town. Him being the boy next door; always covered in dirt and was the sweetest little boy who would bring you flowers and bugs that he found. And you were the weird little girl who would collect the rocks and flowers that he gifted you with a smile. So naturally the two of you became friends, two peas in a pod.

He always had your back and you always had his. Growing up together in eastern Europe was hard. Both of you came from a pretty rough neighborhood and home life but that didn't stop you two from being happy. After all you only needed each other. It was just you two against the world. And it was like that for years.

Well, that was until high school. Viktor stopped talking to you in Sophomore year. Your calls went ignored, socials un-interacted, and texts delivered. So you just gave up. You no longer chased after him or begged him to tell you what was wrong when all he did was give you a cold shoulder. And honestly, you just didn't want to be around him anymore.

He got in with a bad crowd. Some upperclassmen guys who would just skip class to smoke. And seeing your childhood best friend become one of them broke your heart. You tried, you really did. But instead the blonde snapped at you, telling you to stop acting like his Mother and that he didn't need you anymore. And he was right, Viktor was more grown up now. Hard jawline, firm muscles, and standing at a staggering 6'3 feet tall.

He didn't need your back anymore.

And you didn't need his.

High school was a blur. You kept to your studies and only had a small circle of friends that consisted of all girls who have all been friends longer than before you ever came around. You were the grass friend. They all walked on the sidewalk while you trailed behind to the side; always stepping in the mud and grass. They weren't really your friends, you just didn't want to be alone. And they didn't see you as a friend, they just didn't want you to be alone. Pitiful isn't it?

But none of it mattered. It was all over and done in the blink of an eye. After high school was university and in university was medical school and after medical school was a new beginning. Being a docotor was never really your dream. It was your parent's dream and they just wanted the best for their little girl. You didn't want to disapoint them and go to culinary school like what you really wanted. So you worked and went to med school at the same time.

It was hard. It really was. You have no friends, no social life, and no one has your back. Yet it's your job to have people's backs. Ironic and unfair. But that's life.

Money was getting tight. Paying off student loans and working multiple jobs was getting exhausting. Living? No, it felt like you were dying. But you got offered a job you could not refuse. A patient came into your office. It was an older man in his early 50s.

"You're quite quiet for a doctor." He says. "Shy thing are you?"

You give him a silent nod. Hopefully this conversation doesn't take the turn you don't want it to take. Getting harassed by patients as a woman doctor is scarily common.

"I need a doctor. One like you; diligent, quiet, and quite the eye candy. Work for me krasivyy (beautiful). The pay is better than working in this heap clinic."

You eye him oddlyand whisper, "Why do you need me? Do you want me to be one of those underworld doctors or something? If so then no. I won't be patching up assassins or serial killers."

The man laughs, his voice booming in the small examination room.

"No no. You won't be dealing with any of those type. But this still is underground as you say. I own an underground boxing ring. And I need a doctor to patch up my fighters. Illegal, but good pay no?

You thought about it for two minutes then finally gave your answer.

“When do I start?”

The man’s name is Radko. And right now you’re in his gym. It’s dark, stinky, and full of shirtless men training for their next match. You thought you felt out of place in school? Nope, this is 100x worse. And some of these guys are acting like they’ve never seen a woman before.

“Stop looking at me like that weirdo.” You think to yourself while walking past a guy on a bench who’s wiping the sweat off his chest. His hungry gaze on you sends shivers down your spine.

“Ignore their stares.” Radko puts a rough hand on your shoulder. “They’re not used to seeing pretty women.”

“Yeah I can see that.” You mutter.

You two stop in front of the door near the back of the gym. It says “Clinic” in front of the door. He opens the door and you’re greeted with a surprisingly clean office. Radko must have cleaned up a little when he knew you would be coming.

“This is where you’ll be. Some guys will walk in pretty roughed up. Just patch em up abd send them on their way. If any of em try anything with you, you tell me right away. Okay?”

Radko was like a Dad and you liked that about him. A pretty intimidating Dad who owns an illegal boxing ring but what does that matter. Doesn’t particularly make him a bad person.

“Okay. Thank you.” You say with a warm smile.

“Ah you’re so milyy (cute)! Please don’t quit within the first week, I don’t think my heart can handle it if you go.” Radko says and hugs you. You give the big man a pat on the back in return.

“I’ll leave you to it now. You’ll receive your pay bi-weekly. See you now.”

And with that you were left alone. You were left in a small private clinic you could call your own. Maybe this job wouldn’t be as bad as you thought? But all positive thoughts flew out the window when your first patient of the day walked in.

Tall, pale, short blonde hair, scarred torso, muscle on muscle, and piercing blue eyes. All features of someone whom you thought you would never see again. Who you never wanted to see again.

“Kroshechnyy?” (Tiny)

God that nick name. There was a time it would make you smile and laugh. But now it just pissed you off. He had the audacity to call you that as if you two were still buddy buddy? No, fuck that. Fuck him.

“It’s Y/n to you now. What do you want Viktor?”

The man’s face creased with pain. Not physical, no, something worse.

“What are you doing here? This place isn’t for you.” His voice was a deeper timbre from when you last spoke to him Sophomore year. He walks closer to you and you can smell his sweat from training but also… Jean Paul Gaultier? Why would you wear designer fragrance at a gym? Weirdo.

Little did you know when he saw you walk in the gym he immediately raced to the locker room to freshen up and see you.

“I’m a doctor. I got a side job from Radko.” You explain swiftly. “If you’re uninjured then please leave. Other patients may come in with actual reasons to see me.”

Rather than face to face you’re face to chest with him. How the hell did he get so tall? You crane your neck up to meet his eyes.

His expression stiffens. His usual cold demeanor returns.

“You shouldn’t be here. This place isn’t for you. It’s dangerous.”

You roll your eyes. “I think I can manage. Now please leave me alone. You’re the last person I ever want to see.”

Viktor ignores the comment and his gaze remains ice cold. You nearly shiver, did the room temperature drop?

“Stop acting childish. Tell Rad that you quit.”

“But I’m not quitting.”

He steps closer.

“I’ll make you.”

“And what are you gonna do?”

He bends down to your level and scoffs.

“I don’t need to lift a finger. You’ll get scared and run off with your tail between those little legs of yours. These men here will eat you alive.”

Did he not think you knew that before you signed up for all this? You were aware of what you walked into. Underground gym, surrounded by men, all physically fit to the max. They could rip you in half. But you needed this job. There wasn’t time to be afraid.

“Yeah yeah I know. I don’t need your lecture. Now get out before I tell Radko.”

Viktor leans closer. His nose mere centimeters from yours.

“Don’t come crying to me when you get hurt.”

“If I get hurt then I’ll just patch myself up. I didn’t go through 4 years of med school just to cry when I’m in pain.”

The tall Russian growls lowly to himself and leaves, not before slamming the door of course.

“Fuck…”

This new job of yours just got worse tenfold.

It’s been about two weeks since you started working here. And you’ve met all of Radko’s men. They weren’t as bad as you thought they would be. Yeah they would flirt with you but not in the gross way. They knew when to quit.

Well, all of them except for Vladimir. The same one who eyed you like a piece of meat the first day you came here. Everyday he would come to the clinic to shoot his shot. And everyday you turned him down.

“Little kotenok (kitten) is still feisty.” Vladimir clicks his tongue. He manspreads in the examination chair, flexing his ab muscles and turning his head to the side to show off his impressive jawline. But all it does is un-impress you.

“If you’re going to waste my time like this everyday then I’m going to tell Radko.” You firmly state and cross your arms.

Like a kicked puppy the boxer whines, “Nooooo. I’m sorry please don’t kick me out. This is the only room besides Coach’s that is air conditioned.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Not my problem, do an ice bath or something.”

Vladimir chuckles and goes to say something else but stops himself when he sees and hears the door open. You also turn your attention to the door, wondering who it is and why they didn’t knock.

“Get out.” Viktor says. His voice like stone, as is his glare. His bloody swollen eye only ads to his intimidating aura.

Vladimir gets out of the chair and groans. “Way to be a cockblock Vicky.” He says mockingly.

You were about to shoot in and say how there was no way you would give him the light of day but Viktor had other plans. His fist makes contact with Vladimir’s abdomen with a mean punch. Making the other man wheeze and keel over in pain.

“Get the fuck out.” Viktor grabs him by the hair and kicks him out of the office. Literally. The door then slams shut, leaving you alone with your heated childhood friend.

“Thanks…” You mutter. Unable to look into his eyes, well… eye. The other is swollen shut.

He grunts and sits on the examination bed. Getting into doctor mode you walk over to Viktor and assess the damage. There’s a few bruises on his ribs but his eyes seem to be the worst. Delicately you touch part of the bruised eye and he inwardly flinches, making you draw your hand back in an instant.

“What happened?” You softly ask.

“Alexei sucker punched me. Dick.”

You stifle a laugh, making your patient deadpan. “Typical Alexi. I’ll tell him off the next time he comes in here complaining about his stomach aches.”

Viktor and you are silent when you rub ointment on his bruises. After the ointment is all done you hand him an icepack.

“Use this for the eye.”

He nods and thanks you with a silent nod. Then, he leaves just like that.

After that you would see more of Viktor and less Vladimir. To be honest you’ve been seeing less of everyone. Everyday Viktor came in with new reasons to come to you. Headaches, head trauma, bruises, scratches, and the worst was a dislocation.

“What is it this time?” You don’t even need to face the door to know who it is.

“He needs help!”

You whip around immediately, nearly spilling your coffee. You see Alexi and Cain at the door and draped over their shoulders is an unconscious Vladimir. You run over to them and tell them to lay Vladimir down on the bed gently while you assess his condition.

“What happened!?” You say worriedly. He was barely breathing. You begin doing chest compressions.

“We found him outside. Some of those bastards from west gym probably did this to him…” Cain says, his eyes are full of rage.

The compressions aren’t working. So instead you ready up the life support. He won’t last long with traumatic brain injuries like this.

“What’s gonna happen to him Doc?” Alexi sounds the most worried. He’s just a kid, only being 17.

“I’m putting him under life support.” And it was damn hard to do it on your own.

“Thank you.” Cain says. He puts a hand on the small of Alexi’s back. “Let’s leave her alone. She’s busy.”

The two men leave. Leaving you alone with Vladimir who has one foot in hell. No offense Vladimir, but no way you’re going to heaven. All day you stay by Vladimir’s side. Other men come in to check on him or get patch ups. And you go about your job, leaving the unconscious man to rest on the bed.

If I knew she would be stuck to his side like glue then I never would have beaten the fucker half to death. The plan was to kill him but the stubborn bastard just didn’t want to die. I watch Y/n from outside the clinic. The window’s blinds are open. She’s so close yet so far; always out of my reach. Part of it is my fault. I was the one who pushed her away after all.

But I had no choice. I didn’t want her involved with the people I was involved with in high school. I needed them in order to get some side jobs. Hell, a couple of them box for Radko too at this gym. I thought Y/n would be gone from my life for good, but I was wrong. I thought God was punishing me for the things I have done but it seems like he took pity on me just this once by bringing her back to me and letting me have a second chance.

But so far I’m making no progress. What even is love? I know I love her but I don’t know how. All I know is that I need to protect her from all the wolves here. I already staked my claim on her but one fucker didn’t want to listen. Vladimir, that egotistical thorn in my side. The next chance I get I'll kill him for good. It's not like this is my first time killing for her after all.

High school was when I first took someone's life. Some upperclassman bitch was harassing Y/n. I couldn't stand watching her suffer. And I couldn't comfort her like before when we were young; by this time I already cut off Y/n for good. But I knew there was something I could do. So I killed her. And I killed anyone who dared breathe Y/n's name wrong.

I'll do whatever I can to protect the love of my life. Slowly, little by little, I'll win her back. She'll be mine again and we'll be even closer than friends. But for now I'll do what I can to keep her safe from the sidelines. Even if it means she'll find out and hate me forever.

[kbspangler]

This is the public statement from @alepresser and myself which went up at Webtoons tonight.

Now for some ranting. Just from me, not from Ale—she's innocent of the art crimes I've committed in the past, and boy howdy have I committed art crimes.

This is the first page of my first webcomic, A Girl and Her Fed. I started this thing back in 2006. (I don't actually need a head count of those reading this who weren't yet born in 2006. I'm sure you're delightful and I wish you well in college.)

And this is the last page I drew in early 2020 before I turned art duties over to Dr. Beer. It's better, right?

Well, these days, A Girl and Her Fed has pages like this:

I drew this comic for fourteen fucking years because it's a story I wanted to tell, and I thought webcomics were the perfect format for it. I didn't know how to draw. I got better through sheer obstinate perseverance and sticking to deadlines as best I could for, again, fourteen fucking years. I sought out a replacement artist when I ran into time constraints and couldn't do art plus writing anymore; I'm a much better writer than an artist, so I had no problems whatsoever kicking art to the curb.

The first time Ale sent me art that would go up on the website—art I hadn't needed to draw myself—I literally cried in relief because I had been grinding myself down for, yet again, fourteen fucking years.

So when I read comments from people who say they want to make a webcomic but can't draw themselves and therefore need to resort to AI, that little line between my eyes gets dangerously deep.

This isn't like I'm some old dude who's bitching over student loans getting cancelled after making regular payments. This is me, someone who threw raw art onto the internet like a monkey hurling fresh poo, because I wanted to make a webcomic and the art is part of the process of storytelling via webcomics! I could've (arguably should've) hired an artist right out of the gate, and that would've been part of the process of making comics, too: a partnership between an artist and a writer is also something which grows and develops over time.

For example, after Dr. Beer and I spent two years working on AGAHF, we decided we enjoyed our partnership so much that we set out to make another webcomic! It's great! It's got wonderful art and consistent storytelling! You should read it!

But turning art duties over to unaltered images generated by AI because you want to make a webcomic but "just can't draw" is, frankly, a bullshit excuse. I'm not talking about persons who are physically unable to draw due to disability—I'm talking about people who say they want to make webcomics but simply don't wanna do the art part.

Friends, if you don't want to show your entire ass in front of God and country, you don't actually want to make a webcomic.

Do the thing yourself.

If you're scared, don't be. Take the plunge. Set a goal of twenty strips and do the thing yourself. If you can already draw but can't write? Great! Write twenty strips, write forty panels, etc. You might surprise yourself. If you can write but can't draw? Great! Draw twenty panels and see what happens.

Whatever comes out of it, it's a thing you've done yourself. It's something new you've given to the world, no matter how big or small. Be proud of that. And if you need to partner with someone else to make your comic dreams work? You can do that, too! It's still a thing you've done yourself, and many projects are stronger when done together.

...but maaaaaaaaaybe hire that partner before you've busted your own ass for fourteen fucking years. That one's on me.

[bluewxrld07]

love ain't so pretty (Luke Hughes)

Warning(s): angst, gold-digger accusations, self-doubt, insecurity

Summary: Y/n is a hard worker. She may not come from a family of wealth, but she doesn't let that define her. Until Luke says something inn which that something is said in a way he can never take back.

She was so overstimulated. She was tired, she was sweaty, she had stains on her shirt from a spilt coffee mishap.

Yet she still had that smile on her face as she greeted and bid farewell to regulars and other newer customers. Y/n wiped the sweat dripping from her forehead away as she finished wiping down one of her last tables for the night, pocketing the leftover generous tip she was left.

As she brought the dishes to the back and hung up her apron, she saw one of her closest coworkers, Grayson, making his way towards her.

"We're going out tonight if you want to join? Just to Don's down the street." he tells her as she helps the chefs with putting dishes in the sink.

She purses her lips. "Not tonight-" her coworker groans. "I promised Luke I'd come home tonight and watch the rest of the Frozen four game. UMich plays tonight, so he invited some of the guys over and wants us all there to watch it."

Grayson puts his hands on his hips and looks her up and down. "Girl, you are absolutely smitten by this man."

Y/n rolls her eyes, feeling her skin heat up. "He gets me what can I say. He's the first guy who likes me as a person. Not as just something with tits and ass." She jokes, earning a playful shove from him.

They laugh. "Hey those guys back then were fine as fuck and you know it." He shoots, earning a defeated sigh from her as she grabs her belongings.

"Yeah yeah, that was back then. I'm happier now," she chuckles, giving Grayson a hug. "Tell your man of the night hi for me though." she jokes, earning a snort.

"Oh you'll bet hearing about it tomorrow don't you worry." Graysons calls out to her as she walks off.

As she drove home that night, she felt more of the fatigue slipping in from her twelve hour shift, her feet beginning to slowly throb from being on them nonstop.

She knew she would regret taking another twelve hour shift for the fifth day in a row, but in all fairness she knew her paycheck was going to look super nice. Not that she minded working anyway.

Y/n has never had things come easy to her. She came from a family of the lower class, and she had done what she could to support them while also getting her education.

