#how do small business loans work | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

httpsserene · 11 months

Text

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!

want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))

cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss

if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!

oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.

he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances.

oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done? he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.

knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.

oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals.

this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.

oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you.

this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not.

suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.

his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.

he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.

and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”

“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone.

oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.

“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”

oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”

“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”

oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”

“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”

lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”

oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.

“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“

oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).

you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.

the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”

“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”

the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”

oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”

the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.

it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.

you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”

the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”

all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”

the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”

“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it’s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.

the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”

“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”

“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”

you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.

oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”

he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”

your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“

oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”

shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.

“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”

that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.

oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.

you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.

oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.

you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls.

oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”

oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”

he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down.

twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.

oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.

your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.

a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.

you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.

your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.

you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.

you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body.

“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.

your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”

he feels you nod against him shyly.

“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”

a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”

“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.

“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”

the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”

oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.

“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.

“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.

oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.

“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld @buendiabebeta @butterfly-lover @lana-d3l-rey @dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhajj @miahgonzalez16 @jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @sweetpiccolo-blog @my-ylenia @zaynzierulez @reblog-princess

2K notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 1 year

Text

𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 | neil lewis x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | a visit to gumshoe video could go one of two ways... but one way or another, you're gonna get him.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | varies

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only), enemies to lovers, nothing too terrible just neil and reader bullying each other

this is a choose your own ending fic!! after the introduction, click to choose which way you want the story to go! each ending will have its own warnings section, so read those as well!

Technically, you always dressed well for work. Corporate jobs require professional attire, obviously; but you were slightly overdressed today, and it wasn’t to go into the office.

Tight skirt and matching blazer, a silky-satin button-up, black heels, and thigh-high stockings with a seam up the back. No, this wasn't how you dressed for a day in the office… this was how you dressed when you were closing a deal.

A little bell dinged as you walked into Gumshoe Video, and you looked around for a moment after you stepped inside: the decorations were… plentiful, and kitschy. The displays were so small, and just a quick glance at some of the shelves had you frowning in confusion. These are some seriously deep cuts… how do they make any money at this place?

Lucien came bounding up to you in an instant, hands pressed tight against his horribly out-of-fashion skinny jeans as if to hide that they were clammy already. "Do you, uh, need help finding anything?" he asked.

You offered him a pitying smile, about to offer him a friendly ‘no thanks, but’ and then tell him why you were really here… but you were interrupted.

Jonathan, who had taken a break from sipping on a soda behind the counter, coughed to get Lucien's attention as he quickly shook his head. He didn't seem to understand, though, looking back at you with his brows furrowed.

"Uh, ignore him,” Lucien laughed nervously. “Are you looking for a rental?"

"Dude, she's not here to get a movie!" Jonathan snapped. "Who dresses like that to pick up a tape?!"

"Maybe she's on her way to work!" Lucien returned sharply. "Or maybe she just came from somewhere!"

"Where?"

"My dreams!"

"No, your friend is right, I'm not here to pick up a movie," you admitted, and Lucien looked at you nervously.

"You, uh, don't like movies?" he wondered.

"I love them actually, but—"

The door to the office swung open, with Neil glaring at you from the other side of it. "You," he announced with disdain.

"—but I'm here to speak with the owner," you finished, tilting your head and grinning at Neil.

"We have nothing to speak about," Neil assured you as he walked towards you.

"We have multiple opportunities to discuss," you disagreed, "and my employers are very anxious that I deliver this message to you, so if we could please speak in your office—"

"Her employers? Is this chick in the mob?!" Lucien blurted out fearfully. "Neil, I know money's tight, but— oh fuck, was that 'small business loan' just a cover—"

"She's not from the mafia," Neil sighed. "They actually have some morals."

You extended a hand to introduce yourself to Lucien. After your name, you told him your job: "Head of Acquisitions, Media Giant, LLC."

Jonathan coughed again, poorly covering the sound of him saying "blood-sucking harpy" under his breath.

You smiled at him; "You really should get that cough checked out," you suggested pointedly.

“Whatever it is your puppet-masters want you to discuss with me,” Neil began, wiggling his fingers as if pantomiming a little marionette show, “you can take right over there into our women’s restrooms and shove directly up your ass.”

“Oh, that’s cute,” you smiled, “I bet you’ve been saving that one since our last little visit. Can we go to your office now?”

“No, you can’t go in there— we just had the priest come by and bless it, we wouldn’t want your feet to burn now, would we?” Neil snarked in return.

“Fine— get it out of your system,” you encouraged. “Say whatever’s been stuck in that pretty little head for the last month waiting for me to come back, and then we can have our meeting, alright?”

“I— well, uh—” Neil stalled, looking a little flustered as he suddenly leaned on a shelf of tapes with one hand. “You think I’m pretty?” he mumbled nervously, running his free hand through his hair— only to put a little too much weight on the shelf and nearly tilt it over, having to scramble to catch it and make sure it was balanced again.

“Dude, pull yourself together,” Jonathan snapped at him, and Neil glared at him before looking back at you.

“Fine, okay— we can have a very brief conversation in my office,” Neil offered with a sigh, motioning for you to follow him, “but it’s going to go the same way it did last time: with me telling you hell no and you having to do the walk of shame back to your headquarters.”

“Looking forward to it,” you smiled, waving goodbye to the other men before stepping into Neil’s office as he shut the door behind you.

You watched him step around you to sit at his desk, looking at you expectantly with his legs spread and his fingers interwoven in his lap.

“Am I allowed to ask why you’re dressed like a cowboy, by the way?” you asked with a raised eyebrow, and he frowned at you as he tossed aside the hat and slipped the poncho off over his head, leaving just a much more normal outfit of jeans and a button-up underneath.

“We’re running a special on Westerns,” he explained, “it’s fun, okay? Not that you would know fun if it smacked you on the ass and called you sweetcheeks.”

“Honey, that’s just what I call a Friday night,” you smirked as you stepped a little closer leaning against the side of his desk as he swallowed thickly. You couldn’t just sit across from him— you needed to keep the upper hand. “But I’m here for business. Let’s talk business, shall we?”

“Right, business,” he frowned. “I’m guessing your business here today is trying to buy my store, again?”

“Something like that,” you relented.

“You know, I guess I should take it as a compliment,” he grinned, leaning back further in the chair. “Clearly, you know I’m a threat.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes, “we’re a Fortune 500 company, and you’re a guy wearing a poncho.”

“I took off the poncho!” he defended.

“So you’re… just a guy, then,” you corrected. “The point is, we’re not worried about you stealing our business at all. We just think this location is going to waste.”

“You want the real estate?” he realized.

“You’re in a perfect spot, you know,” you informed him, “you just need… a little more help utilizing it.”

He sneered at you sharply. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“You only hate me so much because you resent success,” you informed him with a sigh. “Just because you’re broke and proud doesn’t mean making money is a sin.”

“It is when you put making money above everything else,” he replied, “like creativity and community and the authentic customer experience—”

“How exactly does Media Giant conflict with those things?” you scoffed. “We’re a company founded on creativity— and we always foster community—”

“Spare me the doublespeak, Big Brother,” Neil scoffed, “you’re just a bunch of— of robots! Your whole company, it’s just full of people trying to make a quick buck, top to bottom: you think the people in the back at McDonald’s give a fuck about food? That’s what you are, the McDonald’s of the film industry. You’d probably let a monkey work there if it could wear a nametag and convince someone to rent Fast and Furious Fifty or whatever the fuck.”

“Fine,” you sighed, “let’s just say for a moment that you’re right. That my company is so terrible because we don’t employ people like you.”

He relaxed for a second, and you leaned in closer in hopes that he was really listening.

“This is your chance to fix that!” you explained. “You can save us from the inside out, you know. You can start from the bottom, be our best sales guy, and then it turns into a promotion and a raise and soon you’re climbing the corporate ladder— where you can make some real change.”

