#horrible day to have a production issue at work

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 7129

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

12. Pôt de crème

Mary

That day really winds up feeling like the epitome of a terrible horrible, no good, very bad fucking day for Mary, and it starts early. Leaving the apartment for work after the massage cocktease from Hell is odd.

She’s left feeling happy to have helped, but also hurt, disappointed, and mad at herself, of all things. That was the perfect opportunity for her to make a move and finally force those two to tell her that they’re not interested! (Though a small and pitifully thirsty part of her brain still exists in the fantasy land where they’d take her up on it.) But she’d chickened out and kept it strictly platonic. Ugh. Lame.

She manages not to think about it for a while, as she gets into the rhythm of her day at the bakery. She still can’t shake the cloud of anxiety and irritability looming over her, though. The good old days of any lasting effects from Bucky’s drops are gone, and instead she’s left to slowly percolate a bad mood as she clocks in and figures out the best order to get her projects done for that day.

Dennis is the manager on schedule, which sucks because Mary’s never liked him, but he’s in the office for the most part, since he’s a stuck up do-nothing, and she's able to pretend that she’s alone. 

No matter though. She can’t focus on anything, feels overly emotional, and almost breaks out in tears when she drops a tray of cupcakes on the floor. She manages to hold it together as she cleans up the mess, and moves onto the next task. Her list for the day now feels miserably long, and she doesn’t even enjoy decorating the base-iced babycakes that are waiting for her from yesterday. She fucks up the writing on one of them and loses her shit over something that is not worth losing her shit over. That’s the stupid thing that finally pushes her to tears, and she tosses her piping bag angrily onto the counter, what the fucking herself and feeling like she’s going crazy. 

Like baseball, there’s no crying in kitchens: That’s what the walk-in’s for. So, she hides back by the dairy products until she’s able to pull herself together. She comes out shivering, not crying, and in a horrible mood. 

Buttercream is next, so she gets the sugar boiling and the egg whites whisking in the forty quart. She tries to talk herself up in her head as she goes through motions of streaming in the sugar and then scaling the butter she’ll add to it once it’s whipped cool. “You’re not bad at your job,” she mumbles to herself, trying to push the threat of tears away with positive thoughts. “You’re not.”

Jesus fuck, why is she feeling like this? Nothing that bad has even happened! So she dropped some fucking cupcakes, so what? It happens. She checks her phone to see if she’s about to get her period, but that’s not it. Her focus is shit, so of course she eventually goes back to thinking about Bucky and Steve. 

Today is Bucky’s day off. Mary thinks about him being in pain that morning and how his movements had been crippled by pain. … She thinks about his broad, muscled back under her hands, his warm skin, the moans of relief he’d given whenever she worked out a knot. Poor guy. Even though she hates to think of enduring it again, she has to admit to herself that she does care about Bucky, and she would endure it if he needed her help. Hell, if it’s something that’ll help him in the long run, she’ll have to do at least one or two more massage sessions to teach Steve the ropes so he can help his husband in her absence.

Bucky doesn’t want her to do it. She pouts about that, but scolds herself as soon as she realizes she’s doing so. Don’t be lame over guys who don’t want you. So Bucky and Steve just want to be gay together in peace, so what? Why is she losing her shit over the tiniest rejection like this?!

She ruminates on it while she’s at the stove stirring a massive batch of pôt de crème custard, and it occurs to her that the part she’s actually most upset about isn’t their platonic feelings for her: it’s her own lack of bravery and straightforwardness with Bucky and Steve, and how she’s become such a pathetic wallflower over the past few months. 

Maybe if she’d flat out asked about a romantic relationship from the beginning, she could’ve gotten the rejection out of the way and been putting herself out there to meet someone new by now. She might’ve met a Dom at one of the Center’s socials, or at least could’ve been swiping the apps and going on dates. Getting laid.

But instead suddenly she’s turned into a shy girl (obnoxious). She hasn’t been a virgin since college, and it wasn’t like she wasn’t sleeping with whoever she could get her hands on, back before Steve and Bucky 'adopted' her. She’d been so good at it back then, saying what she meant and going for what she wanted, dragging at least one new guy back to her place to fuck every other week. Why can’t she just do something now? 

Frowning, she decides that she will do something over it. The ideal would be to move back to her own place, but she can’t with the custody order in place and Dr. Linda on Bucky’s side. Gritting her teeth, she figures she’ll do the next best thing: she’ll start getting laid again. She’ll go out and meet people. She’ll go out straight after work each day. Unless he wants to physically tie her up and keep her prisoner in the apartment, Bucky can’t stop it. 

She’s just got to work up the nerve to break his rules like that. Nerve which, in her current mood, seems quite out of reach. She sighs and reaches up to grab the Grand Marnier off the shelf for the pôt de crème. All she feels like doing now is going back to the apartment and crawling into bed, to be honest. She wonders if this is what actual clinical depression feels like. Maybe. Maybe worse. Sarcastically, she thinks that a shot or three of alcohol would certainly help, and then she pauses with her hand on the bottle as she’s about to pour it into the custard. Oh. 

She’s not drinking anymore. 

Fuck. That’s it. She’s hardly ever had sex sober in her life. Barely ever even flirted without some liquid courage in her system. That’s what’s changed. She always used pick up guys in bars, or at other places where everybody had a drink in their hand. And at home at her apartment, whenever the creeping buildup of anxiety and irritability would get to be too much, a couple vodka sprites were what made her feel better. She pauses in her stirring. Thinking about it now is making her almost physically yearn for a stiff one. 

She looks down at the bottle in her hand, shame coloring her cheeks as soon as she has the thought. Even at her worst, Mary never drank on the job. She grimaces at herself and hurriedly sets the bottle back on the shelf before temptation can win out, then turns back to the stove.

“Fuck!” she hisses, scrambling to turn off the burner when she’s met with the sight of lumpy pôt de crème. She whisks it frantically to try and stop it, but it’s too far gone: The eggs in the custard have curdled. She throws her head back and groans. “God dammit!”

She makes a last ditch effort to save it by dumping the lumpy custard into a Cambro, tossing in a few ice cubes, and furiously burr-mixing it with the immersion blender, but it’s no use. She’s irrevocably ruined a massive batch of dessert (with the expensive liqueur already added in it, to boot) because she wasn’t paying attention. Growling, she dumps it all in the trash bin before Dennis can happen to walk by and see, then stomps back to the fridge to grab ingredients to rescale the recipe.

She lines up sheet trays of paper dessert cups on her workstation table for decanting … and takes one cup with her over to the stove while she stands there and cooks the second batch of pôt de crème.

It’s when she’s stirring and pouring that second measure of liqueur into the pot that she gives into impulse and pours a shot’s worth of the stuff into the extra paper baking cup—that she now realizes she brought over for this express purpose in the first place. She gives the empty kitchen a furtive glance, and tosses it back. “Ugh.” 

Orange flavored liqueur? Really Mary?

She hears the rebuke in Bucky’s voice in her head, which is annoying and drives her to repeat the action once she’s drank the first. She tosses back a second. Gross gross gross. She checks the label on the bottle: 40% ABV. Good. She puts the bottle back on the shelf, pissed about feeling so uncomfortable in her skin that she stubbornly refuses to feel guilty over her actions, and finishes cooking the custard to a smooth nappé this time. Perfect. 

She pours the custard over the white chocolate and lets it melt. She burr mixes it, strains it. Ready to go.

Later maybe she’ll feel bad about it, but as she grabs the sauce gun and begins the tedious process of dispensing the pôt de crème into the cups, that warm, pleasant feeling of a buzz starts to creep up on her, and she finds herself in a better mood before long. Things seem brighter, and she finally feels like she can breathe. She’s able to think about Bucky and Steve without feeling like a piece of dirt, and even laughs about the stupid massage episode. Two shots of liqueur on an empty stomach makes that seem like not such a big deal, and she simply decides that she won’t volunteer for massage duty anymore, because obviously it was a mistake. She’d liked helping Bucky to feel better when he was hurting, but not enough to make up for having to endure the very non-platonic swooping in her belly she’d gotten from having her hands all over his naked back. Fuck, is he ever hot. Both of them are. They’re bodies are just, guh. 

She doesn’t need that frustration in her life.

She’s got a moderate buzz by the time she finishes her next project, and she cheerfully bops onto her next task. 

It’s such a relief, not having that heavy feeling of anxiousness and general uncomfortability weighing down on her. Jeez, she hadn’t even realized how bad it had gotten. She forgot how much a few drinks helped. She gets giddy and chases that feeling, quickly sneaking another quick shot (this time of the rum they use on the rum buns, though, because it really was gross that she drank that liqueur straight—blecgh). What’s one more quick drink in between batches of cakes going in and out of the oven, after all?

… And then just once more, after she’s added the last chunk of the butter into the whipping forty quart. By the time she’s got everything set out to basic-build the next bunch of babycakes, she’s in a great mood. It’s almost as good as the subspace had been, back in the beginning with Bucky. She hums songs under her breath and moves around the kitchen assembling and icing the cute little five inch cakes that are her specialty.

It’s her pet project, something she’d suggested to Mr. Flaherty, the bakery’s owner. Not only are they friggin’ adorable, they’re easy to bang out a bunch of them all at once, small enough to cost pennies to make, and big enough and cute enough that people are willing to pay way more than the cakes are actually worth. Mary knows for a fact that they have the highest profit margin of any item in the bakery. She’s privately very proud that Mr. Flaherty had listened to her idea and decided it was something they would offer on the regular menu. Dennis had underplayed it—like the jealous killjoy he is. 

Mary celebrates her good mood with another teeny sip of booze and then spends extra effort on smooth-icing in all the best pastel colors, thinking that today is a great day and can only get better from here.

Wrongo bongo.

“What the heck!”

“Oh, shit,” Mary hisses, running into the back when she smells burning bread and hears her manager’s voice calling out. Sure enough, Dennis is there, oven mitts in hand, angrily sliding a tray of blackened croissants onto the speed rack, and going back to the oven to pull out another. There are six trays of ruined croissants, and Mary grimaces “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

Dennis ignores her until he’s finished pulling out all the wasted product, and when he’s done, he lays her out. “This isn’t fucking Panera Bread,” he tells her angrily. “We’re a mom and pop bakery. Profit margins are slimmer than slim!”

Mary cringes. “I know, I know, I’m sor—”

“How much money did you just cost us?” Dennis demands, hands on his hips. “Huh? Tell me. I want you to stand there and think about it and tell me how much.”

Mary stares for a second, then realizes that he’s dead serious. Humiliated, she licks her lips and does the math: 6 trays of 10 = 60 croissants, 60 x $4 per ganache-stuffed croissant, minus about $30 ingredients cost. It takes her longer than it normally would, since she’s been drinking, but when she’s worked it out she winces and looks down in shame. “I dunno … A little over two hundred, I guess.”

Dennis flails his hand holding the oven mitts. “We can’t afford to have you ruining hundreds of dollars of profit, Mary. Get it together.”

She frowns, indignant. “I was up front helping a customer,” she defends. 

“That’s what the oven timer is for.”

“I know that. I just forgot to—”

“You’re forgetting a lot of things lately.” He gestures angrily at the trays of blackened croissants. “I’ve tried to help you. I gave you time off to get your shit together when your boyfriend came in and told me about your mental condition.”

Mary grits her teeth. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Dom, dungeon master, whatever,” he says nastily. “I don’t know what you people get up to. But I’ve given you a lot of chances cause you’re apparently dealing with some shit. I can’t keep doing that forever if you keep costing this place money.”

Mary glares and steps up closer, getting in his face. “Maybe if you actually hired someone for front of house on Tuesdays, then I could actually focus back here!”

Dennis’ expression changes suddenly. He narrows his eyes at her and leans in closer. “What’s that?” he says, deathly quiet.

Mary huffs. “I said, you need to hire more—”

“You smell like alcohol.”

Everything comes to a stop as his words hit her like a bucket of ice water. Oh, fuck. She takes a step back, shaking her head. “What?” She scowls like that’s absurd, about to say something to deny it, but the words die on her lips when she sees the way Dennis is looking at her. He knows. Mary feels sick.

Dennis’ expression darkens further. “Are you drinking on the job, Mary?”

“No!” (what’s she supposed to do, tell the truth?)

“I don’t believe you.” He squares his jaw. “I’m calling Mr. Flaherty in.”

“What?!” 

“Two hundred dollars of wasted product? Drinking on the job?” He’s already walking over to the wall phone and picking it up. When he looks back in Mary’s direction, there’s a gleam in his eyes. Fucker never did like her. “I told him I thought you had a drinking problem, and now I have proof.”

“You don’t have shit!” Mary cries. She’s actually panicking though, as she watches him dial the number to call the bakery’s owner. 

“I have the security cameras,” he says, looking vindictively pleased. “We’ll check them. You’re gonna be out of a job.” 

Mary stands there and watches in horrified disbelief as Dennis calls Mr. Flaherty and tells him that he needs to have a word with him in person that afternoon about “something serious.” He doesn’t give details, and when the call ends and he hangs up the phone, he shoots Mary a smug look. “I’ll work the register so that you can finish your shift back here and not make any more stupid mistakes.” 

Mary scoffs, panicked and angry and sick to her stomach with what’s happening. “No way! Forget it!” She hurries to untie her apron and yank it off. “I’m not gonna stick around here for you to lie and get me fired. I quit!” She tosses the apron to the floor and stalks back to grab her purse from the office, too panicked to think straight. She cannot stay there and see poor old Mr. Flaherty watch video evidence of her drinking on the job. He’s always been so nice to her, and now she’s betrayed him and fucked everything up. She’s just ruined the only job she’s ever liked. 

Dennis is getting less and less angry and more gleeful about it. “Bye bye, Hot-Mess Mary,” he sneers. “Don’t bother coming back. We’ll mail you your last paycheck. Have a nice life.”

“Fuck you, Dennis!” she yells, though her voice comes out choked with emotion. She shoulders her purse and whirls around before there’s any chance of him seeing her tearing up. She hurries for the back door that leads out to the alleyway. It's heavy and metal, and she shoulders it open with a grunt, stepping out. “Jealous prick,” she says, only to hear him laugh meanly and call out from inside,

“Jealous? Of you? An alcoholic pervert?”

The heavy back door slams shut before she can answer, and there’s no handle on the outside. It takes approximately two point five seconds for her to burst out crying.

Steve

“Fuck, Honey, ugh.”

Steve digs his fingers into the meat of Bucky’s ass and shuffles closer on his knees. On the couch (whose cushions have since been put back into place), Bucky parts his legs even farther and Steve takes him in deeper. His other hand keeps nudging the toy that’s buried in his husband’s ass—the glass p-spot toy, because unlike Steve, Bucky loves firmness but hates vibrations up there. Steve’s been gently fucking him with it, nudging it against his prostate again and again, having found the perfect angle. Every grunt and moan that he gets out of Bucky has his own cock throbbing in his underwear, but he isn’t touching himself, is devoting every ounce of his attention to resolving the “problem” that Mary’s massage left Bucky with. 

“You know,” Bucky says, voice a little breathy as he speaks between groans. “I’m never gonna—nnh. Never gonna look at this couch again without thinking of her oily hands sliding all over my back."

Steve hums in agreement, the sound reverberating around Bucky’s cock and pulling another hiss from him. Steve pops off to glance upwards. “Me too,” he says, and they share a look of heated yearning, before he shakes it off and sinks his mouth back down on Bucky’s throbbing length.

He’s been dragging it out, having fun with it. But now it’s gotten sloppy and wet, and Steve’s jaw aches, and he really wants to make Bucky come so he can finally get a hand around himself. He hums around Bucky’s cock once more while he still can, then takes him all the way to the hilt, nose pressing into his pubes and throat spasming around the head.

“Oh! shit …” Bucky’s fingers dig sharply into Steve's scalp. His hips stutter up of their own accord, making Steve choke a little, but he soldiers on. Bucky makes a helpless little sound that is very close to a whimper, and which has Steve’s belly pulling tight with arousal. “Close, Baby. So close, fuck …”

Steve purposefully chokes himself, letting it hit the back of his throat again and again, swallowing compulsively. It gets him what he wants, which is for this blowjob to be over.

Above him, Bucky slumps further on the cushions and groans long and low, the tortured moan letting Steve know that he’s cresting that edge. He pulls back to suck hard on the head, abandoning the toy to the clenching of Bucky's ass so he can stroke him through it. He hums happily when he feels the pulse of Bucky’s cock on his tongue, the hot spurts of cum, the clenching of thighs muscle beneath his hands. Fuck, it’s sexy. 

Having been with the man for so long, Steve knows exactly when to ease off. He gentles his touch and stops sucking. He waits with Bucky’s softening cock in his mouth, not pulling off until the hands that were gripping him desperately a moment ago smooth gently through his hair in gratitude. Steve pulls off, keeps his mouth closed, doesn’t swallow. Bucky’s flushed and wet cock falls onto his belly, gorgeously swollen and spent. Steve’s staring at it covetously when Bucky gives a long, shaky exhale from above, tapering off in a satisfied groan. “Stevie,” he sighs happily. “Mmhh. Fuck. C’mere.” 

He pulls Steve up onto the couch, not satisfied until he’s got him in his lap. Steve straddles him and smiles with his mouth still closed. “Good boy,” Bucky whispers, reaching up to gently cup the front of his neck. His eyes are heavy lidded but still heated as he strokes his thumb over Steve’s windpipe. He loves to watch Steve swallow his cum, and that’s why Steve hasn’t yet, is waiting for his signal. He’s very good at making a show of it: dragging it out, eye contact, showing the load on his tongue if Bucky wants, swallowing slowly and obviously; really turning it into an act of obedience for his husband.

He’s surprised when Bucky doesn’t tell him to swallow. “Hold it,” he says instead, confusing Steve. Bucky grins devilishly and reaches down between their bodies. He returns with the glass toy in hand and holds it up. “Get it wet," he purrs.

And Steve’s entire body goes stiff as he re-remembers that he’s married to the filthiest man on the fucking planet.

Steve must be filthy too, though, because a massive wave of arousal sweeps through him as Bucky holds up the toy with a dirty smirk and commands him to wet it up—with his own cum. Steve almost feels lightheaded from how all the blood rushes to his cock and away from his brain. He groans through his mouthful of cum, and Bucky’s lips curl. “You heard me. Do it.”

He looks down and aims, letting his mouthful of cum slide out onto the tip of the glass toy that was buried in Bucky’s ass not ten seconds ago. It’s obscene, filthy, and that only makes his belly swirl that much harder as Bucky uses his flesh fingertips to spread the cum around lazily, coating the clear glass with his own sticky cum. “Good,” he praises, still smirking at Steve through half lidded eyes. “Now, put it in.” 

Steve groans and takes the toy from him. They haven’t done prep, but it’s a small, slim toy, and he knows it’ll slide in easily with the help of his husband’s own jizz slicking the way. Jesus Christ. He starts to move, intending to take his underwear off, but Bucky stops him with an amused shake of the head.

“Uh uh. Just pull ‘em aside and put it in. Keep your briefs on.”

“Fuck.” He listens, reaching back to pull his underwear to the side and press the head of the toy to his rim. He works it inside, eyelids fluttering when it pops past the muscle and glides in smoothly. “Oh,” he sighs, letting his underwear snap back and shifting his hips to feel the stretch against his rim, the heavy curve of it settling into place against his prostate. “Fuck.” He starts rocking his hips in tiny motions to work it inside him, barely-there sounds of pleasure escaping him each time it does. “Ooh, Buck,” he breathes. He doesn’t realize his eyes have closed until Bucky startles him with a kiss, growling and tugging him in close by the back of the neck. “Mmph!”

Their lips clash in a harsh, demanding kiss, Bucky taking possession of it and gripping the back of his neck hard to keep him still. Steve pants and whines and takes it, hips juddering forward to grind his aching dick against Bucky’s stomach. Each dominating swipe of Bucky’s tongue into his mouth makes him ache for more. “Buck,” he pants, right against Bucky's lips, where he's shamelessly kissing his messy mouth. “Baby, oh, please?”