When it came to college, she knew that she wanted nothing more than to graduate with her Bachelor's degree in health science. That all came to an end when her mom died, and her father was struggling to pay bills. So she put her dreams and scholarship acceptance letters aside, putting her family first and working her ass off.

Now she was working as one of the partial owners of a very beautiful restaurant, making a decent amount of change and ignoring what everyone had said about her decisions of not going to college. Sure she still wishes she could have experienced the college life, but she knew that this life was better than spending the rest of her life paying off student loan debt.

She worked hard to get where she got to, and working where she does is what caused her to meet her now boyfriend of almost three years, and she would be damned if she would let Luke be the only one making the money in their relationship.

He has always made comments about how he could be their income, but it always needed with her saying she wanted to make her own money. As well as knowing she would get bored not doing something with her life, and she couldn't face the thoughts of him thinking she would become too reliant on his money.

She snapped herself out of the darker side of those thoughts, knowing she does work hard.

Y/n lets out a sigh of exhaustion as she made her way up the stairs towards her and Luke's shared apartment, the sounds of the guys voices being heard as she got closer to their place.

The girl opened the door quickly to not disturb their conversation being had in the other room, shutting it quietly as she took off her shoes.

She set her keys and purse on the rack, making her way down the hall and pulling her hair into a knot on the top of her head.

The guys chuckles and conversations dying down a bit as she cam into view, everyone giving her warm welcomes and 'hello's. She exchanged a few hugs and greetings to the Devils players in her household, soon making her way behind the couch to hug her boy from behind.

Luke lets out a chuckle as he felt Y/n bury her face in his neck and place a kiss there, his fingers caressing her wrists that were around his neck.

"How was work, baby?" he asks softly, she hums.

"Busy. Long. Grayson asked if I wanted to come out with him and the rest of the crew, but I just could not. I'm so tired."

"How many hours did you work today?"

"Close to thirteen. I covered for Miriam because her son was sick." she sighs, laying her chin on his shoulder.

Luke places a few chaste kisses on her cheek and temple. "You definitely deserve a drink or two though."

"Yeah, but I wanted to come watch the game with you and the boys. I also don't get paid till tomorrow, so I'd rather just keep the money spending to a tighter budget." she explains, earning a grin from Luke.

"I could've sent you money, love. You never go out really," he assures her, but she shakes her head and stands straight. She squeezes his shoulders.

"Not the point, baby. I don't need you spending your money on me. I make my own money, I don't want to rely on you, you know how I get with you spending money on me." she says, placing a kiss on his head.

Luke just sighs, and looks up at her. "Why don't you go shower, and I will grab you a drink and something to eat for when you get back out here?" he suggests, she grins down at him and nods.

Y/n walks off to their shared bedroom and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her to strip down.

The warm water instantly helps sooth her muscles and pains, earning some decompressing sighs of relief from her as she washes herself clean.

Once she is done, she steps out and heads towards the mirror to do her nightly routine. She shrugs on some cropped sweats and Luke's sweatshirt that was hanging up, brushing her hair after.

As she opens the door that goes back to their shared room, she sets her towel on her desk chair and goes to place her phone on the charger.

She pauses when she hears something from one of the guys, in which it makes her frown.

"Why didn't she go out tonight?"

She hears Luke sigh. "I don't know. She said something about not getting paid till tomorrow and being tight on her budget."

One of the guys snort. "What does she do?"

"She's a partial owner and full-time manager for that nice restaurant down the street overlooking the bridge."

It's quiet for a few seconds. "That's it? Nothing special?"

"Really? I thought she did something else," one guy chuckles.

"Nope, she's just over there." Luke answers quietly.

"No wonder she is tight on money. I thought she went to college and got a real job or something."

"I didn't know you'd stoop down to lower-class type girls Lukey," a guy jokes, making Y/n's insides churn.

"I don't that's the thing," Luke laughs, Y/n instantly getting closer to the doorway to hear what else he has to say. "She could definitely use the money I make here and there. She doesn't make shit compared to what I get."

Y/n's blood runs cold.

She knows she is not professional sports player, but she does make a decent amount, so hearing Luke say that makes her heart ache. The man that was supposed to stick up for her and love her regardless was saying things like this when she wasn't in the room. Who knew what else he was saying when he wasn't around her.

"Wouldn't you be worried about her becoming a gold digger though, man?"

Luke scoffs. "I mean yeah of course, but she's got this thing where she needs to prove to whoever that she can make money. So she will never accept a dime from me. She barely pays for our rent here, she pays a good forty percent. But without me around who knows if she'd have a roof over her head."

Y/n didn't even realize she was crying until she felt the drops hitting her toes, the girl instantly wiping at her eyes.

She couldn't listen to any more of their conversation, instantly heading towards their closet and grabbing whatever she could fit into the duffel.

If he was going to say this about her, making her sound like she could be so broke and so homeless if he wasn't around. She didn't want a man like that in her life.

Y/n grabbed her phone and charger, slipping on a pair of socks and her jacket before walking out of their bedroom.

She stormed down out past the group sitting in the living room, noticing Luke in the kitchen in her side view. She beelined towards the hallway that led to their front door, putting on her shoes as she heard Luke say her name.

"Where you going? I just finished making you your favorite!" he says in an excited tone. Luke's smile falters as he sees her puffy and red splotched face.

"Baby? What's going on?" he asked, as he began to walk towards her.

She just shook her head, grabbing her purse and keys. "I can't do this." she scoffs with a sniffle.

"Do what? Hey, hey, hey," he says, grabbing her waist to turn her back towards him as she begins to open the front door. His face falls completely at the sight of her broken one.

"I won't be some fucking charity case for you," she snaps. Luke's face frowning. "What?" he asks.

"I make more than enough money to be financially stable on my own fucking feet. I don't need you feeding some fucking lies to your so called friends that I can't pay shit. You chose the rent split percentage. You chose how much you wanted me to pay because you wanted to spend more on me."

Luke's face was white. "Y/n I-"

"No. I'm done Luke. Go fuck some high-class bitch that can afford everything you can and more. We're over."

Before Luke could get another word out, the door slammed in his face.

Luke backed away from the door silently, his figure coming into view to the boys who heard the door slam.

"Luke you good?"

He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes still locked on the door in hopes she would come back. Tears threatening to spill in his eyes.

"Luke?"

He turned away and towards the kitchen, swiping the glass on the counter away and letting it shatter on the fridge.

"I fucked up. Big time."

[wonryllis]

𝜗𝜚ㅤBABY YOU ARE MORE THAN JUST A DREAM! ( love at first sight with idol!reader )

────𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗅!

﹙NOTES.﹚ non!idol enha falling for you. 𖥔 ݁ fluff. reqtd. fem!r. 2569wc. LIB?

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

the one who gets attracted to your light in the struggles of his life. a broke college student working multiple part time jobs to pay for his student loans. an avid listener of kpop who does not have much idea about groups, especially girl groups simply because of his busy life. it's one fateful afternoon when he's on his shift in everland dressed in his heavy bear mascot, barbequing inside drenched in sweat trying to hand out flyers and taking pictures with kids.

too tired he sits on a bench, taking off the head and brushing his wet hair when you appear with a camera seeming to be filming a self vlog. "do you need help?" you ask and heeseung falls into the rabbit hole that very instant. you're so pretty and you're also so sweet and kind, standing with him, helping him out even when you're not obligated to. smiling so beautifully and warmly at him each time he turns to look at you every other minute.

he's lost in his own world trying to make sense how he got such an amazing person to notice him and how everyone seems so interested in the flyers from the moment you step in. you offer him tissues to wipe off his sweat and appraise him for working so hard struggling but still not giving up, heeseung questions if this is real, if you are real.

he does not hesitate to ask for your name surprised when it sounds so familiar and going into a cardiac arrest upon realising you're the same idol he listens to everyday on break, your soothing voice helping him through his day.

you invite him to join you on your vlog and show you around the theme park after he's done working, at this point heeseung is soulless he has no idea how he's functioning but he is. he fumbles around to change as quick as he can after he's off, putting on as much deodrant as he can afraid of smelling sweaty around you. "thank you so much for hanging out with me!" you give him a hug at the end, "no thank you so much for helping me out," he'll never be able to get over this.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆

the one who keeps crossing paths with you like destiny, a thin line between reality and falling so hard for a celebrity. you start as his airport crush, one on whom once he lays his eyes they follow everywhere. he takes in every little detail about you from across the room watching you sit in the waiting area wondering if you're on the same flight. he feels like he's seen you somewhere but he can't bring himself to remember.

it is when he spots the various people you're surrounded with, he realises you're an idol, not understanding how he seems to have seen you before but not having clear memory of it, like how can he forget someone like that.

nevertheless he's hooked, anyone can see with the way he keeps glancing in your direction time and again. some of the crew members notice him immediately, trying to gesture to you subtly. and it works when you lock eyes the next time he looks, he turns away at the speed of light face heating up and the tip of ears getting red, he definitely gave himself away. but what to do he's so bad at pretending.

visibly upset when he sees you boarding a different flight. but fate appears to be on his side when two days later he spots you again on the streets of athens filming some group content. he's a little hesitant to do anything. he leaves to look the surrounding shops only to come back again and again to watch you.

you're on break the fourth time he does it and you lock eyes again, jay literally freezes in his spot he doesn't know what to do, feeling like his heart would jump right out onto his palms as he watches you get up and walk towards him. "hey," you speak waving to him as you stop a freaking few inches away from him. "yeah," jay mumbles, voice so cold he regrets it in a second with your face turning confused at his bleak response,"i mean hey, i'm just really nervous right now," oh my god he can't believe he also said that like jay?? "mhm," you smile,"that's cute," jay stopped working.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍

the one who falls at a chance encounter, one look and he's mesmerized. a die hard baseball fan, attending one of the matches where your group is set to perform a song. he had no clue about it but who is he to complain cause the moment he spots you, he can't take his eyes off of you, you dance so prettily, the way you move your body he's beyond hypnotized.

and your voice don't get him started at that it's like a siren calling for him, luring him into a trap he can't ever escape from. a little disappointed when the performance is over, keeps trying to find you in the crowd, looking for your pretty face amidst the others.

once he finds your seat, he's staring continuously, if not that then every two seconds. the game is long forgotten he doesn't give a shit who's winning and losing. for him the win here lies on watching you do everything. the way you smile at your members so softly, how your laugh seems to be so addicting even of he can barely hear it, when you're munching on snacks, cheering on the players from time to time. nothing's ever been this interesting to watch, nothing can beat this not even a match of his favourite teams.

had he known about you earlier he would have done everything in his power to attend every fansign, grabbing every opportunity to meet you, to be able to see you up close and talk to you, listen to your pretty voice telling him literally anything and everything.

he tries finding ways to meet you, looking closely to see if he can encounter a situation where he supposedly comes across you accidentally and compliment your performance, talking about how well you did. and lucky for him he does get that chance when he least expects it.

sad and dejected at the end of the performance, just leaving the venue when you bump into him all alone. his entire world shakes so excited he might burst any second. "your performance was so good i couldn't take my eyes off of you," he blurts out, "thanks, i noticed you looking, a lot actually," someone bury him right now.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

the one who has no interest in kpop, he's literally got no clue about any idol and he doesn't even give a fuck about it. he's super career oriented person who supposedly has no time for all this bullshit he says. but the moment he lays eyes on you, the pretty barista on the other side of the counter of his favourite cafe he cannot help rethinking about his ways of life.

he swears he's never seen someone so beautiful ever, there's just something about you that somehow seems to keep drawing him towards you. he wonders if you're new or has he always been this blind.

the way you smile when he enters through the door, welcoming him so sweetly, the light from outside falling on your face so gorgeously he stutters for the first time in forever. boy cannot form the proper words, he fumbles on his regular order, forgets to tell his name and keeps staring and gawking so awkwardly at you, he's convinced you think of him as a creep.

almost leaves the cafe literally a step out the door before he decides he cannot let this chance go and rushes like a loser over to the front, waiting as you attend to another customer. chewing on his bottom lip and hands fiddling all sweaty with nervousness.

"yes? how can i help you?" oh my god you're still so sweet, his heart skips several beats, "uhm i- well number- pretty- no i wondering- your pretty number- i meant can i-" he's never hated himself as much he does right this moment, the most important moment of his life. "my number?" you giggle and he literally melts for real,"yeah," smiling like an idiot in love. is shocked to find out you're an idol shooting a variety show, scolding himself internally for having no idea and feeling so embarrassed.

boy thinks he has lost it now, there's no way- until "did you check your cup?" if park sunghoon could put into words what he feels now he'd write an entire essay, he's so fallen, he can't get up anymore, breaking his own rules.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎

the one who goes to support his friend and ends up getting attracted unexpectedly and unintentionally. boy has a lot of friends and friends of friends and so many girl friends and he's never ever felt the way he felt it immediately in a microsecond for you. it's like you stepped on stage just to capture his heart. he's been friends with her since middle school and the biggest supporter of her idol career. it's her first concert and he's booked frontline seat, having always watched only her famcams he's never really paid attention or noticed her members.

so the first time he sees you is live on stage right in front his eyes, so lost in watching you he can barely remember why he came initially.

your outfits compliment you so good, the way you seem so passionate and happy about what you're doing is so contagious to him. he so immersed in watching you, he doesn't realize how quickly it gets over, it's somehow good through because kept thinking about meeting you backstage with the special entry he would get for his friend.

he waits impatiently in the dressing room, legs bouncing in nervousness and excitement. he smiles and goes for a hug with his friend first, his eyes subtly trained on you, beaming with happiness when his friend introduces you to him.

repeating your name in his mind again and again,"your name is as pretty as you," he says smiling so so cutely at you trying to work his charms. everyone in the room can see it just how interested he is in you, leaving you both to talk and busying themselves in other things. it's struck by love at once for him but probably not for you, he understands that and knows it's best to be friends even though he wishes for may something more than that.

he tries not to overwhelm you while still complimenting you for every little thing. "you're so talented you had me mesmerized the entire concert," sunoo that's not subtle.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

the one who has been silently watching from afar for so long, cherishing every glimpse. a cat cafe owner who waits for every sunday just so he can watch you playing with the cats and kittens from his corner in the shop too afraid to ever talk to you.

the first time he saw you was during new years eve, about to close the cafe in the evening when in came the last customer, his about to be favourite customer. you vibes were so soft and warm, treating the little babies so tenderly and the way you seemed so relaxed jungwon fell for that aura around you, the comfort and genuineness you emanated.

he fell so hard, he couldn't even bother to tell you to leave even when it was way past his closing time and there were numerous missed calls from his friends for their new year party. leaves for a split second to stick a happy new year note on your shoes because baby can't bring himself to say it to your face, it doesn't help that you're super pretty and that he's shy as fuck.

he's super disappointed in himself for letting you leave like that, that day. cursing himself for being an introvert every day that goes by and he doesn't see you again.

when you visit again the next weekend he's so elated he can't describe it in words, he offers you an on the house drink, something he wouldn't have ever done for anyone, you just happen to be a special someone he's fallen for at first sight and every other glance. he's whipped and he's down bad but he's a loser and he can't approach you especially after coming across a video of you performing at an award show and realising you're an idol.

though not fully satisfied he's content to see a sight of you others don't know about, including moments of you napping surrounded by cats you love. he can see you go there for your alone time so he chooses not to disturb you "i hope we can be friends someday," his note says, the one he leaves on your table the day he gathers enough courage.

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

the one who happens to be right across the door, bumping into you just at the right time all the damn time. there's been a lot of times riki is running late for things. once again he's late opening. his door in a hurry so does someone else right on the other side both bumping into each other. you look up for a split second before rushing back inside and closing the door on his face. he's flabbergasted but he's also so captivated. was such a pretty girl always living next door to him? or did the moving trucks he saw yesterday were yours?

the door opens again as you peek out slightly closing it shut again when you see him still standing there, are you shy? he wonders just then the door opens again and this time there's another girl stepping out with you trailing behind with your head down, a cap and mask on.

he recognises the other girl, saw her appear on one of the variety show he watches regularly and then realizes you must be an idol, "it suits her," he thinks out loud slapping a hand on his mouth when you turn to look back with eyes. shit. the next day he bumps into you again and then again the next day and also the day after. and with each time you seem to scurry away faster than before.

normally he wouldn't care at all but he's honestly been so bewitched by you since the moment he saw you he can't stop thinking about you, searching up your videos and watching you constantly.

"wait!" he tries to stop you once but you look at him weird and run off so quick he's baffled, worried he scares you too much. he didn't even do anything though?

"hey, just wanted to let you know i don't mean any harm, just wanted to introduce myself and maybe be friends? i know you're an idol but it doesn't matter to me, i won't snitch or anything if that's what you're scared about. xoxo, your next door neighbour, riki." he waits behind his door and slips the note from under after noticing you walk out of yours from the peephole. "hey," he steps out when you smile reading it.