He shook his head, laughing a little. “That’s not actually possible, it’s just a fantasy you tell all your little minions to keep them compliant.”

“It’s what I did,” you shrugged.

“You?” he realized with a laugh. “You, in one of those navy vests and nametags, selling people tapes?”

“I’m sort of a cinephile,” you admitted. “I wanted a job where I could talk about movies all day— and thanks to me, that Media Giant location rented out more copies of The Seventh Seal than all the rest combined.”

He stood up quickly, stepping closer to where you sat on his desk. “Y-you like The Seventh Seal?”

“It’s a masterpiece,” you answered, speaking a little softer as he was so close, “Bergman is a genius.”

A strange look crossed over his face, a heavy-lidded sort of look as he examined you. “Tarantino?”

“Overrated, but not bad,” you replied quickly.

“Tarkovsky?”

“Good, but hard to watch.”

“Lynch?”

You scoffed; “Don’t insult me.”

He laughed a little, crossing his arms and looking away from you. “You could be one of the good ones,” he realized, “but you sold out. And now you’re just a suit.”

“It’s not so bad,” you smirked, “I think you’d like a little more… structure, given the chance.”

“And that’s what you’re offering?” he pressed, and you nodded.

“We’ll let you keep the name, your employees… most of the decoration,” you offered, “you’ll just be technically a Media Giant franchise. You have nothing to lose, and so much fucking money to gain.”

He sighed a little, looking at you again. You could tell he was considering it, but not very thoroughly. All you could do was hope for the best, and wait for an answer…

CLICK HERE FOR THE SUB!NEIL ENDING

CLICK HERE FOR THE DOM!NEIL ENDING

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #dom!neil lewis smut #sub!neil lewis smut

1K notes · View notes

bitchesgetriches · 7 months

Text

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Saving Money and Being Frugal

We’re all in this together. Don’t give up.

On food and groceries:

How to Shop for Groceries like a Boss

Why Name Brand Products Are Beneath You: The Honor and Glory of Buying Generic

If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You

You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid

You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.

On entertainment and socializing:

The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend

7 Totally Reasonable Ways To Save Money on Cheap Entertainment

Take Pride in Being a Cheap Date

The Library Is a Magical Place and You Should Fucking Go There

Your Library Lets You Stream Audiobooks and eBooks FOR FREEEEEEE!

What’s the Effect of Social Media on Your Finances?

You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s

On health:

How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

Why You Probably Don’t Need That Gym Membership

How to Get DIRT CHEAP Pet Medication, Without a Prescription

On other big expenses:

Businesses Will Happily Give You HUGE Discounts if You Ask This Magic Question

Understand the Hidden Costs of Travel and Avoid Them Like the Plague

Other People’s Weddings Don’t Have to Make You Broke

You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel

3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income)

When (and How) to Try Refinancing or Consolidating Student Loans

The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years

Season 2, Episode 2: “I’m Not Ready to Buy a House—But How Do I *Get Ready* to Get Ready?”

The Most Impactful Financial Decision I’ve Ever Made… and Why I Don’t Recommend It

On buying secondhand and trading:

Almost Everything Can Be Purchased Secondhand

I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online

The Delicate Art of the Friend Trade

On giving gifts and charitable donations:

How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?

In Defense of Shameless Regifting

Make Sure Your Donations Have the Biggest Impact by Ruthlessly Judging Charities

The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum

How to Spot a Charitable Scam

Ask the Bitches: How Do I Say “No” When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again?

On resisting temptation:

How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

The Magically Frugal Power of Patience

6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending

On minimalism and buying less:

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

Everything I Know About Minimalism I Learned from the Zombie Apocalypse

Slay Your Financial Vampires

The Subscription Box Craze and the Mindlessness of Wasteful Spending

On saving money:

How To Start Small by Saving Small

Not Every Savings Account Is Created Equal

The Unexpected Benefits (and Downsides) of Money Challenges

Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead

From HYSAs to CDs, Here’s How to Level Up Your Financial Savings

Season 2, Episode 10: “Which Is Smarter: Getting a Loan? or Saving up to Pay Cash?”

The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess

We will periodically update this list with newer articles. And by “periodically” I mean “when we remember that it’s something we forgot to do for four months.”

Bitches Get Riches: setting realistic expectations since 2017!

Start saving right heckin’ now!

If you want to start small with your savings, consider signing up for an Acorns account! They round up your every purchase to the nearest dollar and save and invest the change for you. We like them so much we’ve generously allowed them to sponsor us with this affiliate link:

Start investing today with Acorns

#frugal #saving money #personal finance #money tips #financial tips #financial literacy #financial freedom #money #debt #money management #how to save money

572 notes · View notes

chaosandmarigolds · 4 months

Text

More Mafia(Mob??) leaders!daughter and Simon :p pt 2

(I don’t know manhattan, I’m making stuff up.)

“Okay, so,” you hold out your phone to the man, having pulled up the menu to one of your favorite restaurants, “Just double checking- this place can do gf, df, vegan, egg free, soy free, and what else um…” your faltering gave you enough time to look up to see his expression, still wearing that mask but you didn’t mind all that much. However you could see his eyebrows furrowed.

“You don’t have any allergies do you?”

“No.” Simon replied gruffly, taking a quick look behind his shoulder to Ivon- who trailed a good ten or so feet behind.

“Okay…cool! I just didn’t wanna take you somewhere and then you can’t eat anything because that sucks,” You shrug it off as you walk, the sun beginning to set but for the most part it was still light out, “So…Simon, do you have any pets?”

His attention is drawn back to you at the attempt of small talk, voice luring but riddled with a nonchalant smile, a genuine question rather than a groaning force in order to be polite. “One. Sheppard, he’s t’ree.”

That had triggered a whole ramble, you going on about how your childhood pet was a German shepherd who you had named Maddie. And that conversation had lingered until you both were still sitting happily at the table within the plush walls of the restaurant, sipping some wine that held more worth than the name Lieutenant Simon Riley.

All the same, as you both waited for your appetizers to come the words had died down and he thought it best to speak. “So what do you do?”

You blink a few times, bringing the glass to your lips as you wait for him to elaborate.

“For work?”

To that you nod, sipping the wine as you set it down, “My father-okay, well yeah I know, Nepo baby and all that, I should preface this by saying I’m so so super thankful for everything I’ve ever been given, and yeah,” you pause to breathe, it was a spiel you gave to anyone you just met, and normally they wouldn’t believe you, but you meant the words. “I-I know you’re just like ‘yeah sure’ but I am, I am. Anyway, my father- I dunno, he’s like a loan shark or something. He runs-well you know those MDR credit unions? Yeah, that’s my dad’s business, and I’m HR.”

There was a pause and you breathe again, dipping your gaze low to bring the wine over to you, “Anyway…yeah, aside from the flower shop, what do you do?”

Simon had listened to it all with a shaker full of a salt, either you were oblivious to the situation of your family name or you were a good lair- he thought it to be the former. “Working out.”

“I can tell.”

His eyes quickly flashed up from the porcelain plate to you, and only for you to quickly direct your gaze elsewhere. Instead of leaving it, he laughed and then nodded, “Thank you.”

“Mmhm, you’re welcome.“ your words were muffled and you keep your eyes anywhere but his face, “so um…you ever been to the art museum?”

Simon gives you a look, “The one of seventh?”

A nod.

“Isn’t it closed?”

To those words you smile, “Not if your father is the number one donator.”

(Annnnd!!! That’s all I got for right now. Toodles!)