“Yeah?” His hand cups Steve from over his underwear, squeezing the line of his erection. “You’re so fucking amazing, you know that?” he husks, dipping under the waistband to curl his fingers around him. “Make me feel so good, fuck, I love you.”

Steve moans and rests his forehead on Bucky's naked shoulder, looking down to watch. He whines when he sees that it’s the metal hand—which he already knew by feel, but the sight of it is a whole other level of hot. Steve thinks of it like a knife kink, or a gun kink: seeing something so steely and dangerous that close to him, wrapped around and working him, giving him pleasure. The sight of all that black and gold metal on his cock makes his belly clamp down hard in need. “Oh fuck, ” he breathes. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah, Sweetheart.” Bucky kisses his ear and breathes hotly against him as he pumps and twists his hand, going tight just the way Steve likes. It’s messy from the precum that Steve’s dick keeps blurting out, and he whimpers at the soft, wet sounds it begins making. “I know,” Bucky whispers. “You get so worked up. I love that. Big fat cock n’ balls, but you wet up for me just like a girl, dontcha' Sweetheart? Bet you started right down there on your knees, too. Hard and leaking just from sucking me off, making a mess in your panties.” Steve groans in embarrassment and Bucky snickers. “Aw, don’t try to deny it. I saw that boner when you crawled on up here. Saw the wet spot on those tighty-whities, too.” Playfully, he snaps the elastic band of Steve’s underwear against his hip. “You get off on it. Pretty little cocksucker.”

Steve humps into his fist, which between how slick it is and how tightly Bucky’s gripping him, feels fucking amazing. “Nnuhh,” he moans, “I get off on you. You were so—fuck, mmph—so hard when she left. I f-felt bad for you.”

Bucky growls and strokes faster. “Don’t be patronizing, baby. I saw the state she left you in. At least I had the excuse of getting rubbed down.” He snickers lowly and presses another kiss to Steve's ear. “She wasn’t even touching you.”

“Fuck,” Steve says tightly, as he recalls the image of Mary sitting on the bed with Bucky, rubbing his naked back with her oiled hands—Her tiny oiled hands, that would look so good on their cocks. Fuck, he’s going to come embarrassingly fast. He pants, trying to get words out. “I—nuhh, oh. I wanted to—mmm …”

Bucky bites his earlobe. “Wanted to what? Tell me.”

“Wanted to watch her give you a happy ending,” he grunts. “Tell you to turn over n’ watch her jerk you off.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asks, voice dark and interested. “Mm. You miss women.” Steve whines and nods in lieu of an answer. “Well maybe we’ll get a girl sometime. A special treat. Have a threesome like we used to. Take turns fucking her. Maybe I’ll even have her fuck you with a strap-on.” Steve moans and kisses him dirtily, and Bucky reciprocates, hand leaving Steve’s cock so he can hold his jaw with both hands. 

Steve whimpers and his hips keep moving, chasing the friction that isn’t there anymore. “Buck,” he breaks off from the kiss to beg. “Please. Please. I need to cum.”

Bucky smiles and takes pity on him, but he switches up his hands, using the flesh one on Steve’s cock so that he can squeeze even more, really wringing up hard and thumbing under the head on every stroke. Steve sobs and sits back, bracing on Bucky’s shoulders and watching himself fuck into clench of his fist. “Yeah,” he moans. “Oh, God. Fuck yeah, just like that.”

“How’s that toy feel?” Bucky reaches his other hand underneath and taps against the glass toy’s base a few times— ‘tap, tap, tap,’ —humming in satisfaction when Steve cries out and ruts desperately into his fist. “Ooh,” he goads. “It feels that good, huh?” Tap, tap, tap. “It that gonna make you cum?”

“Nnnh.” Steve nods tightly, hips working hard. “Yeah, oh. Yeah. M’gonna. Ohgn…”” 

His balls draw up tight and his cock jerks when Bucky takes hold of the toy’s base and starts slowly pulling it out. That feeling against his rim is what does it, pushing him over the edge and making the pleasure coalesce and snap.

He cries out sharply as he shoots, his body straining and hips pulsing, ribbons of white cum striping over Bucky’s naked stomach, one after another.

“Fuck, Honey. So beautiful. Fuck that’s a lot. Fuck. Lookit’ you, big boy.”

His cooing praise drags it out longer, and by the time Steve’s dick is spent and softening again, he’s collapsed forward against Bucky, mess of cum between them be damned. He rests his head on his shoulder and hugs him while he recovers. “Fuck,”  pants, closing his eyes and enjoying the sheer relief of it all. “That was good. I needed that.”

Bucky hums and rubs his back. “Me too.”

When they finally peel themselves off each other, they’re faced with two wet, spent dicks, and the mess of cum that did not magically disappear just because Steve wanted it to. He sighs and climbs off the couch.

“Shower,” Bucky decides, and goes into the bathroom with Steve following behind. He starts the water running and shucks his joggers that he'd only just pulled back up. “Feel like we were just doin’ this,” he complains.

“That’s cause we were.” Steve pads over and stands against him, leaning in, chest to chest.

Bucky leans against the wall and wraps his arms around Steve’s lower back while they wait for the water to warm up. “Do you really want a girl?” he asks. “Like we used to do?" 

Steve sighs and presses his forehead into Bucky’s chest. His first inclination is to say yes. They used to sleep with men and women, have threesomes a few times a year, for fun. They’d only stopped because they’d mutually fallen into contentment with married life. But Steve realizes it’s the way Bucky’s framed it: does he want to have threesomes again. With a girl. And the answer is no. Steve doesn’t want to have 'a threesome' anymore, with 'a girl', or 'a guy'. He doesn’t want anything casual. He says as much, and groans into Bucky’s skin. “I just want her,” he says. “I want it to be serious, and I want it with her.”

Bucky strokes his back, not saying anything for a long minute. “Yeah,” he eventually agrees. “Me too.” 

Steve makes a mournful sound in his throat. “Can’t we try? Maybe ask her out on a date? She might come around if she doesn’t feel like we’re just trying to jump her bones straight away, y’know? We’ve never really had that time with her. It went straight from ‘how do you do’ to moving her in here with us.” Bucky’s chest rises and falls with a deep inhale, and his hands have stopped moving on Steve’s back, which is how Steve knows he's really thinking about it. “Buck?” he tries. “C’mon. Let’s just give it a shot. Linda said she needs sex anyways, and I know you don’t like the idea of her with another man.”

Against him, bucky growls grumpily.

“Just one more try,” Steve pleads. “Let’s just tell her upfront we have feelings for her and that we’d like to court her.”

Bucky snorts. "'Court’?”

Steve whaps him and pulls his head back. “You know what I mean. Nice stuff. Take her out, buy her flowers.” 

“I know what you mean.”

They stare in each other's eyes as Steve reaches over to feel the shower water. It's warm. “It’ll be her choice," he says. "We won’t be bossy.”

“Kind of hard not to be bossy when she thrives on that.”

Steve gives him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. “Yeah I know what you mean.” He pulls the curtain and goes to step into the shower, but Steve stops him from behind with a hand on his arm—his left one. “And this,” he says, looking at him with authority. “Let me take this off. And you keep it it off around the house like you used to do.” He watches the brief reluctance that plays out on Bucky’s face, but is relieved when his husband doesn’t turn it into a fight. “Thank you, babe,” he says, taking the arm off and setting it out on their bed before returning to the bathroom. Bucky’s in the shower, so he steps in and stands with him under the spray. He wraps his arms around Bucky from behind, letting his left hand drag up over his stomach and chest, up to the anchor site where it meets his pec. “You can be a good Dom without it, you know,” he murmurs. 

“... I know. It was silly.”

He kisses Bucky’s shoulder. “Not silly. I love you.” In his arms, Bucky’s body bleeds all its tension and he lets a little bit of his weight come back through Steve, who kisses his neck again. “Tonight?” he asks, knowing that Bucky will know what he means. 

Bucky nods. “Tonight.”

Bucky

“A bar?!”

"Yeah. Leave me alone."

Bucky stares helplessly as Mary kicks off her shoes and walks (stumbles, is more like it) through the apartment and back towards her bedroom. The conversation they've just had was short and completely non-productive, other than that it's got Bucky feeling like he's on the verge of blowing up. “Mare, stop! Come back here.”

She throws him the finger over her shoulder and pushes into her bedroom, shutting the door harshly behind her. Bucky growls and starts for the hallway, but Steve stops him with a hand to his shoulder, pulling him back. “Hang on, Babe.”

“She’s drunk!” Bucky hisses, turning furious eyes to Steve. “Been missing for hours and now this?! How did she even get it?”

“I know, I know.”

Bucky snarls, mad at Steve for being so fucking calm. “Did you give her her ID back?!”

“No! Don’t be stupid, babe.”

His eyes cut over, sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve looks like he’s trying not to roll his eyes. “She’s thirty Hon. I’m sure there are plenty of bartenders who’d serve her without checking.”

“Well that’s just, just …” Bucky sputters, struggling to find the words. “There have to be consequences!” He starts for the hall again but Steve grabs him and pulls him back and into a restraining hug. Bucky kind of wants to hit him. “Steve!”

“Shh,” Steve says. “Sh sh, just hang on a second. Take a deep breath.” He holds him tightly, rubbing his back and nosing at his neck, and Bucky realizes that Steve is employing some of the things he’s learned at the CDP, trying to calm him down.

He blinks, noticing how hot his face feels, how fast his pulse is thrumming underneath his skin. He exhales shakily, feeling bad. “Fuck. I'm ..."

"Yeah."

"Sorry.” 

“S’okay,” Steve whispers. “Maybe today’s not the best day, after all.”

Bucky’s eyes flick over in the direction of the kitchen table. “Better get rid of those, then,” he grunts, referring to the flowers Steve had picked up at the bodega for Mary.

“I will. And we’ll figure this out, find out what happened, and talk to her another day, okay? We'll get new flowers.” 

“No, not okay,” Bucky insists, his anxiety ratcheting up again as he thinks of the state Mary just came home in. “We need to deal with her.” 

Steve pulls back and meets his eyes, and Bucky feels like an asshole all over again. “What do you need?” Steve asks quietly.

Bucky grits his teeth. To spank the ever loving shit outta that girl, he thinks but doesn’t say. He knows better than that, even on the verge of an episode, he can tell that he’s not being logical. He closes his eyes and tries to take deep breaths, pulls away from Steve because he’s embarrassed. “Nothin’.”

“Hey, it’s okay to need—”

“It’s not,” Bucky snaps, walking over to the couch and dumping himself onto it. He feels kind of sick—likely his blood pressure making him nauseous. “How am I supposed to be a good Dom for her when I can’t even keep myself in check? Christ.” He shoves his face into his hand. “I’m supposed to be better than this.”

Steve takes a minute, and when he approaches Bucky it’s with a gentle, careful expression that Bucky hates. “Babe, you know that makes no sense, right?” Bucky just grunts and Steve says, “That's like a diabetic saying they should have better willpower to control their insulin levels.”

Bucky glares at him for the trite comparison, wants to snap at his husband to stop quoting CDP literature at him. But that’d be nasty, and he bites his tongue. “No,” he grunts.

“You got told by Linda that you’re not giving her enough, not doing enough to meet her needs, and it’s been days since you really went up. You think I can't see that her drops aren't doing it for you now? You're too in tune with her. You both need more. And I should’ve seen this coming.” Steve sinks down to the carpet in front of him and kneels there reaching to rub his palms over the tops of Bucky’s thighs.

Bucky scowls at the gesture. “That’s not your job,” he says. “You shouldn’t have to—”

“I’m your husband,” Steve says, almost authoritatively, even though he’s keeping his voice soft and calm like the Center professionals taught him. “It’s my job to take care of you, always.” He rubs Bucky’s tense muscles from over his jeans. “Babe, c’mon. Let me help you.”

Bucky closes his eyes and counts to twenty. When he opens them again, Steve’s still there, waiting. Bucky reaches out and cups his face.

Steve presses into it. “Sir,” he whispers, eyes lowered.

Bucky feels so guilty at that, even as he can feel his blood pressure lowering from the small display of subservience. “I love you,” he says.

Steve smiles softly and squeezes his hands over Bucky’s knees. “I know.”

Bucky sighs. He releases Steve and slumps back into the couch cushions, feeling like the biggest burden. “I should call and book someone,” he says. Steve’s not a submissive and he shouldn’t have to play that role just to fulfill Bucky’s medical needs. Linda’s helped him come to terms with that over the years. Steve, the self-sacrificing punk, would do it anyway, but Bucky knows when he needs to ask for outside help. “Nathan can usually take me last minute.” Steve nods and stands up, brings Bucky his cellphone to make the call. He sits on the couch with him and pulls Bucky to lie with his head in his lap as he calls the Center and makes an appointment. “Okay,” he says when he’s done, tossing the phone aside. “Six-thirty. He’s coming in after hours just for little old me.”

“Good.”

Bucky’s eyes cut sideways towards the bedroom hallway. Their plans for the night are ruined, and if he didn’t have himself to deal with right now, he’d be hard pressed to keep himself from going in Mary’s room, trying to scold her. “What about her?” he asks glumly.

Steve snorts. “Little miss drunk? She’s probably passed out. Don’t worry about it. Besides,” he runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair.  “Can’t reason with someone when they’re like that. Discussion, punishment, scening? That’ll all have to wait until tomorrow, at least.”

Bucky makes a face and tries not to let his dominance start spiraling out of control again. “She’s going to AA.” Steve hums, and when Bucky looks up and catches his expression, Steve looks like he’s worrying for his safety. “Tomorrow,” he insists, obstinate. “I’ll take the day from work if I have to. Drag her there myself.”

“Maybe no dragging."

"Steve,"

"Linda first,” Steve suggests gently. “That’s a better first step, hm?” Bucky grunts, grumpy about it but knowing Steve’s right. He nods, and Steve runs kind hands through his hair. “Okay, good. That’s settled. Don’t have to think about it any more tonight.” He bends down and pecks a quick kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “So, six-thirty?”

“Mmhm.”

“An hour. … You want to help me get dinner started before you go?”

Bucky nods, turning and pressing his face into Steve’s lower belly, rubbing his cheek against his soft tee shirt and warm body. “Love you,” he mumbles, feeling sheepish from his outburst before. He knows it’s not his fault, but he still feels inordinately grateful to have Steve supporting him. “You ever get tired of all this drama?”

“Shuddup,” Steve chuckles.

“Mm. You should leave me for a normie." He’s got his eyes closed against Steve’s stomach, but feels the reproachful pinch on his neck. “Ow.”

“If I’d wanted a normie, I’d have married a normie,” Steve scolds. He pets over where he pinched. “And apparently I’m a glutton for punishment, cause I’ve got my sights set on another one’a you jerks. This is just a setback. We’ll let her sober up, you’ll go see the Pro, and then when everybody’s in the right frame of mind, we’ll deal with it. Now come on.” He pats Bucky on the back. “Mary's not the only one who can navigate a kitchen. I’ve got a recipe for chicken piccata we can try.”

Bucky sighs. He’s so fucking in love with Steve, and he’s never got any good way to say it. There's nothing. Wedding vows barely scratched the surface. “Okay,” he says, because what else is there to do but agree? Like most times, Bucky knows his more level-headed husband is right about this.

They get up and go into the kitchen to start pulling the ingredients for chicken piccata, and Bucky is able to keep his mouth shut for a full five minutes before his anxiety ratchets back up and he returns to haranguing Steve about confronting Mary—possibly later that night.

*Next chapter starts out IMMEDIATELY with the big confrontation and beginning of their romantic and sexual relationship, so I promise y'all won't have to wait much longer!

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[afterdusk6]

HOW CAN I FOCUS ON WORK AND MY IMPORTANT ADULT RESPONSIBILITIES WHEN THERE IS KAFKA IN MY BRAIN

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[stuckinapril]

the devil’s whispers:

you can do it tomorrow (if you don’t do it now you’ll never do it ever)

you have a lot of time left (life is actually pretty short and we don’t have that much time)

you can skip this one little thing today (you are functioning solely due to the fact that you have a routine)

i must respond to this one thing that is bothering me immediately (you don’t have to do anything, it’s all in ur head)

I must check my phone (u don’t have to do anything, it’s all in ur head)

panicking is productive (panicking never makes a situation better, but in fact exacerbates it)

I must listen to music while doing the most minute task (u don’t have to do anything, it’s all in ur head. and I like music as much as the next person but moments of sheer silence are crucial)

I must befriend everyone (some people just don’t mesh together and that is ok)

I can skip working out for the day (working out does so much for ur physical AND mental health)

If misfortune happens to me it’s because I am uniquely unlucky (misfortune has nothing to do with preordained circumstances and everything to do with random odds)

If I am mistreated it’s because I am a horrible person and I deserve it (most times people are projecting their issues onto u and it has nothing to do with u)

if I make a mistake I am uniquely horrible (we are all human and we all make mistakes. the important thing is to hold ourselves accountable and learn from them)

I must have this one thing I really want now (u don’t have to do anything, it’s all in ur head. also whatever u want will still be here tomorrow so this sense of urgency is false)

I am uniquely hated/disliked/ostracized (most people are busy w their own lives and don’t have the time to be hating on u. and if they really are then their life is pretty empty and their opinion should not be held in high regard to begin with)

[writergeekrhw]

If I remember correctly from the 2007-8 strike, it was treated like an immediate problem in terms of availability of content, and there was a lot of work to find things that people could watch that didn't break the strike (like Dr. Horrible) but here it seems there's still a lot of shows coming out that were produced before the strike. Why is it different now from then? Is it just about how long the 07-08 strike went on, or a bigger difference in TV and film production schedules?

Streaming shows take forever to make and most of the writing for them is done 1-2 years before release. For CGI FX heavy shows, it can take a year between production and release. So for streamers, there's a lot of stuff slowly moving through the pipeline, which gives them even less motivation to strike a fair deal with us. The 2007-8 strike went 100 days. We are now at 90 days, and I think, unfortunately, we have a long way to go.

But since this strike is trying to address existential issues in screen and television writing, and if we fail, our profession will be eroded until it basically ceases to be a viable career path except for an elite few, we have to keep at it as long as it takes.

[muddyorbsblr]

charades

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: pre-relationship era; months before 'one look and they'll know'

Summary: After a particularly horrible day on set, Chris extends an invitation for you to join the cast in a game of charades to unwind.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning/s: workplace bullying (mentioned); language [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: hints of mutual pining; we're in Hemsworth's POV

"Come on, it'll be fun, Tiny Terror, I promise." Chris gave your shoulders a slight shake to hopefully snap you out of the sour mood you'd been in all day. It was more than obvious why, considering that there were a good few production assistants that looked like they were on their own personal mission to get you to break composure and break a nose, constantly putting your team down for working too slow or some other reason.

One of them even tried insisting that there were props out of place so they could call into question your skill in clocking the continuity between shots. And while it was simple enough to debunk their accusations, it had also been a rather tedious day even just watching all of the little inconveniences happen that seemed hellbent on putting a damper to your day. He couldn't imagine how much more stressful it was in your shoes.

You were only allowed a few minutes to breathe without much worry when those assistants were pulled aside for Taika to have a word with them. Because other than him, there was someone else that not only witnessed the borderline harassment that occurred today, but was damn near foaming at the mouth to start snapping at them for their insolence.

Tom.

And right now Chris could only imagine that the Brit was standing at full height putting forward every single intimidation tactic he had on display at those people and asking them point blank if they had some sort of issue with you.

"I really don't know, Hemsy, it's been a long day. I kinda just want it to be over," you sighed, the facade you'd put in place of trying to look unbothered finally cracking as your shoulders slumped. "No idea who fucking pissed in their cereal this morning but if their goal was to drag someone down with them, they fucking succeeded. Just wanna go back to my hotel room and order a big bowl of pasta and a bottle of wine and turn my phone off until tomorrow morning."