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Peach Part 1 of 2 (Rafe Cameron Two Shot) +18

+ 18 Minor DNI

CollegeStudent!Rafe x Ward’sSugarBaby!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

📖 Rafe has a thing for his dad’s sugar baby (reader)

🪄 Warnings: somnophilia (lol), secluded yet public oral, cheating, swearing, degradation, name-calling, pet names, oral (fem. receiving), oral (male receiving), ownership kink, reader’s a sugar baby, rough sex, nipple play, choking, creampie, & cum play, no use of y/n but everyone refers to her as the pet name Peach, softish rafe but he’s kinda mean here and ther

✨ Fuck, she’s arm candy – the perfect little accessory for my old man. And he’s lovin’ every second of the attention he’s pullin’ from every ancient perv here. This has got to be some mind-numbing shit for her. She gives one of the old men a fake giggle, resting her small manicured hand on my dad’s breast pocket, her head softening on his shoulder. With that I feel a little spark in me… something I haven’t felt in a while. Jealousy? Maybe. Not for long at least. I pull my phone out of my pocket, sending an invitation. ✨

2K

Reader’s POV:

“I mean it is a little much for Midsommers, Peach, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Ward gives you a cheeky smile as he unwinds a little more on the dressing room couch, eyes combing over your curves from the reflection of the mirror. “I love dressing you up, princess. Love showing off my little doll around the fellas. Can you blame me? You’re flawless.” He winks and smiles as he lifts his champagne flute to his lips, taking a sip.

“Thank you. I love it,” you praise, running your hands down the delicate black satin, purposely running over the fullness of your breasts, guiding his focus off your eyes. “I think this will go really well with those black Jimmy Choo pumps you bought me.”

Ward smiles and shakes his head ‘no’ as he crosses his strong arms over his chest. “Do you think I’m going let you re-wear a pair of date night heels, baby? We need to buy you somethin’ new. You deserve it. Very sweet for you to be mindful of Daddy’s pocket,” he lauds as he taps the wallet tucked into the pocket of his designer blazer. “That’s just one of the many, many reasons you have my heart, sugar,” Ward mumbles as he rises to his feet, eyes trained on your body. “That, and the fact that I just can’t believe you’re mine,” he mumbles before his lips meet your neck, kissing gently as he works his way to your ear. “I love takin’ care of you.” You tip your head slightly, resting your cheek against his, the two of you matching each other’s gaze in the mirror.

“We look good together, Cameron,” you coo. He wraps his arms around you, kissing your bare shoulder before resting his chin on top.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world, Peach. This looks so pretty on you. You’re stunning. You probably need something just as pretty underneath. Don’t you agree?”

You nuzzle into his cheek, making him chuckle warmly. “You spoil me, daddy… Of course, I agree. Something pretty you can take off me later,” you flirt, just stoking the fire.

“Baby girl…” He gushes, the apples of his cheeks reddening.

“Sorry… I can’t help it.”

“No, baby. I love it. Oh, I booked a hair and nail appointment for you, so I won’t see you until you arrive. I have to be at the Island Club a little early. You can just catch a ride with Rafe. I’ll meet you at the car and we can walk in together. Alright?”

You fix your face, trying your best to seem unfazed by even the mere mention of his son’s name.

Rafe Cameron…

Truthfully, I was about to make my move during parents’ weekend. Then, I laid eyes on Ward. Rafe’s old man… handsome, sweet, thoughtful. It was too hard to pass up the chance to be taken care of. And, taken care of I was. Student loan debt canceled, school-year paid in cash, trips, lavish dinners, anything and everything his little Peach wants she gets. But even with all of that, I can’t help but be drawn to Rafe. I still get butterflies when he passes me on his way to class or when he looks my way in the library.

Even after I got with Ward I’d still try to finagle my way into staying on campus for the weekend so I could hit up a house party or bump into him at the bar. Ward made sure that didn’t happen, pleading with me to spend most of my free time at Tanneyhill. Ward is so sweet when he begs. And, how can I possibly deny the man cutting the checks?

“Peach? Is that okay? He seemed pretty happy about getting to know you a little better,” Ward smiles as he fixes the strap of your gown.

“No, Daddy. It’s perfect.”

You look down at the vanity, watching your phone buzz. Your heart skips a beat as you see his name written across it, causing the usual butterflies to swirl. How would this play out? What would Rafe say?

To the rest of the family I was just some girl; maybe someone Ward picked up at the country club or some overpriced boutique downtown. Sarah and Wheezie were too unbothered to care. How would Rafe take this? Would he even recognize me?

The buzzing stops, pulling you out of your daze as you watch the incoming call shift to missed. Shit. Headlights beam outside as Rafe’s large truck rolls up the drive just as your phone dings. Voicemail – Rafe Cameron You lift the phone to your ear, hearing that familiar voice.

“Uhh… Peach? It’s Ward’s son, Rafe. I’m out front if you’re ready to head out. Don’t know if you need a few more minutes or whatever. Just let me know.” BEEP. The message ends, the eldest Cameron’s tone short and uninterested. Maybe he knows who I am and truly doesn’t care.

You look down at your body, wrapped in a pretty pink robe; dress still hanging up in the corner of Ward’s room. It had been a long day of shopping and pampering, leaving you late. The muffled sound of Rafe’s truck door kickstarts your heart. You unfasten the bow around your waist, letting the material fall off your body and onto a puddle on the floor as you hustle toward your gown.

You step into the number, stumbling slightly; looping the delicate straps over your shoulders before smoothing out the front.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Umm… One second, Rafe,” you call.

“Of course.” You hear his deep voice in person, making you suck in a nervous breath. Reaching behind your back you struggle for the zipper, craning your wrist to get it to close. “Uhh… You need some help in there?” Rafe asks, making your eyes widen as you stand in front of the mirror again, looking back at yourself dumbly.

Of course, I want his help. I’m sure if I struggle a little more I could get it to word. But do I want to?

“Rafe,” you call out his name, voice broken with nervousness. “I could use your help.”

Rafe’s POV:

What the actual fuck. I stand behind her, eyes falling down the length of her bare back to her open zipper. Nothing but soft skin and satin; the small zipper resting just below her g-string. I’ve gotta move slowly. No way I could step out from behind her like this. My hard-on pushes against my dress pants, straining the zipper. I let my fingers trail her skin ever so slightly, tugging the material together reluctantly before pulling it closed.

I had no idea it was going to be her when she accepted my offer… Lucky me.

“How are you, sweetheart,” I mumble from behind her, catching her gaze in the mirror.

“Umm… I’m good. How are you?” She asks sweetly.

“Great. I’m fine,” I hum, not moving from my place behind her, ambling a little closer. I can’t fucking help myself. Her lashes flutter at the closeness between the two of us. “Just came from campus.”

“Yeah? Umm… We go to the same school,” she starts, like I wasn’t painfully aware.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do. I know exactly who you are. And you and my dad are-”

“Dating?” She answers, her calm demeanor veiling her shame, just a sliver of it still peeking through. “No. We’re friends? Companions… I-”

I let out a raspy chuckle, saving her the strain as she flounder in front of me, panic painting her beautiful face. “Nah, Peach. I understand,” I smirk. She lifts her eyebrow, letting out an airy laugh herself. “He’s battin’ way out of his league with you. I must say.”

I lean in a little closer, letting the warmth of my voice fan across the column of her neck, making her head fall back slightly as she tilts closer. My large hands rest on her hips, all my primal urges pushing me to bend her over, hands on the glass, dress around her hips, my fat cock fucking in and out as I watch her go absolutely dumb on my dick. But I resist.

Why the fuck are you with Ward? You’re too beautiful… You’re only wasting your time with my old man. What is he givin’ you that I can’t? Money? Is that what you’re after, babydoll?

Good thing I have that too.

“Nice to see you, man,” Kelce smiles as he pulls me in for a half-hug, cutting off my view of her. I pull him to the side, giving me the perfect sightline.

Fuck, she’s arm candy – the perfect little accessory for my old man. And he’s lovin’ every second of the attention he’s pullin’ from every ancient perv here. This has got to be some mind-numbing shit for her. She gives one of the old men a fake giggle, resting her small manicured hand on my dad’s breast pocket, her head softening on his shoulder. With that I feel a little spark in me… something I haven’t felt in a while. Jealousy? Maybe. Not for long at least. I pull my phone out of my pocket, sending an invitation.

She looks down, eyeing her clutch as she feels the rumble of her phone. Her eyes lift, catching mine like she knows exactly what’s to come, without seeing the message at all. I give her a knowing nod as I stroll away.

In a room full of people she knows just where I am. She’s got her eye on me. Atta girl.

Reader’s POV

Well… if there was any question if that text was from Rafe or not that nod answered my question. My excitement leaves a steady pulse between my thighs as I try my best to act normally. He’s trying to get me alone.

“I’m going to run to the restroom,” you whisper in Ward’s ear, kissing him gently on the cheek before wiping some sparkly gloss off his stubble. He gives you a little pat on your bum and a wink.

“Gonna finish up this conversation, Peach, and I’ll find you. M’Kay?” He hums. “15 minutes tops.”

“Of course,” you smile, nodding quickly before excusing yourself, nabbing out your phone as you step toward where Rafe was headed, rushing to read what he had to say.

Holy shit.

Your phone glows as you reread the text messages sent by Rafe wandering down the hallway as you take in each word, considering your options. Am I doing this? Should I turn him down? Let him know he read this all wrong? That he’s overstepping-

“There she is,” you hear his low voice from behind you. His large hand wraps around your arm, tugging you back fast, pulling you into the dark room before slamming the lock shut.

“Rafe?” You gasp just as his lips collide with yours, the two of you running high on adrenaline; teeth clashing, tongues rolling. Your long nails scratch through the hair at the nape of his neck, making him moan into your kiss as he backs you against the wooden door.

“Didn’t even take any convincing to get you back here, baby girl. What do you have to say for yourself?” He mumbles against your lips as he paws for the bottom of your dress, bunching it up higher and higher.

“Rafe. I-”

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, princess. You want me. I need you. Bet you’re so fuckin’ wet for me. You gonna let me check?” He rasps, catching your moans between his lips.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want,” he taunts as his lips brush yours, his rough fingers grazing the soaked spot on your panties.

“I want you, Rafe. I want your… Fuck. I want your fingers,” you whimper, starting small, knowing full-well he’ll talk you into more; just making yourself feel less guilty about the whole ordeal by asking for the bare minimum like that even matters.

“Just my fingers. Huh?” He teases. Not buying the angelic ruse for a moment. “You don’t want my lips, doll? You don’t need my cock?”

“Shit,” you whine as your legs draw together; his filthy words fillling you ear, drunk off the taste of his lips, just thinking about more. Rafe grips your thighs, opening you up further before pressing his fingers against your sex. Your head falls back, knocking softly against the door as a drawn-out moan tumbles from your lips.

“Did that get you a little excited?” He chuckles, darkly against your neck, licking and nipping at that special spot that has you whimpering like a pathetic slut.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

“I got excited, Rafe… I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” you whisper.

“Mhmm… Haven’t stopped thinking about me and my fingers?” He bullies as he lifts you into his arms. You wrap yours around his neck, lessening the space between you further, your wetness surely transferring onto his white button-down as your legs wrap around his trim waist.

“Yeah,” you stammer, making Rafe suck his teeth and smile against your mouth.

“Stop trying to be a good girl, princess. I know what you are,” he growls. Your heart falls, breaking slightly as he hits you with the truth; Rafe opening his mouth before you can even defend yourself. “You want money… I want you. I can take care of you in more ways than one. I promise that. Got more money than him. I’m a better fuck. Let me prove it to you, angel. I know you’re a slut for cash alright. So am I. The game sees the game alright? But, you probably need proof… Let me fuck this pretty pussy, ma. Show you how much better off you’ll be with me. I wanna be your daddy. Aight? Not him. Not Ward. Rafe.”

You draw a deep breath, head spinning as he lays you back on the locker room couch. You claw for him, desperate for Rafe’s lips on you again. Rafe rips away your little lace panties, spreading your thighs before eyeing your glistening slit with a hungry groan. “Tell me what you want. You can speak. Can’t you?” He snaps impatiently as you fumble over your words. “Words.”

“You-”

“Fuck it. I can’t wait – need your pussy.”

“S-Shit,” you whine. “Just – Just your fingers Rafe…” He brushes your dripping folds with his thick digits, gathering your essence before stuffing them in his mouth, sucking them clean as his eyes roll back. “Let me eat you, baby. C’mon,” he pleads. You watch him wet his bottom lip, savoring the taste of whatever’s left of you.

“Damnit, Rafe. Your lips too… Fuck. Hurry. Your dad’s meeting me soon.”

“Little now. Little later,” he huffs as his strong arms loop around your thighs, pulling you closer than before, lowering you onto the cushion. Rafe’s gaze stays on yours as his lips latch on your clit, sucking and brushing his tongue from side to side.

He moans against your cunt as his fingers toy with your entrance, teasing you with the chilled ridges of his gold ring. Your thighs tremble, tightening around him. “Enough of that,” he slurs, spreading your legs wider, sucking and finger-fucking you with a little more muscle. “Can’t wait for you to suck my cock. Can’t wait to get you off,“ he mumbles against your heat. You look toward the door, watching a shadow pass underneath. The music blares from behind it. Is it loud enough? You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back your cries of pleasure.

“You taste like heaven, honey,” he pants, bumping his nose against your clit as his tongue dips into your hole. Rafe grabs your legs, slinging them over his broad shoulders, getting even closer. He laps at your pussy, devouring you. Rafe breathes deeply, taking in your scent, eyes shutting softly, the vibration of a moan felt against your cunt. He takes your clit in his mouth sucking hard, making you cry out, spiked heels digging into his strong back as you buck your hips.

“Fuck, Rafe. M’right there,” you blubber. You reach for your dress straps, tugging down the top, letting your tits bounce free. Your hands instantly draw up to your chest, clutching and pushing them together. Rafe bites down on your swollen clit, making you toss your head back. Strangled cries spills from your lips. Your hands drop down, weaving into his blonde fringe giving it a rough tug as you grind your pussy on his face, feeling yourself wavering on the edge of bliss.

“Peach?” You hear Ward call from outside the door, making your eyes double in horror. Rafe doesn’t stop, increasing his pace even. His eyes flick to yours, solidifying the evident. He wants Ward to hear. Your hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your cries. Rafe reaches up, snatching your wrist as your body betrays you, eyes screwing shut at you cum on Rafe’s tongue, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins.

Rafe works you through your orgasm, waiting until you’re fully relaxed to release you with a panting breath. His mouth greets yours in a passionate kiss, cupping your breasts in his large hands. He pinches and rolls your nipples between his rough fingers before sucking down; trailing sweet kisses causing you to mewl.

“You’re mine,” Rafe whispers, nestling himself into your neck.

“Not… Fuck. Rafe, I’m not.”

“You are. Stop lyin’, princess. You know you are,” he subsists as he matches your eyes. “Lie to me and tell me that wasn’t the best you’ve ever had. I didn’t even use my dick, baby. Imagine what I could do. Huh? I know my old man isn’t doin’ any of this shit better than me.” You fight for air, looking away for a moment before he grabs your chin, demanding your focus. “Fuckin’ talk to me. Use those pretty little words that you’re holdin’ back. Enough with the games. It was painfully easy to get you in here. I know what you want-”

“Rafe… I don’t know-” Your phone vibrates, stealing your attention as well as Rafe’s as you watch back-to-back text messages come in from Ward.

Part 2

[itsbeeble]

SEEING STARS

SUMMARY: It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of schoolwork for you.

GENRE: smut, fluff, mild angst, crack

PAIRING: Kim Sunwoo x afab!reader (ft. Hoshi, Dino, Sangyeon, Kevin, Eric, Yuta, and Jay (Enhypen))

WC: 9.4k (you'd think i was doing this on purpose)

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: mentions of injuries (concussions, Sunwoo gets sucker punched), Eric slander, Sunwoo slander, Hoshi stirring up trouble, Sunwoo being stupid, car sex/public sex, p in v sex, fingering, mentions of face fucking, marking, hair pulling, attempts at dirty talk kinda? idk if you can even call it that but wtv, i think that's really it

A/N: Part 3 of the collab is out! If you haven't checked out Try Hard or Excitement (written by my beloved Fawn) please do! Otherwise, please enjoy this. Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

In Sunwoo’s defense, everything that happened was Eric’s fault. It was definitely not Sunwoo’s fault that he believed his best friend when he told him that he should absolutely kick a ball at the girl of his dreams so she could bring it back to him and she would fall for him too and then they could live happily ever after. It also wasn’t Sunwoo’s fault that he forgot that he was their university’s star soccer player and that he had really strong legs. 