Tag list: @blackhawkfanatic

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley #coco's chaos <3 #simon riley x you #cod fluff #cod x you #simon riley x reader #call of duty fluff #cod simon riley #ghost simon riley

298 notes · View notes

qwimblenorrisstan · 28 days

Text

Lesson Learnt Pt. 2 | John Price x Reader

Summary: After the initial incident that caused your meeting, Johnny sets you and Price up on a date at a little diner nearby.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Warnings: can’t say much w/o spoilers but random men, ghost being moody, Johnny being overly friendly, working in customer service…

A/N: idk what happened something possessed me when I made this, it was supposed to be fluff but then it exploded. hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist

Weeks had passed after the initial incident, and your life had quickly changed.

You’d broken up with your toxic boyfriend, now wondering how you hadn’t seen it earlier, and why you hadn’t listened to all your friend's advice and thoughts on him. You’d moved out, blocked him on everything, and found a new apartment closer to your simple job as a barista. It was enough to keep the bills paid, for now. At least until you finally got out of college with your doctorate in nursing science.

Having been in college for nearly eight years now, and not living in the dorm (there were far too many incidents on campus for you to trust any sort of campus police, not to mention the generally shady system of coverups) made it a little bit harder.

Student loans were threatening to suffocate you, but for now, you would focus on one day to the next. All of this, the annoying days that drug on, or the hard times, would all be memories before you knew it, and it would be worth it. Or at least you hoped.

Today wasn’t one of those super slow-moving days where customers were ordering hyper-specific drinks or getting the suspiciously old lemon cakes, only to complain about how stale they were, as if you could do anything about it. No, today was relatively normal, customers minding their own business after ordering, coworkers having idle chatter.

“M’ taking my lunch break.”

You said to your close coworker, Laney. Her honey-brown eyes shifted over to you, and she nodded with a little smile.

“Don’t take too long, might miss some cute boys.”

She teased, knowing full well all of your opinions on relationships right now. You wanted to wait until you had a stable income and were out of school. She’d heard it only about a million times. You huffed a soft laugh, deft fingers untying the knot in your apron as you set it up on a hook, walking out to your car.

Lunch break was about 30 minutes, which was more than enough for you to drive to the nearest cheap restaurant and pick something up. Clicking your key button and heading towards where you heard the beep of your car, you opened the door, sliding into the worn leather. It wasn’t a new car, not by a long shot, but it was your old faithful, and it had served you well for nearly ten years in a row.

You started the car, muscle memory kicking in as you drove to that place right down the road from your work. It was past the chicken shop, a place you would refrain from visiting for a while after seeing some undercover cops staking out there one night.

You turned and pulled into the parking lot, glancing around before opening your door, only for the cold air to nip at your bare arms, when you decided to slip on the warm leathery jacket, with the fur on the inside. The one that the man, John, maybe, had given you. You’d lost the piece of paper with their numbers on it to the washing machine, but oh well. He didn’t look like the type to live around here, anyway, so it wasn’t like you were going to see him again.

Walking into the restaurant, you strode to the front, placing a quick little order and paying with your card, before choosing a small circular table in the corner to wait for your food. This place was usually quick. You idly scanned the guests. Two large men sitting together, chatting. An older woman and what was probably her husband seated with a younger man and woman. Maybe some sort of family double date? A nervous-looking teenager sitting alone, knee bouncing. An old, thin man seated at the far end, mumbling incoherently to himself.

Not unusual.

You pulled your phone out, idly scrolling through social media before your name was called, and you got up to go collect your food.

“You sure?”

“M’ tellin’ ya, it’s exactly what Gaz said she looked like.”

Simon glanced out at the girl his sergeant seemed so certain about. He wouldn’t lie, you did match the description pretty decently. Just as he opened his mouth to point anything out that fought against Johnny’s claim (just to spite him, obviously, not because he liked watching Soap get all frustrated and start rambling on for an hour on end), he noticed it.

“She’s wearin’ cap’s jacket.”

Johnny’s brows rose as he snuck another glance at you. You grabbed your tray of food, walking back to the small little corner where your bag was on the seat. You were wearing their captain’s jacket. The brown leather, the slight fuzz in the sides and insides, the buttoned pockets….he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it earlier.

“Hell’s bells, been wonderin’ where that thing went.”

Simon only gave a little grunt in reply, eyes narrowed on you before he glanced back at his food. He didn’t want to seem a creep. He already knew he was intimidating enough to the normal civilian, and one of his “I-want-to-eat-your-firstborn-child” glares (named by Johnny and Kyle) probably wasn’t helping.

“Sounds like Price’s found ‘imself a pretty birdie.”

Johnny lit up at those words, a devilish grin lighting his features, one that Simon usually only saw before he demolished buildings or people with explosives. He was already dreading it before it came out of his mouth.

“We shoul’ set ‘em up on a date.”

“No.”

“Don’ tell me it wouldn’ be a good idea. Might keep him from giving us so many sprints at training, yeah? Ya know he’s been overworkin’ us lately…”

The slight pause Simon took was all Soap needed to continue spewing his disarming, convincing words that usually always worked on his Lieutenant. His lips further curled into a grin as he went on.

“He’s been so tense lately, jus’ let us do this for ‘im, help him relax some…”

“Fine. Get on wit’ it.”

Simon finally relented, suddenly finding his food very interesting to look at as Johnny got up, striding over to you with a confidence one could only expect from the Scotsman.

He glanced up, trying to subtly watch as his sergeant approached you. You were on a call with someone, the phone held up to your ear by your shoulder while you ate your fries, the main entree of your order already gone. When Johnny walked up, you immediately sized him up.

Paranoid. Simon didn’t blame you, living on this end of town. The only reason he and the guys stayed here was for the cheap flats they could get when on leave for a few months. Price had a little house more up South, but never visited it much, letting it gather some dust.

You took the phone from your ear, muttering something to whoever was on the other end, and hanging up. You raised a brow at Johnny, who in turn gestured to your jacket and struck up a conversation. Johnny was trying to look unthreatening, he could tell. Sitting down so he wasn’t standing over you. A small, easygoing smile. Trying to make you laugh, and succeeding a bit.

Five minutes in, and you were seeming more comfortable with him. He wrote something down on a napkin from your table with a pen in his pocket, handing it to you, giving a teasing wink which you snorted at, and walking back over to his and Simon’s table with a huge smile.

“Wha’ did you just do?”

Simon asked, suspiciously eying Soap.

“I set our cap’ up with a date.”

He beamed, and Simon only sighed, knowing that Price wouldn’t take it too well to be sent on a date with a girl he’d only just met a few weeks ago. A girl that hadn’t texted him since. But maybe, just maybe, it would go decently.

That had been one of the strangest encounters in your life.

A Scottish man introduces himself as a friend of Price’s, saying something about working together at their jobs and telling you he recognized the jacket you were wearing. So much for not ever seeing John Price again, considering his friend had just set the two of you up, and given you the man’s number too. All the while the gruff-looking man had sat at Johnny’s table, watching the interaction.

It had made you more than a little nervous, but nothing had gone bad. The Scotsman had been friendly, and even funny, but not pushing too far.

And now you had a date on Friday night.

When you got back to work, off of lunch break, Laney helped you into your apron, tying the knot for you like she always did.

“You’re late, what took so long?”

She knew you weren’t usually ever late. Always on time, punctual, even. You managed your time properly.

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

She grinned at that, nudging you with an elbow as you started taking orders.

“C’mon, spill it.”

And you did.

You began with the incident a few weeks ago, which she’d mostly already heard about, then told her all about the Scotsman and his friend, and finally the date on Friday. Right when you were about to finish the story, you felt your phone buzz, and you took it out to check it despite usually keeping it on Do Not Disturb. A text from an unknown number, but you knew who it was.

“Sorry for my muppets bothering you, they don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.”

You snorted in undignified laughter, replying while an older customer complained, mumbling something about ‘this generation and their phones’.

“I’m assuming you’re talking about Johnny?”

“Yes, the one that barely talks in coherent English.”

“Aw, he was funny. I liked him.”

“Don’t go liking him too much. We apparently have a date on Friday.”

“I’ll see you there, then?”

“See you there.”