"Alright, how about this. Just a few rounds, and if you hate it, I'll pay for your pasta and wine?"

You paused, thinking over his offer for a few seconds before finally sighing, "Fine. Thirty minutes. But if I tell you I wanna go, you better be ready to order me the fattest bowl of truffle cream pasta you can find."

Just as you walked off back to your team, Taika and Tom came out of one of the back offices where they sequestered the offending crew members. There were visible scowls on their faces as they muttered to themselves while Taika whispered some instructions to security, probably telling them to keep an eye on the troublemakers moving forward.

"Saw you talking to Lil Mayhem," Taika spoke up once he stood where you did just a few moments ago. "She alright?"

Had the situation not been so tense, Chris probably would have poked a bit of fun at the way Tom's face became visibly more animated as he scanned the set trying to find you. If the Brit became even the slightest bit more enamored with you and still refused to do anything about it, he might have to tell you himself just to caution you that if you didn't feel the same way, you'd have to let him down gently. And preferably sooner rather than later.

"She will be," Chris answered. "She's joining us later."

"Ah perfect," the New Zealander exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "We can pair her off with Tom."

"Hmm?" There was an alarmed look in Tom's eyes now, the sound coming out of him uncharacteristically higher pitched than normal.

"Oh come on, mate, did you really think nobody noticed? You look at her like a pup, wagging its tail and jumping in place when its mum comes home." Chris clapped a hand down on his shoulder, trying not to laugh at how mortified he looked finding out his subtle "work crush" on you wasn't exactly that subtle. "Just don't go humping her leg when she walks in."

"Oh my God, yes you're here too," Tessa exclaimed when you walked into Taika's suite, doing a little bounce on her place at the couch and patting the seat beside her. "We can be partners and smoke their asses."

"Hemsworth promised to buy me pasta if I hated it," you told her with a shrug, sitting at the vacant seat. You didn't seem to have noticed that Tom had moved over, making room next to him on the other side of the table. "And I'm not one to turn down free food."

"Tessa you're already partnered with Chris over here," Taika informed her, pointing at the Australian.

"Hold on since when?" He simply showed her a paper containing all your names, your eyes widening slightly when you saw that yours was next to Tom's. "Fine," she huffed, shifting her gaze over to Chris. "We got this."

Taika then presented a little fishbowl containing folded scraps of paper and explained that a single turn would consist of each of you picking out a paper and trying to sign out whatever was on their paper, while the other had to guess what it was. Straightforward enough. "Whoever's signing cannot talk, but they can make sounds if they think it'll help," he kept on explaining. "Winning pair will get…a nice swanky dinner for two when we get to LA for the premiere. Sound good?"

Lay it on a little thicker, Taika, I don't think they're catching on yet, Chris thought sarcastically, immediately clocking the way your cheeks were reddening and Tom was without a doubt imagining what it would be like to be sitting across from you in a fancy restaurant, imagining that you two were on a proper date. What with the way he couldn't keep his eyes off of you, along with that dopey lovestruck smile painting his face every time you even shared the same breathing space, it wasn't that hard to take a guess what the Brit was thinking right at this moment.

Once everyone had a scrap of paper in their hand, Taika spun a little wheel of your names to pick out which pair went first. "Alrighty then, Tom? Y/N? Which one of you'll be guessing first?"

"Oh, uhm…can I guess first? 'Cause I can't sign for shit."  Your request as you addressed Tom sounded casual enough, had it not been for the chuckle at the end that immediately had both Chris and Taika knowing much better than to mistake your demeanor for 'casual'. Seemed you were as skittish around Tom as he was around you.

And maybe Chris didn't have to interfere and advise you to let his friend down easy after all. Maybe he just had to sit back and let you two find each other at your own pace.

Though admittedly this was the type of behavior that started out cute but would grow frustrating to watch if it went on for too long. If neither of you made a move in the coming weeks he might be tempted to lock you two in a cramped storage closet to move things along.

Tom stood up from his seat, cheeks quickly becoming tinged with pink when he saw the words on his little scrap of paper before looking up and holding your gaze. On a whim, Chris decided to take his phone out and have his camera at the ready.

The chime on Taika's phone signaled him to start, and he held up five fingers in front of you.

"Five words." He then nodded and held up one finger before creating a letter "T" with his hands. "First word 'The'." He held up four fingers next and did the "T" symbol again. "And fourth word 'The'. So 'The Blank-Blank The Blank'?"

He nodded at you, a light shining in both your eyes as he kept on, like a couple of kids excited they found someone to play with. But then when Tom went on to sign the second word, for a split second you gave him a look that had everyone in the room that paid even the smallest amount of attention that his affections were definitely not one-sided.

You were well on your way to being completely smitten with him, too.

He held up two fingers before making a lassoing motion and snapping his fingers so loud that the sound made your neck twitch, your eyes glazing over as he pointed to the space in front of him. "Uh…uhm…Capture?" He shook his head, repeating the motion again. "Herding?" He shook his head again. "Collaring--Cowboy?" He let out a laugh before shaking his head again. "Okay I don't think I'm gonna get that, maybe another word we're running out of time."

Tom took a deep breath, as if composing himself before holding up five fingers. And then he drew his hands close to his chest and started making the most ridiculous sound with his head tilted to the ceiling. "Ememememe omomomomo".

That had you bursting into a fit of giggles, making him break out into a face-splitting grin and a few chuckles of his own. "I'm sorry I got absolutely nothing on that, go back to the second word." He went back to the lassoing and snapping movement. "Wait is this for a person or an animal?" He made a motion as if weighing an object in each of his hands, signaling to you that it was both. "Both?! Okay so…domestication?" He shook his head, but motioning for you to keep going down that route. "The--Taming?" Then you gasped, standing up right as two seconds were left on the clock, clapping your hands. "The Taming of the Shrew! The Taming of the Shrew!"

Out of the sheer excitement in the moment, he made his way around the table, grasping for your hands before framing your face in his hands. Had you both lost yourselves in the moment for even a few seconds longer, Chris would have bet good money that you two would have shared a kiss right in front of them.

But then both of you froze in place, giving each other an awkward smile before he stepped back, making his way back to where he stood seconds before. Good thing Chris already had his phone in hand and snapped a photo before your mutual shyness toward each other got the better of you.

"Cute," Taika commented, throwing Tom a look. "Alrighty then Y/N, it's your turn now."

You stood, looking at your scrap of paper and then looking around the room, your eyes landing on the decorative skull flower vase on the dining table.

Before you could signal for Taika to start the clock, Tom spoke up, "Hamlet?"

A choked sound of utter shock slipped out of everyone else in the room. "Hold up, that counts right, T?" Taika just nodded.

"How the fuck--Are you two telepathically connected or something?" Tessa threw the question out, pointing her finger at both of you. "You know what it doesn't matter, the night's still young. We still got a chance to smoke 'em, Hemsworth."

Chris wasn't paying much attention, shooting you a text instead. So you wanna cash in on that free food, Tiny Terror?

He had to fight back the knowing grin that pulled at the corners of his mouth seeing the message you typed back. I could stay a few more rounds.

A/N: I did mention before that I have some pre-relationship chapters planned for these two blorbos, right? 👀 Well if I didn't, I'm saying it now. Chapters. Plural. I honestly don't know how many pieces I have in store for this collection but safe to say it's not ending any time soon. 😳💖

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[soggyriceee]

is it possible for more like needy/desperate ghost it’s just so cute

~🐰

| Focus On Me | Ghost

summary: you are busy with work and Ghost misses you and your touch so, he begs to fuck you in your office

warning: female!reader, subby Ghost, begging, unprotected p in v, semi public sex, oral (female and simon receiving so like.. 69 basically)

Being the CEO of your own company was beyond stressful. You had never expected your small business to take off as quickly as it did, but TikTok and Instagram are truly powerful media socials. It was exciting to you, made you happy. especially because you were finally able to buy you and your boyfriend, Simon, a nice little loft with a beautiful city view. of course, him being in the military he felt bad about you having to be the one always buying things for the house and he began to send money every week to help out. that was before he was back home for the next 4 months.

you felt horrible, truly. and Simon knew that. you weren't even able to be home when he flew back in because of some issues with the product and you needed to be down at the factory. and then meetings after meetings, you had no time to even take care of yourself. and as much as Simon missed you, he never blamed you or got mad at you. he was gone almost all the time, he was simply experiencing what it was like on your end. well before all the fame of your business kicked in.

Simon was beyond proud of you for turning something you loved into a business. he showed all of the rookies photos of your products, carried your business card around everywhere, except on the battle field. he never shut up about you. "its weird seeing you so in love." soap had told him on the plane, catching him staring at your instagram photos with a smile plastered across his face.

but despite his proudness and understanding, he had been home for a week now. he had seen you maybe 3 times and even then it was only for about 10 minuets before you rushed out the apartment to work. he missed you. he had planned so many cute things for you both to do, and seeing you cramped up in your office all day hurt him. not only because he wasn't seeing you, but also because you looked so tired. and drained.

the bags under your eyes were criminal, the lack of food and water you had told him you were getting hurt his chest. even when he'd send you food, you were honest in telling him you never had the time to eat. you were back and forth between your office and warehouse. but he had finally had enough of your lack in self care. but also lack of attention.

he had pulled into the office garage and quickly made his way up to your office, a picnic basket in hand. 'hello Mr. Riley.' your receptionist smiled to him. 'hello. she's upstairs isn't she?" he said, looking to the elevator. she sighed and nodded, collecting a plethora of mail and handing it to him. ' hasn't even come down to get her mail. hopefully you can make her feel a bit better. she needs a good cheering up.' she smiled, looking back down to her computer. before he had left, he turned to her and said, "cancel all her meetings for the day. she's gonna go home and rest."

Simon made his way, basket and mail in hand, to the elevator. he smiled to himself, happy that he was finally going to see you. he had never felt this.. cheerful before you. it was weird to him at first and he was definitely standoffish towards you. but after 2 years of being together, he had finally learned to let go and let out a softer, less mean/aggressive side of himself.

that being said, he began to think about all the ways he wanted you to feel relaxed. or take tour stress out. even if it was on him.. he felt his dick pulse in his pants, blushing at his random thought. he hadn't even seen you and already you were making him hard. he set the things in his hands down, fixing himself right before the elevator reached your floor. he cleared his throat, exiting the elevator and making his way to your office. kicking off his shoes, he made his way over to you.

"baby.." he called out, opening the door slowly. his eyes landed on your slouched over figure, head in hand. you were softly snoring, completely oblivious to him in your office. the lights were dim, the fireplace being the main source of light. he pouted slightly at the sight of your exhausted figure, placing the things down on the mini couch. he made his way over to you, softly shaking you. "baby wake up." he whispered.

your body jerked up, your head turning left and right in shock. " o-oh.. hi my love." you said softly, your sleepy voice causing a slight blush to spread across his cheeks. you stood from your chair, hugging his waist tightly. you had missed him. you had left at around 5 this morning for the office, not having the chance to wish him a good morning or make him breakfast. " I missed you." you mumbled into his chest, eyes closing.

he let you go, sitting in your own chair and pulling you down onto his lap. he kissed your forehead, nose and finally lips before looking at you. " I missed you more. I brought food for us to eat. like a little picnic." he said, motioning towards the basket. you smiled, a hint of sadness in your eyes. " im sorry Simon I have meetings all day. I dont-" I had your receptionist cancel all your meetings for the day. were gonna have our little picnic in here, and then we can go home and sleep." he said, rubbing her cheek.

she smiled down at him, placing a soft kiss onto his cheek. "thank you Simon." you said softly, resting your head into the crook of his neck. your breathing was soft, warm. the way you sat on his lap, occasionally shifting. it made him unintentionally hard all over. and you were quick to feel it. " I-im sorry." he said, embarrassment rushing over him. you smiled and shook your head, turning your head up and landing a small kiss onto his neck. " its okay baby.. I know ive been gone for a while." you whispered, your hands finding their way to his chest.

you sucked gently on his neck, a gasp escaping his slightly parted lips. his hands gripped your hips, eyes closing as your tongue made tiny circles on his skin. his breathing was slightly labored, this being the first time in months he had felt you on him. your hips moved against his hardened dick perfectly, his hips jutting upwards. " be patient." you warned into his neck, tongue grazing over the freshly made mark.

Simon had no shame in letting you be in control during sex. in the beginning of course he was very dominant, only letting you ride him for a bit before he rammed his hips up into yours or flipped you below him. but one night, when he had woken up cuffed to the bed, you grinding down on him so desperately, he finally let you have your fun with him. and he loved it. he was never really into the 'mommy' or 'daddy' names. but he loved it when you called him sir. and he loved calling you ma'am.

"I-im sorry ma'am." he whispered, his finger tips pressing harder into your skin. you pulled back from his neck, looking at the three new marks aligned across his neck. you wiped the side of your lip, looking into his eyes. his perfect doe eyes. he was so needy. every night he had managed to fuck into his pillow at the base, using videos of your moaning to help him imagine it was you.

"o-oh fuck.. I miss you so m-much baby.. fuck I miss you" he'd moan out, shooting his cum into the pillow, gripping it like it was you. he was embarrassed to say the least. he'd never felt as horny as he did before you. you could say you were like a breath of fresh air or him. made him a whole new person. one that he liked so much more.

" missed me so much didnt you?" you asked, tilting your head, giving a small bounce onto his lap. he nodded quickly, eyes staggering around your face. " I missed you so much ma'am.. please use me." he said breathlessly. "take all your anger and stress out on me."

you smiled and kissed his cheek before lifting yourself off him. he watched your every move, waiting for something. anything. your fingers slipped under the waist band of your pants, pulling them down as you kept complete eye contact on him. he swallowed the lump in his throat, shifting in his seat. " lay down. right here." you said, pointing to the floor. he was quick in obeying you, laying on the floor, looking up at you. you crawled onto him, sitting on his lap. " your gonna show me how much you missed me, yea?" you said, taking his belt off, his pants coming down shortly after.

his dick sprung up, his thick tip red, dripping with pre cum. you giggled at the sight, finding it both sexy and cute. you turned around, facing his dick before slowly moving your hips up to his face. he was too greedy and couldn't take the slowness anymore. he gripped your hips, slamming them down onto his face. his tongue pressed flat against your cunt, a gasp leaving you. " I-i said... be patient." you breathed out, eyes fluttering closed. "im sorry ma'am.. I couldnt wait any more." he said against your pussy, tongue lapping up all your juices.

his tongue slid in and out of your hole, moving your hips back and forth for you. your hands gripped his thighs, head fallen forward. you had completely forgot about his dick that stood tall in front of you. your head leaned down, lips sucking onto his tip. he whimpered into your pussy, eyes squeezing shut. you moved your head slowly down his shaft, relaxing your throat as he mad his way down it. his tongue never stopped moving in and out your cunt, occasionally sucking onto your wet, swollen clit. " a-am I doing good ma'am?" he asked, pulling away from your cunt only to go right back into it. you hummed around his length, signaling a yes.

" so good baby." you said after pulling up from his length, watching the spit connect you and his length. your hand wrapped around his dick, moving up and down, twisting right at the tip. his grip on you tightened when you did so, whimpering into your pussy. your head sunk right back down onto him, moving your hand along with your head simultaneously. the spit bubbled at the corner of your lips, running down your chin and onto your shirt. your eyes shut closed, both the pleasure from his tongue and the feeling of him finally in your mouth bringing you at ease.

"m-maam im gonna cum." he moaned from below you, moving your hips across his face quicker. his hand slid in front of you, thumb finding your clit to add pleasure. " dont..dont cum yet." you said, hand working at his tip with quick movements. his legs bent, toes curling into the carpet of your office floor. " pl-please ma'am I cant.. hold it." he groaned, fingers digging deeper into your hips. but you felt close. so fucking close. hearing his pathetic little moans, occasional begging. it drove you over the edge.

"fuck Simon im cum-cumming- mmgh!" your back arched as your other hand squeezed harder on his thighs, nails digging into the skin. your head fell back, and embarrassingly loud string of moans coming from you. he watched as your body reacted, how you chanted his name all while your and still worked at his tip. he couldnt hep it anymore and let himself go, eyes squeezing shut as his body shook beneath you.

you lost your balance, falling forward a bit. his cum got onto your shirt and you were pleasantly amazed at the amount of cum he had inside him. "I-im sorry baby.. I couldnt hold it back much more." he said, looking at you as you stood. he watched at the mix of saliva and his cum ran down your face, meeting with the rest of the cum plastered on your shirt. " its okay Simon." you said, motioning him to stand. he quickly rose to his feet, legs shaking a tad bit but ultimately keeping his balance. "sit." you said, head motioning towards your chair.

again he listened, hands on his thighs as he watched you in anticipation. you walked over, sitting on his lap, purposefully grazing your cunt over his once again, hard shaft. he hissed at the feeling, looking down with his bottom lip between his teeth. " gonna ride you, do you want that?" you whispered, tracing your fingers over the hickies you had given him mere minuets ago. quickly his head nodded up and down, eyes now meeting with yours. " please. please I need it lovie. been so fucking desperate for you." he mumbled, hands gripping your sides.

you smiled, reaching below you grabbing his dick and moving it up and down your folds. you both sighed at the feeling, your head falling back and to the side slightly. his hips jutted forward, his tip sliding in just before you lifted your hips. he whined, bucking his hips up again. " lovie please dont tease.. we both need this." he begged, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

it was almost saddening, seeing him so desperate. but at the same time it was so fucking hot. given his size and the face he was a whole war criminal, it was so rewarding. being able to break down a powerful man into a powerless one, his deep, strong voice no longer sounding so strong. " love it when you beg for me.. think you deserve it?" you teased, sliding just the tip in before quickly sliding it back out.

" please ma'am.. want you to fuck me. use me. please, im begging." he groaned, hands feeling your covered boobs through your shirt, his cum collecting onto his hands. with that, you slid fully down on him without warning, gasping at his size. you do tend to forget very often just how much he's packing. you take on more than you can chew, leaving you getting tired and overstimulated quick. but Simon loved it. especially in this circumstance. you starting off so strong, confident, just to end up being the one bent over and fucked, begging him for more, or to stop. telling him you cant take it.

"f-fuck lovie! so fucking tight." he groaned, hands going back to your hips, helping you move down his length. your head fell into the crook of his neck, small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried your hardest to keep sliding down. when he was fully in, you wasted no time in gliding your hips back up slowly before slamming back down, your ass smacking against his thighs. his hands did their part in helping you move, his hips meeting you halfway as well.

your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling your body closer to his so your boobs pressed firmly against his chest, still maintaining that speed on his lap. "so big Simon.. fuck I missed your dick~" you whined, eyes squeezing shut as you felt every inch of him stretch you out, hitting your spongy spot so fucking perfectly. his head fell back on the chair, arms loosely moving up and down to help your hips. his lips were parted, deep groans leaving him. for the first time since he was gone, you both felt genuine release and relaxation in each others arms. aside from the sexual acts happening, you both were happy to finally be back together.

" feel so good baby.. so fucking good on my cock.. riding me so fucking well." he growled, hand giving your ass a hard smack, gripping it firmly right after. you whimpered his name into his neck, embarrassed of how quickly you melted in his arms. " come on baby use that dick.. you deserve it baby so use it. use me." he begged, helping you move your hips faster on him. his lips attached onto your neck, sucking a few hickies onto your neck, biting the skin when you slam your hips down on him.

feeling him hit your cervix, you cried out, pulling him closer into your body. his head fell from your neck, his groans turning into moans and whimpers. his hand slipped up to your throat, gripping it and leaning you backwards slightly, the bulge from where his dick was hitting showing. " fuck baby.. taking me so well. look at you." he cooed, his thumb sliding down and rubbing your clit. your whined out his name, your hands finding his knees and holding onto them.