At least, this is what he tells himself while sitting in the ambulance with you, who is currently passed out with a lump the size of a clementine on your forehead. He’s nervously gnawing at his fingernails, chewing them to nubs with his eyebrows furrowed. The EMTs said that you’re stable, that you just have a mild concussion but they want to take you in and get you checked out to be sure. 

“Are you her…friend? Boyfriend?” One of the EMTs looks at Sunwoo with a curious look in his eye. 

“Friend, just a friend,” he says, but there’s a dark cloud hovering above his head that anyone could see if they tried hard enough. 

“Is there anyone that we can call? Anyone else that we should inform?” Sunwoo shrugs.

“Not that I know of. Her family is across the country so they wouldn’t be any help right now, right?”

“Right,” the EMT agrees. “I suppose you’ll be helping her out the next couple of weeks, making sure no one else is hitting her in the head with soccer balls?” Sunwoo grimaces and nods. 

You’re never gonna like me at this rate, he thinks to himself. God, why did he ever listen to Eric in the first place? What made him think that Eric, the man who spends 90% of his time completely bitchless and watching hentai, would give him good advice about women? 

Now he’s gonna have to deal with student loan debt, lawyer debt, and being single for the rest of his life. 

The first thing you see when you wake up is white. Not, like, a white ceiling. No, your vision is pure white for a few moments, and then you swear that you’re seeing stars. You can faintly, over the pounding of your head, hear someone speaking. The voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place it over the ringing in your ears. 

“…Eric, I swear to fucking god if I ever see you again, I will shove my foot so far up your ass— I don’t care if you thought it would be a good idea! I concussed the richest girl in school, the girl of my dreams mind you, because you thought it would be a fantastic idea to kick a ball at her!” 

You blink a few times, clearing your vision, and you can see a boy to the right of you. He’s wearing a soccer uniform, the same uniform your university’s team wears. You blink again, and now he’s facing you with a nervous smile plastered onto his face. 

“Hi,” he breathes out and you smile at him. 

“Hi…Woo…sung?” You wince at the poor attempt. Of course, you know who he is. Anyone would recognize the star soccer player. Maybe you weren’t positive about what his name was, but you knew him. 

He laughs, but it’s a humorless one that has both of you cringing after.

“Close,” he tells you with a smile. “Sunwoo.”

“Right,” you nod, but the action causes a painful throb to run through your skull. “Fuck, why does my head hurt so much?” 

Sunwoo laughs again, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and avoiding your gaze.

“About that…” his hand combs through his hair, pushing it out of his face despite it not being there in the first place. “I…may or may not have kicked a ball in your general direction, which may or may not have proceeded to hit you in the head and give you a concussion.” 

You kiss your teeth, eyebrows knitting together as you look at him. He begins to ramble, talking about how it’s his friend’s fault, and he really never meant for it to hit you. It’s cute, really, the way he practically falls to his knees and begs you to not sue him. 

“Sunwoo,” you try to interrupt, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you. He’s speaking too fast, too frantic, and you’re pretty sure he’ll faint if he doesn’t pause for air soon.

“I— I will do anything you want, I swear! I’ll— I’ll carry your stuff around campus for you. I’ll take all your notes so you don’t have to look at the screens. Fuck— I swear, I—”

“Sunwoo,” You reach your arm forward, wrapping your fingers around his forearm and his pacing jerks to a stop, his words caught on the tip of his tongue when you lock eyes. “I’m not gonna sue you.”

“You’re—” his voice cracks, “you’re not?”

“No,” you laugh and wince when your head begins to throb again. “Although, I wouldn’t mind if you helped me out with my schoolwork.” 

“I…” he trails off, his heart sinking to his stomach. “Yeah, yeah of course I’ll help you. But— but you really aren’t going to sue me? Because— because I wouldn’t mind if you were that mad at me but I think I would really rather you just have me arrested at that point, you know?”

“I promise, Sunwoo.” You squeeze his forearm, and his cheeks begin to darken with a tinge of pink. “I’m not gonna sue you.”

As it turns out, having the star soccer player around to do anything and everything you want him to is rather convenient. Sunwoo picks you up every day for your first class in his old, beat-up Toyota Corolla. He opens the door for you, hands you a fresh go-cup of your favorite coffee from your favorite cafe (which you aren’t sure how he knows, to be honest), and brings you to each and every one of your classes. It’s almost weird how you’ve gotten used to having him around.

“By the way,” you look up at Sunwoo as you’re getting into his car after your last class of the day. Sunwoo looks down at you, smiling brightly and you can feel yourself starting to melt at the puppy-like look in his eye. “Are you even taking classes this semester?”

Sunwoo tilts his head. “I mean…yeah? I kinda have to, you know, to play soccer.”

“But…you’re always with me these days. Are you not missing your own assignments? Your own exams?” 

“I don’t have any exams during your classes,” he informs you and then shuts the passenger-side door, gently to not hurt your head. You let your body rest against the tattered fabric seat you’re in, waiting for Sunwoo to get to his side of the car. “Plus, I have friends in my classes that send me shit when I’m not there.”

“You skip your classes often?” Your lips curl into a sly smile, one that he returns quickly.

“You know it, babe.” 

Your body tenses just slightly, not enough for him to notice. It was likely instinctive for him to say that, and you would never admit to anyone how the words had butterflies forming in your stomach, pushing against your flesh, and threatening to tumble out of you if he made one wrong move. 

Sunwoo slams the door of the frat shut and presses his back against it as soon as he enters the building. His eyes are squeezed shut, so tightly that he can see stars and it starts to hurt. 

“You alright?” Eric is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees with a Nintendo controller in his hands. He isn’t looking at Sunwoo, his eyes trained on the fourth Five Nights At Freddy’s game being displayed on the TV in front of him.

“I don’t even want to talk about it.” Sunwoo dismisses, dropping his bag on the floor and tossing his keys into the bowl to his right. “Especially not with you.”

“The fuck did I do?” Eric’s eyebrows knit together, and Sunwoo scoffs as he walks behind the couch to get to the kitchen. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you were part of the reason that Y/N L/N is now concussed and probably hates my guts so I’m trying to fix it by helping her out with all of her school work, which is hard as shit, by the way. Did you know that she’s a mechanical engineering major?”

“No shit?” Eric’s eyes flick away from the TV screen for just long enough for him to nearly miss an animatronic approaching him. “I wonder if she’s in any of my classes.”

“Probably not,” Sunwoo sighs, grabbing a glass from the shelf and pouring himself some water. “She’s in Sangyeon’s year so her classes are a bit more advanced than yours.”

“Ah,” Eric bobs his head, tongue wedged between his otherwise tightly sealed lips. Sunwoo watches him play for a moment, wincing at a few jumpscares while he downs his water. “What’s that gotta do with me, anyway? Isn’t this, like, bonding time for you two? Finally land your girl?”

“Well, would’ve been perfect if, a) she hadn’t hated me and b) I didn’t call her babe in the car today.” 

Silence from Eric, and Sunwoo briefly wonders if his best friend had even heard him. 

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Eric pauses the game and tosses his controller onto the couch next to him as he turns around. 

“It was an accident!” Sunwoo defends. “It just kinda…slipped out while I was talking to her. A reflex!”

“You called the girl you concussed babe on reflex?” Eric exclaims in disbelief. “Are you stupid?”

“Says the one who suggested kicking the ball at her!”

“Yeah, well at least I didn’t give the girl of my dreams a concussion!”

“It was your fault!” Sunwoo yells, and Eric scoffs.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you feel better.” 

“He called me babe, Soonyoung,” you’re laying face down on your friend’s bed, kicking your feet in the air behind you with his tiger plushie tucked under your arms. 

“Mhm,” he’s not paying attention, instead focusing on the tiger Lego set that you had given him for his birthday. “Very nice.”

“Ugh, and he’s so sweet too.” You continue to ramble, grinning like a mad woman when you recall the notes he had diligently taken for you despite not knowing a damn thing about Applied Measurements. “Did I tell you about the notes he took for me the other day? The ones that he—”

“—Color-coded and annotated for you?” Soonyoung interrupts, finally slamming down the little pieces of plastic in his hand. You flinch at the noise. “Left little notes about things he found interesting or didn’t quite understand but tried to explain anyway? Yeah, you told me.”

You duck your head, trying to ignore the throbbing. It had mostly gone away, but occasionally loud noises would spike pain through your skull. 

“Sorry…” you mumble, letting your legs fall flat on the mattress. Soonyoung turns to face you, pursing his lips. 

“Y/N, if you like this kid so much then why not ask him out?”

“It’s not like that!” You protest, but a sharp look from your best friend makes you backtrack. “At least, not for him. He’s just doing this because he feels bad for me! And besides, I’m a few years older than him, so wouldn’t it be weird?”

“How is that weird?” Soonyoung inquires, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “He’s of age, isn’t he?”

“Of age,” you scoff and make air quotes. “What is this, the 1600s?” 

Soonyoung glares at you and sits back in his chair. “I don’t care if you’re concussed, I’ll make that lump in your skull bigger if you push me.” 

At his warning, you huff.

“Okay, fine, yes, he is. But it’s weird for me! I’m a senior in college, about to enter the work force if I can get my senior project proposal done, and he’s just a sophomore! He’s the university’s star soccer player, he’s just starting to get ahead. I don’t want to, like, stunt that for him.” 

“Y/N,” Soonyoung rolls his chair toward you with a sympathetic smile on his face. “I can almost guarantee that Sunwoo will not care if you’re a few years older than him. I don’t think he’ll care if he’s just starting college. If I’m being honest, he finds that all the more reason to be attracted to you. Young men love older women— but you aren’t old!” He quickly backtracks before you can cut him off. “You’re not old, and believe me when I tell you that not a single person in the world would be doing this for someone that they weren’t attracted to.”

“Are you sure?” You sit up, wrapping your whole body around the tiger plushie, and Soonyoung nods.

“I promise.”

“Then…how do I get him to know that I…that I’m also attracted to him?” 

Soonyoung grins and you feel your heart drop. 

“Boy, do I have some ideas for you.”

Sunwoo is getting worried. The last four days have been ridiculously quiet for him, his days empty and dragging on without you around him. 

You were avoiding him, he could tell. Whenever he showed up to pick you up from your dorm, someone else was already there. A man, your age and clearly friends with you if the wide smile on your face said anything. You would lock eyes with him, your smile falling when you saw the confusion and hurt in his eyes. You would turn your gaze away and the man would get your door for you, laughing about something you said. 

Then there was the avoidance of his texts. He would ask if everything was okay, how your head was doing, random jokes or comments about things he saw on campus. Things that he would tell you had you been with him during the day. It wasn’t like it was unusual for the two of you to text now. In fact, it was weird when you weren’t messaging each other about something but now…

It’s like you’re trying to block out his existence. 

“I’m telling you,” Kevin hands Sunwoo a case of beer, cutting into the younger man’s frantic rambling. “She’s probably just busy, dude.”

“Then why wouldn’t she tell me?” Sunwoo pouts, carrying the case into the house. Kevin follows with a case of his own.

“Hell if I now,” he scoffs. “You think I have time to psychoanalyze everything rich girls do?”

“I mean…isn’t that your whole thing?” Sangyeon chimes in. “Psychoanalyzing everything about everyone?”

“That’s not the point,” Kevin waves his hand in the air and huffs. “I’m busy enough with my own classes and practices, I can only do so many things at once.”

“Sunwoo,” Sangyeon turns to the soccer player with a stern look in his eye. “This is gonna be one of our biggest parties yet, I need you on top of your game to make sure people are enjoying themselves.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Kim Sunwoo,” Sangyeon grabs Sunwoo by the shoulders with an exasperated look on his face. “If I hear you ranting about the girl you concussed one more time I might just lose it. I’m putting you on door duty for the night.”

“What the fuck do you mean door duty?” 

Sangyeon scans the room for a moment before his eyes land on a metal detector stick that Hyunjae had bought as a part of his last Halloween costume. 

“Here,” He tosses it to Sunwoo and smiles sarcastically. “Use this, make sure people aren’t bringing weapons in or whatever.” 

Sunwoo looks down at the metal detector in his hands, eyebrows knitting together. 

“You’re serious?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Are you sure that your plan worked?” You’re peering up at Soonyoung with a nervous look in your eye when you roll up to the TBZ party. “You’re sure he’s—”

“I’m positive, my dear.” Your best friend pats the top of your head, squinting at the frat house down the road. “I didn’t think this many people were gonna be here tonight.” 

“Sunwoo mentioned that it was gonna be a big one,” you murmur. Soonyoung turns his gaze to you and sighs at the pout on your lips. You look pitiful, to be honest. At least in attitude, that is. 

“Y/N,” you look at him again, “if Sunwoo doesn’t fall head over heels at this party and fuck you until you literally cannot walk then I give you full permission to give me a concussion, just like he did to you. Look at you! You look absolutely stunning!” 

You find yourself smiling at Soonyoung’s words. He’s not wrong, you do look stunning. A loose, short black dress that dips down at your chest to reveal just enough cleavage. The straps are jeweled, glittering under the lights and highlighting the jewelry around your neck. The dress itself stops just low enough that it covers everything but shows enough to tease, and you’re wearing sleek black pumps with an ankle strap so your feet don’t fly out of them (you’d made that mistake before. Never again…). 

“Now,” He claps his hands together and grins. “Let’s go get you your man, and get me a drink.” 

In hindsight, you probably should have known that the party would not have been good for your head. Loud noises had never particularly been something you enjoyed. A lot of people assumed you loved parties due to your financial status, but that wasn’t true. In fact, you were a bit of a recluse. You had only a few friends, though you were nice to nearly everyone you met. Sunwoo happened to be an exception. 

He wiggled his way into your life with that soccer ball, and you truly don’t think you can see a future without him in it, even if he just stays a friend.

The second you walk up the driveway, your head begins to pound, your vision flashing with stars, and you squeeze Soonyoung’s arm tightly to keep yourself from wobbling on your feet. 

Then you see Sunwoo at the door, a large bucket to his right, and a hand-held metal detector in his hand. You can see him scanning people, waving girls in, and then stopping men and pointing at the bucket. You feel a lump forming in his throat when you take in the sight of him. His hair is a mess of curls, the same curls you’d come to love since he gave you a concussion. He’s dressed in a tight-fitting black tee shirt and baggy jeans, nothing fancy but it brings the butterflies back to your stomach in full force. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” The man in front of you scoffs at something Sunwoo said, and you blink yourself back to reality. 

“$5 at the door,” Sunwoo shrugs, “sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

“It’s your frat!” The man yells. Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah…do I look like the president or something?” The man stays silent and Sunwoo sighs. “Look, I don’t have the time to deal with you. Are you in or not? There’s a line of people behind you, and all of them wanna get in so you should probably pick fast.”

The student huffs, digging into his pocket for a dirty $5 bill, tossing it into the bucket, and shoving past Sunwoo. The soccer player just rolls his eyes and sighs again. 

“Who’s up next—” he chokes on his words when he sees you, his eyes widening and his jaw-dropping. You smile nervously, raising your hand in a tiny wave while Soonyoung throws a few ones into the bucket. 

“I’ll see you in there,” your friend says to you. “Text me if you need me.” Soonyoung squeezes your hand and nods at Sunwoo before walking into the house. You step to the side, letting people move past you but keeping a little bit of distance between you and the frat boy who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet. 

“You’re here,” Sunwoo says, not even looking at the continuous line of people walking into the house without paying. “You’re— why are you here?” 

A sheepish smile crawls onto your face. “Do you…not want me here?” Sunwoo panics, shaking his head rapidly and grabbing your hand in his. 

“That’s not— that’s not what I meant.” He tells you, and you can’t help the warmth in your cheeks. “I just— your head. This can’t be good for your concussion, can it?” 

You kiss your teeth, nodding slowly. “Yeah…Kinda got a little bit of a migraine right now.” You don’t tell him that the concussion has completely healed.

“Let’s— let’s get you someplace quieter, ba— Y/N.” He tugs at your hand, pushing you in front of him and covering your ears with your hand. He leans in close to you, his lips brushing the shell of one ear and you feel your breathing hitch in your throat. 

“Cover your eyes a bit and look down, I can’t block your vision but I can shield your ears a bit, babe.” He lets it slip out this time, and you do as he says. 

Sunwoo walks you forward, and you can see feet shuffling around the two of you. His hands do more than you expected, the sounds around you fairly muffled and dulling the throb in your skull. His body is so close to yours, his legs bumping into you with every step, but he keeps the two of you steady. Someone knocks into you, and Sunwoo says something to them, something harsh that you can’t make out over the noise of the party. He stops walking for a brief moment, now talking to someone else. You faintly hear a name, Chang-something, and then he’s fleeing the scene, knocking into you on his way out. 

Sunwoo steps to your side when you reach a staircase, talking into your ear so you know exactly where each step is. Another person bumps into you, and Sunwoo takes a hand off your ear to wrap it around your waist.