You finally silenced your phone, slipping it back into your pocket as you went back to work with a noticeable pep in your step and a warm, fuzzy smile you offered to customers.

Laney certainly noticed.

When your shift was over, ending quickly, she talked to you while walking out to the parking lot through the back exit.

“I can help you get ready for the date, if you want?”

She offered. You’d be stupid to deny, with the impeccable makeup and fashion sense that she had.

“Sure, I can swing by at 3. That’ll give you plenty of time.”

“You have any shifts the rest of the week?”

“Barely. Just little half-times I squeezed in between lecturers. Last year’s always the busiest.”

“See you Friday, then.”

You beamed at her, sliding into your car as she walked to your own.

“See you Friday.”

Some of the days passed in a blur, some dragged on slower than ever before.

Eventually, though, Friday rolled around, and you were sitting in your friend’s chair as she did your hair, your makeup light, but good. You were wearing a simple outfit, some clean jeans, and a cute brown sweater over your white shirt.

It was 4:30, and you had only thirty minutes to haul your ass out to the nice diner the both of you were meeting at for dinner.

“It’s fine, I need to go. Seriously.”

Laney gave you a look, but reluctantly started putting all her things away. You hugged her, mumbling thanks in her ear, before grabbing your purse that had all of your things in it and walking to the exit of her quaint home.

You drive to the diner, finding the parking lot to have the familiar old car you’d seen Price driving in the first place. You parked got out of the car, and walked into the diner, only for the server up front to inform you that you’d already been paid for, and she led you to a table where Price was seated.

He’d tried to dress nicely, you could tell. Beard combed and hair done, dressed in jeans and a comfortable-looking dress shirt. He gave you a small smile as you slid into the booth, and there was already a tray of crinkle-cut fries in the center.

“Hope you didn’ mind that I ordered, big fella like me needs a lotta food.”

He said with a chuckle, and you grinned.

“I don’t mind, trust me, my older brother devours food like no other.”

He smiled, a little bob of his head before his brow raised in mild curiosity.

“You got a brother?”

A nod.

“Yeah, name’s Gary. He’s quiet, but we love ‘im for it.”

“Me and the boys are just about brothers, wish they’d be quiet for once.”

You snorted at that, taking a sip of your water before the waitress came by and you ordered your meal. Price’s was the first to come out, he’d ordered a full English breakfast that the diner somehow served, despite it being around dinner time. Yours came out next, and you both idly chattered about your life, family, jobs (he was apparently military and off on leave right now, not that you minded), and whatnot.

When he was about more than halfway through his food, his phone began buzzing, and his face went serious as he held a small finger up to you with a slightly apologetic expression, taking the phone call.

He listened, and you simply continued eating your food, not minding. Everyone had to take important calls every now and then, sometimes it just wasn’t avoidable.

He gave a few gruff yes’ and no’s, before sighing as he replied for one last time into the phone.

“I’ll be right there.”

When he clicked off the call, shoving his phone into his pocket, he gave an apologetic look.

“It’s an emergency, can’t stay. ‘M sorry.”

You nodded in understanding.

“Is everything alright?”

You asked, and he nodded, face set in what looked like a grim determination. He called a waitress over, paying the bill before you both got up. He gave you a light pat on the shoulder as you both walked out, right before you went to your car.

“We could do this again, if you’d like. With no interruptions.”

“I’d like that.”

He breathed an audible sigh of relief at that.

“I’ll text you when I can.”

Before he began walking to his car, getting in. You walked to yours, opened up the driver’s side door, and slid in before you saw his jacket sitting on the passenger seat. Cursing to yourself, you grabbed it, having it in mind to go take it to him before he left.

Before you could move, though, a hand clasped over your mouth.

A cold prick of pain in the back of your neck. Liquid.

“Don’t scream.”

A voice warned as if you could make any noise at all with a hand over your mouth.

An overwhelming sense of heaviness overtook you, and your vision began swimming, before turning black as your eyes fluttered closed.

“What’re we getting ‘er for?”

“Bargaining chip.”

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@ashy-kit

@theoslove

@mayoforthewin

#writers on tumblr #cod fanfic #cod mwii #john price x reader #captian price #captain john price #captain price #price x reader

134 notes · View notes

justanotherarmyfangirl · 11 months

Text

Dark&Wild (6) His Obsession

You are an interpreter for international idols, but you soon realized their lavish lifestyle came at a cost, and somehow you became the price. The man who came to collect had a special kind of vendetta, and you, so foolishly, sparked his interest.

In this story Yoongi is the villain and you will hate him! Everyone else, well, the question becomes not if there are good guys or who will save you, but how will you save yourself?

yandere loan shark!Yoongi x blind!reader x bodyguard!Jungkook x idol singer!Jimin x idol rapper!Namjoon x idol singer!Taehyung x detective!Hoseok x detective!Seokjin

TW: 18+ only, dubcon/noncon, mental torment, physical torture, mind break, violence, Stockholm syndrome, reader is blinded before events that take place in the story, Jimin is an addict, Yoongi is a sadist, voyeur, fingering.

---

Alone in the bath was your favorite time.

The warm water felt nice on your aching muscles, the relaxing smell of lavender helped calm your anxieties.

You massage the suds into your skin, listening to the trickle of water, wondering where in this massive place your captor, Min Yoongi, might be right now. With your luck, he’s already in his bedroom, waiting for you.

HIS OBSESSION

You hated how even now, finally alone, you still thought of him. You couldn’t escape him, he was with you even when he wasn’t, and you feared no matter what happened in the future, you would never be able to get away, he would always be there, an irritating voice in the back of your head, low and raspy, taunting you.

You were almost grateful you couldn’t see him, you couldn’t stand the thought of his face imprinted behind your eyelids, in your dreams like the way his touches were, the heat of his palm against your skin, against your throat, against your hip-

Min Yoongi…I’ll kill you…

You clenched your jaw in anger, ignoring everything else you felt when you thought of him. When he…

When Yoongi fucked you the white hot rage you felt deep in your chest and the heat of his unforgivable arousal in the pit of your stomach almost became indistinguishable. When you thought of those moments when he was on top of you, and the scorch of his tongue, the searing stretch in between your legs, it made everything inside you feel heavy, feel burning.

It must be a sickness, the way your head feels hot every time you think of it, of him.

You sink lower and kick your feet out of frustration, splashing the water over the tub’s rim.

It’s quiet. There’s a small low voice that reminds you again, it’s been months now and you haven’t seen or heard of Taehyung, or anyone at all.

There’s a lingering thought to drown yourself as you splash aimlessly, and another defiant angry voice that screams you should be drowning Yoongi instead.

Oh you’ve tried to.

To cope with your circumstances you rationalized, he was going to take what he pleases from you anyways, punish you for your continual combativeness, might as well give him a good reason to do it. Still, no matter what you do, overpowering the loan shark never works.

So damn disappointing.

You still remember the time you had stayed here until your toes and fingers became wrinkly, refusing to leave until Yoongi grabbed at you and you pulled him right into this nice large deep bathtub of his.

After the initial shock wore off he easily overpowered you, took advantage of your slippery wet nakedness and fucked you like you hadn’t just tried to murder him.

That time he wasn’t even mad you had soaked his designer suit, you remember how you could hear the smile behind his mocking words while you choked on soapy water, “If you wanted me to join you, you could have just asked.”

You almost managed to drown him again when he came, if you hadn’t needed to breathe as well.

You let the water slosh over the tub’s edge, dunking yourself under the bubbles.

And scream.

You don’t hear the knock on the door, too busy wallowing in your own lavender scented misery. A hand pulls on your shoulder, lifting your head before you can inhale water.

“What?!” you splutter, wiping your face.

“I…” Jungkook clears his throat, looking away from your nakedness, letting his initial worries subside. “You shouldn’t do that,” he mutters.