"gonna cum simon.. fuck~" you moaned, slamming down on his faster. you could barely hear them, but whimpers left his lips, feeling his second orgasm approaching. he was hesitant but he slid out, quickly flipping you onto the desk, standing behind you. quickly, he bent you over the desk, sliding into your leaking cunt. " im sorry ma'am. gotta fuck you myself." he groaned, hand gripping the back of your neck. your head turned to the side, resting on your cold desk. " gonna fill this pretty pussy up, fill it till your fucking leaking my c-cum." he growled, his hips slamming into yours quicker, your ass shaking with each thrust.

your eyes squeezed shut, top teeth biting hard into your bottom lip. your body jerked onto the desk, moving it forward with each thrust he gave you. " s-simon im gonna cum~" you cried, your cunt pulsating around his dick. " come on baby. cum for me one more time. want your cum all over me." he moaned, watching him slide in and out of you.

your hands gripped the end of the table, crying out as your second orgasm washed over you. your knees bucked, but simon was quick to hold you up, leaning over you to allow deeper access into your cunt. he gave you three more strong, deep thrusts, chanting your name over and over as long, warm rope of his cum shot into you, his head shooting back, eyes crossing. "f-fucking hell!" he groaned, hand slamming beside your hips as his lower half shook, feeling the mix of your cum and his pool out of you.

you whimpered, closing your eyes as your chest rose and fell. "so..good simon.. thank you." you said breathlessly, hands still at the edge of the table. he slid out, cum immediately pouring down your legs. he sighed, giving your ass one last slap before he hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you up so your back was in his chest. " come on baby. lets go eat." he smiled, kissing your neck. you slowly opened your eyes, humming a yes. "then we can go back home and I can fuck you to sleep." he whispered, gripping your bare ass one last time. you giggled, smacking his forearm that was still wrapped around your waist. "so annoying."

[mingsolo]

take me home

For Seonghwa, another night, another opportunity to take off some of the stress of being famous— for you, a chance to turn a horrible night around.

seonghwa x reader (f) / angst, smut, idol au / warnings: one night stand, cursing, depictions of toxic friendships, alcohol mentions, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving) / wc: 8k — r: 21+

A/N: this is a work of fiction and do not depicts the real seonghwa or any public person mentioned on it. If it is familiar, it´s because this is a repost from my now deleted blog, with some small changes, enjoy!

Seonghwa lets out a loud and prolonged sigh. He ran his slender fingers softly through his perfectly styled hair and leaned his head against the backrest of the wide leather couch he’s sitting in. His eyes fluttered around the place, neon lights being the only source of light against the dim atmosphere. He bit his cheek, knowing it was a pity that he had to be in his private booth, this far from everybody.

He is bored, anxious.. “You are getting too picky” he muttered to himself, annoyed, because he knew that was bad for one of his biggest issues: timing.

His escapades to these lowkey night clubs were Seonghwa’s biggest source of freedom these days. He had it clear that if he got caught by some fan or reporter, his manager would take this from him, and the sole thought of being completely deprived of his freedom was depressing enough for him to give up entirely. A thing that he didn’t want to give in either. The comfort and status he had in the entire country and even in most parts of the world was a luxury he wasn’t ready to give up anytime soon.

Seonghwa knew he stopped being just a singer long ago — he was now marketable, a product. And as such, it was incredibly stressful having no time for himself, slave of the schedule imposed by the people who fill their pockets at the expense of his image, propense to be scolded like a child if he got caught having fun with someone else, probably his career ending in the process. These nights were the only thing that eased the weight around his shoulders.

So he tried to make them special every time, he wasn’t getting picky, he always was.

He crossed his legs, adjusting on his seat again, right hand holding his drink, the sounds of the ice cubes softly tapping against the glass relaxing him a little. From the level on the second floor, he watched the various silhouettes of people dancing, most of them intertwining bodies against each other, cheering and chanting loudly to the music. Taking another sip of his drink, he drifts his eyes to a group of people in the middle of the main dance floor. They were being loud, even surpassing the sounds over the music. Seonghwa scanned them quickly, sucking his teeth with impatience. He turned to the other side for a moment, when the sound of bottles crashing against the floor made him look back to the same group from before, clearly the signs of a fight about to happen. Seonghwa chuckled, at least someone was having some action tonight.

He kept looking at the scene amused for a few moments, watching how a man pushed another with such force, making him fly over a table to the right side of the bunch of people now onlooking the show. The guy knocked the table, spilling whatever drink was on top of it all over the person occupying the seat. The person jumped, a girl, bringing her hands to her mouth, scolding a scream.

You.

Seonghwa watched you attentively. The corners of his mouth slowly formed into a smile, eyes sparkling at the sight of you trying to push the man who was trying to hold onto you to get up. Like a lost lamb in the middle of the mountains, Seonghwa thought, your head looking in all directions looking for someone. You were obviously new to the place, and whoever you were so anxiously looking for nowhere to be seen. He watched you hurriedly and clumsily walk away, probably trying to find the way to the restroom. Quickly he finished what was left of his glass, but before he could stand up, the shadow of a person getting closer made him stop.

“Hey,” A guy approached him, inviting himself to sit on his side, hovering over him. His breath was so strong that Seonghwa could feel himself getting dizzy just by having the guy breathing beside him. He politely offered him a nod, moving slightly to the opposite side. “Are you alone?” the guy said, brushing his sticky fingers over the collar of his jacket, brushing his skin.

Seonghwa groaned softly, irritated and uncomfortable at the intrusion. The man was obviously stupid drunk, smirking and looking at him with sleepish eyes. He noticed a group of people eavesdropping a couple of booths away from him, and he got even more tense and irritated.

“I’m not interested.” He said calmly but firmly. The thought of someone noticing him and somehow making a rumor out of it always in the back of his mind. The man leaned closer, the stains of spilled drink on his half unbuttoned shirt invading his personal space.

“Come on, I don't bite,” he murmured. Seonghwa’s handsome features grin in disgust. With the corner of his eyes he looked down where the commotion was a few moments ago, hoping you had returned to your spot after cleaning yourself up. “I’m right here, pretty one” the man touched his jaw, making him look back at him.

“Fuck off,” Seonghwa groaned sitting straight, practically shoving the man off his face. The man scoffed, finishing his drink and leaving his empty glass on the table before standing up.

“Think you’re hot shit.” He cursed at him before leaving.

Seonghwa breathed out, rolling his eyes and standing up, walking far from the group of people the guy was returning to.

Quickly, his eyes were back at the area where he saw you before. A restrained smile drew on his lips, seeing you were back at your seat. Your hands playing with the strands of your purse, feet trampled over your heels. He could tell you were anxious and uncomfortable. No signs of the guys that knocked the table and made a mess out of your dress just you sitting there looking awkwardly over your shoulder to the people grinding against each other. You looked so out of place. To Seonghwa that was perfect, almost endearing.

.

.

.

On your seat, you start to feel dizzy. The first two tequila shots your friend Chae practically poured on you as soon as you got here were feeling heavy on your stomach. The scent of alcohol, sweat and who knows what else around you made you feel nauseous. You needed to go outside soon or you would end up making even more of a mess of yourself right there in front of everyone.

With impatient eyes you tried to find Chae over the crowd around you. Sadly, she had come to the club with intention, and that was to get back with her ex. Even when she found out he had come with another girl, still spent most of the night around him, completely forgetting about you. To your bad luck, you couldn’t leave on your own, since you had just moved to the city and had nowhere to go besides her apartment, bound to wait until she had finished her business.

Anxiety mixed with the acids on your stomach and the heat of the bodies and energy of the people around you were becoming too much, so you decided to go outside on your own for a moment. Completely lost looking for the main entrance, you found Chae, grinding against her ex boyfriend’s pelvis. You tried to call for her but your voice was muffled by the loud chatting and music, and she seemed to pay no attention to anything else but letting her ex touch her everywhere.

You felt hurt and disappointed. Still, you tried to get her attention, mostly wanting to prevent her from making the mistake of hooking up with him, knowing how badly he had treated her. As you tried to push people away and get closer, you suddenly lost sight of them, now trapped in the middle of a bunch of guys chanting and trying to get you to dance with them. Freaking out, you sprint in the opposite direction, barely getting away from the men now whistling and yelling obscenities.

Resigned to look for Chae after you had taken some fresh air, you continued looking for the main entrance. Soon you found a way down the stairs on the second floor. Walking down the steps you got to a metal door, a red exit sign above it. But as soon as you pushed it open you instantly knew it wasn’t a good idea.

Outside this side of the club was a dangerously looking alley, pitch dark, with a few cars around that looked almost abandoned. The only source of light was the neon sign of the club, Fireworks, just a few letters still working, too dim to light anything properly. You close the door, walking back upstairs. You didn’t know the area, so it was better not to venture alone, even to get a minute of fresh air.

The air on the stairs was cool enough, the ventilation coming from the ceiling and the absence of people helped to ease the insufferable heat from inside, so you decided to rest a little there, before heading back.

You sat on one of the steps almost at the top of the stairs, and stood still for a few minutes, fingers playing with the hem of your dress. It was still wet, the smell of vodka strong enough to make you feel nauseous again. Blowing the strands of hair from your forehead you looked up at the ceiling, almost blinding yourself because of the intense light of the led lamp that flickered above you.

Your first night out since coming to the city, and it couldn't be worse. You regret coming along with Chae, now confused as to why she even invited you if she pretended to spend the whole night embarrassing herself trying to get her ex back. What if she ended up forgetting about you and going home with him alone?. Your chest tightened. You shook your head, unable to let that thought go any further.

Swallowing a lump you hugged yourself trying to find some comfort in your own warmth, gathering strength to get back inside and look for Chae and beg her to take you back, or miraculously convince her to give you her exact address and keys for you to call a taxi. You called, texted but the messages were not read. Defeated you finally you stood up and decided to go back inside before she decided to leave you there for real.

Without lifting your eyes from your phone waiting for Chae’s response you walked back from where you came from, when you bumped into someone walking in front of you.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” you apologized, looking up, finding a young man in front of you. To say he was handsome was an understatement. His features were soft yet manly, plump lips with a soft smile on them as he bowed slightly accepting your apology. His hair was slicked to the back, showing a stylish undercut.

“It’s fine, I was distracted and didn’t notice you either.” He smiled again. With a little nod from his head you noticed a dangling earring strung from his left ear, the cross shape wagging softly.

He moved slightly aside to let you pass but you didn’t move. As if you were suddenly starstruck, you couldn’t move and your heart started thumping against your chest so loud you swear he could hear it. When you didn’t speak or move, he continued.

“I’m looking for the exit, is this the right way?” He asked, pointing out the way down the stairs from where you came from. The tone of his voice was low, but also calm and soft, you could swear you have heard it somewhere.

“Uh… yes. I mean no! it leads to the backstreet alleys I think.”

You felt embarrassed finding yourself stuttering in front of him. Still, there was some familiarity on his voice and face but you just couldn’t make it up where from. He nodded and with his hand motioned to let you go first.

As you walk past him, your hands squeeze your bag to ease the nerves, the shadow of his silhouette ghosting behind you. After a few steps you realized you were not going anywhere really, so you stopped, smiling nervously. “Uhm, actually I was also looking for the exit, so…”

“Oh, perhaps we could look for it together?, If you are okay with that of course.” His honey-like voice is soft but clear, even slightly muffled by the boisterous music. You could see his feline eyes glowing under the dim lights. A sparkle on them even.

“Yeah! It's fine.” You tried to sound relaxed, like it was no big deal, but you were sure your tone came up excited, jolted. Get off your cloud, he’s just being polite, you thought trying not to think he was somehow trying to initiate conversation with you.

Just like that he started walking comfortably beside you, his eyes looking up front. He was dressed casually in black pants and a light dark jacket half way opened, giving a good view of his chest. As casual as the outfit was you could tell the clothing was pricey. A couple of necklaces hung from his neck matching the expensive looking watch on his wrist. He was surely wealthy, it was obvious not only on his clothing but in the way he carried himself and the aura around him.

“I’m Seonghwa by the way,” he said suddenly as you went down to the first floor. Seonghwa, you definitely have heard that name before. “Can I know yours?.” He asked, brushing off your thoughts.

“Huh, Y/n.” your response came out so quick that made your voice sound wavered, and you could feel the blood rush running to your head. You told yourself to calm down.

“Cute name.” He smiled again and you swore you were staring too much.

Just before you were about to make an embarrassing comment in response, you heard a familiar voice coming from one booth right at the foot of the stairs, where you and Seonghwa were heading. Squinting you could distinguish Chae, mouth shoved against his ex's. Both entangled in a heated, and sloppy make out session.

“Oh no!,” you ran towards her, trying to get her attention. “Chae!, Chae please…” you called, still trying to keep your cool in front of Seonghwa, who looked at the scene with a calm expression.

“What, Y/n?” Chae whined, leaving his ex’s lips for a moment, while his hands went under the hem of her dress shamelessly. “Thought you had gone already.”

“Chae, don’t do that here!” your voice supplicant and ashamed at the same time. You felt guilty for worrying about what Seonghwa would think of you almost as much as trying to stop Chae from messing up with her ex, but to be fair, it was already too late to prevent the latter.

“I told you I was going to be busy,” Chae pushed his ex off, taking his hand instead and leading him upstairs. “Just leave already k’? Oh, and book a hotel room or something, I won’t be coming home tonight!” She said giggling, as the man pecking on her neck began kissing and touching her everywhere again as they went up.

You sighed out loud, watching your friend disappear on the second level. Ashamed, you offered Seonghwa a weak smile, as he approached you slowly.

“Are you okay?”. Your eyes met him again. Your silence answering his question. “That kind of night, huh?” He smiled at you sweetly.

“Well, yeah.” you accepted, depleting yourself on the nearest seat. “That was my poor attempt to prevent my friend from screwing up with her ex, but alas.”

“Hmm, yeah I would say there’s no stopping that,” Seonghwa sat down beside you, his thigh nearly brushing yours. You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to stay calm. “But hey it isn’t your fault

“So, that was your friend?.”

You blink at him, nodding your head in reply. Having him so close after being embarrassed like that was limiting your way with words. You clenched your fist and forced your eyes close trying to suppress a tear fighting to come out. You weren't sure if it was because of Chae’s attitude, or you wanted to appear vulnerable to the stranger beside you, probably both.

Seonghwa smiled again, innocent and sweet, and he looked so beautiful. He had to be aware of how attractive he was, and that he was making you nervous, there was no way he shouldn’t. And you wondered, after the shameful scene from moments ago, you were sure anyone else would have just left without even saying goodbye. But now he smiled at you, sitting beside you.

“Don’t be sad about that, drunk people say dumb shit.” He comforted you. His eyes were locked on yours as you lifted your eyes to meet his, and you saw that sparkle shining even more than before. “You’re too pretty, I would hate to see you crying.”

You let out a nervous giggle. “I’m sorry, but me?”

“Of course you, I don’t see why you would think otherwise.”

You wouldn’t consider yourself unattractive, but unable to fully believe him, you shook your head assuming he was just being sweet to make you feel better, but he looked at you with a serious expression, eyes not moving from your face. “Sorry, I’m not used to people saying that about me.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Seonghwa arched his eyebrows, lips slightly pouting.

“Seriously, have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” you tried to ease your nerves joking about how stupidly gorgeous he was, but he seemed to pay no mind. “How pretty can I be compared to you?”

“A thousand times more.” He answered simply.

An unusual warmth rolled down your chest, your jaw tightened and you could feel the heat of the place and your own body temperature going up. You looked down, focusing your eyes on the floor trying to avoid eye contact with him. The words he just said spinning around your head.

“Thanks, you are really sweet, though I really need to get out to get some fresh air,” the temperature seems to go up with each second.

“We still haven’t found the exit,” he replied with a playful smirk. “Want to join me still?.”

You nodded, and Seonghwa helped you stand up, taking your hand guiding you through the back of the club, avoiding all the people. You were still flustered about his words, but noticed he knew exactly how to get to the exit, and not even the main door, but one hidden from everyone’s reach, between the VIP lounges.

He’s familiar with this place, you thought, of course he were.

.

.

.

A few moments later you were outside, the cool breeze night crushed against your bare arms and legs, making its way under the skirt of your dress, and you inhaled deeply, filling your lungs until you were satisfied.

Seonghwa repressed a smile behind you, watching you close your eyes and extend your arms in the breeze against your skin.

So innocent, so untainted.

Seonghwa could tell this night would be so much fun. If you allowed him, and of course you would, he would treat you so well. Make you forget about the bad taste you just had, remember anything but his name. As you turned to face him after having cooled yourself off, he imagined how you would look under him, crying out his name, begging him for more.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes! Very much.” you smiled at him, and immediately looked away. “Huh, well, you surely have somewhere to go, and I need to look for a place to st-…”

“You could stay with me a little longer,” He suggested. “If you’d like, of course.”

You smiled nervously. You weren’t actually that naive, if he was asking you to spend more time with him, at this time of the night, you being alone and not knowing you didn’t have a place to spend the night, you knew what he meant.

So you looked at your options: on one hand you had nowhere to go, and didn’t want to wander around at this hour alone. On the other— even if he was unbelievably attractive, you just had met him.

“Let’s do this. I’ll give you a ride around until we find a place you choose to stay. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let you walk alone this late, please?.” Seonghwa pouted so sweetly, and you felt that familiarity about him again, but couldn’t quite know why.

After a moment you gave in, following him to the club’s parking lot to his car. Truth was you were drawn to him, no other guy you’ve met before looked remotely like him, and honestly you didn’t hate the idea of spending more time with him. Now in the passenger seat of a ridiculously expensive car, the situation is even more unbelievable to you. Handsome, sweet, considerate and rich? It was too good to be true.

Along the way he suggested a couple of places, but they looked too expensive and you refused his offer of paying for your night, not having enough money to pay for them yourself. Some time into the ride, you could see the sky getting cloudy, the air getting colder. Little drops of rain started to crash against the car’s front window, and soon rain was loudly pouring over.

Just like that, with the excuse of the rain, Seonghwa and you drove aimlessly for about an hour, he listened attentively to your tragic story since you came to live in the city alongside your not so good friend Chaehyeon, and he was joking trying to make you feel better. His charm was so natural and he seemed to be enjoying his time with you as much as you did. Even his small talk made you feel comfortable, soon easing your anxious mood, making you feel relieved to have accepted his company.

Being inside his car so close to him, you could smell his scent, and you had never taken in something more delicious. It was quick that you felt unable to resist getting closer. Maybe it was the aroma of his perfume, the atmosphere thanks to the rain falling down, tapping the top of the car, making the night feel even more surreal, but you started to wish for him to ask you to really spend the night over.

Was this moment real? The night had been the worst so far until Seonghwa showed up, making you feel relaxed, beautiful, and wanted. Him, being as attractive, charismatic, decided to stay by your side. It wasn’t that you were dumb enough you will be seeing him again after this night, but the feeling in your gut was stronger than your sense of realism. You wished for one time in your life, to do what you wanted to do without expecting some sort of consequence after. It was about time for you to have an exciting experience.

“Y/n?,” His voice broke again your train of thoughts. He had just leaned to the side of the street. “Tell me what you are thinking about?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, mustering all the confidence you could gather up. What came from your lips next was surprisingly clear, even to you. So much that you didn’t even recognize your own voice. “Can you take me to your place tonight?.”

Seonghwa’s face focused on you, eyes hovering over your lips. The sparkle from back at the club back into his eyes, like in slow motion, you could notice his chest heaved rapidly with heavy panting.

He was looking at you with an enamored expression, and even if you knew it was just the rush of knowing he would be taking you home tonight, it felt lovingly, everlasting. Hearing you say those words just like that was music to his ears. Your chest feels smaller all of the sudden. You were about to apologize to him, as he didn’t say anything. Then the world stopped, as he leaned closer to you, brushing his lips over yours.

“Yes, thought you’d never ask.”