“You can drop your hand,” he tells you. “The lights aren’t flashing over here.” You nod, and you feel his hand drop at the same time yours does. You’re still walking up the stairs and even though you don’t need help anymore, his hand stays on your waist, the touch sending electric shocks throughout your body. 

Sunwoo feels like he’s going to throw up.

Scratch that. Sunwoo is going to throw up. 

He really hadn’t expected to see you here. In fact, he hadn’t expected to see you at all for the rest of his college days. Had you finally decided to sue him? Are you serving him? He hadn’t seen any documents with you, but maybe—

“I’m not suing you, Sunwoo,” you sit on his bed with one leg crossed over the other. Your dress rides up your thighs, something Sunwoo tries desperately to ignore but he just can’t. “You can relax.” 

You can relax, he repeats the words in his head over and over and over again, but he can’t. In fact, his body just grows more tense with the time that passes. Sunwoo tries to look at you, and then he tries not to look at you. There’s a heat in your gaze, and he can’t tell what the emotion behind it is. He hopes it’s not anger, he prays that you haven’t gotten angry with him. 

“Are you—” he clears his throat. “Who was the guy you were with?” You tilt your head and he clarifies his question. “I just— I’ve seen him with you a lot these days so I was just— I just thought—”

“Who, Soonyoung? He’s not my boyfriend,” you tell him and laugh when he visibly deflates with relief. 

“Good. I— I mean that’s— I just—” his face feels like it’s on fire, his stomach churning when you continue to laugh at him. When you wince and bring your hand up, he practically trips over himself to find an unopened bottle of water for you. 

“How’s your head?” Sunwoo asks you, quietly now. You shrug and slide over so he can sit next to you on the edge of his bed.

“Concussion is better, just can’t do loud noises.” Sunwoo nods and you continue. “At the last check-up, my doctor said that I might get some headaches here and there though, at least for a little while.”

“Then why are you here? At a party?” 

“I…guess I just wanted to see you?” You had this all planned out with Soonyoung. Why are you so nervous?

Sunwoo’s eyebrows knit together. “Why would you want to see me?” 

“You’re joking, right?” You can’t help the scoff that leaves your lips, regretting letting it out when Sunwoo flinches and looks away from you. “Sorry, it’s just…there’s no way that you don’t know by now.”

“Know what?” He presses, hoping that you’re saying what he’s been dreaming of you saying since he saw you on his first day at this university. You’re so close to him now, mere inches from him, and he fights every instinct inside of him that says to close that distance. He wants to hear everything you have to say.

You open your mouth to speak again, and there’s a knock on the door. Both of your heads whip around as it swings open, and Sunwoo’s heart sinks when he sees Soonyoung, the man you had entered the building with. He almost looked distraught that he’d entered the room. 

“Hi, so sorry to interrupt. Um…” he looks at you with a grimace. “We gotta go.”

“What?” Your eyebrows furrow. “Why? I was talking with Sunwoo—”

“Yeah, sorry again, but we gotta go.” Sunwoo watches you get up, albeit reluctantly, and you turn to him. 

“I’ll…we’ll talk later, okay?” You smile at Sunwoo, but you turn away before he can say anything to you. 

“Promise?” He calls out, but the door is already shutting behind you.

You really did intend on texting Sunwoo after, to continue your conversation, but ‘after’ turns into two days, and then four, and then it’s been a week, and suddenly it’s almost finals. You know that Sunwoo’s game is today. The last game of the season. He’d raved about it a few times while studying with you. You knew how excited for it he was, knew how hard he was practicing to make sure he was in his best shape. 

“What do you mean he’s about to be taken off the field?” You snap into your phone, scanning the lot around you for somewhere to park. It’s dark out, the lights in the lot hardly working so it makes it difficult to see any free spots. “Fuck, why is it always so fucking busy at these games?”

“He’s missed every shot— DAMN YOU DECELIS. YUTA GET THAT DAMN BALL—” You pull the phone away from your ear when Soonyoung starts to yell, hearing the crowd in the stadium erupt into cheers. “Another point to Decelis Uni. Anyway, no he’s been like…really off in his games, the only reason he isn’t off already is because of Lee Chan.”

“Thank god for him,” you sigh as you put your car into park. “Listen, I just parked, so just give me five minutes to get in there. Maybe he needs a good luck charm or something. Fuck it’s cold out here. Why did I wear a skirt to this damn game?”

“Did you just call yourself his good luck charm?”

“No, I just—” you huff.

“No, you’re right. I think you are because when you guys were talking, he’d been playing better than ever. Things went to shit after my plan.”

“Yeah, thanks for that by the way.”

“Any time, best friend. Get here soon. Maybe there will be a time out and you can kiss him or something.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

You shove your phone into your pocket, running toward the stadium as the crowd erupts into cheers again.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” Lee Chan grabs Sunwoo by the shoulder when half-time is called. Both boys are dripping with sweat, exhausted from the game. There had been so much back and forth between the two teams, keeping them tied almost constantly for the past 45 minutes. “You’ve been playing like shit for three games in a row, Kim Sunwoo. This isn’t like you. I’m not afraid to get Coach to bench you if you don’t get your shit together.”

Sunwoo huffs, grabbing his water bottle from the bench and ignoring his teammate so he can hydrate. 

“I’m fine, just not feeling great.” He dismisses. Chan’s lip curls into a sneer. 

“If we lose this game because of you, I swear to fucking god I will get you kicked from the team.” 

“You wouldn’t do that,” Sunwoo rises to his feet and glares down at the team captain. He may be the star player, but it takes more than skill to hold a team together. Lee Chan has that ability. Morals, respect from his teammates, he has everything. That’s why Sunwoo backs down when Chan straightens his posture. 

“You think I fucking won’t? Remember who got you on this team in the fucking first place.”

Sunwoo’s ears start to ring, and he can hear someone yelling his name. It sounds distant, and he swears he’s imagining it so he ignores it. 

It happens again, louder this time and grabbing Chan’s attention as well. Both players whip their heads toward the crowd, and Sunwoo’s stomach drops. 

There you are, shoving your way through the crowd to get to the barrier. People yell at you, and you say something that shuts them up. He’s in awe, staring at you and the distressed look on your face. You wave your hands to get his attention, and Chan shoves him again.

“If she’s why you aren’t on top of your game, you better fix shit right now. I’m not losing this one, Kim Sunwoo.”

“Yeah, got it.” It’s like he’s running on autopilot, walking toward you and then running. There are three minutes left in half-time, so he needs to make this fast. 

“What are you doing here?” Sunwoo grabs onto the barricade and hauls himself up so he’s face-to-face with you, ignoring the people yelling around the two of you. 

You grin at him, a mischievous look in your eye. 

“You don’t want me here?” The panic in his eyes makes you laugh, and you lean toward him. He smells of sweat and grass and your nose wrinkles. 

“I don’t— you know that isn’t what I meant.” He snaps, but you know he isn’t mad at you. 

“Soonyoung said you were playing like shit, figured I’d find out why.” You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer to you so he can’t leave before you talk to him.

“I’m just distracted today.” You scoff and he narrows his eyes at you. “What?”

“You’ve been practicing for this game for weeks now, Kim Sunwoo. What could possibly have you so distracted today?” 

He hesitates, and you already know his answer. 

“I don’t have time to talk right now, Y/N.” He’s biting his lip, anxiously flicking his eyes to the clock behind him. You roll your eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t answer you. You knew he wouldn’t give you a straight answer, knew he was too nervous between the game and having you right in front of him to fully focus. 

“Then I’ll make this fast.”

“Make what—” your lips are on his, your hand on the back of his neck to hold him close while you kiss him. His body stiffens and then relaxes, and then his hand comes to your arm to keep himself stable. His face slides against yours, transferring his sweat to your body and you pull back.

“Win this game,” you look into his eyes, but it’s like he can’t focus on you. He looks like he’s in a daze, and you tug at the strands of his hair to get his attention.

“I— yeah, I’ll win.” He promises but he sounds far away. The buzzer goes off. “I— what was—”

“If you win this game, you can take me on a date.” You grin and let go of him. Chan yells Sunwoo’s name and the boy pulls back from you reluctantly. 

“Anywhere I want?”

“Anywhere.”

“Promise?” His eyes are shining when he looks at you. You smile, placing another gentle kiss on his plush lips.

“I promise.”

He’s running away from you now, a new lightness in his feet that had been missing the past two weeks. There’s fresh energy in his muscles, in his bones, and that overconfident attitude that his teammates and opponents despised returns in full force.

“I take it I’m not gonna have to pull you off the field?” The Coach eyes Sunwoo as he jogs by. Sunwoo slows and turns back with a wicked grin on his face. 

“Not a chance in hell, Coach.”

“Can’t believe you kissed him.” Soonyoung nudges you with a grin, and you roll your eyes.

“Why? Didn’t think I had it in me?”

“No, it’s not that,” he shakes his head and lets out a sharp whistle when Sunwoo steals the ball from the opposing team. “He was covered in sweat and grass. Don’t you hate that shit?”

“Worth it,” Soonyoung snorts when you smile at him. 

Since the start of the second half, Sunwoo had already brought their team into the lead by two points. You’d never seen him play before, but everything you’d heard was true. He was fast, agile, and strong. He was a beast on the field, keeping himself just out of reach of all the other players. You can tell the other team is starting to get agitated, starting the get rough with your school’s team. 

You bite at your thumb as you watch the game proceed. Two minutes left in the game, and they’re tied again. You can see all the players getting tired, everyone slowing down. Sunwoo seems to be the only one with the energy to keep going, but even he seems to struggle. 

30 seconds and Sunwoo has the ball again. The stadium has gone quiet and you could swear that you hear the ticking of the clock. 

10 seconds and Sunwoo is almost to the goal, you stand from your seat, and people around you rise as well. Anticipation. Tension. The stadium is filled with it. People start cheering again, the other school starts yelling at their team to move their asses. 

5 seconds and the crowd goes silent. Sunwoo is on the ground, a player from the other team on top of him. Players from all sides are running over, trying to see what happened. The announcers say that the opposing player, Park Jongseong, tackled Sunwoo, his hand unintentionally jamming the star player’s nose. A medic rushes over, but Sunwoo waves them away. You can’t see his face very well, but you can tell by his posture that he’s agitated.

Jongseong is penalized, and his coach takes him off the field for a moment. Sunwoo is set in front of the center of the goal, pacing while he waits for the ‘ok’ from the referee. He glances up at the crowd, and for a moment you swear that he looks at you. For a moment, you swear that you can see him smiling at you, through the throbbing in his face and the ache in his body. You could swear that he’s telling you I’m gonna win this. Trust me.

Jongseong is back on the field, the clock is set. The referee raises his hand, an indirect kick. Sunwoo rolls his neck, jogging backwards to get a headstart. Yuta and Chan are both ready to receive a pass. 

The clock starts.

5

Sunwoo is running. You and the rest of the crowd are yelling at him to run faster. He does.

4

The ball is sailing through the air, Chan and Yuta and all the other players on the field are running for the ball. Yuta gets there first.

3

Yuta kicks the ball, but another player knocks it out of the air. Sunwoo is already waiting, stealing the ball and moving to an open space.

2

Sunwoo kicks the ball and watches it sail through the air. He doesn’t stop running, not when there’s still time on the clock

1

The crowd erupts into cheers, deafening you and you feel Soonyoung grab your shoulders, shaking you and yelling just as loud as everybody else. You feel a yell building in your chest.

0

They’ve won. Sunwoo is being hauled into the air by his teammates, The other team is sulking by their coach. You can’t go to him. Not yet. The crowd is beginning to clear, some people moving from the stands to leave the stadium and chat with their friends, to wait for the team to come out. 

“You coming?” Soonyoung quirks an eyebrow at you but you know that he already knows the answer. A shake of your head confirms his suspicions and he grins. “Go get your man. I won’t interrupt this time.” He makes his way down the stands to the parking lot, and you smile while walking down to the field. The teams have dispersed now, done with talking to their coaches and making their way to the locker room. Sunwoo hangs back, talking with Chan as you walk across the turf. Your heart is pounding in your chest, so hard you fear it’ll burst from behind your ribcage. 

Chan sees you first, jerking his head in your direction and clapping Sunwoo on the shoulder. Sunwoo turns as he walks away, and you can see the way his eyes light up when he recognizes you. 

“I told you I’d win, didn’t I?” He grins at you when you get closer, but you don’t respond. You’re only a few steps from him now, and you take a deep breath. “You okay?”

“Your face is bruised…” you have to force yourself not to jump his bones right there, instead focusing on the blooming bruise on his right cheek. Your fingers brush over it and he doesn’t even flinch.

“It’s nothing,” he reassures you, resting his hands on your waist. “It’ll be gone in a week, I promise. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.” 

You smile back at him, craning your neck to look him in the eye. 

“You think my head is pretty?” 

“I think everything about you is pretty, babe.” Your cheeks heat up and he presses a kiss to your lips. It’s gentle, far less frantic than the one you gave him on the bleachers. Your hand trails from his cheek to the side of his neck, holding him close to you. Your lips part against his, your head tilting to give a better angle to kiss him at and he inhales sharply. Your body is on fire everywhere he’s touching you. Your waist, your lips, your neck. It feels electric and it pains you when he forces himself to separate from you, his nose brushing against yours. 

“All that for winning a game?” he breathes out, pressing a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I should win more often if this is gonna be my reward from now on.”

Your lips curl into a smirk. “I’ll give you more than just a kiss if you want, Kim Sunwoo.” 

It takes him a moment to process what you said. Sunwoo stares at you, eyes wide and jaw hanging open for so long that you almost consider taking back what you said. 

“You’re— what happened to take me to dinner? What happened to hello, how are you?” His grip on your waist tightens and you shrug. 

“I have more important things in mind.” Sunwoo’s whole body is tense, so tense that you feel like he’ll combust on the spot if you aren’t careful.

“I’m covered in dirt and sweat.” He tries as an excuse but you scoff. “I don’t think you wanna fuck me while I’m like this, right?” 

“Do you really care about that?” He takes a deep breath.

“Me? No. I just…If I go with you right now I swear to god I’ll cum in my pants and I really don’t want that to happen during our first time together—”

“Sunwoo,” You grab his chin between two fingers and he snaps his mouth shut. “I don’t care about any of that. I care about you. I want you, whether or not you’re covered in sweat.” You reach one of your hands up, pushing his soaking wet hair out of his face and his features soften. 

“You really…you like me, don’t you?”

“I figured it was obvious when I kissed you in front of the whole stadium, Sunwoo.” You kiss your teeth and step away from him. His grip loosens on you and eventually falls when you continue to back away from him, that sly grin still on your face. 

“Where are you going?” He trails after you like a lost puppy but you just shrug. 

“Come with me if you wanna find out.”

You silently thank god when you find the parking lot already half empty. Sunwoo’s car is a distance from most other cars, tucked under some trees that cast shadows over that old Toyota Corolla. 

“You’re—” Sunwoo is cut off when you open the door to his back seat and shove him in. You hear some people behind you howling, briefly turning your head to see his teammates cheering him on. 

“Get some, Kim Sunwoo!” Lee Chan screams and you laugh before crawling into the car behind Sunwoo. 

You turn just enough to slam the car door shut, and then you’re on top of Sunwoo. He tugs you onto his lap, your skirt riding up enough to expose your thighs to him, but you give him no time to process anything, your lips already crushed against his. It’s sloppy, but the whine he emits just from the pressure behind it has heat curling in your stomach again. Your tongue dips into his open mouth, and he pushes against you with more force that you had anticipated. He curls his tongue around yours, sucking and licking at it, and your body begins to shudder against his. 

Sunwoo drags your hips down against his own, groaning at the feeling of your heat against his growing member. 

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” he hisses when he pulls away, moving his lips down to attach to your throat and sucking harsh marks into your skin. You whine at his statement, grinding against him of your own will once he’d set the rhythm. He feels so good against you, pressing against your clit in just the right way to have you curling against him with broken whines spilling from your lips. Sunwoo moves one of your hands to your hair, jerking your head to the side to expose more of your skin to him, and you know he grows impatient when your shirt gets in the way. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks you, his eyes glittering when he looks up at you.

“Really think I’d say no to you?” You smile, reaching your hands down and pulling your shirt off and tossing it somewhere in the front seat. Sunwoo looks like he’s in heaven when you unclip your bra and throw it back with your shirt, baring your breasts for him.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, cupping one in his hand and brushing his thumb over your nipple. You force yourself to keep your breathing steady, to let him do what he wants. “You’re so pretty, baby. Wanna drown in your pretty tits.” 

“Yeah?” You ask, your voice breathy. “Who’s stopping you, then?” He looks up at you like you’re his goddess, like he’d worship you every day and every night if you’d let him.