“Towel,” you say simply. Not in the mood to argue, you stand up. With Yoongi, you are used to his leering presence. He’s already seen every bit of you, and loves reminding you about it when he wants to make you feel humiliated. And now you’ve kind of let your indifference about your body extend to Jungkook as well. You knew he wasn’t going to try anything like the others might have, plus, you enjoy making the henchman stutter.

You feel soft fabric plop against your front, catching it before it falls into the tub. “Hold my shoulder so you don’t slip,” he says.

The edge of the towel exposes the side of you as Jungkook moves your hand to his shoulder. “I need-” His hand wraps around your soaking back, pulling you out of the tub and placing you on tile in one swift motion. “-t-thanks.”

Jungkook hands you a silk robe, a pink short kimono style Yoongi chose for you that Jungkook already knows you’re not going to like. He can’t help but chuckle when he hears you groan, muttering about the thin article of clothing. You turn your head in his direction but you don’t comment on it.

Jungkook leans in the doorway, hands in his pockets, waiting for you.

He’s to deliver you to Mr. Min.

Everyone has good and bad days, today is one of your better days, and also one of Mr. Min’s bad days. He’s had to kill someone, and that means, Min Yoongi is not getting his money and that pisses him off more than anything. That also means with almost certainty Yoongi is going to make today one of your bad days.

Jungkook tries not to think about it as he listens as you hum contently, knowing what’s to come. He glances over at you. Jungkook tries to give you some modesty, but he’s still a man, and a curious one at that. He chooses to ignore that old saying as his eyes linger on your naked body as you dry yourself. As long as he doesn’t touch…

“Have you seen Tae?”

Jungkook might have ignored the question, he has ignored your questioning when it came to such matters, but he feels sorry for you, for what’s to come, and so, in hopes that you won’t let your day be ruined, Jungkook answers.

“Yeah, he came to one of our establishments the other night.”

“Really? Alone? Did you talk to him?”

“He was alone. Usually Mr. Park joins him, but not in a while,” Not since we took you. “He drank,” and fucked a prostitute, but Jungkook decides to leave that out.

“Did he,” you pause, “Did he ask about me?”

You sound so hopeful.

“Yes,” Jungkook says, still waiting by the door.

“He did?” you sound so excited, so happy. Perhaps if you had let his words sink in, you could have noticed the hesitation in his voice. “What did he say? Did you tell him what I told you?”

“He wanted to know how you were being cared for, that he and the others miss you.” Jungkook lies, telling you what he thinks you most want to hear.

You stay quiet and he wonders if you see through his lies. “Did you tell him?”

“I wasn’t able to, Mr. Min was right there. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, next time.” You sound so hopeful, pleased, grateful to him. Jungkook never promised he would tell Taehyung anything for you, and he doubts that coward would do anything with the information if he did. But you still try, asking him sweetly every time, never getting mad when Jungkook gives you another excuse. Your hopes are too high, and Jungkook can’t be the one to destroy them.

You smile in his general direction. You can’t see him, so he lets himself smile back.

“We watch and bet, it’s just a couple of us that do it.”

“I want to listen! You have to let me!”

“You really like soccer that much?” Jungkook asks.

“Yes! The announcers are so animated! I can get the jist of it, and our company would hold these big parties on game day and get chicken and beer, just feeling everyone’s energy was so much fun.”

“Um I don't think it will be the same-”

“You telling me gangsters don’t know how to party?”

Jungkook laughs. “Okay okay, I’ll see.”

You laugh happily.

Yoongi can hear your laughter. It’s melodic and pleasant. However Jeon Jungkook’s laughter? Mixing with your own, tainting it?

Yoongi’s short temper has already hit its fuse.

He watches your shadows before you enter the room and the way the larger shadow moves away slightly before you enter. You grip Jungkook’s bicep with one hand and hold his forearm with the other, using both hands, overly touchy…overly affectionate. Yoongi clears his throat.

Jungkook leads you to the loan shark, until you are standing by Yoongi’s side. Only then does Jungkook leave you to take his spot on Yoongi’s other side.

You’re in his office, you presume. Your thigh hits the hard oak of his desk. Yoongi taps his phone. “Translate this.” He plays an audio. The volume is very low, you crouch down to hear it clearer.

“They were talking about their wives,” you frown.

Fucking pigs, you think, and you hope their wives leave them.

Yoongi cracks his knuckles. “That’s it?”

“They were talking about their wives’…private parts,” you cross your arms, disgusted. “I rather not go into detail.”

“Hmm, I thought they were going to double cross me.” He finally relaxes, pulling your body closer, he sets you into his lap.

You’ve learned a few things about Yoongi, the biggest revelation was that he was extremely paranoid. “Well they still could,” you note, poking at his paranoia. You lean your back against him, just to feel more comfortable, “but no, that conversation was not about that.”

“We’re going back to Japan at the end of the month.” You stiffen in his hold. “Tokyo this time, we’ll be staying for a few weeks.”

“Two weeks? Are you setting up another parlor?”

“Close,” Yoongi clicks his tongue, amused by your curiosity of his dealings. “We have a few host bars there, just checking in. There are some regulars with high tabs we’re going to be…visiting. Need you there.”

You exhale, fingers fiddling with the string of your robe, “Okay.”

Translating for a bunch of blubbering business men begging for forgiveness, or a longer extension, or just another chance at life, was such a stark contrast from the bubbly television interviews you used to do.

But there was always a fakeness during press junkets that you really hated. All of it felt like such a shallow performance, and it made you feel like a circus animal at times, putting on a show, no matter how offensive the question, no matter how you felt, you had to smile and translate with a happy face.

Hell, there’s no superficiality around you now, even if Yoongi’s targets sure put on a performance…

Traveling with the loan shark really showed you how dark the depths of humanity could sink. There was rawness and realness to the underground scene that you could just feel in the air, swirling amongst the cigarette smoke.

No bullshitting, no pleasantries, straight to business. It was one of the few things you didn’t actually hate about this predicament you were in, the few moments where you felt like you had some power.

You were the voice of the most powerful man in the room, and by extension that meant your voice held power. The men in the room would, sometimes quite literally, be hanging on your next words.

If you didn’t like the men you were translating for, you weren’t afraid to make it obvious to the loan shark in your translations, and he would seem to punish them harsher for it. It’s happened so many times now that it was no longer a coincidence to you.

Now if only he would listen to you on other matters…

Yoongi drapes his hand over your front, under the opening in your robe. You don’t flinch like before, what’s the point in flinching? Yoongi will just grab at you tighter, make it hurt if you do.

“You smell good.” Yoongi’s nose tickles your neck.

You cough. “I just took a bath.”

He runs his hand across your suppleness, pinching your nipple.

He knows you are holding it in, staying quiet to spite him, it’s amusing to him, so he continues to play with you, letting your robe open wider and wider until he hears someone clear their throat.

Jungkook turns to leave.

“Jeon, stay.”

Jungkook was wrong.

Yoongi wasn’t going to take out his anger on you.

He was going to take it out on him.

“Why are you doing this?” you mutter, not used to an audience. Usually Yoongi isolates you to his bedroom when he’s home and he’s surprisingly quite professional when you’re out in company, even if everyone knew what he did to you behind closed doors.

“He is not bothered,” Yoongi turns his chair so he and you are facing Jungkook, “Are you, Jeon?” he asks the young gangster. He yanks one of your legs open.

“No.” It’s flat. It’s a lie. Jungkook knows Yoongi doesn’t want to hear the truth.

“Well I fucking mind!”

You yell when he grabs you by the neck. “You don’t have to always do what he says, you know. You’re not like me,” you swallow, speaking to Jungkook. You’re not weak like me, you imply.

“Hohoho.” Yoongi laughs. “Hear that, want to rebel against your mean old boss, Jeon?” he hums. “Did you ever think all those nice things our Jungkookie does for you is because I ask him to? To keep an eye on you, you do your job better when you’re not a mopey brat. You should be on your knees thanking me for giving you a friend.”