The red light turned green, brushing his lips on you a little longer before turning the engine back on. The expensive car was running smoothly as if it was floating, so fast that the city lights around you became blurry, seemingly following behind you.

.

.

.

The ride to Seonghwa’s place was not long, he was driving fast, not too fast to make you worried about your safety, but fast enough to get there as soon as possible. He didn’t say another word, his eyes locked on the road, grip firmly holding the seething wheel.

Soon he was entering the valet area of a huge department complex. The building was so tall that it rose higher than your eyes could see more so thanks to the cloudy sky. Seonghwa took a u-turn as if to leave the place, but instead entered a basement parking area you didn’t see when you arrived.

Seonghwa twisted the car keys, turning it off when he had found the parking spot of his choice. You noticed this area was almost empty with just a couple of fancy looking cars a few spots to your right. You were looking at them when you could feel Seonghwa’s hand brushing your knee, making its way up, softly playing with the hem of your dress. The sudden touch makes you shiver.

“You know what happens, right? The moment you enter with me?,” His tone was barely a whisper, but deep enough to make you listen clearly. “You know what I will do to you?.”

For a couple of seconds you froze in place, looking at him straight in the eyes, watching them shine bright as the silver hanging from his neck. “I know.” you smiled softly.

Once outside the car, as he led you to the elevator, his fingers intertwined with yours, your heart was beating so fast that you swore it would come out of your chest at any moment. He let you enter the elevator first, walking behind you, same as when he opened his apartment door, closing it behind him the moment both were inside.

Just a couple of steps into the room and you were unexpectedly grabbed by the waist, Seonghwa’s hands roaming over the fabric of your dress, feeling the shape of your hips, he brushed his fingertips softly, then he grabbed your ass, squeezing it tightly in contrast. He buried his face on your neck, pecking over it softly. You could feel every inhale of his breath, hot and steady.

He kept walking without letting go of you, throwing his keys and doing the same with your purse as he pushed you with his hips into the room. With a quick movement he turned you to face him pushing you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your neck with both his hands holding it as he leaned down to kiss you. The soft brush from before was just a taste, now he was kissing you intensely, hungrily. Slowly lurching and sucking, one long kiss after another, only breaking apart to get some air.

You could feel your lips burning, the same sensation slowly gathering between your legs, making you feel a warmth that seemed so unfamiliar to you. He was only kissing you and you could feel your walls clenching, your underwear already wet. You tried to contain yourself but when he took your bottom lip between his teeth, biting it playfully, you could feel your legs giving up, making you stumble on your feet.

Seonghwa grabs you by the waist, trying not to make you fall. Your little display of weakness makes him smile brightly over your lips. He then leans, trying to take your lips in again but you stop him. With a palm over his chest, you take in a clear view of his features, feline eyes fixated on you, his pupils dilating, waiting.

Time seemed to be running slowly as you two stood up watching each other attentively. You closed your eyes, one hand taking the back of Seonghwa’s neck, slightly pushing him to kiss you again, he watched you as you did, until his lips touched yours again and he closed his eyes with you. Your hand seamlessly travels down from his neck to his back and then up front to his chest, feeling his firm form over the soft fabric of his vest.

You could feel your lips swollen already, his kisses feeling so deep and last longing. When he breaks the kiss to take some breath again, you take the chance to see his plump lips also puffy and slick, coated with your lipstick.

Seonghwa admits you awoke something in him. He sensed the awareness yet innocence, knowing he would fuck you tonight and probably be gone by the morning, yet you wanted that, you needed that. And that was exactly what he had in mind.

In fact, he craved that innocence and he wanted to indulge in you. He rarely felt anything but lust about the people he usually brought to this place. Most of them were incredibly boring, never shutting up about how they loved him , how they could make him feel so good , only managing to annoy him by how hard they tried. They were people he often used for release, to make himself feel greater about what he meant to them, and not otherwise.

You, on the contrary, seemed to not know who he was, and unbeknownst to himself, made the challenge of making you fall for him special.

Seonghwa took your hand and guided you to a room to the left, once inside he grabbed you by the waist, kissing you sloppily and hurriedly, before pushing you over the bed. He flashed a smirk reacting to you gasping for the sudden push and watched you grip the bed sheets, trying to get something to hold onto.

He started by unbuttoning his jacket quickly, confirming your suspicions that he wasn’t wearing a shirt under it at all. After that he crept forward to you, taking your shoes off and doing the same with his. When that was out the way he wasted no time, pushing your legs apart with his knee, now his full body on top of yours. Your lips pressed together, eyes shut tight. “Look at me.”

You opened your eyes to see him hovering over you, his fingers caressing the skin between your neck and chest. With his fingers he pushed your dress down, exposing more of your cleavage and he brushed the soft skin of what was out of your breast, your bra pushing them up was extremely sensual to him.

“I want you to see what I do to you, don’t hide away from me,” Seonghwa huffed, leaving a soft peck on the exposed skin of your chest. “You can touch me as well, don’t hold on, it’s okay.” The thin straps of your dress fell down over your shoulders, and Seonghwa cursed under his breath. He needed to rip that off you soon, but he decided to wait.

Lying there, watching his naked torso glow against the faint lights provided only by the lamps hidden on the ceiling, you placed both your hands over his chest, tracing delicate touches all over. You wanted to feel each of his muscles, the pads of your fingers taking in the warmth of his slim but toned body. You could feel Seonghwa’s breath pulsing every time you stopped on his abs or chest, like studying his form meticulously. You were clueless to the effect this had on him, not knowing how much he enjoyed being worshiped, desired.

As you touched him, now kissing every part you found especially beautiful, you could feel your skin burning where Seonghwa was squeezing you over, your thighs were sure to be left all bruised. Unable to hold on more, his hands went back to your chest, now pulling down the straps of your dress, all the way down until it was out on the floor.

He moved from over you slightly to take a good look of your form, how your push up bra concealed your breasts, looking like that was painful to you, but he loved the view. You went to put a hand over them, the usual insecurity hitting in by being suddenly so exposed to someone, but he stopped your hand by taking your wrist gently. “No hiding. You are beautiful.”

He sounded so sincere and loving, that you decided to believe him. You knew you weren’t the first person he said those words to, you knew you wouldn’t be the last. Even so, in this moment they were meant for you and you only, and that was enough to believe him.

Next, his lips went over to your neck, his tongue pressed against your throat sending shivers to your whole body. He smoothly slipped his hands behind your back, masterfully unclipping your bra and tossing it to the side without looking. Now with your chest completely exposed, he massaged your breasts first with his thumbs, then his tongue. He took sweet time kissing them until they were fully coated with his saliva, seemingly unable to stop savoring them, and it was driving you crazy. You didn’t want to think what was going to be of you when this was over.

After he was done with your breast his mouth continued his way below your waistline, surely leaving bruises every time he bit your skin where his lips landed. You couldn’t keep quiet, moaning at every single one of his licks and kisses, making him smile as he pressed his lips onto your sensible spots. Seonghwa softly chuckled hearing your cries of pleasure and God it was driving you insane.

You couldn’t hold on anymore and one of your hands was to look for the waistband of his pants, trying to push them down. “Please…” you whined.

“Please what?,”

“I want you.” your voice sounded desperate, needy.

He ignored you and pressed his lips now on your thighs, kissing them both over and over, trading you with soft brushes of his fingers over your clothed clit, soaking wet already. He wanted to fuck you already but he needed to hear more begging first.

You couldn’t bear the burning sensation between your legs any longer, trying to rub them together desperate for some friction. Seonghwa forcefully spread them apart, and continued to suck on each side of them, your cunt tightening with each passing second.

“Seonghwa, please …”

The sound of your lips moaning his name makes him jolt with excitement. He went up and leaned over you to watch you once more. Your breast and lips swollen, flushed skin and drowsy eyes looking at him, pleading him to be inside you. You looked so intoxicating.

Seonghwa couldn’t help but groan. A few minutes of kisses and some touches and you were already so needy for him. He could feel yourself trembling underneath him, making him proud of his decision of choosing you for this night. Now he needed to make sure that you would never forget the things he’ll do to you.

“So pretty.” He purred into your ear, brushing his nose over your cheek. His tongue then licked your lips softly, making his way into your mouth again. Your eyes instinctively close, letting yourself be devoured. You felt his hand travel down, brushing against your stomach as he started to remove his belt, the sound of the metal teasingly making you more desperate. “Close your eyes.” He ordered.

You whined at the feeling of him getting off of you, but it was instantly rewarded by the burning of his bare skin touching yours as he leaned over you again, now evidently completely naked. He warned you about opening your eyes until he said so, so you shut them down, your other senses widening.

You could feel hot breath over your knees and you knew he was about to make his way between your thighs again. It was still shocking when he spread your legs open, and you felt his breath against your cunt, so close you could feel the warmth of his mouth on you. You knew that after tonight it will be hard not to compare him to anyone else and that made you feel uneasy. The thought of never having anyone who could make you forget about what he was doing to you. His scent, his voice, everything about him was unbelievable and even right now, with him practically ripping your underwear apart, you still thought you were dreaming.

Once he got rid of the lacy cloth between his tongue and your core, he coaxed your entrance with soft pecks and you mumbled out his name again, breathing heavily each time you did so. “Open your eyes.” his deep tone resonated over your whimpers, and you did as told. You watched him just stare down, sharp eyes admiring your most intimate spot. You didn’t want to hide anymore, instead becoming proud of the lust that shone on his eyes.

“You’re soaked.” he said calmly, and a second after he made you yelp by the sudden touch of his tongue running along the surface of your clit. While he flicked his tongue inside you, he mumbled some words you couldn’t make up, the vibrations feeling heavenly over your drenched cunt.

Your legs were shaking from the pleasure. His large hands gripped your ass as he ate you out with urgency, making unholy sounds that you were sure would pop into your brain at the most unexpected moments. If he continued like this you could come at any moment, only holding back by the desire of having him inside you.

“Please… I want you,”

Seonghwa looked up at the sound of your crying. He was also ready, but he needed to taste you a little more before giving you what you wanted. He slowly rose on top of you again, giving you an open mouth kiss letting you know how you tasted. Your whining and pleading was music to his ears and the way you said his name fueled him with power. He was so hard you could feel his length pressing against your stomach, hot and thick, waiting for you to touch it.

Without thinking about it your hand moved down and your fingers wrapped around him. Seonghwa clenched his teeth, trying to repress a moan but he just barely managed to contain it. He kissed you again as you pumped his length steadily. Now it was his turn to be surprised, as you adjusted your position so his cock could greet your entrance, brushing his tip over your silky clit and pushing it inside firmly.

“Fuck….” He cursed, letting himself enter your walls in a single motion, covering his cock in your wetness. You bite your lip so hard that you feel a soft burn over them, probably hurting yourself, but that just added to the sensation of intense pleasure that you were experiencing. “So fucking tight,” He moaned, licking his bottom lip and locking his eyes on yours.

The bed rocked loudly with each time he pushed inside you. You tried to adjust yourself to the position, but a loud cry came out when Seonghwa gripped your thighs, spreading them even more and burying himself deeper.

“So perfect,” He mumbled to himself, head spinning at the intensity of what he was feeling. “Is as if you were made for me to be inside you.” He dragged his words, eyes dropping as he fucked you hard and fast. He never stopped looking at you, how you were unable to keep your eyes open, how you gripped the pillows around you looking for some kind of support.

Laying underneath him, feeling his skin crash against yours, his previously styled hair now falling over his forehead, sweat beads rolling down his neck, it was all too surreal. And the fact that he looked at you like he adored you. That made your blood rush violently to your head, making you dizzy.

Seonghwa admired his shadow casting over your body, making the rest of your skin glow. It looked like a painting. You trembled listening to his controlled moans, and he jolted everytime you whimpered out his name.

As he rocked his hips, at times pulling out entirely only to smash into you again, he could feel your walls clenching around him, trying hard not to come undone and wait until both of you were close. Your kindness towards his own pleasure made him feel even more attracted to you, his desire to pleasure you beyond expectation grew even harder. He also loved the noises you made, even if you tried to restrain yourself, you sounded so pure and innocent. He wondered when it was the last time someone had you like this, hoping you were really never being fucked like this before.

Seonghwa wasn’t trying to make himself feel better about using you to satisfy his own needs, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make you feel beautiful and desired too, you were too precious not to.

“Fuck, Seonghwa…” you moaned. He smiled against your lips, brushing his tongue over them. His hand then went down to your clit, motioning circles with his thumb, making you arch your back and firmly grab his arms, probably scratching them. He groaned at the pain, and told you to dig your nails even harder. You stopped thinking, digging them harder over his back, your head buried against his neck. He groaned loudly and your breath became heavier with him buried inside you mixed with the rubbing of your clit, impossible to contain your pleasure.

“Just like that,” he growled, “Let me hear you say my name over and over.”

You cursed out loud, muttering his name again and he reacted so loudly every time you did. Your sweat mixed with his felt incredibly intimate and you couldn’t dare to break apart from him. The familiar knot twisting and twirling on your low abdomen growing intensely. His name was the only thing you could say, forcing yourself to wait until he came with you, wanting to feel him spill inside you, as lustful as it sounded, you wanted to feel that, to feel him.

Everything became too much when Seonghwa took your legs, lifting them and throwing them over his shoulders, adjusting himself even deeper. You cursed at him, mostly because he was pushing you over the edge and you needed to let go sooner. He then grabbed your hair with his fist from the back, it hurted but you loved every second of it. For the brief seconds you could keep your eyes open, you see his face glowing, a devilish smile on his face enjoying the pain and pleasure he was giving you.

“Now you are getting close, fucking scream my name and I let go,” His voice was dark and eager, wanting you to come just when he told you to.

White dots flashing as you closed your eyes and rolled your hips to help you ride your release, too focused on the pleasure of the moment to notice Seonghwa had also come with you, filling you up to the brim, thick cum spilling out of you even if he wasn’t stopping.

As he slowly came down from his own high, Seonghwa carefully pulled out of you, letting you lean against the bed sheets, covered in sweat. You could see his skin shining, sweat covering him up entirely. He watched as you tried to incorporate and sit on the bed, feeling uneasy trying to somehow cover up the mess.

“Leave that, we’re not done” The words barely rolled out his mouth due to the tiredness. He pushed his drenched hair to the back, his chest swelling with each inhale.

“Seonghwa,” you mumbled, and he pushed the stay hairs off your face, leaning to kiss you again.

Next, you were on top of him, kissing him deeply, tongue buried inside his mouth exploring every inch, knowing after tonight you wouldn’t have the chance to do it again. In just a few minutes he was hard enough again to lead you on top of him, and just as fast your hips rocked back and forth with him buried deep inside you, the headboard of the bed hitting the walls loudly. Seonghwa looked at you as you rode him with half opened eyes, unable to believe this was the same girl that hours ago had her clothes completely ruined, looking totally out of place in the middle of the night club.

Seonghwa’s fingers were pressed against your hips, keeping you in place, guiding your pacing with his hands, helping you both reach your second release. “Come for me again, and say my name as you do.”

His words were not a request but an order, and you obeyed gracefully.

He pushed his cock even more and you cried his name loudly. As you ride your orgasm, your ears meet a heavy whimper and Seonghwa leans forward to you, his forehead pressing yours, he clenches his teeth, feeling your sweet release flowing down on him, the same time as his pulsing cock covers your walls entirely once more. He breaks the closeness to look down where your bodies are intertwined, pulling out and seeing his cum drip out of you again, and he wished he could have that sight every day from now on.

He’s trying hard to let go of the reality that will hit you both the next day.

“So fucking gorgeous,” He managed to say between heavy breathing. Your arms around his shoulders preventing you from falling to the side, his hands grabbing your waist, fingernails still pressing your skin, the touch burning.

He offers you a hand to help you sit up. You smiled shyly, taking it while having trouble standing up by yourself, and Seonghwa giggled.

“Come to shower with me?”

“Oh, Yeah, sure” you smile back, leaning to kiss him again.

“You are too adorable,” He smiled against your lips, guiding you to the bathroom, hugging you from behind.

Once inside the shower booth, twice as big as your whole bathroom back home, Seonghwa told you he will take care of you, not letting you even wash your own hair, instead scrubbing every part delicately. He washed your legs first, going up from there and taking time to rub the soap between your legs, making your knees weak all over. He shampooed your hair and massaged it, and you did the same with his. After you were clean, it was his turn, rubbing body wash into your palms you cleaned him entirely. Seonghwa’s eyes were closed while you did so, enjoying the softness of the sponge and your hands against his skin.

As you cleaned him up, your mind raced a thousand miles per hour. The image of Seonghwa sweaty on top of you, fucking you— was something you would never forget, you were sure of it. Now, after it has already happened, the uncertainty of what was next crept inside you, nerves and anxiety hitting you again.

“Seonghwa…” you said awkwardly as you two stepped out of the shower.

“Yes, angel?” Seonghwa reached for a towel for you, and took another for himself, drying his hair and body with quick pacing. You didn’t speak and he tossed his towel aside, getting closer to you. “You're thinking too much, you're still here with me, aren’t you?” He smirked, taking your towel and beginning to dry you up.

“Yeah, I am.” you closed your eyes, hugging him and kissing him deeply one more time, and many times through the night.

.

.

.

Hours later, minutes before sunrise, Seonghwa got up, dressed and called to order some clothes so you could change when you woke up. He made a special request for a similar dress as the one you had before, the staff were pretty familiar with his demands, so they proceeded to make the arrangements quickly.

He looked at his phone annoyed at the several missed calls from his manager, already exhausted about his packed schedule for the next hours. Just before leaving for his actual apartment, he looked at you for the last time, watching you sleep peacefully. The white bed sheets covered just half of your body, and he hesitated— wanting to leave a note, his number, something. Longing already to see you again knowing it was better not to.

“Don’t be stupid” he muttered to himself.

He stood up, standing, hesitating for a moment, before walking to the door without looking back.

.

.

.

When you open your eyes, you get blinded by the bright sunlight coming through the white curtains hanging up from the ceiling to the floor. You incorporate slightly, your whole body aching, and you smile, hopeful. Slowly you turn around to the other side of the bed, you shut your eyes tight, hoping to open them and find him lying still asleep next to you.

You smile, now dryly, to the empty side of the bed. You knew, yet still hurt.

Painfully, you stood up from the bed, going to the bathroom first, performing the usual morning rituals. After that you look up for your clothes on the floor, finding nothing. With the linen bed sheet wrapped around your body, you walk into the living room finding a rack of clean clothes in the living area.

You looked for a note but there was none. The clothes were casual and simple, but expensive. Some underwear, a couple of pants, some shirts and a dress, very similar to the one you were wearing before. You changed into a t-shirt and pants, and took the dress, folding it and keeping it in your bag, it was similar to the one you were wearing, a gift.

Just before you left the upscale room, you turned to look at it for the last time, feeling dumb and over-dramatic doing so. You pictured him there with you as it just happened not long ago and you felt your chest tighten.

“you're still here with me, aren’t you?”

“He did say it, didn’t he?”, you muttered to yourself, just as you walked out, closing the door behind you.

©mingsolo / please do not repost or translate to any other sites.

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Namjoon

Namjoon is tired. He is tired of waiting to hear from Yoongi. He is tired of allowing his exhaustion to continue pushing you away.

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❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Namjoon x Female Reader x Yoongi

🗡️ word count: 7.3k

🗡️ mafia au, established relationship, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: mention of Jeongguk & reader doing drugs (mdma, coke), drinking champagne, and getting sexy (oral) - all off screen; Namjoon reminiscing about the day Yoongi almost got married; oral sex (allusion to squirting); discussion of blood & head wounds; worry and anxiety.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 2nd person (you/your) pronouns for this chapter since she appears more than just in passing!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @neoneunnajimin - with minor unbeta’d edits done since.

🗡️ posted april 2024 - originally dec. 2023 | read on ao3

As soon as Namjoon wakes up, he feels a swell of anxiety begin at the center of his chest and work its way through his limbs. He rolls from his right side onto his back and breathes slow and deep, attempting to center himself and quash the feelings of discontent. 