“Really?” He hardly waits for a response before he’s shoving his face into your tits, laving at the valley between them before ultimately choosing one to focus on with his mouth. He sucks at the nipple, tugging at it between his teeth and listening to the delicate whines you let out. The other breast doesn’t go unnoticed, one of his hands palming at it and tweaking the nipple for a few minutes before he switches sides to give each of your breasts the same treatment. 

You haven’t stopped grinding on him in this time, your eyelids fluttering shut while your roll your hips over Sunwoo’s. You can feel his dick twitching in his soccer shorts, can feel him fighting the urge to jerk his hips into yours. 

“Sunwoo,” you choke out, tugging at the strands of his hair. It doesn’t stop him, in fact you could swear that the action makes him suck harder on your tits and your voice breaks into a moan. “Sunwoo,” 

This time when you speak, you yank his head back. He whines, his neck now at an awkward angle as he tries to sink back into your chest. 

“Whyyyy,” he drawls with a pout. His lips are puffy and covered in spit, similar to your chest and you already know he’s sucked marks into your skin that’ll be visible for days after this. 

“Wanna fuck you, baby.” You plead. “Wanna fuck you so bad.” 

His eyes roll into the back of his head at your tone, and he pushes you off of him just long enough to shove his clothing off. You do the same, noting the way your panties stick to your slick cunt. With a smirk, you discreetly tuck them into the center console while his back is still somewhat turned to you. 

By the time he’s turned back around, you’ve stripped yourself of all your clothing and sunk your fingers into your core. Your eyes have fluttered shut with two fingers inside of you and your thumb rubbing circles into your clit. 

“What are— what—” Sunwoo sounds like he’s going to cry, and you force your eyes open. He’s staring at your glistening folds with a look of pure hunger and you can only assume heartbreak as you finger yourself. “Why are you—”

“Gotta get myself ready for you,” you tell him with a pout. “Don’t—f-fuck— wanna make sure you fit i-inside of me.” Your back arches off the door and Sunwoo lunges for you, yanking your hand away from your pussy. The suddenness of the action makes you yelp, your eyes fly open again when Sunwoo sinks your fingers into his mouth. You can’t tell if the moan he lets out is genuine or if it’s for show, but it’s guttural and has your walls clenching around absolutely nothing. His tongue laves over your fingers, sucking them as far into his mouth as he can, getting as much of your taste off of your fingers as humanly possible before pulling them from his mouth and lowering your hand back to your side.

“That’s my job,” Sunwoo hisses, and then he’s lowering his body down so he can be level with your pussy. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance, and your hips jerk toward him against your well. He clicks his tongue when he sinks them into you. “Loosened your little cunt up a little bit already, hm? Gotta stretch you out even more though if I wanna fit inside you.” 

You can only whine when he sinks a third finger into you, scissoring them inside of them and curling them into that sweet spot inside of you. The stretch begins to sting, ever so slowly ebbing away and being replaced by pure, unadulterated pleasure. 

“Oh god, Sunwoo.” You gasp out, your hand wrapping around his wrist but you can’t exactly figure out why. To slow him down? To force him to go faster? “Feels so fucking good, please.” You feel a coil beginning to tighten in your stomach as his fingers punch into that spot time and time again, his thumb rubbing harsh circles into your clit similar to how you were. Fast learner.

Sunwoo grins at the way your face twists and contorts with pleasure, the way you try to control how your hips buck against his hand, the guttural moans you emit. 

“Gonna cum, babe?” He knows the answer. He knows by the way you clench against him, the way your cunt tries to force his hand out.

“Yes,” you whine out, “yes, gonna c-cum. Sun-Sunwoo, please.”

“Please what, babe?” He coos. “Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.” Just to tease you, he slows down. “Do you want me to stop?”

“NO,” you cry out, taking matters into your own hands and fucking down onto his hand. “Ple-please let me cum!”

“Ohhh, I see.” He hums and drives his fingers into you faster, harder. Your whines and whimpers have become broken little sobs. “Fuck, babe, it’s like no one’s ever made you feel like this.” He can’t help but laugh when you clench down on him again. 

“G-Gonna cum, Sunwoo!” He just hums, watching as you clench down once, twice, and then your body is jerking against his hand. Your cunt tries to force him out one more time but he continues to drive into you and work you through your first orgasm of the night. 

When your body has stopped shuddering, Sunwoo finally pulls his fingers out of you. He raises them up a bit, just enough for you to see the way the mix of your arousal and your cum. 

“Look at all this, baby.” He holds his fingers out to you with a broad grin on his face. “Have you ever tasted yourself?” Your eyes come back to focus when he prods his fingers against your lips. You let him sink his fingers into your mouth, nearly gagging when they hit the back of your throat. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?” 

You swallow around his fingers, taking in the bittersweet taste on your tongue. Sunwoo watches you with hazy eyes when you take hold of his wrist again, holding his hand close to you while your tongue swirls around his fingers. You know exactly what he’s thinking, know exactly what’s going on behind those hazy eyes of his, and have to force yourself to pull off of his fingers when you know you’ve cleaned him off completely. 

“Fucking minx,” he growls and grips your hips tightly in his hands, flipping you over so you’re on your hands and knees. “Did that on purpose, didn’t you? Knew I’d think of you sucking my cock, think of you gagging on it as I fuck your pretty little face?” You don’t have a response this time, only moaning when he shoves his cock into you with one harsh thrust. 

He gives you no time to adjust, gives you no time to work through the sting it brings you but you don’t mind. Not when the stretch feels so good. Not when his cock is fucking into at a pace so harsh it has your body sliding across the seats. Your arm reaches out, hand desperately trying to find purchase on something, anything to hold you steady against the roughness of his hips slapping against yours. 

His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair and yanking on it to pull you against him. Your moans become louder, harsher until they’ve turned into screams and cries of his name. You can feel the fabric of his car’s seats digging into your knees, feel the old Toyota Corolla rocking back and forth while the windows fog up with the heat of your sinful behavior. 

One of Sunwoo’s legs slips down to the floor of the car, but he doesn’t slow as he adjusts his position. It gives him a new angle, new strength to fuck into you harder and faster, bruising your insides as he practically punches into your cervix from the force of his thrusts. 

“How does this feel, hm?” He coos into your ear, his breathing heavy from overexhertion. “Does this feel good? Am I fucking you good, baby?”

“S-so good!” You cry out. “Fuckin’ me s’good, Sunwoo!”

“Yeah?” He bends you over again, this time hunching over your body and humping into you like a dog in heat. Your back arches into him, your body shaking with seemingly neverending pleasure. “Gonan cum f’me?” Sunwoo’s arms are all over you, pinching at your nipples, squeezing your waist, gripping your ass. His lips place firm kisses onto your spinal cord, sucking hickies into your skin that no one but him will see.

“YES!” Your voice breaks and you cum again, squeezing so tightly around his cock that he emits a moan so loud and sharp that you fear you’ve broken him. 

Sunwoo pumps white hot cum into you in thick ropes that spill out while he continues to fuck you, overstimulating you both. The mixture of your cum drips down your legs and onto the fabric seats, and you pray that whoever sits back here after you doesn’t notice the white stain in the middle seat, doesn’t think to ask about this mystery stain and that Sunwoo refuses to give them an answer.

When his hips finally slow, when his dick finally softens inside of you and he slips out, you let your body sag against the seat. Sunwoo grimaces at the sight of you, dark marks littering your skin. He hopes that Soonyoung doesn’t ask questions about the way you limp into your classes the next few days. You hope he knows better by now than to question it. 

“For a sophomore,” you wheeze out while you roll over. Sunwoo runs his hands up and down your thighs, smiling thoughtfully. “You sure seem to have lots of experience.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, babe.” He squeezes just above your knee, running his tongue across his lips when he sees more cum dripping out of you. You catch the fiery look in his eye and groan while you squeeze your legs shut. He groans when you use one foot to kick him back against the door opposite you. 

“No,” you scold him. He looks like a kicked puppy.

“Whyyyy,” he reaches for your legs again and you push him back even more. 

“I’m tired, Sunwoo.” You say but he just crawls on top of you with a mischievous grin.

“You won’t have to do anything,” he bargains. “Jus’ wanna taste you a little. That’s all!” You glare at him.

“One time.” His eyes light up and he pries your legs open again. “You get one more from me tonight, Kim Sunwoo. You hear me?”

“Mhm!” He dives straight into you, knowing that this was far from the last time he’d get you to cum in his car tonight.

“I still think that you should be thanking me,” Eric shuts the door of Sunwoo’s car with a sly grin. 

“For what?” Sunwoo asks exasperatedly. 

It had been less than 24 hours since Sunwoo had fucked you in his car and officially made you his after a long year and a half of pining. He was tired. His body was tired. He didn’t have the energy to deal with his best friend this early in the morning, or at all really. 

“For getting you guys together! It was my idea, anyway.” Eric clicks his seatbelt into place and runs a hand through his dyed red hair. “Where are your car gummy worms?” 

“Center console,” Sunwoo puts the car in drive and has barely begun to ease his foot off the brake when Eric lets a gasp so violent and loud that he slams his foot back down again. “What, what happened?” He slams the car back into park, his face going white when he sees what his best friend is dangling between two dainty fingers. 

Black lace panties. 

Your black lace panties. 

“Sunwoo…you didn’t…” Eric chokes out with a mix of disgust and heartbreak on his face. Sunwoo rips the panties out of his best friend’s hands and shoves them into the pocket of his jeans. His face feels like it’s on fire, his heart pounding out of his chest. 

“Do not ever speak of this to anybody. Ever.”

“You fucking FREAK!”

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[wandanatsgf]

Sugar, Sugar Part 1

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After losing your job, you are desperate to come up with some money. Your best friend Kate signs you up for a sugar baby app where you meet Wanda and Natasha, who eventually become your sugar mommies.

Authors Note: I've been reading so many sugar mommy!wandanat x reader fics that I wanted to make one myself. I know the beginning is a bit rough, but I'm just trying to set everything up. I promise it will get better!!!! There will also be plenty of smut in the upcoming chapters, this is just a warning for that now. And I plan on making many parts to this. I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 2 Part 3

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you dramatically exclaim. You drape yourself across the old and slightly musty couch in your small two person apartment. Your work uniform rides up your body a little as you lay down, which you quickly pull down, covering yourself again. You pull your right arm over your eyes, trying to block out the light and the horrible day you just had.

Your best friend and roommate Kate laughs sympathetically at your dramatics. “I know getting fired sucks but there’s tons of ways to make money.” She moves your legs and sits down next to you, placing your legs on top of her.

“Like what?”

“Well you could mow lawns, dog sit, babysit, just until you find another job,” Kate suggests.

“I guess I could but I just don’t know if that would be able to cover my bills and let alone rent.”

“Well there is another thing you can try.” The tone in Kate's voice has you sitting up, removing your arm so you can look at her.

“You remember my friend Darcy that I told you about?”

“Yeah the super rich, successful one.”

“Well when she was in college she was a sugar baby,” Kate says before she cuts herself off to scold you.  “And y/n don’t give me that look just hear me out!”

“Ok fine, keep talking.”

“Well she got a whole bunch of money from it. She was able to pay off her student loans and she had some money leftover that she invested and y’know now she’s rich and super successful and hot and amazing. But that wasn’t the point.” Kate shakes her head at herself, scolding herself for getting off topic like she always does. “Anyway maybe you should try being a sugar baby.”

“I don’t know Kate.” Sure this would be a great opportunity for you, if you find someone that is, but do you really want to use your body to get money?

“You could just look and see what’s out there. You don’t have to accept any sugar daddy or sugar mommy proposals,” Kate says and you’ve got to admit that she’s got a good point.

“Ok what the hell,” you say, agreeing.

“Let me just get the sugar baby app name from Darcy and we can do this.”

A few minutes later the app is downloaded on your phone. You feel nervous but also excited. This could be a way for you to not have to worry about money, at least for a while. Maybe it would be nice to be taken care of.

“Ok it’s downloaded, let’s set it up.” The two of you create your profile and pretty soon you’re looking at sugar mommies and sugar daddies.

“What about this one?” You ask Kate. You pass her the phone, and from the look on her face you can tell that it’s a no go.

“Definitely not,” Kate says, her nose wrinkling up in disgust.

“Why not?”

“I know you, and that’s not what you want.” You have to admit she is right, you don’t really want some 50 year old with a penchant for “parading his girls around” as he called it, but you’re desperate and he is the best looking person on there so far.

You continue to scroll through the men and women, none of them really catching your eye until you see the profile of a beautiful red haired girl and an equally beautiful auburn haired girl. You would recognize their faces anywhere, Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, the owners of the country's best security company.

“There’s no way this is real,” you say. “This has to be some sort of joke or something.” You pass her your phone and watch as her eyes go comically wide.

“There’s no way the Natasha Romanoff and the Wanda Maximoff are looking for a sugar baby,” you say. You practically scoff at the idea, but there’s still that little voice in your head that wonders if maybe the profile is real.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Kate says. She still has your phone in your hands and you watch as she types, until finally she stops.

“Katie what did you do?”

“I just messaged them,” Kate says innocently. You glance down at the message and it says, “Hi my name is y/n and I’d love to get to know you both and see if I’m what you’re looking for ;),”

“Did you have to add the wink Katie? They’re gonna think I’m like a whore or something now,” you whine.

“Oh relax you big baby. It’s fine. And besides maybe a whore is what they’re looking for,” Kate says, giving you a wink.

“Kate!” You exclaim. You lightly slap her on the arm.

“Owww y/n. You’re very feisty for such a tiny person.”

“Serves you right,” you mutter underneath your breath. The two of you continue to scroll through the app when you see a notification pop up.

Natasha and Wanda had replied to your message.

“Oh my god,” you say. You can feel yourself freaking out, even when you’re going into the texting part of the app and opening the message.

“Hi darling, we’d love to get to know you more too! We’re Natasha and Wanda, we’re both sugar mommies who are looking for a sugar baby to share. We work quite a bit, but we promise that we’ll still have time for you if things work out between us. Can’t wait to hear back from you,” the message reads. You show the message to Kate who responds with excitement.

But you can feel yourself freaking out on the inside even more now. However your doubts from earlier creep in and calm you down. There’s a big chance that this is just a catfish, but you still want to take the chance. Who wouldn’t want an opportunity to be with Natasha and Wanda?

“Help me come up with a response,” you tell the girl sitting next to you. After a few minutes of back and forth, the two of you come up with what you think is the perfect response.

“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. I’m y/n, a sugar baby who is currently in college trying to pay off my loans. I normally have plenty of time on my hands and would be able to be around whenever you need.”

You cringe at the last part of the message, which was all Kate’s idea, but clearly it worked because a few minutes later you have a text inviting you out to get some coffee tomorrow afternoon and you say yes.

“You have to come with me though, just in case it’s like a catfish or something,” you tell your best friend. 

“Of course, I’ll sit in the cafe and just text me if you need me,” Kate says reassuring you. 

The next day comes too quickly and before you know it you and Kate are sitting in the cafe waiting for Natasha and Wanda. You’re sitting at a table in the back, while Kate is sitting at a table across the room from you. The minutes seem to drag on forever, making you even more anxious than you already are. Everytime the bell above the door goes off, you glance up, hoping it’s one of the girls walking through. You’re just about to lose hope when you see Natasha and Wanda walk in. They look so breathtakingly beautiful. 

“Hi Y/n,” Wanda says, being the first to greet you. She towers over you as she envelopes you in a hug, which you gladly reciprocate.  

“Hi,” you say back. It comes out quieter than you meant it to. You can feel your cheeks heating up, but gladly both women ignore it. 

“And hi I’m Natasha,” the red haired girl says. She also towers over you, but you like that about the two women. She also envelopes you into a hug. She smells like vanilla and smoke and it gives you a sense of comfort. The three of you sit down and the two women get straight to the point. 

“So as you know we’re looking for a sugar baby,” Natasha says, her voice a low tone. “We just wanted to meet with you today to go over some things and see if we’d get along,” she explains. 

“Ok that sounds good,” you agree. 

“Have you ever been in a dynamic like this before?” 

“No I haven’t,” you say, your blush coming back. You can feel your nerves getting worse as well as you fidget with a ring on your hand. 

“It’s ok to be nervous baby, we won’t bite,” Wanda leans in to tell you. She places her hand on top of yours, stopping your fidgeting. She places her hand in yours, which you gladly hold. 

“That’s alright, we’re pretty new to this too. But there are a couple of things we wanted to go over today. First, when do you have class?”

“Well Tuesday and Thursday mornings I have class until 11am, but besides that my days are wide open.” This answer makes Natasha smile, which in turn makes you smile. 

“What is it that you need help with?” You appreciate that Natasha is getting straight to the point, it’s doing wonders at calming your nerves.

“Mostly rent and some bills. I, uh, just lost my job and it’s been hard to stay afloat.”