“Fuck you.”

“What did you say? Say that louder.”

You stay quiet, head down.

“I could have made him be the one to dole out your punishments. Jungkook is skilled with a knife. He has a taste for blood, did you know that? People call him The Maestro…when we need someone to sing, we send him. After enough time, there's a certain pitch everyone gets to, of screaming. His favorite method is fileting his victims until they sing that tune. You know what that means? Pulling the skin back until you see muscle.” You shiver when he runs his fingertips across your arm. “That’s the kind of man he is.” Your stomach flips at his words.

“Every bit of kindness is because of me.”

“I know,” you mutter.

“SO YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Can I go, Sir?” Jungkook speaks up.

“No. Stay right there,” he says, undoing the tie around your waist. “Jeon, like what you see?”

“No.” Jungkook knew better than to ever admit he had grown fond of what Yoongi deemed was his.

“No? But she’s pretty,” he says, uncovering everything, pulling your legs open wider. “And so tight.”

You cry out, wanting nothing more than to attack the loan shark for putting you on display like this, and it takes every ounce of restraint to not fight him…to not close your legs...

“Feel for yourself, touch her.”

“Sir?” Jungkook looks very displeased at being roped into this.

“Come here and touch her.” Yoongi waits and smiles as he watches Jungkook hesitantly step closer.

“Please, don’t,” you whimper.

“I thought you would enjoy this. Since you are so close now, chit-chatting and making jokes all the time, hm? Don’t you ever think about-” Yoongi puts his hand between your legs, “-what it would be like? You can’t see, but our Jungkookie is very handsome.” Yoongi’s lips brush against your ear.

“I only think about ways to please you, Sir,” you grit out very unconvincingly.

Yoongi laughs. “You don’t want Jungkook to touch you like this?”

You try to ignore the pressure of his fingers inside you. You couldn’t bring yourself to confirm such a thing in front of the young gangster, so you admit something just as horrible. “Just you, I just want you.”

Yoongi presses his lips against yours, so forcefully you feel your teeth knock against his and you yelp, pushing him away, clearly disgusted.

You can’t hide your hatred for him when he does that, when he kisses you like that. Even with his hands groping you, fingering you, kissing Yoongi just feels worse, feels wrong.

Yoongi grabs your chin, pulling your head back to him. Yoongi eyes the man in front of him whose gaze hasn’t left a particular painting on his wall. Jungkook refuses to look at you like this.

That just won’t do.

“You know what I think? I think someone has a little crush. And I know it’s not you,” he murmurs in your ear.

Jungkook glances over to his boss. He has you spread over his legs, his fingers pressed deep inside your cunt as you shake against him.

“You’ll say whatever sweet little words you can think of to worm your way in my mens’ good graces, so convinced they will help you escape eventually,” he says. Yoongi manages to keep the tempo in his ministrations precise, pressing into you deeper, thumb circling your clit in such a mind numbing way you feel like your body is catching fire.

“Why would I try something so stupid?” you grunt.

“They won’t betray me, you know.”

“Oh, I know. How nice it must be for you,” you mock. “How many men did you say you have killed for crossing you again?”

Yoongi’s temper rises as you hit a nerve for him. He pushes you off his lap, and you fall at Jungkook’s feet, knees scraping against Yoongi’s hard wood flooring.

You lean against Jungkook, curled into yourself, pulling your robe closed.

Yoongi watches as you move closer to Jungkook like a scared child looking for comfort. “Jeon, punish her.” He stands up, anger overflowing. “Hurt her, since that’s what she seems to want instead. NOW!” he yells.

Jungkook looks down at you and sighs exasperatedly.

There are a million and one different things a man could do to a woman to hurt her…

What will Jungkook pick?

Jungkook lifts you to your feet by your hair, making you cry out in pain. He ignores it, whatever he is feeling. He’s done it so many times it’s come natural: dissociating from the situation.

“It’s okay, do it, I don’t blame you.”

Goddammit, Jungkook inwardly curses. Don’t you see how much worse you are making it for yourself? Why did you say that? To make Jungkook feel better about this frustrating situation he’s in? Jungkook doesn’t have any feelings…

Yoongi raises his brow and grinds his teeth, crossing his arms, waiting impatiently for Jungkook to do something.

Jungkook releases you and for a fleeting moment you believed he was going to refuse.

In that moment you actually believed he would go against Yoongi.

In that moment you were relieved.

And then you felt a stinging across your cheek, so hard you toppled over.

“Not her face!”

Before you can cry out, a fierce kick into your stomach knocks the wind out of you, once, then twice more. Jungkook has to make sure Yoongi sees he doesn’t care about what happens to you.

You bring your knees into your body and cradle your head, not knowing where Jungkook might strike next. You're sure he’s pulling his punches for you, but holy shit it hurts, and you can’t imagine just how strong he really is. You shake from head to toe, and finally your muscles decompress and you’re able to inhale and catch your breath.

You roll over on your back, waiting for what’s next as you take in deep breaths. Jungkook grips your robe, lifting your body.

This isn’t going how either men want. Jungkook stands over over, staring at the blood dripping from your lip, frozen in place. Yoongi can see the remorse twisting in Jungkook’s expression and how you are taking the beating in strides, lips pressed together in determination.

You are an exceptionally annoying martyr. You sacrificed yourself for Jimin and now, Yoongi now sees with a sick realization, you think you are doing it for Jungkook. His Jungkook.

“Jeon…” Yoongi looks down at you, clenching his fist. “...leave.”

Yoongi will make you regret this. The loan shark really couldn’t help himself. It was going to be him and no one else…

Jungkook looks back one last time before closing the door, and sees a glimpse of your glowering expression as his boss stands over you and pulls off his jacket. Jungkook was always calm, always collected, yet in that moment, his heart rate jumps.

Yoongi got what he wanted in the end, Jungkook was keeping his distance from you now, ignoring you almost completely when he was around.

You’re annoyed, stuck having to listen to your new “handler” Jon explain in excruciating detail his recent trip to Phuket. He’s the only other one of Yoongi’s men you can stand to be around for extended periods of time, but if you have to listen to another pun involving fornication in Phuket you’re going to jam something in your eardrums!

“What about you?”

“What about me?” you hum bored.

“...so, miss y/n. I have to confess, I did some research on you after what we talked about,” he lowers his voice. “You’re kind of a celebrity. Can I have your autograph?”

You laugh. “Shut up! JTJ are the celebrities, I was just along for the ride,” you pausing. “Any recent headlines that I might be interested in?”

“Well, the hot news is that JTJ have postponed their next album.”

“Really? I wonder why,” you ask, concerned. “Have, um, are there any articles about…what happened?”

“Nothing, only a forum thread between their fans speculating if you got fired. Boss man really worked his magic.”

You sigh, flopping over on the couch.

“Jon, any chance you’d drop me off at the corner store no questions asked?” You have begged to be released so many times now your enthusiasm has all dried up.

“Sorry honey, but I intend to live a long life.”

You snort. “As a gangster? Good luck.”

“Ha!” Jon goes uncharacteristically quiet. “How much did you say that debt of your boy was?”

You snort at the implication that Jimin, the elusive idol, was in any way ‘yours.’ “Eight billion won, something like that,” you huff.

You suspect Jon’s wincing as he sharply inhales. “Ahh shit.”

“Yeah, shit.” You change the subject. “You coming to Japan with us this time?”

“That I am!”

“Wonderful,” you say, emotionless.

“Now about that autograph.”

“You’re joking-” you cough out surprised.

“I printed out a picture and everything!”

“You’re ridiculous!” you laugh. Your fingers run over a piece of paper Jon places in your hands. “What picture?” you ask unable to contain your amusement.

“Well, there was an interview in France, you’re wearing a bright orange dress, looking like a real bigshot, I took a screenshot of it.”