He hates it when Yoongi goes silent. 

No matter how many times Yoongi swears that he is never going to fall back into old habits, Namjoon cannot help but worry, especially after the recent incident in Paris. More than once, he has found the man he loves with one foot in the grave. He cannot do it again. 

He also hates the way distance has begun to build between the two of you. And he knows that it is all a product of his own insecurity—that the walls climb high as the heavens whenever he is scared out of his fucking mind and does not know whether he can turn to others. But he cannot bring himself to tell you all of his fears. 

How could he? How can he look you in the eyes and admit that he is terrified of losing the man both of you love so much? 

Namjoon groans as he stretches, raising his arms high over his head. He slept well for the first time in weeks, and although he feels a little guilty for feeling like he has to get out of Yoongi's mansion in order to accomplish his momentary peace, he is glad to know that you have found a distraction, as dangerous of a distraction as it may be.

The sights and smells of his home are strange to Namjoon after spending so much time in Yoongi's bed, storing things in Yoongi's closet, and cleaning off the stress and grime from his days in Yoongi's shower. But it also feels nice to have a place to get away and center himself. 

As soon as he walked through his door last night, Namjoon let out a sigh of relief mixed with worry. For days, he has wondered if leaving the mansion and essentially shutting you out completely could do more harm than good. But after several nights of horrible sleep, compounded with days of being in a stressed, shitty mood, he decided that for his sake and for yours, a night away would be best. 

Of course, you had to wake up and notice he was gone. And, of course, you had to run off to the one maniac who could potentially cause you even greater physical and emotional turmoil. 

Namjoon still has no idea why Yoongi and Taehyung think it is a good idea for you and Jeongguk to get along so well, but he also does not object enough to ask you not to. Due mostly to the fact that he feels he does not have any place asking you not to spend time with him. 

He has no issue with sharing you, and as long as Yoongi is happy, he is happy. But Jeongguk is a loose cannon, and Namjoon just knows that the two of you together could be absolutely volatile, much like Jeongguk and Ryujin were all those years ago. 

With a final stretch and yawn, Namjoon rolls over and picks up his phone. As always, he is awake around fifteen minutes before his 7:00 AM alarm, and he is surprised to find several text messages from Jeongguk. 

Gguk: Hey, hyung! Don't be mad, but I gave our buttercup molly. And coke. And champagne. She's fine physically, but she's not having a great time emotionally. What antidepressant is she taking? Probably should have asked her that before I suggested we roll. 

Gguk: Any word from Yoongi? I have a feeling his absence is really wearing her down. Although…I'm sure you already know that. I don't mean to assume you don't.

Gguk: Also, hello, good morning, I hope you are doing well! 

Namjoon rolls his eyes and chuckles, shaking his head. Jeongguk is already a handful, but on MDMA, the poor guy tends to spiral. In fact, Namjoon is shocked that none of the messages contain an I love you or an I miss you or a Do you hate me?

Namjoon:  Oh, boy, what have you kids been getting into??? ;) I can check on the antidepressant when I return to Yoon's place. Is she feeling any better?

Namjoon: I haven't heard anything from Yoon in a couple of days. Thinking about making a trip to Hong Kong, though. Think you can hold down the fort? I don't really want to ask Seokjin.

Namjoon wears only a pair of blue boxer shorts, and he tosses aside his forest green comforter to place his feet down onto a matching forest green area rug, then walks to his closet. With Yoongi away, he has been dressing more comfortably in jeans and sweaters, refraining from wearing any black. 

Sometimes it feels nice to just be Kim Namjoon, and ignore the rest of the titles that come with the name. Sometimes he likes to pretend he isn't The Dragon. 

He picks out a soft medium-blue sweater and loose-fit blue jeans. He does not style his hair, nor does he put on jewelry or a watch. When his phone vibrates in his pocket just moments after he slips it in, he hesitates before pulling it out. In his heart, he knows that it is not Yoongi, which only makes the thought of checking the message sting a little more. 

The stress Namjoon feels while torturing a man within an inch of his life pales in comparison to that he experiences when Yoongi is avoidant. 

Namjoon does not bother to make his bed. He leaves his closet, takes a left, and goes into his large ensuite bathroom. All of the cabinets and furnishings are handcrafted from driftwood with ceramic knobs and handles. The tile is a neutral tan, and Namjoon chuckles softly when he sees the room that feels far more like home than the black and gold Yoongi loves so much. 

If only Yoongi would allow him to redecorate. Namjoon thinks maybe Yoongi enjoys shit being so gloomy, to a fault. 

He brushes his teeth and washes his face, then after he is patted dry and ready to return to the mansion, he pulls his phone from his pocket. He considers shooting you a text to ask whether you are hungry and interested in joining him for breakfast when he sees Jeongguk's message. 

Gguk: Of course, of course. I can keep an eye on shit while you leave. Also, I'm going to bring buttercup back to you soon. She misses you a lot. Are you at the mansion or your place?

Namjoon: My place, but heading to the mansion now. Have you eaten?

Gguk: Well, I got to eat but she didn't…;)

Namjoon leaves his bedroom and makes his way down the hall toward the stairs, thumbs lingering over his keyboard as he laughs and reads over Jeongguk's message.

Namjoon: Bragging about eating my girlfriend's pussy? You know, I've killed men for less. 

Hanging in Namjoon's hallway are photos from over the years of him and the family men, but most of them are photos of himself and Yoongi. Although he does not stop to look at most of them anymore, he feels the presence of their nostalgia every time he walks by, and he does lift his eyes to glance at a particular photo at the top of the stairs that is much larger than all the others. 

In the photo, Namjoon is looking at the camera, holding onto a big, colorful bouquet of flowers. His hair is shorter and lightened blond with a lavender tint, and he wears a black turtleneck, black slacks, and a black trench coat. Yoongi teased him earlier that day for coming to his wedding dressed for a funeral, but in a way, that was what it felt like.

What had already begun as a tumultuous day with the man he loves promised to get married had turned extremely sour when news of the father of the bride-to-be's betrayal spread like wildfire. Namjoon still remembers the look of fear on Ryujin's face when whispers reached the back of the church as she was walking down the aisle. 

The bouquet Namjoon holds in the photo is the one she dropped before running out. And in this particular photo, Namjoon and Yoongi are standing side by side. 

Yoongi does not look at the camera, however. Yoongi looks at Namjoon. 

He stands in his tailored black suit and bow tie, dark hair cut shorter than Namjoon has seen it in years, and he looks up at Namjoon with an expression that is so soft and so loving that seven years later, it still takes his breath away. 

The feeling in Namjoon's heart that day was a strange one. 

On the one hand, he remembers feeling an immense amount of relief. For a while things with Ryujin had been strained and weird, and he had really been struggling to figure out where he fit at Yoongi's side. 

Leading up to the wedding, there had been insinuations that once the two of them were married, Namjoon would have to take a step back and end whatever was going on between him and Yoongi. Because of this, he had been feeling a deep sense of grief that was impacting his ability to think clearly and be there for the family as Yoongi's right hand.

But then, with her out of the picture, he felt lighter. Like a weight had lifted from his shoulders and the sun was shining for him once more. 

He also remembers feeling kind of guilty. Yoongi was unreadable as always and none of the other guys were giving him a chance to fully process what had happened. 

Rather, they all seemed intent on dragging him around the property and making him pose for photos as if the wedding had never been called off. They reasoned it didn't make sense to let the photographer's skills go to waste. After all, everyone was dressed to impress and looking dapper. 

Yoongi seemed to be masking whatever he felt with shyness, keeping his eyes on his feet while the photographer positioned him in front of the various installations of his parents' gardens. Of his gardens.

"Mister Kim?" the photographer said at one point, making Namjoon perk up and ask, "Hmm?"

She looked at Namjoon as if waiting for him to return to earth and join the rest of his friends, and it only then occurred to him that the six of them were standing in front of one the archways, watching Namjoon impatiently. 

"Oh," Namjoon muttered, stepping forward to get into line with the others. 

Despite there being space between Yoongi and Jeongguk, Namjoon began to shuffle down to the far right of the group. But Jimin took him by the sleeve, muttering, "Get by his side," forcing Namjoon to stop in his tracks and course-correct. All he had ever wanted was to be beside Yoongi at all times…he just wasn't sure that it was where he belonged. 

It was palpable the way Yoongi relaxed as soon as Namjoon took his place by his side and instinctively lifted an arm around his thin waist. In an instant, Namjoon felt shy, and he struggled to look into the camera, only lifting his gaze and smile when he was told to. 

But little by little everyone let loose, and they dragged the kind photographer all over the estate, climbing the statues and shrubberies to pose for photos. He could almost hear the worried sound of Yoongi's mother scolding them for being so reckless, making him miss her dearly. She would have loved to see her son dressed in a tuxedo.

"Anyone wanna pose as the bride?" the photographer asked near the end of their impromptu session. "I grabbed the bouquet just in case."

Namjoon hadn't noticed the bouquet that Ryujin dropped hanging from the strap of the photographer's camera bag, but there it was. Wildflowers and roses hand-picked from the very gardens they posed in—the gardens that Yoongi's mother tended for years—gathered in a beautiful arrangement with white satin and lace. The photographer held it out toward the group, delighted when Jimin swiped it. 

Briefly, Namjoon thought Jimin would look beautiful next to Yoongi—that those would be fun photos to look back at once the dust had settled and Yoongi had a chance to cope. But then Jimin shoved the bouquet into Namjoon's chest, making him gasp and stumble awkwardly, gripping onto the satin-covered stems. 

"Jimin what are you—"

"Don't be stupid," Jimin interrupted quickly, taking Namjoon by the shoulders and forcing him to rotate and walk backward to be at Yoongi's side once more. 

All of the guys knew about Yoongi and Namjoon—Yoongi had never been interested in keeping it a secret. But he still couldn't help but wonder at the time if all of it might have been too much for Yoongi. 

"Joon," Yoongi said quietly, kicking butterflies in his tummy and making it hard for him to breathe. "You good?"

And although Namjoon nodded and said, "Yeah, of course," he could only glance at Yoongi standing by his side, feeling all too aware of how they must have looked: like a couple. Like a married couple. 

Namjoon swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, then he finally turned to the man he loved so dearly and offered a smile. "You look really handsome today," he said, watching as Yoongi regarded him with a soft, wide-eyed stare. 

Shyly, Namjoon turned to the camera, bouquet held against his chest, and smiled. He hoped that his face was not as red hot as it felt, suddenly a bit claustrophobic in his turtleneck and long jacket. 

"Perfect," the photographer said, looking over the viewfinder before taking a step back and lining up another shot. "Can I get both of you to look at me?"

Namjoon continued to smile into the camera while Yoongi shifted beside him, and the warmth of Yoongi's arm against his made him relax a little more. They took several more shots this way, and Namjoon almost lamented it coming to an end.

But the photographer convinced them to do some funny poses in several more spots around the garden, and with the cheering of their friends, the two of them really got into their roles. Namjoon carried Yoongi bridal style for various shots, and Yoongi surprised him with how playful he became, holding out the bouquet and kicking his feet out the way a bride might have.

When the day wrapped up and the photographer bowed to take her leave, Namjoon felt happier than he had in years. If only he could tell Yoongi. If only he could ask whether Yoongi felt the same. 

With both of Yoongi's parents gone and the responsibility of all of the operations being thrust into his lap with no guidance, Namjoon knew then that the lightness they shared that day would likely never return. What he would have given for things between them to just be simple. 

"We look like a married couple," Yoongi joked when they got the photo back, and in that moment, Namjoon knew he had to frame it and put it on display in his home. 

Often, over the years, Namjoon has considered what it would be like for the two of them to actually be a married couple. Namjoon has always thought he would trade absolutely everything to make it happen, if only he could. He feels that way now, looking at the photo with a heaviness in his chest.

Namjoon's phone vibrates in his hand, pulling him from his thoughts, and he lifts it to check the notification without unlocking the device. It takes a moment for him to remember what his last message said—that he has killed a man for less than bragging about sexually pleasing his girlfriend.

Gguk: Big deal, so have I!

With a scoff, Namjoon slides his phone back into his pocket and begins to devise a plan. Foremost, he needs to get in touch with Yoongi's chef. He should have arrived at the mansion several hours ago, and Namjoon is craving eggs benedict. 

Next, he needs to get in touch with someone in Hong Kong. Yoongi may not be responding, but he knows Uiseok or Wonjin will talk. 

He just needs to go to Hong Kong and assure himself that Yoongi is safe. From there, he hardly cares what comes next. In fact, he could use some time away from Seoul and all of the responsibilities that come with being here. If Yoongi wants to stay in Hong Kong, Namjoon does not object, he just does not want Yoongi to be there alone at a time like this. 

Namjoon slides his feet into a pair of sneakers and groans as he bends to tie the laces. Although he is in the best shape of his life, he feels worn down lately. His body aches, and he feels tired all the time. Not to mention, his recent workouts with Jeongguk have been wearing him the fuck out.

Christopher calls Namjoon's recent mood and exhaustion depression and often recommends he try to medicate it, but he is disinterested in the prospect. New medications can dull one's senses and Namjoon having his senses dulled could cost someone their life. 

Once he is outside, walking down his stone steps onto gravel and dirt, he pulls his phone out and calls the chef. He asks if the chef wouldn't mind prepping for eggs benedict, and then he hangs up and gets to work on task number two. 

Being that it is an hour earlier in Hong Kong, Namjoon is not concerned with Uiseok and Yoongi being together this early, so he places a call. The phone rings and rings and Namjoon nearly prepares himself for what he might say in a voicemail when it stops ringing and he hears a groggy, "Hyung?"

"Uiseok," Namjoon responds, walking along the path where trees obstruct its view from the road. "I hope you weren't sleeping."

"Nah, I've been up," Uiseok responds with a droopy lilt that suggests he was definitely asleep a moment ago.

Namjoon swallows thickly, unsure how to proceed before saying, "Look, I don't want to involve you in our shit, but Yoongi hasn't been responding to any of our calls or texts, and we have some business to iron out. I was thinking about making a trip out if that isn't an inconvenience to you."

Uiseok hums, then says, "Nah, man, come on by! Mi casa is your casa."

"Alright, thanks," Namjoon responds, eyes on the gravel that he kicks at with his toe as he walks. He hesitates asking after Yoongi, but finds he can't help it. "Is he…I mean, everything is good, right?"

"Yoongi?" Uiseok asks as if shocked by the question. "Yeah, man he's great! Everything is running according to plan. Copasetic. No sweat, no sweat."

"Hmm," Namjoon mutters, coming out of the clearing of trees and squinting up at the morning sky. 

He does not fully believe what Uiseok says, but not because he thinks the man is being dishonest. He just knows Yoongi's affinity for bottling shit up and wearing a mask of nonchalance—one of the key lessons his father taught him about running a city. "Well I'm glad to hear that. I wonder if it would be better for me to surprise him with my visit."

"A surprise could be fun," Uiseok responds chipperly, taking the bait. Namjoon does not want to come out and say don't tell him I'm coming. "We got nothing happening this week, but if something comes up, one of the guys will be around at all times. You know how it is."

"I do," Namjoon mutters as he approaches the front steps and begins letting himself into the mansion. Now that he is at his second home, and he at least has some confirmation that Yoongi is alright, Namjoon feels eager to get off the phone. "Cool, cool. Well, I'll let you know when I am on my way. 

"Sounds good, man. Sounds real good. Can't wait to shoot the shit again. Travel safe."

Namjoon mutters, "Thanks," under his breath while pulling the phone from his face and ending the call. Something just does not feel right and he can not figure out what it is. Probably, he just needs to see Yoongi and assuage his doubts. 

Once he is inside the mansion, sneakers kicked aside and feet slid into a pair of Yoongi's comfy slippers, he takes in his surroundings and smiles. He meanders over to Yoongi's large blue velvet chair and groans as he slowly sits on it, closing his eyes as the familiar smell of home greets him. If he tries, he can detect hints of Yoongi's musk, but he thinks he may also just be imagining it out of desperation. 

Beside the chair there is a small black marble table with gold furnishings, on top of which sits a beautifully decorated Tiffany lamp adorned with stained glass dragonflies and an intricately designed bronze base. 

Namjoon always marvels at the furnishings which Yoongi opted to keep versus getting rid of. The black and gold all came in after his father died, replacing all the rich mahogany that the old man loved so much, with the exception of the dining rooms. 

But the lamps and all the velvet furnishings were Yoongi's mother's. The chair Namjoon sits on and the couch that accompanies it used to be up in her room at the far left end of the mezzanine, collecting dust until Yoongi insisted on bringing them downstairs.

Whenever the mansion is cold and empty, Namjoon misses Yoongi's mother the most. He misses her soft, knowing smiles, and her warm, kind hugs. Most of all, he misses Yoongi having someone to confide in. Although Yoongi tries to be an open book with those he loves, nobody really got to his heart the way his mother did. 

Namjoon sighs as he reaches for the little marble side table and pulls out a small drawer on its front. Inside is a silver cigarette case with a dragon carved on the front of it—a gift Yoongi gave to Namjoon for his sixteenth birthday. Namjoon pulls it out and clicks a little button on the side, and although the spring mechanism is worn with age, the lid pops open to reveal three perfectly rolled joints and a small green rectangular box of matches. 

The mornings are becoming cooler, but it is still rather nice outside, so Namjoon considers sitting out in one of the gardens to smoke. But then his phone dings, filling the silent room with a loud, single chime, and without reading the notification, Namjoon decides to change his plan. 

He slides one of the joints and the little book of matches out of the case, then snaps the case shut and returns it to the drawer, slowly pressing it tightly closed. Instinct tells him that you and Jeongguk will be on your way back soon, so he makes his way back toward the front door. He would rather greet you out there than have you come to the garden, to him. Although he has no idea what type of mood you will be in, he is eager to put his best foot forward, despite feeling the overwhelming need to be a little stoned in order to face the day. 

The saying, absence makes the heart grow fonder, blips into Namjoon's mind, and he shakes his head and laughs to himself. Having a little time away from you has certainly helped him miss you, and has made him eager to see you. 

Absence from Yoongi, on the other hand…

Namjoon groans once more as he bends to slide on his sneakers, then he reaches for the door knob. He steps outside, turning to slowly close the door behind him, which he wedges open with a random boot. Then he slides out his phone to check it, holding the matchbook in his palm beneath the device while cradling the joint between two fingers. 

Gguk: Heading your way! See you soon, hyung.

With a smile, Namjoon slides the phone back into his pocket, lifts the joint and matches, and begins to slide the tiny green box open to retrieve one of the few remaining matchsticks. He lets out a deep breath as he strikes the stick to the side of the box, igniting a small flame, and then he lights the joint with a deep inhale. 

This box of matches comes from a hotel he and Yoongi stayed in several years back in New York. The trip was meant to be one of sight seeing and trying American food, but they barely left the hotel suite, holing up and fucking all week, living off of room service and the fancy hotel bar. 

The memory brings back a flood of others with Yoongi—of trips to Japan and Amsterdam and Paris and Taiwan, and anywhere in the world Yoongi has wanted to go, which Namjoon has agreed to without hesitation.

A bittersweet rush of anxiety and adoration swells in Namjoon's chest, and he is pulled from his thoughts only when he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, coming from the path that leads to Jeongguk's home. He smiles, listening for faint voices and is surprised when he hears none. 

The thought of you being quiet is one thing, but Jeongguk almost always has something to say. He wonders if Jeongguk has finally gotten over his phase of needing to impress you and is beginning to get a little more comfortable. 

Namjoon smokes his joint a little too fast. His nerves are going haywire and he is becoming increasingly paranoid over the prospect of seeing you again. Jeongguk says you miss him, and he does not doubt that could be true, but he is more than well aware of how distant he has been, lately. 