“Well that won’t be a problem now that we’re here,” Natasha tells you, sending you a wink. The action sends a blush across your face, turning it a shade of pink. 

"I know this isn't exactly normal," Natasha says, "But we promise if today works out, which I think it will, we'll take care of you darling." Natasha's words make you smile. Normally you were never so shy around people, but the two women next to you really bring it out in you.

“Do you have any questions for us honey?” Wanda asks. 

“Yes actually. What is it exactly that I would be doing?”

“You would keep us company, go to some company functions with us, and,” Natasha says, her voice dropping low as she says the next part, “have sex with us when we want it.”

“But obviously we would work up to that part,” Wanda adds cheerfully. 

“Ok,” you say, taking all of that information in. You knew going into this that sex would be on the table, but it shocks you that these two beautiful women are wanting to do it with you. 

“I’m sorry if this is a weird question, but aren’t the two of you together? What exactly do you need me for?”

“Yes we’re together sweetheart, but we’re not the most compatible in the bedroom.”

“What Wanda means is that we’re both pretty dominant and we need someone submissive to fulfill our needs,” Natasha says. Wanda slaps her on her arm and lightly scolds her, making you giggle. 

“I can do that,” you say, letting both of them know that you want this. The thought of being submissive for both of them stirs a longing within you. You can feel a slight dampness in your panties and you cross your legs, hoping Wanda, who is still holding your hand, doesn’t notice. But of course she does. 

“You already feeling a little needy, baby?” Wanda whispers, her cockiness coming out of nowhere, but god does it turn you on. Her lips ghost on the outer shell of your ear, causing your breathing to become ragged. 

“Mhm,” you manage to get out. 

“You’re so cute when you’re needy. I can’t wait to see just how needy I can make you,” Wanda says. She leans away from you, but not before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, making you go pink.

“Don’t kill the poor girl Wanda,” Natasha scolds. 

“I can’t help it, she’s just so cute,” Wanda says, like you aren't there, which just turns you on even more. 

“Yeah she is,” Natasha agrees. 

You don’t know what to say, too absorbed in your own lust, when Natasha speaks again, snapping you out of it.

“Here are our phone numbers,” she says, slipping you a piece of paper. You take the pieces of paper and program their numbers into your phone and you give them your number and they do the same.

“We’ll text you tomorrow to work out the details and set up a contract, assuming you still want to do this?” Wanda questions. 

“I do,” you reassure her. 

“Then we’ll talk to you tomorrow, detka,” Wanda says. The two women get up, both hugging you goodbye. You watch the two women walk out, having forgotten that Kate was also at the cafe until she comes up to you. 

“Oh my god,” Kate says.

“I know,” is all you say.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get two sugar mommies.”

[muzanswaifu]

Out of Options

Sugardaddy!Toji x Fem!Reader

18+

You needed money. He wanted free use. You weren't past making an exchange... until he started to get cheap. What else was a girl to do?

5k Words

Big thank you to my beta readers @mistymuichiro & @thosestarry-nights & @mrskokushibo !!!

Sfw Warnings: Sugar Daddy Toji, Sugar Baby Reader, Themes of prostitution, Angst, Bad Communication, Toxic Relationships, Creepy Old Men, Misogyny, Toxic Work Environment, Jealousy

Nsfw Warnings: Smut, Hints of Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Oral Sex (fem! receiving), Cunnilingus, Squirting

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The wooden frame of the bed slammed viciously into the thin walls of the motel bedroom, the withered coat of eggshell white chipping away with the ruthless collision, likely cracking the wood as well. The hellish creaking burned into your ears, scratching at the back of your brain and preventing any chance of relaxing in the moment. You’d had a shitty day, and the fact that this wasn’t even the worst of it was almost sad.

Work was exhausting, stupid old men yelling at you all day that you couldn’t do your job and the lead physician not doing a thing to stop them. Not to mention that you were in charge of most of the side work all day, replacing the instruments and utensils, emptying trash bins, cleaning out inpatient rooms, none of which was given to any of the newer technicians. You were good at what you did. You studied hard in school, you perfected all of your residency, you had astounding references. Your only flaw? Your gender. You were one of the only females in your department - hell - in the entire building. Most either quit or moved to different hospitals, entirely due to the terrible environment. None of your peers or superiors or inferiors respected you. You were always stuck with the dirty, side work while the others got to do what your job actually entailed, and the rare occurrences when you did get the opportunity to work with patients, they were always abusive to you. It was hell.

But what other choice did you have?

All the other openings at other hospitals were either filled or about to be. No other fields or retail jobs made enough pay. You didn’t have near enough money or grounds to seek out legal help. You were stuck. You were desperate for money. You were out of options.

You had family to take care of - two brothers, a sister, your mother. Dad died years ago in a car accident. Mom was already working overtime with two jobs, barely making ends meet. Rent, insurance, taxes, student loans, car payments, groceries, clothing, hospital bills, schooling, existing. It all cost money. So much money. It felt like you were suffocating. You were out of options.

Finally the creaking stopped. You back was already sore beyond belief and your legs numb. Your knees were probably bruised, too. Damn, you could go for some marble cheesecake right now. Your nose scrunched as you smelt the familiar scent of cigarette smoke, you lungs burning from the second hand nicotine.

“Here.”

A wad of cash fell across your back, the paper crunchy and bent. You groaned as you rose up, stretching your back out and hissing at how tight you were. How much was ibuprofen again?

You flicked through the money, your brow furrowing when you shuffled across the last layer.

“This isn’t enough,” you countered.

The end of his cigarette burned gold. He stood in front of the window, brushing away the curtain to peer outside as he took a drawl. He was still naked and didn’t seem in a rush to dress himself.

“It’d be more if ya didn’t make me wear a condom.”

You scowled but kept silent, fidgeting at the sides of your panties where he tied the damn things. The latex was knotted tight with each used rubber, five in total today. It’d be easier to just throw the whole pair away.

He took another hit.

“Won’t make our date on Saturday,” he mumbled, “got plans.”

You were already redressing yourself, desperate to get out of there and get going. Shower. Eat. Jerk off. Go to sleep. There were only so many hours in a day and you still had work in the morning.

You sighed, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

He chuckled softly to himself. “How’s work.”

“Bye, Toji.”

The store wasn’t all that crowded surprisingly. It was Thursday afternoon, but people tended to not follow norms around here when it came to scheduling. They were out of marble cheesecake so you had to get turtle. It was too sweet in your opinion.

Everyone was asleep when you got home, but you were grateful for the privacy. Mom was still at work.

You locked your door and ruffled through your bottom drawer, fetching out your vibrator. The fan in your room was loud so nobody could hear it anyway. God, you were tired.

You never thought of anything particular when you were trying to get off, it honestly depended on the day. Sometimes you thought about getting eaten out slowly by a fireplace. Sometimes you thought about getting dicked down in a dark alley. No matter the scenario, there was only one similarity. You never imagined anyone in particular. You couldn’t put a face to the man. He was big, muscular, strong. You felt safe yet thrilled underneath him. But you couldn’t see him, if that made any sense.

Your sex drive had always been high. Ever since puberty you were antsy and pent up, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to date. Your first boyfriend was overwhelmed with how needy you were, and the moment you sensed his rejection, your attraction to him plummeted. You needed to feel secure before you felt horny. Were you demisexual? Maybe. You weren’t sure and hardly had time to find yourself.

You tried to find another partner again in your third year of college. There was a party at a local bar, and your friends hyped you up to go. You were both drunk, him more than you. He had whiskey dick. You didn’t feel comfortable. You left relatively quickly after calling him an uber. Failed again.

You didn’t try again after that.

You were fine keeping to yourself. You had your own assortment of toys awaiting you in your room. And work only solidified your hatred of the male species. You likely would’ve remained celibate forever if you hadn’t run into Toji.

You had just gotten off work, walking through the subway to catch the next train. Your engine was busted so your car was in the shop. Not many people were around, and the ones that were left after a while since it was taking too long. But you were too tired to walk so you stayed. The sketchy figures in the back didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. Finally the train came and you got on, only about six people onboard. The man a couple feet down on the bench smelt like burnt flesh. He had a cigar in his mouth despite the no smoking sign. Whatever, it wasn’t any of your business. Your left side was occupied, surprisingly, despite the abundance of free seats. This man was close, too close. Two others gathered in front of you. 

“Where ya headed to baby?

“Yeah, yeah, you need some company?“

“We’ll treat ya real nice.”

You tried to ignore their taunts, keeping your eyes down and trying to appear as small as possible. You immediately noticed when a knife was drawn.

“We’re tryna talk to you, bitch.”

The blade nicked the bottom of your jaw, your blood running cold.

“Yer makin’ too much ruckus over there.”

Everyone slowly turned to look at who spoke. The man looked without a care in the world.

“Didn’t fuckin’ ask you, now did I old man?” The knife was now pointed to him.

He drew a long sigh and took out his blunt, pressing the lit end into the seat, the plastic screaming in agony.

You don’t really remember the rest of the conversation. Everything was a blur. Words were said. Punches were thrown. Bones were shattered. The man with the cigarette hardly got up from his seat, really. The next thing you knew he was sat back down and the others were lying on the floor, knocked out. You shifted your feet away so they didn’t get near the bodies.

Awkwardly, you tried to thank him, offer him what little you had in your pocket, mostly out of fear. You didn’t want to get on the bad side of someone who could so easily hurt people, and you didn’t want to appear ungrateful. Based on the scar that tore into his mouth, he’d seen his fair share of violence. He turned it down. You offered to buy him food. He turned it down. Medical care to clean his fists? He turned it down. You were out of options. Was there anything you could offer him? His answer still burned in your mind.

“You wanna fuck?”

The money afterward was unexpected. You woke up sore and broken, your thighs burning and covered in bruises. He was long gone, in his place a wad of cash that made your eyes bulge. Did he think you were a hooker? You weren’t sure. The sex wasn’t bad. You didn’t get off, but he obviously knew what he was doing. It felt nice. You felt safe.

Your next meeting, he found you walking the streets. Money in hand, stinking of booze. Wagging a room key in your face and giving you an address to go to if you need some money. Maybe he thought you were someone else. You didn’t care. You needed money and didn’t mind the sex. You were always wet enough to be comfortable for a decent amount of time, but it would hurt more after each round. You wish he didn’t last so long. Or for so many rounds. You wondered if he was even human. More money.

You had a couple rules for your… relationship. No kissing. No oral (for either of you). No raw contact or cumming on your body. No telling. You didn’t need a reputation.

He paid based on what he felt like paying you, but he was never stingy so you didn’t mind. Until lately.

He wasn’t paying as much as he used to. He didn’t seem to be enjoying himself as much. Maybe he was getting bored. You were worried.

You needed the money. You always needed money. And this wasn’t paying like it used to. It was a hard pill to swallow, but you knew what you had to do.

You needed another outlet.

It was going to be hard to find one. You were essentially selling your body, but you still had standards. You refused to sleep with anyone who you didn’t find attractive, anyone who was married, anyone dangerous. Your work was cut out for you.

And since you were now free on Saturday, you would go out then.

You put your siblings to bed early, double checking with mom that she’d be out until early morning. You dressed nice but not too nice. Hot but not too hot. It was a fine line you were walking, and you absolutely were not going to cross it.

The bar in the popular part of the city was going to be the number one spot for rich bachelors. You never went there yourself because it was so expensive and uptight, but you were looking to get drinks anyway. You didn’t have to wait long before you had a drink in front of you, courtesy of a gentleman sitting in a booth in the back. He was too old for you but you smiled at him. The others came quickly. You had the bartender sneak most of them into the sink. You couldn’t get drunk and most of these men you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. It was starting to get late. You didn’t spot anyone worth your while.

“This seat taken?”

You whipped around to your right, surprised to see a young man - no - someone your age in here. Not to mention attractive. You shook your head, trying to cover your own shock.

“Not a lot of… not… old guys in here, am I right?” He laughed, nodding toward the tables of older gentleman. Most were fifty or so. You felt gross now realizing how many were staring at you.

You laughed back nervously, “Yeah…”

“What brings you here?” He asked innocently, “Not that you don’t belong here! You just look… I don’t know - uncomfortable?”

You cringed. Did you look uncomfortable? 

“Yeah, sorry. Just… hanging around, I suppose,” you offered. He was too cute now. You couldn’t bring yourself to take his money even if you wanted to. 

He smiled. “Same here. I thought this place was going to be fun, but there’s not a lot to do.” He looked around. “Most of these guys are talkin’ business.” Looking around yourself, you realized he was right. Most of them were meeting up with business partners whiles others were trying to make business partners. Some looked pretty shady. You were getting more nervous by the minute.

“I-I have to go,” you mumbled quickly, getting up from your seat end creeping toward the door. He was surprised. “Uh, by-”

You bumped into something, stumbling back into the bar. 

“Oi, you should watch where you’r-”

You gasped.

The music got louder. The air felt heavy. His eyes looked dark.

The corners of his mouth tugged down and his eyes narrowed. Sweat condensed on your brow.

“What are you doing here?” He growled, his stature big and menacing. His green eyes bore into you sharply.

“I-I-I-”

“Hey-” The boy from before was back. “Are you okay?” He looked to Toji and frowned.

“This guy bothering you?” He asked, all too naive. You gently pushed him back. You could see Toji about to pounce. 

You pushed him back a little harder when he didn’t get the hint. “No, it’s fine, man,” you told him, “just go.”

He gave you another concerned look, but left when you gave him a stern one. You felt bad. He seemed nice.

Much to your disappointment, the other man you were dealing with didn’t just vanish into thin air. You sighed. “I was just about to leave, anyway.” You tried to step past him. He didn’t let you, his wide torso stepping in front of you. His smirk made your skin crawl.

“Let’s talk.”

You weren’t given the option to deny him as he stole you away, a large fist grabbing you arm far too harshly. He pulled you through the exit, dragging you down the crowded street. Any struggle you made was met with a firm tug, his grip getting tighter and tighter. You were definitely going to bruise.

When you’d rounded lone alleyway between the buildings, he’d pressed you against the wall, the grainy texture of the brick scratching your skin.

“What the fuck was that about, huh?” He hissed, his teeth sharp and burning white.

“You fucking around? You screw any of those fuckers?” He’d never been so angry with you before. He’d never been angry with you, period. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

“N-no!” you argued, “Toji, no. What the hell - what are you doing here?” When he gave no answer, his eyes still glaring, you continued.

“You said you were busy today…”

No answer.

“I can spend my free time wherever I want.”

No. Answer. Your eyes glazed over, and you turned away from him.

“I… needed money…”

With that he seemed to let up.

“Money?” He scoffed. “This how you get money now? What the fuck happened to your job?”

“Nothing… I just needed more.” You bit your lip. “Your’s isn’t enough.”

“What do you mean mine isn’t enough?” He barked. He wrapped his hand under you jaw, his palm grasping your pulse.

“I told you I’d give you more if you let me screw you raw. Didn’t I?”

You swallowed thickly, tears clinging to your eyelashes.

You looked back at him with fear in your eyes, his hand slowly closing around your neck. His expression softened ever so slightly as he realized he was scaring you.

He released you with a huff and walked a few steps away, running a hand down his face.

“What’s the issue? STDs? Birth control? I’m clean, and I’ll get you pills-”

“No!”

He looked at you surprised. You calmed yourself down and rubbed your arms, suddenly feeling the chill of the air.

“Toji…,” you began, “we’re… not together. You have your fun, I get paid - that’s all we do.” You looked up at him softly. “I need more than what you’re giving me.”

His eyes narrowed. “You saying you don’t have fun.”

You bit your lip and looked away. He scowled. Wrong answer.

He took wide strides forward, cornering you against the wall yet again, this time with his hands on either side of your head, forcing you to face him.

“You saying you don’t love it when I fuck you? That your cunt doesn’t fuckin’ love my cock?

You frowned back at him.

“You tell me.”

His mouth thinned.

It was no secret that you didn’t come when you two fucked. It’s not like he was trying either. You always prepped yourself beforehand, lubing yourself up and stretching yourself out so he didn’t hurt you. And during your escapades, he always just pulled his dick out and got to it. He never touched you more than necessary, never tried to feel you up or grope around. His only goal was to get himself off. And you were fine with that. So long as he paid you.

His eyes looked at you softly, he almost looked guilty, but you knew him better than that. You sighed and pushed away from him.

“It’s late… I gotta go hom-”

He grabbed your wrist, squeezing tight.

You looked down at it, his hand engulfing your arm, his fingers and knuckles all too big for you. His nails dug into your skin and he pulled you back. You couldn't walk away if you wanted to. You were trapped. You wanted to push him away, you wanted to be mad, but you couldn't find it in yourself.

He leaned in, his eyes soft yet cold.

You flinched, his lips connecting with the side of your neck. He was rough, his mouth moving against your flesh in a sloppy kiss. His tongue flicked across your neck, and his teeth tugged at your skin. He was hungry. Always hungry. You pushed your free hand against him. He ignored it.