“Orange, really?” you grimace, you never really questioned what coordinators put you in and it’s not like you could see yourself but you still had pride in your appearance.

“You looked nice, you match the others.”

“JTJ?” you perk up.

“Yep, well…I cropped them out.”

You giggle. You hold the picture in your hands delicately. You wish you could see the photo, see how you look now and how you might have fit in with them.

“Yeah, I’ll sign it, you weirdo.”

A pen is placed in your hands. Any other day you would have thought to jam it in your eye and end it all. Today, you try your best to scribble your name down for Jon and feel like your old self.

---

“What’s this?”

“You don’t recognize them?”

“I do, but-” You believed Yoongi had destroyed all your things in his anger. “You kept them?” You rummage through a whole box of your books that Yoongi has unceremoniously dropped at your feet.

“Yes. Here, some new books for you too.” Yoongi drops a few clean and crisp books into your lap, the pages not bent and worn from multiple readings like yours were.

You want to question why now all of a sudden, but you were too afraid the temperamental man might take your questioning wrongly and take away his gift as quickly as he gave it to you.

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Pick one and come with me.” You let him lead you. You suspect he did this because you’ve become practically mute around him, refusing to speak to him until your trip to Japan.

Who knew the silent treatment would actually work. You hold the book close to your chest while Yoongi drives. It’s a long drive, you try to keep track of every turn and stop but it’s impossible.

“What place is this?” It didn’t smell like smoke or alcohol or sweat, the regular scents that usually assaulted you when you went out with the loan shark. It smelled like…baked bread.

“Just read your book.” Yoongi leads you to a cushioned seat and hands you a drink, and when you place the straw to your lips you sip on something sweet and milky, a rich coffee concoction. Yoongi sits next to you, clears his throat and doesn’t say another word.

You flip through the first pages of your book. Is this some business thing…or is this another trick… You remembered the last time you felt disarmed like this.

You remain stiff, sipping on your coffee and slowly reading. The sounds and chatter around you could only mean you’re in a cafe. There’s thousands of cafes just in the city alone, who knows where you could be. Yoongi’s arm rests on the seat behind you, his fingers touching your shoulder every couple of minutes to remind you of his presence, as if you could ever forget him.

You finish another page, flipping the paper. “Is there…someone I know around?” you ask, trying to sound uninterested, thinking this really was a scenario like last time.

“No, but if there was, what do you think you’re going to do?” He sounds just as uninterested.

“I’ll scream-”

Yoongi’s lips brush across your cheek. “Then I’ll kill him. Not now, but I will kill him.” He leans back again. “Maybe I just wanted a croissant, this place has the best in Seoul. Want to try?”

You grunt, too confused to do anything else but open your mouth when he puts the half eaten pastry to your lips. It’s flaky and buttery with rich custard and burnt sugar on the top, it really is one of the best desserts you’ve ever eaten.

Part of you almost played along. You were about to just succumb to whatever this was, an odd date between the two of you, and suck it up and enjoy yourself. You almost reached out to him, you almost thanked him.

“If you think doing this will make me hate you any less-”

“You are so very stubborn-”

“You are the most stubborn!” You hiss back, “I don’t understand you. I don’t want to be here with you, I don’t want to be around you- s-stop…” Yoongi grips your hand, thumb rubbing circles along your palm, and doesn’t stop even when you go quiet.

“Just drink your coffee and enjoy your book,” he says. His deep voice holds none of his usual berating tone. You wouldn’t dare call it soft, but...

“Why am I here?” you persist.

“Didn’t you tell my men you wanted to go out? That you missed going to places like cafes?” You bite your tongue. Jon is such a snitch. “We can do this again, we can do this as many times you want-”

“The ruthless gangster will spend his precious time at cafes for me?” you ask suspiciously.

“Is that what you want?”

You didn't know if this was what you wanted, being with him, was it really better than being stuck in his home alone? At least this meant you might have a chance at getting away…

“How long do I get?” You finally relax into your seat, opening your book again.

Yoongi smirks. “We’ll see, I am in no rush today.”

Yoongi watches you read, glancing every once in a while and then staring at nothing else but you, unable to look away as you run your fingers along each page, slow at times and fast at other times, like you were trying to get to the end of the scene quickly, your lips would curl up and you would sit up straighter in excitement, and then your movements would slow and your fingers would go over a line once more as you quietly laughed to yourself.

You had your head down at first, then you looked up and far away, as if you were imagining the story in front of you. Yoongi wondered what it was exactly that you would think of, how much could you still remember by your own memory.

“I can feel you staring,” you huff, turning in his direction.

“Not me,” he grunts, lying.

“Ah,” you hum, head tilting, “Well, they will do that, or try to completely ignore me. There’s never really an in between with strangers I’ve noticed. I guess it’s a good thing I can’t see them staring… Two good eyes and can’t mind their own business,” you mutter.

“Lucky for me, I’m sure you would call them out, probably try to start a fight.”

You snort. Eventually your fingers slowed to a stop and you dogeared the page, closing the book. You picked up your glass and finished the drink, ice now melted to the coffee and watering down the strong flavor. Shame, you liked it strong.

“Ready to go home?”

You looked anxious over the question. You tightened your grip on your glass. “We really came just to go to a cafe, no other places you had to go?” you ask suspiciously.

Yoongi crosses his arms. Of course, you would suspect ulterior motives from him, but this time, the loan shark really did not have any other preoccupations, he only wanted to see how you would react out in public with him like this, if you could be trusted with some freedom. You were not falling into line as the other men did, but you did seem more…tame.

He tests you. “Actually, we are going to make a stop at one of my clubs. Lets go.” You seem to relax at that, like you’ve just guessed the right answer to a question asked of you, like you knew all along Yoongi wasn’t really doing this just for you, but for him, confirming he was still the selfish loan shark you had grown to know.

“That was quick,” you deflate when Yoongi steps back into the car after reaching the location to his club. You were building up the courage to try to test the door before he was already back and starting the car. As Yoongi drove in silence there was a nagging inside you, a question you did not want to know the answer to when he had told you, you did not need to actually come inside with him. It sat in the pit of your stomach and flipped around when his hand moved to your leg and rested on your thigh. Did he really just want to go to a cafe with you after all? What did Yoongi want from you?

---

“What are you doing?”

You flinch, removing your hand off of Yoongi’s jaw. You didn’t know he had woken up.

“Trying to kill me in my sleep?” Yoongi grunts.

“Yes,” you say. It was a lie, you both knew it. You don’t know why you did it, or perhaps you just did not want to admit it.

You had woken up with him tangled around you, your naked bodies interweaved together under sheets, his skin against yours warm. It was not overbearing, it was an inviting heat, enveloping you.

You woke up still groggy from sleep and you didn’t think about how much you hated the man who was holding you softly.

You reached out and touched him just to feel a little less lonely. You’ve felt so alone now without the few interactions from Jungkook you had grown so accustomed to. The loneliness, it had become gnawing at you horribly, and it was a cruel irony Yoongi was the only one who was able to lessen it for you.

Yoongi grunts and rolls on top of you. His hands wrap around your wrists as he lifts himself up to look at you. He studies your unease. You can feel his morning wood pressing against you. You hold your breath, expecting him to continue from last night’s activities, but he doesn’t, just drops down, letting go of your wrists, resting his head against your naked chest, deciding to go back to sleep. It surprises you. Yoongi must be tired…

You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you just keep them beside your head as you listen to his steady breathing.

You want to go back to sleep, so you don’t think about him…

So you don’t have to think about how you want to hold him…

The need twists in your gut, makes you queasy, makes you want to cry out in frustration, but you just lay there, unwilling to accept the same man who was causing you this turmoil was also simultaneously bringing you a comfort.

You will yourself to fantasize about ways to kill him instead, but your fantasies don’t seem to bring you as much joy as before, instead there is another unfamiliar twisting in your stomach, a pain stabbing you right in the center where he is laying.