However, when he looks up and sees the two of you coming onto the driveway—you slung over Jeongguk's back, wearing a set of Jeongguk's hoodie and matching joggers—all he can do is smile like a maniac. Love makes his heart pound rather than trepidation. 

As you slide off Jeongguk's back, Namjoon holds his arms out, inviting you for a hug, and he is pleased when you run into his arms, slamming against his chest hard enough that it nearly makes him cough. He considers offering Jeongguk what is left of the joint but notices the youngest keeping his distance. 

"Sweetheart," Namjoon says, taking a deep inhale of Jeongguk's unmistakable lavender body wash, "did the two of you have fun?"

When you look up and smile, saying, "Yes," it feels like the sun itself is shining from within Namjoon's heart. 

"Thanks, Jeongguk," you say, turning in Namjoon's hold, which he loosens to give you range of motion, and to puff back what is left of his joint. 

Jeongguk seems distant, which is worrying, but he could also be tired. Either way, calling attention to it and putting him on the spot does not seem like a good idea. There is a chance you both are still feeling the effects of the MDMA, and Namjoon does not want to push anyone's emotional buttons. 

"Thanks for the late night booty call, dollface," Jeongguk finally says with an unconvincing wink as he waves the two of you off, spins around, and makes his way back home. 

"You two are so cute," Namjoon mutters, feeling like he has found himself caught in the middle of a rather sweet crush, even if he is worried about the two of you together.

You spin and wrap Namjoon in a tight hug, asking, "Is that so?" and although it seems innocent enough, the playfulness in your voice lights a spark in Namjoon that he has to attempt to ignore. At least until after breakfast. So, instead, he simply hums and then decides to change the topic. 

"I spoke to Yoongi," he lies, and you gasp and step back, eyes wide and eager. Finally, the weed seems to be taking hold and making Namjoon relax a little more, and he continues. "What do you say we fly to Hong Kong tomorrow and bring him home?"

You nod so fast—so eagerly—that Namjoon actually worries you might get a headache. Feeling hunger pangs and a bit of lightheadedness take over, Namjoon takes one last puff of his joint and flicks it into the driveway. 

"He regrets creating distance and he wants to talk about it in person," Namjoon continues, instantly regretting letting his mouth run. Of course, he knows this to be the way Yoongi operates, but he is still making shit up. He feels desperate to calm your worries in some way, adding, "Rest assured that we have done nothing to push him away."

Even as the words leave Namjoon's lips, he fears they could be false. What if the injury to his face was the last straw, and Yoongi no longer feels safe with the two of you. Namjoon can still imagine the horrible feeling as you yanked on his arm and the blade that the two of you held onto caught on Yoongi's face. 

Judging by your eyes, you are just as doubtful, but you smile anyway, and that is enough to get Namjoon out of his spiral. 

"Are you hungry?" he asks, eager once more to change the topic. 

"Starving!" you respond cutely, and the two of you enter the mansion, kicking out of your footwear and closing the door tightly behind you. 

“I’ve been craving eggs benedict, so I had the chef whip up some hollandaise sauce," Namjoon says as they make their way through the main hall. "Does that sound good to you?”

He is not sure what he expected you to say in response, and is shocked when you come back with, “Awe, I was hoping you might burn the mansion down making me an omelet.”

Namjoon is quick to turn and begin tickling you, digging his fingertips behind your ribs in a dance that he knows makes you crazy. You squeal as he shouts, "Yah! I am not that bad of a cook!"

"I submit!" you shout, lifting your hands in the air and nearly punching Namjoon in the face. "You're an amazing cook!"

Although Namjoon is unconvinced, he decides the chivalrous thing to do would be to stop. He is also too damn hungry to continue torturing you, and he slots an arm around your waist when you seem to teeter in place. 

"Are these Gguk's clothes?" Namjoon feels compelled to ask, tugging at the fabric near your side, feeling his heart pound behind his ribs when you look up with a wide smile and nod. 

Something in the way the two are now, as if you seem to be back to how you were before, sparks desire deep in Namjoon. The moment the two of you finish breakfast, Namjoon wants to savor you for dessert. 

And he does.

The way your entire body trembles—legs draped over his shoulders and thighs squeezing the sides of his head only urges Namjoon on more. It has been weeks since he has been able to make you cum so much; weeks since you have not been suddenly interrupted by a horrendous flashback the moment you let your guard down; weeks since the last time Namjoon has felt thankful for a waterproof mattress pad.

Namjoon's nose, cheeks, and chin are soaked, and he eats you in broad, greedy strokes, moaning against you unabashedly, eager for you to know that he feels so much pleasure just from getting you off. 

"Daddy," you whine, drawing out the syllables as your thighs clench and release and clench again. He has slowed his fingers inside you but your release continues to squelch and dribble around his hand. 

Namjoon merely hums in response, dragging his tongue over your soaked pussy, tasting your lightly sweet, lightly tangy release—a flavor that makes him insane with lust. He is certain that he could eat you out for hours. 

"Too much," you cry, but Namjoon merely slows down, releasing your clit from his lips with a loud smack as he groans, "That isn't your safeword, baby."

You moan in response, legs falling spread and quaking as Namjoon continues languid swipes of his tongue. The high from the weed he smoked earlier has all but dissipated, replaced with a high from you. And he almost, almost forgets how worried he is about Yoongi. 

But then he is plagued with it once more—the image of beautiful Yoongi with blood pouring down his face—seeping between his fingers. Namjoon’s jaw quivers and he swallows thickly, overwhelmed with the urge to vomit or cry or both. 

“Hmm?” he hears you hum, and he glances up to find you propped up on your elbows, watching him with concern. 

Namjoon can’t help but chuckle. “How are you so observant?” he asks, leaning up on his elbows and wiping his face on the back of his hand. 

Although you look sweaty and fucked out, still seemingly trying to catch your breath, your gaze is razor sharp and focused, lips in a half smile. 

“I’m obsessed with you,” you mutter cutely, smile growing. “It’s easy to be tuned in to you.”

Namjoon sighs and smiles, but he feels a hint of worry. He has been trying so hard to protect you from his thoughts, but he wonders if it would not be better for you to be let in. That is part of loving someone, after all. 

“Ugh, I’m gonna kill the mood,” Namjoon groans, feeling that the mood is already dead. 

You chuckle and shake your head, saying, “Never.” Sitting up further, you open your arms and say, “Come here, Joonbug.”

Namjoon gets onto his hands and begins to crawl, caging your hips and then ribs. And then he gently falls forward, taking you down with him in a tangle of arms and giggles. 

“I keep having flashbacks too,” Namjoon mutters, closing his eyes tight. Yoongi continues to bleed in his mind, but as your hands begin to play with his hair, he melts, pushing the image out. How could he have been so cold when your warmth is so healing?

He swallows again and continues, “I keep seeing Yoongi with his hands and cheek covered in blood. Head wounds…fuck, they bleed so much.” Your hands stop momentarily and then begin to move again. “So much more than you might expect. When Taehyung was stitching him up, it looked like a river had flowed down his chin and neck. I’m sorry for telling you this.”

You say nothing, making Namjoon nervous. “We’re both at fault for what happened,” he adds quietly, chest heavy with remorse. “So please don’t take all the blame. Don’t carry the full burden, okay?”

“Okay,” you utter softly at the same time your chest quakes. 

Namjoon knows before his eyes can lift in confirmation that you are crying. “Sweetheart—“ he begins, but you shake your head, cutting him off. 

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” you half-whisper, tears flowing down your pretty cheeks. “That had to have been so scary.”

A humorless scoff works through Namjoon's chest. "To be honest, I was numb at the time. I go into a protection mode where, until I am sure that someone is okay, I do not react emotionally to the situation. It wasn't until we got home and I brought Yoongi up to shower while we contemplated coming to get you that everything became too much to bear. I completely fucking lost it."

"Why didn't you come get me?" you ask, and Namjoon loves you for it. He loves the way you challenge him, and how you do not leave any detail unaddressed. He turns his cheek to the side and buries it against your chest, listening to the steady beating of your heart while your hands sooth his head, neck, and shoulders. 

"Believe it or not, we were only home for about two hours before Taehyung came to bring you home, and as soon as we arrived, men started filing in for an emergency meeting that Yoongi had called; we didn't get to sleep at all. At that hour…when we first arrived to Taehyung's place…it took a little while for any staff to arrive to the property, and Yoongi insisted he tended to Jimin before him. We were in that fluorescent basement all fucking morning. I helped apply pressure to a rag against his face and dissociated quite a bit."

"I would have helped," you mutter, but Namjoon knows it is more for your own benefit than his. Even in the face of terror, you tend to put yourself before others, which is precisely why he prefers to keep you at a safe distance when possible. 

"How can I win your forgiveness?" Namjoon blurts, making an attempt to lift his head and torso enough to look at you. 

But you hold him in place, making your hands and arms heavy against his head and shoulders, sending a clear message that you already have him right where you want him. Your chest shakes and he imagines that you are quietly laughing, but he wishes he could see your face.

"Joonbug," you sigh, smile evident in your tone while your nails scratch against his scalp. "There is nothing to forgive. While I hate to be left out, all I needed was an explanation."

Namjoon feels guilty for his recent silence and all the space he created, thinking it was just as much for your own benefit as for his. He laments not just telling you how he feels. 

"I shut you out after Yoongi left," Namjoon mutters, staring at the dark blue curtains that hang against the wall, tracing over the rise and dip of each crease where they are bunched close. Although he feels at a loss for words, he attempts to at least get some of his thoughts out. "I didn't mean to, I'm just…I don't know. I'm not always good at all of this."

Blunt nails scratch just hard enough that Namjoon has to suppress a groan, fluttering his eyes closed. 

"At all of what?" you ask. 

"Being open, I suppose," Namjoon says, although he knows you are going to refute it. 

"I don't believe that to be true," you respond, proving him right. 

Namjoon chuckles, feeling affection swell behind his ribs. On the nightstand, his phone dings, indicating a message has come in, but he decides that whoever it is can wait just a minute longer. He wants to stay in this moment and consider his next words thoughtfully.

But then his phone dings again, and he thinks that maybe it could be Yoongi. And again it dings, and he worries that it could be Yoongi and that something could be wrong. 

"You gonna get that?" you ask, finally loosening your hold and removing your fingers from where they tangle in Namjoon's hair, and he lets out a sigh of frustration. The audacity of having to move his body when it is perfectly comfortable here in bed with you. 

"Alright, alright," he grumbles, rolling out of your hold and onto his back, which makes you groan and complain when all his weight is momentarily shifted onto one side of your body. You sit up as if anticipating whatever could be on his screen, pulling the comforter close to your chest, which makes him feel a bit more anxious than before. 

Namjoon shifts onto his knees and crawls the rest of the way over to the bedside table, where his phone rests facedown. As he reaches his right arm out, his left arm trembles under his weight—or, perhaps, under the weight of this entire situation. Namjoon turns the phone over and halts his breathing at the sight of three messages from Yoongi waiting for him. 

Yoongi: I think Uiseok accidentally blew your spot. He was high as a kite and muttering something about Namjoonie-hyung sliding by for a visit. 

Yoongi:  I can still act surprised when you arrive, though… ;]

Yoongi: Please hurry? I miss you two like crazy. 

Namjoon's heart goes wild in his chest and he begins to panic, unsure which task he should complete first. "Pack a bag," he mutters to you without lifting his gaze, thumbs shaking over the screen, unable to type a response because his mind races too quickly. 

"Is it Yoongi?" you ask, voice laced with worry, and Namjoon finally tears his eyes to you, which only makes his heart speed even more quickly. 

Your eyes, lined with heavy bags from lack of sleep, are downturned and so beautiful. He traces the shape of your sweat-slick neck and shoulder, then nods quickly, eyes welling with tears. "I think we should leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Oh?" you ask, sitting forward quickly. 

"Nothing is wrong!" Namjoon adds, realizing he must be worrying you with his lack of information, only now able to form a coherent enough thought to text Yoongi back. "He just wants to see us as soon as possible, is all."

In a rush, you scoot close to Namjoon, leave a wet smack of a kiss to his cheek, then slide off the edge of the large bed and take off running for your room in the nude. Namjoon chuckles as he watches you, then he gets to work. 

First, he calls the pilot, who says he can be at the airport in fifteen minutes with a plane ready in around an hour and a half. Then he calls Hoseok to set up a ride for the airport. And finally, he responds to Yoongi. 

Namjoon: We can be there by dinnertime.

Namjoon takes his time stretching his limbs then he pads over to Yoongi's closet, which has a bunch of his own clothes inside. He finds one of Yoongi's black suitcases shoved in the back of the space and lifts it on top of the center island to unzip and begin packing. 

Somewhat listlessly, Namjoon packs blacks—sweatpants and sweaters, tees, slacks, a cardigan. Black socks, black briefs, and black and silver face Rolex. Then he changes into his standard uniform of all blacks, layering a tee tucked into slacks with a fuzzy sweater that he borrows from Yoongi. 

As soon as the shirt is pulled over Namjoon's torso, snug around his muscles despite being a size too big for its rightful owner, he lifts his sweater paws to his face and takes a deep inhale of the detergent that lingers. It misses too much nuance to fully be Yoongi, but it is a piece of him, and that makes Namjoon choke back a sob. 

Soon. He can see Yoongi soon. 

He thinks back to the portrait hanging at the top of his staircase and pictures the look on Yoongi's face, imagining that the wedding that day could have been theirs. In all the years he has known and loved Yoongi, nothing has ever been simple. All he wants is for things to be simple. And he thinks about how nicely you would fit in a picture like that, too. 

The sounds of wheels rolling into the room and feet running in time with them makes Namjoon quirk a smile, and he turns in time to watch you come into view wearing one of your many floral sun dresses. You have what appears to be a soft light blue sweater draped over your arm, and you have managed to pack surprisingly fast.

"Do I need anything fancy?" you ask as you release the suitcase handle and begin to pull the sweater over your head. 

"We can go shopping if you do," Namjoon responds, eager to get to the airport as quickly as possible. 

"Alright," you respond with a bright smile that warms Namjoon's chest and settles his worries. In that moment, two honks of a car horn beam through the open window, signaling Hoseok's arrival. "Let's go get our kitten."

*

alright alright, this is the final chapter i have to offer that was already written. believe it or not, i actually have 22 mostly done. will we get a main update soon??? god, i hope so. thank you for your patience in this trying time! 💜💜💜 Yoongi's pov is also on the way!!!

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[natriae]

tw// mentions of injuries and cuts, nothing else that i can think of (lmk)

Being in a relationship with simon can be hard sometimes. He's gone for month's at a time leaving you with no knowledge of where he is or if he's even safe. You trust him, you do really, but this time around you've been noticing your anxiety spiking at random times.

Subconsciously praying no more horrible things happen to him. He won't tell you much, but if his insomnia and nightmares tell you anything it's that he's experienced a lot. More than just his family issues. You've caught your mind wondering off from work wondering if he's gotten enough rest, if he's eaten enough, or even if he misses you.

When you and Simon began dating you knew it would take a lot of emotional maturity to be with him. Things often worked out in your favor and the two of you never pushed each other for more, but watching your friend's cuddle up with their partners or holding hands cracks something in you. You don't even know when or if your boyfriend will be home.

Sleepless nights and your own supervisor noticing your lack of productivity. Your friend's take notice of your distress and beg you for a night out. You tell them you're tired and end the night tossing and turning in your bed. Weeks go by of the same routine, and Simon's pillow begans to lose his scent.

Eventually, one night in the middle of spring, the click of the lock being opened grabs your attention. Your body standing up wanting to run into his arms, but that's not the kind of relationship you and Simon have. You resort to standing in the entry way waiting for your big, burly man to walk through.

His short, dirty blond hair is messy on his head as a black mask covers his mouth and nose. You're surpised he's not wearing his baklava, but you've missed him far to much to care. Ghost was left back at the barracks, the man before you wears a black sweatshirt and balck tatical pants. His boots are muddy, but he doesn't make the effort to take them off quite yet. His duffle bag drops to the floor as he walks over to you.

One day you hope you'll be able to run and jump into his arms, but for now your okay with having him come to you. His left hand comes behind your head as he leans down to kiss your forehead.

"I'm going to get a shower, love" he gruff voice states before unlacing his boots and walking past you. That crack in your heart felt bigger now. You know you won't hurt him, he knows too, but PTSD doesn't just go away.

He loved your independence. He loved that you didn't need him to survive, and while that may be true now that you've been with him it you know how badly it hurts when he's not there. You don't want to be needy. You don't want simon to think your whiny, but if your not the right person for him you'd encourage him to find them. Yet the thought of leaving him brings would bring a gash on your heart that would never heal.

Walking to your shared room you grab a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for him to put on after his shower. Allowing him the option to cover any healing wounds. It's late and you know he wouldn't want you up worring.

Opening the bathroom door Simon finds you zoned out while grabbing your pajamas for the night. You hand aimlessly placed in the dresser draw while your eyes rarely blink. His large palm rests on your shoulder nearly scaring you half to death.

"love, is everything alright," his eyebrows furrow as he takes in your reaction. You know better then to lie him. He always knows.

You guide him to the edge of your bed and sit next to him. "Simon," you take a deep breath attempted to keep the tears at bay. "I missed you," you continue quietly looking down at you fidgeting hands. He waits for you to continue before speaking. " I just, this time was harder around," glancing up to see his expression you know he understands what your talking about. His rough hands cradle your face wiping the tears that escaped.

"I need you to tell me what you need," is all he said sound more like a command rather than comfort, but you know he's trying. He wants this to work out as much as you do.

"just..just hold me please,"

And at that he makes sure his arms curl around you as the two of you lay under the sheets. Your ear resting just above his heartbeat reminding you that he will always be here for you.

[wellofdean]

So in my ongoing efforts to say nice things about Supernatural and, as @luckshiptoshore said yesterday, "reclaim this nice, gay show" together, and also probably because I listened to Bruce Springsteen earlier today while I was thinking: why is it that this particular love story has me like it does? Why can't I let this Destiel thing go? I mean... I watched all the recent queer love stories and as much as I enjoyed Good Omens and OFMD, they just don't take up real estate in my soul like Supernatural does -- and that's not a decision I made, it just is. I don't know about you guys, but my little rages choose me.

Anyway, I was thinking -- it's probably not just because of queer representation or whatever, and I don't think it's because I want to see dudes be tender -- I think I ran out of that form of interest in the life of dudes awhile ago, but yeah, Bruce Springsteen. Born to Run. He says "I want to know love is wild, I want to know love is real" and I felt like it pretty much hit the nail on the head for me, somehow.

It's been a long time since I have felt moved by a het romance story. I feel like I can no longer believe it when the roles are so pre-packaged in the tropes and trappings of what was sold to me as idealised love in my younger days. And, like, I am Gen X, so it was pretty gruesome out there when I was learning how to want love -- the power of compulsory heterosexuality was strong, and the shit that was sold to us all as ways to love and be loved were pretty gross, just watch any romantic comedy from the 80's or 90's.

I think I love Supernatural so much because of the way Dean plays the role of a standard issue dude, and postures like he is a stereotypical red-blooded American dude, but it's so transparent that it isn't him. I don't know if it's just Jensen things, or if it was consciously done, but I love how unconvincing Dean's act is, and how clear it is that he is a wounded child whose own real desires and needs have been beaten out of him somehow, and I just love the way the real Dean and what that guy wants slow rises out of him as the story goes on, until he's choking on it, and visibly swallowing it down. For me, the queerest thing about Dean is his pain, his aching loneliness, and his sense of failure at being what he thinks he is -- a violent man who only knows how to kill, and I love Dean's moments of clarity, moments when he speaks from his own soul -- when he tells Cas he's sorry, tells John he has a family, tells Chuck "that's not who I am" are just everything to me.

Both Dean and Cas are victims of conditioning and coersion -- Dean trying to be his Daddy's perfect son, and being manipulated by Chuck, and Cas horribly violated and brainwashed repeatedly for millennia in heaven -- and they love each other in defiance of conditioning, because love is wild, and it's the product of their freedom.