His free hand snaked up to the underside of your breast, the other dropping to your hip, his palm resting on the bone. His thumb rubbed at the exposed skin where your chest spilled out. You felt conflicted.

He bit you harshly, drawing blood. Your eyes widened and you hissed.

“So that’s what this was all about, huh?” He rasped, his bottom lip resting on your skin, his breath hot.

“Little girl not cumming like she wants to?”

You pushed his face away and groaned.

“As if you’ve ever gotten me off? I’m leaving.”

You went to move, but he kept his grip tight. He grabbed the other wrist as well. He squeezed hard, forcing you to gasp. He smirked.

“You’re this stubborn you’ve forgotten how to ask for things? You had me worried there. Thought you were tryna end things for real.”

Your face flushed in anger and embarrassment. You yanked your arms away but he didn't let go. You tugged once, twice, three times - he didn't let go. You yelped as he tugged back, forcing you to stumble and fall against him. He pressed his hips against yours, his groin digging into your stomach. You grunted at the pressure, your toes curling at the contact. He was hard already, his cock throbbing against your navel.

He pinned your arms over your head, his weight forcing you up against the wall, his mouth looming over yours. You turned your head to the side. He couldn’t kiss you, that was against the rules. His hot breath fell down your cheek and neck.

He leaned in again and you turned away.

He was hungry. Always hungry.

He leaned in again. And again.

You whimpered softly and groaned. Your heart throbbed.

You swallowed thickly as he leaned in again, your chest heaving, his lips brushing against your jaw. You shook your head weakly. He huffed, a deep, almost animalistic rumble leaving his chest.

You whined and shut your eyes.

His tongue smoothed over your jawline, his hand finally letting go of you.

You placed a hand on his shoulder but didn't push him away. He was too strong, anyway.

He grunted and ran his fingers through your hair, grasping a handful and pulling your head back. You whined, the sound only encouraging him to continue, your hair tightening in his fist. He pushed his hips against yours, his hard cock pressing against your pelvis, the fabric of your skirt doing nothing to stop the feeling.

“C’mon sweetheart, Don’tcha wanna feel good?” He cooed.

He forced you into the wall once more, his free hand moving down to your thigh, squeezing the skin just under your knee. He pulled your leg up, wrapping it over his hip, his bulge rubbing your heat. A chuckle rose deep within his throat, and he licked at your ear.

“Ugh, Toji, stop it! You’re being annoying,” you complained, despite the thrill lacing up your spine. He laughed.

“Don’t lie,” the man crooned. “I’ll make you come so hard, you’ll be beggin’ me to fuck ya.” 

Your cowered away. “Wha-” Umph.

You couldn’t finish as you we dropped onto a hard surface, a mixture of both brick and stale dirt. Looking up, dead branches and deader leaves filled your vision. The alley way had led to a smaller subsection of the street, a lone crevice in the city district that was long abandoned and withering away. Your dress was smushed into the dirt of the old dirt bowl that was in the center of the small courtyard, the tree taking root twisted and weak. It almost seemed pitifully metaphorical to your current situation.

A scheming hand slithered up your thigh, scrunching back your crinkled skirt and hiking it around your hips, your lacey g-string fully exposed.

“Fuck,” Toji moaned, licking his lips, “You were definitely looking to get fucked tonight.”

“No I wasn’t!” You countered nervously, trying to press your thighs together to hide yourself. Despite being in an abandoned area, you were still in a public space and didn’t want to be seen by anyone. Much less be here for the long duration it took him to be satisfied. But this time felt a bit different. He was taking his time, touching you more, teasing. He usually got straight to business and had his fly down by now, but instead it was you who was being undressed, his big, warm hands encompassing your thighs and groping them. He was trying to break another rule, you could feel it. He had a devious look in his eye. He smiled at you.

“How much to touch your pussy?”

You were taken aback by the question, squeezing your thighs even tighter.

“Wha- that’s off limits!”

“No, no,” he insisted, “everything’s got a price, baby. What’s yours?”

He couldn’t possibly be serious. You’d never seen him so adamant to give you pleasure, much less offer money for it. From your experience, men were hesitant to do anything besides receive, convincing themselves that woman adored pleasing them. And the rare moment when they did touch a girl, it was always careless and short-lived, the only real goal to get them wet enough to be a slippery hole. You weren’t in the mood to be disappointed.

“Thirty thousand yen? Forty?”

“Not interested.”

“More?”

“No.”

He leered.

“Three. Hundred. Thousand.”

Your eyes bulged. Mouth gaping.

“Th-thats…”

“Going once,” he announced. “Going twice!” Don’t let him get to three.

You could get a new computer with that, replace your old busted one that had lost half the keys and took fifty years to load.

“Going-”

“I’ll do it!” You gasped, defeated. “I’ll do it…”

His paws squeezed your thighs, drifting up the insides and gently prying them apart. You hardly fought him when you realized that was the only way you were going to get the money. New computer. New computer. You tried to focus on the positives.

Toji pressed his cheek into your inner thigh, kissing your skin softly. You shivered at the feeling of his soft lips brushing your flesh. He moved up your leg, placing his hands on each side of your panties and tugging them down, your skin glistening with sweat as he pulled the cloth against the curves of your flesh. He pulled your legs apart further and licked a long stripe up your skin. the wetness cold on your overheated flesh. You clenched your teeth. You were on the verge of telling him the deal was off, but his tongue brushed against your core and you could no longer find the words. He kissed and sucked at the sensitive skin of your thighs, leaving marks in his wake.

Your core throbbed.

He pulled you closer to the edge of the pot, your body lying at an awkward angle, the base of your spine aching.

Toji pressed a thumb against your slit, dragging it across your folds and collecting your slick on the pad. You shuddered.

He ran the pad of his thumb across your clit, rubbing slow circles into the bundle of nerves. You gripped his hair with one hand, tugging it hard, his muffled groan tickling your core. His finger slipped between your folds, easily entering your wet hole, his finger much bigger than your own. You grunted at the intrusion, the thick digit stretching your inner walls, his knuckle pressing against your clit as he bottomed out inside of you. He wiggled his finger, stretching your walls before pumping his finger in and out of your cunt, dragging out every little noise he could from your mouth.

He pulled you closer to the edge of your seat, your legs dangling in the air as he sat between your thighs, your hands digging into the dirt beneath you for support.

His finger moved slowly within you, his eyes never leaving yours, a fire burning within his emerald eyes. You grunted when he added another finger, the feeling almost too much for you. Your noises echoed briefly throughout the courtyard, bouncing off the concrete and surrounding buildings, and you were all too aware of how loud you were being. You pulled harder on his hair as the knot in your stomach grew tighter.

But you tried to keep your composure, your body still tense with the fear of your surroundings. Any moment someone could come waltzing by, see what you two were doing, your disheveled appearance, perhaps even try to take advantage. Your alarm hindered your concentration on the pleasure.

“What’s up?” You heard, turning your eyes back down to look at him. You hadn’t realized your gaze had wandered to the opening in the walls to where the city life buzzed about. He glanced over to where you were looking.

“Ain’t nobody comin’ over here. Relax,” he mumbled, his eyes getting warm again. “I’ll protect ya. Just relax.”

Your heart throbbed at the promise, warmth enveloping your body. You hesitantly let your head fall back and sighed, dropping your shoulders. His free hand moved to the hem of your skirt and pushed it up over your belly. He wanted a good view. You didn't care. You felt… safe.

His fingers picked up speed, fucking you harder as you bit your lip. His thumb moved back to your clit, rubbing circles on the swollen button. You hummed and sighed, his fingers twisting inside you. The pleasure began to build up again, boiling in your belly and tingling up your spine. And just when you got comfortable he only took it further.

Heat enveloped your clit, wet and slippery and hot like a warm bath. You gasped out, squirming around a bit and digging your nails into the roots in the ground. Looking back down, you confirmed your theory. Toji’s head was between your thighs, his mouth on your pussy and wrapped around your little bead, his fingers still working inside of you. Soft pants and whines left your mouth, your legs shaking around his head as he continued to suck at you, his tongue swirling around and prodding under the hood, leaving you slick and sensitive. Your core throbbed.

You felt a sharp pressure inside you, and then a slow stretch. You yelped. A third finger was entering you, your cunt molding around the thick digit. You writhed  again, trying to ease the ache of the intrusion. His other hand rested on your belly, gently smoothing over your skin as he ate you. His head moved side to side, tongue laving over you, his hands never stopping their movements. Oh god. It felt like you going to- to-

“Ah!,” you moaned, shaking viciously and clutching at his head, holding him in place. You were melting, you were sure of it. Everything was slipping away from you, your bones, your brain, your worries. His tongue kept lashing at you, extending your pleasure and refusing to slow down. His fingers remained pressed against your sweet spot, his other hand pushing on your belly. It was all too much, you were squealing with overstimulation. It got tighter. And tighter. And tighter. Until something popped.

All the tension broke from your body, the shocking sensations melting into something warm and fuzzy. You slowly let go of everything, all tension easing away from you and allowing for complete bliss to take over. Sweet sighs and mewls left your lips, your back lying against the dirt as you caught your breath and waited for your head and pussy to stop tingling. Another whine was pulled from you when he took his fingers and mouth away from you, unraveling your legs from his head and stepping back.

“You fallin’ asleep now?” He laughed.

You pouted and groaned. “No… jus’… gimme a sec.” Your bones were like jelly, your eyelids heavy. He cackled at you and that was the push you needed to get off your ass. He looked smitten.

“Good, right?” He crooned, wiping his mouth, “Ya fuckin’ squirted on me.”

Your face got dark and you looked to your lap, embarrassed.  

“Nothin’ to be ashamed about princess.” He assured, fishing out his wallet and shufflling through the bills. He took out a stack and threw it in your lap.

“It was hot.”

You groaned again and dug your face into your hands, trying to ignore his raspy laughing.

You jolted when you felt his breath on you, looking up and freezing. His eyes burned into you.

“Now next time, let’s work out this condom situation, alright?”

You gulped.

~

Part 2 coming eventually...

[hollyseb]

BARTENDER (part 1)

You need to make ends meet. How far are you willing to go?

Mob! Bucky x Reader

Authors note; this is my first fic. Pls be nice :)

Warnings; drinking. Minors DNI. Will get saucier lol.

Who am I? You were staring at yourself in the mirror of your janky apartment. Little red dress, white thigh high lacey socks. This wasn’t you. You felt silly. But you needed this

Since finishing college, the job market had been dry. You were broke. Undeniably. The rent payments are piling up, student loans begging to be paid, your unforgiving landlord constantly up your ass.

You smoothed down your dress, reminding yourself that this was temporary, just to make ends meet before finding a job in your field. You couldn’t deny that despite feeling a little on-show, you looked hot. Your dress hugging your curves, and your heels making your legs look everlong.

You’d picked up a job at a club uptown. You’d never been but you knew it was high-end, elite, and intimidating. Powerful men frequented this club. You were dreading meeting them; misogynists and man-whores, you thought. It’s okay, I’m just a waitress. Your only job was to serve at the bar, and deliver drinks to those rich enough to reserve tables. All I need to do is look good and smile.

Your best friend, Nat, had managed to land the job for you. She’d been working at the club for 6 months, and the money was supposedly “incredible”. You remembered laughing at that, accusing her of flirting with the regulars.

With that thought, you picked up your jacket, hugging it around your body, and headed out the door.

You adapted to the job easily enough; the thumping music, the strobing lights. Nat was constantly approaching you, checking in on you, “you’re okay right? Well you look amazing”, she whispered in your ear, winking at you, as you poured another drink.

She helped you climatize to the new environment. When service slowed, you found yourself drinking in those who frequented the club. The men on the floor were sleazy, approaching women while heavily drunk. The girls were dancing, swinging their hips, some finding company in those men. A part of you was envious, this had never been your scene and you felt a little excluded.

You were dragged out of your thoughts by Natasha asking you to drop some drinks off at one of the reserved tables. You felt a little reluctant, the table being hidden by a velvet curtain. You had yet to do this part of the job yet. I wish I could eye them up before approaching. Another part of you felt a little excited though, anticipatory.

You headed to the table, deep and low voices sounding. Some men were laughing, and others engaging in low conversation. Pulling the curtain back, a silence fell across the group of men sitting in the secluded area. You paused, taken aback. You had semi-expected the men to ignore your presence, you hadn’t expected this.

“H-hello. I have five whiskey cokes?” Your voice came across weaker than you hoped under the intimidating stares of the men. You hated the way your claim sounded like a question.

Your eyes fell upon the man at the head of the table. All black suit, perfectly tailored, with his hair falling over his piercing blue eyes. He wreaked power. His eyes were raking over your face. Drinking you in. You felt the breath get stuck in your throat when you met his eyes. He is gorgeous.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” a deep voice emerged from the man. It posed more of a statement than a question. Could he sense your anxiety?

“Yes I am”, you were painstakingly aware of how breathy your voice sounded, and also of how you were still awkwardly standing with the tray in your hands.

You eyed the other men, seeing the way their eyes dragged over your body, your curves. You felt naked. The eyes of the man at the head of the table had never left your face. He was enamored.

You cleared your throat and placed the tray on the corner of the table, trying to hide the way your hands were beginning to tremble. God, why am I shaking? You shot the men a fake smile before spinning on your heel and pulling back the curtain, their eyes burning into your ass.

When you had left the table, Bucky cleared his throat. “Get her name. Her social media. Her address. I want to know everything about her”.

Once leaving the room, you hunted your best friend down. “Nat, the men I delivered those drinks to…”, you waved your hands incredulously, reminiscing on the tense encounter and expecting her to have an explanation.

“Yes?” She smirked. She knew exactly what you were referencing. The intensity, the intimidation.

“What the hell was that? I mean- the guy at the head of the table… questioned me about being new, and the rest of them… ugh”, you rambled, your hands punctuating your questions.

“Oh…”, she raised her eyebrows at you, her face glowering in how she knew information that you didn’t, “the guy that questioned you, yeah he owns the club”, her smirk growing into a Cheshire Cat grin. She knew she had dropped you in the deep end.

Your eyebrows practically flew into your hairline, “the o-owner? God, Nat I’ve made a clutz of mysel-, I was stood there with the tray for so long, he must think I’m so stupi-”

She cut you off. “Well, at least he actually acknowledged you. He never even looks at the rest of us”, she explained, only exaggerating your confusion. “Shame really, considering he is probably the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, I mean, I would”, she winked at you again.

You laughed at that, knowing that she really would. She always knew what to say, and she was right. He really was breath-taking. But, he was also your boss. He probably only noticed me because I did something wrong.

You didn’t allow yourself to dwell on the encounter, convincing yourself that you were overthinking the fire in his eyes. He was staring at you because you were so awkward. He could tell you felt out-of-place, you thought, sighing to yourself and shaking the thoughts. Serving people drinks and cleaning the bar made for the perfect distraction.

The night continued without event, you were glad. You felt yourself ease up over time, Nat making you giggle as drunk men tipped you rather excessively. You weren’t sure if it was your best friend's humour, or the feeling of knowing you’d managed to cover this week's rent, but you felt pleased.

You picked up your coat, and slung your bag over your shoulder, deciding to call a cab to get home. You felt eyes on you as you hugged Nat goodbye. Looking over her shoulder, you locked eyes with that man again. Your boss. Stood at the top of the stairs, overlooking the bar. In a vast crowd of people, his eyes were narrowed in on you. You unlocked from Nat, drowning out her qualms about letting her know when you arrived home safely. You couldn't focus on anything else. He was the epitome of power; tall, broad, perfectly tailored.

You had to force yourself to rip your eyes from his, bidding Nat a farewell and heading out the door.

Bucky watched you until the door shielded you from view. He was fixated. It was only when Steve slapped his hand down on Bucky’s shoulder that he was brought back to the present.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through her body if you keep staring at her like that, pal”, Steve stated teasingly. He saw the way you commanded his friends' attention from the second you approached the table. It had been a long time since he had seen someone have such an effect on him.

Bucky turned to Steve, an exhale escaping his nose, “she is… certainly something”.

Steve continued, “… innocent, right?”, eyeing Bucky for his reaction. He tread on eggshells, he knew Bucky had taken a shine to you, he didn’t want to overstep.

Bucky nodded, his jaw twitching, “too innocent to be working here”. The pair nodded in unison.

You stepped outside and took a deep breath, relishing in the relief of being released from his intense gaze. You hailed a cab, being pleasantly surprised by the car that rolled up to you. Sleek and matte. A Mercedes. This was the nicest taxi you’d ever seen. When the taxi pulled up to your apartment block, you attempted to pay him with a remainder of your tips.

“Fee has been covered by… James Buchanan Barnes”.

Part 2 here https://www.tumblr.com/hollyseb/737991483216494592/bartender-part-2