I feel like ALL actual love eschews force and arises out of freedom. All real love is specific and weird, and is co-created in the space between lovers from what is most real in them and in that sense, all real love is queer in some way in that it is not part of the big social project of subjugating what doesn't comply. I feel like a lot of people lead lives of mindless compliance and that a thing that's wonderful about queer people and queer community is that we work against the grain to honor what is truest in us, whatever that is.

I guess I just love that, on Supernatural, the kind of love that saves the day is the kind that grows wild, like a weed you can't kill, out of more than a decade of choosing each other, again and again, and choosing to fight coercion and conditioning. Love that just fucking refuses to comply, and in fact, cannot comply, because non-compliance is it's very nature. There's something so hopeful and beautiful about that to me. I want to believe in it, and I do.

It's also why, after ALL THIS, in the context of that narrative, Dean is incontrovertibly queered, and anything else is just straight up narrative malpractice.

[vorpalfae]

Trigger Warning: Rare Illness/Health Issues [wasn't sure if this need a tw but these topics make some ppl uncomfy so i wanted to be considerate anyway💜]

so a lot of ppl have been asking me why i don't post pics anymore or why i have barely been on social media compared to how i used to be. and the reason is i've been having severe health issues for a very long time. i can't even remember the last time i went more than a month without feeling nauseous, or actually throwing up, or just having headaches and stomach pain that are so bad i can barely tolerate them.

i've known for a while that i have gastritis, but my mom & my bf convinced me to go to a new doctor for a second opinion. after months & months of pure agony and feeling exhausted and sick to the point where i have no energy, i finally know why. i went to a specialist and discovered i have a rare illness called CVS (Cyclic vomiting syndrome). and i also am lactose intolerant which was amplifying my symptoms because i eat dairy products constantly.

i am going to be starting treatment for it and i really hope it improves my life and my ability to function because i am so tired of "living" like this. just existing has been exhausting and painful. i literally haven't been able to accomplish any of the goals i have because i can't go more than a few days without feeling horrible.

i already feel useless because i'm autistic and i have bipolar 1 and i'm waiting on disability payments to come through because i am unable to work with my disabilities. so my bf has been working and doing his best to take care of me and our kids. i just feel so horrible and guilty all the time. and i genuinely didn't know why i feel sick 24/7. all i want is to feel like myself again. and to do all the things i miss doing. i feel like i'm trapped by this illness.

i'm grateful to have answers and know what i'm dealing with finally. but after suffering like this almost every single day for so long its so hard to feel hopeful for the future at this point. i'm literally in tears as i type this. its just been really bad. i never do my makeup anymore or feel good about myself. i can barely move sometimes because the pain in my stomach is so bad or i get pain in my throat from vomiting for hours at a time, and then i get MORE pain from dry heaving due to not being able to hold down any food. and then i get random migraines and headaches that last all day as a result of all of that. its taking a huge toll on my body and my mental health. my depression gets worse during the winter season so when this started getting really bad it just made my mental health a million times worse. its literal hell.

but yeah thats why i haven't been online. real life is hard enough and i haven't been motivated to post because of the hell i'm going through or a lot of the time i physically CAN'T make content. but i'm going to keep trying. i'm going to do every fucking thing my doctors tell me to do because im so fed up with suffering. i promise that i will make content again and post the things i create and other stuff i used to post about before i stopped being able to function. as soon as i start to feel semi normal or at least well enough to do daily activities and complete even small goals, i will post about it. i'll keep u guys updated.

i appreciate every single person who follows me and my content, and all the ppl who keep checking up on me and wondering where the fuck i went. i love you guys so much💜 and i'm so sorry to all the ppl who haven't heard from me. if i can gain at least a little bit of my physical strength and health back, i will be so happy. i also am trying to get vitamins prescribed to me because im severely lacking nutrients but they are so expensive and i can't afford them out of pocket until i get my disability money. i'm also anemic and have to start taking iron supplements again. i'm just a giant ball of health issues😭 its actually ridiculous how bad my health has been. but i'm a mom and for that reason i will never stop trying. i will do whatever it takes to get better. i don't think my health could get much worse than it is currently. hopefully i didn't just jinx myself by saying that😭

sorry for the super long explanation, i just have sooo many messages in my inbox and questions that you guys send me that i haven't answered. i don't want to leave u in the dark. the connections i've made on this silly little blog mean the world to me. and everything i've been going through has been so hard to explain. but since i recently got a REAL answer as to why i'm suffering so much, i felt it was a good time to let you guys know what is going on with me. like i said, when i am able to feel somewhat normal again i will post consistently and re-open my shop too! it sucks so bad having a passion for creating but being too sick to even get out of bed other than to get sick in the bathroom. i've been to the emergency room more times this month than i have in the last 4 years. if i can overcome this awfulness i will not take it for granted. i will work harder than i ever have to create and share it with the world. but for now i just have to sit back and do whatever my doctors tell me to do and hope to god that it helps me 😞

[fairuzfan]

It's the zionist concern anon again. I will say for now that with what you said about prioritizing Palestinians I do agree. The people going through a genocide are a bigger priority than people who are not going through a genocide. I just fear that due to the fact I am neither Palestinian or Jewish that I may end up embracing stances that I do not actually understand and that innocent people may suffer because of it. I do not want to be irresponsible. I am also someone who lives in a country built on stolen land, so that does to some sort of extent influence my feelings on Isreal as I imagine many people in Isreal share my thoughts on the fact we have lived our entire lives on stolen land. As I said before, I also do not know any Palestinians personally so I find it hard to know who I can ask about the history, Hamas, technical details of politics, etc without risking being taught the wrong things. On a much more selfish note, I also struggle with debilitating mental health issues that make it very difficult to navigate moral issues especially if the moral issues do not impact me on a personal level. So if I am being honest, my questions are not entirely selfless as I have very self-centered fears on if I am actually a horrible person. I thank you again for being so understanding, but I figure the right thing to do here is admit I am likely not as pure intentioned in my questions as I should be when a large factor to why I worked up the courage to ask is in hope I am worrying too much about my quality of moral character from a selfish perspective. Again, I thank you for being so understanding and willing to answer these asks instead of just brushing me off as a horrible zionist.

I don't think you're a horrible person at all I just think everyone has underlying zionist biases because it's a product of the society we live in.

And I do understand where you're coming from, honestly. Something that always helps me is remembering something that my parents taught me as a kid: always stand on the side of the oppressed. Now as I grew up I realized you have to define what oppression means and I think exploring that will also help you get a better understanding of how to combat other forms of racism/antisemitism/transphobia/etc.

If you do want to learn about hamas tho, I would suggest taking a look at Tareq Baconi, he has a lot of writings about the history of Hamas and he's Palestinian. There are also Palestinian podcasts and social media accounts. I understand that not knowing a palestinian personally to help you guide yourself through these things is daunting, but there are plenty of resources to help! It's why I'm here on this blog honestly, I don't mind you reaching out to me for questions or anything.

A good principle to remind ourselves with is "how can I ensure that justice can be had?" And to find the answer to that you need to look into multiple types of antizionist thought. Some blogs I like to check out for a diverse antizionist opinion are @el-shab-hussein and @bringmemyrocks as a couple of examples. Plus I'd look to Black American thinkers on antiracism (like Angela Davis and James Baldwin and Kwame Ture) because they do a good job of showing you how to examine your internal biases which we are all subject to.

I don't think this selfish to want to be a good person. I have the same worries. I actually do get worried that sometimes I'm *actually* a bad person secretly without me realizing and I reach out to friends and family to talk it out. Something that helps me through this is realizing that you have to forgive yourself for previous beliefs you've had and promise yourself to do better because at the end of the day youre human and you make mistakes.

But really my biggest advice is to read and listen to a variety of schools of thought and if you can, interact with local communities dedicated to antiracism. Even if theyre digital communities! That will help a lot with identifying any problem points.

Again, feel free to reach out with any questions. I don't think you're a zionist at all! Please don't worry and thanks for reaching out :)

[hrts4hanniehae]

clutch || seven

there are written parts :)

note that the timeline or educations may not add up but just ignore it because i don't have the brain power to sync up THIRTEEN + 1 's education schedules

sorry for the late chpt. I was really sick so i tried my best on this chpt.

warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating & sex & liquid products of sex, death, mental health, horrible sister, entitled sister

she was careless. 1 day of happiness was enough for her to forget the problem at hand. work had been enjoyable and there were discussions of displaying her art. she had time between her shifts to work on he last of her commissions. of course it would be ruined by her stalker.

the moment he had read her tweet, he was out the door and going to find her.

he saw e/n lurking around. bastard.

when he did, she was cowering in the dressing room. wordlessly, he wrapped his jacket around her before handing her his cap and a mask.

"wear this." - wonwoo

"thanks, wonwoo... i owe you one." - yn

they made it out with no issues. e/n was gone but who knew when he'd be back?

no matter how much she tried to enjoy her dinner with wonwoo, she couldn't help but feel eyes on her. but wherever she looked, there was no one.

wonwoo watched as yn's typing got even more agitated.

what the hell is going on... is she playing speed tetris or something...

when she finally slammed her phone face down onto the table, he finally asked her what happened.

"family argument. Now I have to bring a very attractive guy to my family reunion next sunday. and I also have to close my art deal by next wednesday and have an auction by thursday. great." - yn

"but why?" - wonwoo

"my parents found out about e/n and blamed me. my younger sister played a victim angel again so i snapped and called her out for being a brat. so now i have to one-up her in fame and a partner." - yn

"any ideas of who you're going to ask?" - wonwoo, crossing his fingers. wait why am i crossing his fingers?

"if any of your friends can help me, that would be great. i'll probably ask mingyu or dino since they're single and famous." - yn

"i'm single and famous" - wonwoo, whispers under his breath

"sorry what did you say?" - yn, leaning in to hear him from across the table

"i said, i'm single and famous. i'll go with you." - wonwoo

a pause. subtle panic. a smile.

"really? oh my days, wonwoo. you're my saviour. i LOVE you. you have the fame AND the face card. chaeyoung is going to quake and crumble!" - yn

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ💓ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ badum.

well. he doesn't know she's with me now. be it make-believe.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

synopsis: wonwoo is a popular streamer known for his incredible gaming skills and good looks. He turned heads. but he hates the attention. he just wants to play games and earn money. one day he receives a letter. his apartment’s rent has almost doubled. no warnings at all. his current paycheck from streaming can’t shoulder those bills. he has no choice but to rent out his spare room. to who? a fresh art university graduate who has… 1. a stable job ✅ 2. talent for art and sculpting ✅ 3. many friends ❌ 4. social anxiety ✅ 5. no filter ✅ when his iconic cat logo gets copystriked, she comes to the rescue with a new logo for him. when his apartment’s walls start peeling, she fixes it. whatever he used to struggle with… the empty space... was now filled by her. so what does he *last player standing* do when her ex *enemy spotted* tries to take her back? heh. *clutch* he clutches.

inspired by wonwoo's gam3bo1 streams, falling into your smile & gogo squid (has hints of valorant)

pairing: streamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!artist!reader (ft. jeongcheol, soonhoon, junhao, seoksoo, verkwan)

genre: fluff, comfort, slowburn, comfort, pining, bestfriend!minghao

warnings: stalker ex, toxic ex, mentions of abuse, guns (game), cursing, hate comments, panic attacks

started: 28.12.23

ended: ?

taglist: join from my masterlist

main masterlist

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tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

@belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03 @yandere-stories @coupshour @heesbees @hamji-hae @hyuckxtagram

[gacha-incels]

Been boycotting limbus but it's a bit disheartening seeing everyone continue around me with this passing intl women's day. I don't know how to convince my friends to stop without getting into an argument because they're all knee deep into these games. But my real question was.. why? These people are boycotting other products for other things, why are they so adamant with sticking on this when it's proven to have harmed so many people in the small team that made it?

Had a discussion with one who is boycotting and I feel like that "political correctness" seeps into the themes of the game, actually, despite how people tout it as the ultimate anti capitalist game; The City is suffering, workers gruel and die at the whims of corporate overlords, people struggle to find housing, and whatever the fuck Carmen's doing in the light, while it could help people survive longer, is just giving everyone guns ignoring the power structures underneath. It's very strange to me now there's.. no suggestion of uprooting the system at all in the games. No true strikes or protests or even any mentions of unions as far as I know. There's no effort to change what is given

[outside of the seed of light project, which 1. famously Didn't Work and 2. having everyone manifest ego is still just giving everyone guns and going "now don't shoot each other!"],

which is very strange and kind of sad? Like sure maybe an arbiter or something would come and tear it down but surely people would come up with countermeasures? People are really good at adapting around things out of desperation, and surely at least an effort would be mentioned

And then my friend, she suggested something; without project moon's suffering, there would be no project moon. Without the city, project moon can't make games. To end the hell that the characters are in and truly resolve the city's hypercapitalist dystopia, they must stop making money off of them. But they don't want to. They definitely DO want to make more games, noted by the interviews which mention future game concepts such as the distortion detective visual novel. But in order to do so, they must keep the current games "clean" and consistent in their suffering to perpetuate conflict. There is some commentary about capitalism to be had; but it feels more like a "oh, look, people are dying, this is so sad" layer of paint on it at this point rather than something more in depth and meaningful. And I think in enforcing this sort of "we can't fix the system in any meaningful way, let's just live our lives instead and hope something better happens" mindset, it reflects into the players. Kind of ironic how the anti capitalism game must sustain its own horrible systems internally so the owners of the series can: make more money through a very predatory money making system, no less!

Limbus fans don't give a fuck about feminism in kr, they think its a system they cant help fixing so they just play the game as they please and any attempt to disuade them is met with a "stop ruining my fun!!" And "who cares?" The worst ones are the ones who KNOW their money is being funneled into stupid misogynistic shit but don't care! It's insane! I've never seen this level of apathy towards a serious issue before!

Sigh. I hope this ramble is coherent. If I missed talking about something or if you want me to talk more I'm game. Project moon's characters are some of my favorites but you have to admit the themes are surface level shit at some point, especially in later installments of their games. So tired but I'd figure I'd share my thoughts somehow. Take care account admin, youre doing gods work

yeah regarding your first point about fans that keep playing, back in August there was a discussion on this blog here regarding contemporary fandom “culture”- how it makes dropping a piece of media hard for some people and why they feel so quick to defend it. the nature of gacha is also that it gets you into the habit of doing “dailies” which makes them harder to drop, this is not even mentioning sunk cost fallacy. I’ve seen a recent post on the FGO subreddit asking why people still play the game and the top posts by a longshot were ones saying only because they spent so much time and money on it. For a lot of people (even people who think themselves progressives) misogyny is a non-issue as well so they will not take the situation in South Korea that seriously to begin with. This is in addition to it happening to “other” or “foreign” women in the eyes of the western fan. There is also an aggressive “fuck you, I’ve got mine” attitude some of the fans who want to keep playing have in regards to these women. It’s disturbing to watch happen but unfortunately not uncommon. I find some of the worst of it, in this situation specifically, is when westerners try to tell Korean women (who are boycotting and spreading information) that they are the ones spreading misinfo, or there’s no reason for them to boycott, how it’s not that bad for them, how PM actually didn’t do anything wrong, “both sides” are crazy and wrong, “let people enjoy things”, shit like that. like doesn’t it raise any flags for you that the people most affected by PM’s actions, Korean women, deleted entire accounts of fanart, took back fanmade items from PM’s cafe, started a boycott of LC and made posts in english to try and get the word out to international fans? you must think they’re idiots if you believe this is all some misunderstanding and vellmori quit of her own free will. Come on. imo it’s impossible to make any meaningful statement critiquing capitalism when you’re writing it in a game that uses one of the most exploitive types of gambling mechanics. I hope I don’t have to explain to anyone why this is absurd. You don’t need to expose young people to gambling addictions in order to fund new games. At the same time, things an author writes (or things that the reader infers from the writing) do not always reflect their ideologies or actions in real life and they can sometimes seemingly be at odds with one another. This is something fans have to reckon with, and not just by saying “actually hatsune miku made limbus company” or whatever. Personally, I can’t take PM’s “anti capitalist” or “feminist” or “revolutionary” work seriously when in reality they have mistreated employees, sued labor unions, acquiesced to incel demands and then later added a meme into the game from that incel community. On the other hand people struggle to believe Project Moon could do anything wrong like this because of the stories in their games so they vehemently defend PM, which at some point just feels naïve. well hopefully this is the type of answer/discussion you were looking for lol thanks for writing 👍

[commsroom]

do you have any ideas for what you want for eiffel and hera post-canon?

yes, i do! the answer to that really depends on whether we're talking short term or long term, and what i want vs. what i think will happen is... well, i think they'll be okay. eventually. they'll get there.

i'm firmly in the camp that eiffel gets his memories back (fairly short-term in my mental timeline; given the most likely ways that he could get his memories back, it doesn't make much sense for him to be without them for more than a few months) and that hera gets a body (more complicated, and somewhat more long term), but my reasoning for why i think those things work narratively would be a long post in itself (and i've made multiple posts about those topics already) so i won't get into the why here. just, i think it happens.

the note the finale ends on definitely implies eiffel, hera, and minkowski intend to stick together on earth, and i think minkowski feels a lot of responsibility for them, given everything. so i think they live with her, for the foreseeable future. eiffel's not good at holding down a job, and hera... i think it's important that she gets a chance to try things without fear of failure and to separate her self worth from productivity. eiffel and hera are meant to be minkowski's slacker roommates. hera should be creating unmarketable art.

and the issue of where they live will come up pretty quickly, i think - hera doesn't have any particular attachment to anywhere, except for a desire to see the ocean, but mobility might be a problem. minkowski is a career military woman who's moved around a lot, but her husband worked in DC, so presumably they lived in... probably maryland or virginia? before she accepted the job, and that's a complicating factor if she's choosing who to prioritize. i think eiffel would be pretty adamant about staying in texas so he's at least in the same state as his daughter, even if he can't see her. and as much as i would like for eiffel to be able to be a part of her life again, because i know how much he wants that... i don't think it's very likely. at least not any time soon. and he won't handle that well.

speaking about post-canon wolf 359, i don't tend to get that into potential legal / media circuit stuff because... frankly, i don't think it's that important to what the show is about. i'm sure it will be a scandal, but lots and lots of space-travel-related scandals are going on in that world, and cutter and pryce were very intentionally not the public faces of goddard futuristics. it'll pass. that said, the aspect of that i am interested in is legal personhood - that's going to be a hurdle for hera to be able to live her life, and i think eiffel will worry - even if it isn't totally rational - about whether he'll be able to stay out of prison once no longer legally dead, not knowing exactly what the terms of cutter's arrangement were. being an ex-convict is going to complicate some facets of his life regardless.

there's just a lot of stuff that being on earth is going to bring up for them. and i think they'll be there for each other, obviously - one of the things i like most about their relationship is how much they're able to be a refuge for each other in some objectively horrible situations - but they're both pretty insecure people who feel like everyone is bound to replace them, and earth is going to give hera some serious separation anxiety while she's bound to one location and the others aren't, and those are things they're going to have to work through.

as for what i want for them... well. i think eiffel will give hera a 'promise ring' with a kind of jokey but good natured promise that one day she'll be able to wear it. and she does! but neither of them are sure if that counts as a proposal in retrospect and they dance around it for a while. they get married eventually, and - against her better judgment - minkowski agrees to be both eiffel's best man and hera's maid of honor. and ends up taking on way too much of the wedding planning, even though she said she wouldn't, because they're both super lax about it and it starts stressing her out. she tries to delegate to lovelace, but lovelace just thinks it's all really funny. eiffel gets married in a novelty tuxedo tee and minkowski apologizes to hera, but hera knows the type of guy she's marrying (and isn't concerned about tradition anyway) so it doesn't bother her.