And eventually you do fall asleep under his embrace.

“Anything else, Sir?”

Yoongi goes through the folder of photos his associate has handed to him. He holds up one in particular, studying the couple in front of him. “Find out more about her, the new girl. Get in close, use your charm,” he smirks. He holds the photo under the light of his lamp. Even if the picture is a bit grainy, the discoloration right under the sleeve of her shirt is unmistakable.

Jungkook, positioned at his right side, leans over. “So this is him?”

“Mhm,” Yoongi hums, grin widening.

If Jungkook had any protests or questions, he didn’t speak them. It wouldn’t have changed the loan shark’s mind anyways. When blood is in the water, a shark can only think of one thing.

He flips through more photos, choosing ones in a different folder already on his desk. Very old photos, photos of a younger brighter face version of yourself. These photos you kept in an album tucked away in the back of your closet, in a box with your old wedding ring and other memories you weren’t able to part with, hoping someday you will be able to flip through the pages again with new working eyes. Then you could decide what memories deserve to be revisited and what memories deserve to be burned.

You must have liked swimming, there’s many photos of yourself at the beach with friends. Bowling and roller blading, activities you enjoyed in the past, told a story of the person you were before you lost your vision. Yoongi stares at the candid shots of you, staring at your eyes.

Other than the obvious, Yoongi notes there is something vastly different about you now.

Yoongi likes you better now.

The younger version of you stares at him with light behind her eyes. You still have that, the light is just burning, glowing in you like embers.

As a kid, Yoongi liked to poke at fires, stir the embers with a stick and watch the flames dance. When the fire would roar and crackle and burst bigger as a gust of wind blew the flames, and others would instinctively step back, Yoongi would instinctively step closer, mesmerized.

He would feel that similar pull, that instinctive desire to be closer when that fire inside you would blaze and try to scorch him.

There are moments when you burn so bright, held tight in his arms. It was so hot, it was addicting feeling you. It was becoming something he needed, after a long day of dealing with frustratingly stupid people, dull and boring people, people like a Park Jimin, sheltered and coddled, weak fires that, in Yoongi’s opinion, deserved to be snuffed out.

Not like you. You were an inferno.

After months with him you were becoming fevered as well, ignited by his stroking of you, his fingers around you and inside you. You would burn for him so prettily when he filled your heat and tightened his grip on you.

There are moments when you let your instincts take over, when your pleasure is mounting, and he is angling his hips into you steadily and stroking your heat so perfectly, building you up to the point where you don’t think and don’t feel exactly how you wish, when you dig your nails into his arms, wrap your legs tight around his hips, when you don’t resist his heated kisses, when you kiss him back….

Those nights, he can taste you fully, sweet and soft and so hot.

Like fire, it’s dangerous kissing you.

Yoongi is becoming obsessed.

He picks up his ledger, going back to business, the photos of you still scattered across his desk. Jungkook tries to keep his eyes from wandering, but he is a curious man.

“Should I get y/n for you?” Jungkook suddenly asks. He wants a reason, he wants an excuse…

“No,” Yoongi mutters, “let her rest.”

Now when Yoongi leaves you alone, he doesn’t lock you in his room, he is becoming lax with you finally. Perhaps he thinks you have really given up, that his methods have finally chained you mentally enough that he no longer needed real chains.

His mistake. The loan shark rarely makes them, but in your case, he’s had some…misjudgements.

Once you leave Yoongi’s room, if you turn to your right and follow the wall, you’ll eventually end up at the stairs. You pass by four doors before then, one you believe was the room you used to have, and another you think might be Jungkook’s room, as the young gangster is always in this house somewhere, like he must live with the loan shark. You’ve tried to jiggle the handles a few times on your trek to see if a door might open, but the rooms on the second floor are usually locked.

Downstairs is more complicated, you’ve tried to make sense of it, but there is always someone to stop you before you can explore too much. You know exactly where the kitchen is, because it is the one place it seems you’re not allowed to be under any circumstances. Anytime you would get close to the area, someone would offer to get you food instead, or lead you to a bar stool to wait.

The sounds of cooking are far from where they sit you, too far for you to run and try to open a drawer and search for a knife without getting caught. And the thought will only rarely cross your mind now, you would much rather have some good food.

Tonight however, you had overheard Yoongi was going to be out until tomorrow evening, so you try again to search for an escape.

What’s the worst thing that could happen?

Jungkook scrolls through his phone, his one leg propped up on the small side table he is leaning on. He looks up as he hears a faint click coming from down the hall.

He sees a hand reach out cautiously before you reveal yourself, pressing yourself against the wall before moving slowly closer.

You reach the next door and grip the handle. It doesn’t budge and you sigh, moving along.

‘All locked,’ you think disappointedly before spinning around. “Who’s there? I know someone is there!” You whisper. After a long silence you slump against the wall. “Am I hearing things now?” you mutter to yourself. You wait at the top of the staircase trying to hear for voices or movement, any indication someone might be awake like you.

Well, no stopping now. You move back and forth down the stairs strategically missing all the creaky steps you’ve hit on previous occasions.

Jungkook follows your pattern, only two steps behind.

Okay, now you are definitely feeling spooked. A shiver runs down your spine. Is it because it’s night time? Is this house haunted? Just how many people have been killed here?

You hesitate half way down. You still can’t hear anything downstairs, so you take your chances. You’ll explore as much as you can, learn as much as you can, and then, figure out an escape plan!

Even if you could go for a late night snack, you avoid the kitchen. Learning what else might be downstairs is more important. This house is massive, there’s an echoing to voices sometimes. Yoongi must not have it very furnished. Despite his greedy nature, Yoongi never seemed to be too extravagant with such things.

If you go to the left, you’ll reach the kitchen. If you go forward, you’ll find a sectional where Yoongi’s underlings will be lounging about during the day. You’ve never ever heard a television, instead you’ll hear the familiar slaps of playing cards, another game you could no longer play without a special set you were too prideful to ask for.

You couldn’t risk going forward and to the front door. You’re sure a man like Yoongi had a security system. But maybe, maybe if you could find a window… So you move toward the only direction you have yet to explore.

What’s this? It’s sleek, it’s too big to be a window. Is it a door to the backyard?

You feel the rush of excitement and fear pump through your veins as you find the handle, but you have to be cautious, doors could set off the security system he might or might not have. It frustrates you how many things you have to speculate about, how many things you don’t know.

For all you know there are probably cameras watching you at this very moment! Yet, no one has tried to stop you. Should you just risk it and try to run before he sends someone to collect you?

No, you decide to keep searching.

You finally find an open door. You step inside and follow the walls around, a window! It’s covered by a drape. You bend down, running your hands over the window sill. Finally.

You stand up and keep moving, curious what else you can find before you attempt to open it. You move towards the room’s center.

It’s a table, but you don’t see it for what it is, your legs hit the edge and it reminds you of Yoongi’s desk in his office and you panic, thinking of how much trouble you will be in if he found you there, and you stumble backward.

You stumble backward into a warm body.

Hands wrap around you, cover your mouth before you can scream, and pin down your arms.

You breathe heavily into his palm, frozen in fright.

“Shhh.”

You swallow down tears, catching your cries in your throat. He holds you so tight around the waist it stings. You can’t move or scream, so you wait, expecting the worst. The worst is what always happens.

“I’m going to let go now. Don’t scream.”

Jungkook?!

“Hey!” Jungkook lets you go and you shove him away.

In your panic, you’ve decided to just fuck it, and run to escape.

You stumble, shoulders hitting the door frame, falling when your foot hits what you think is a chair leg. You scrape your palm bracing yourself when you hit the floor. You can hear Jungkook right behind you. He’s going to bend down and grab at you, you are already expecting it, so you kick your leg out.

He grunts in pain so you know you’ve gotten a good kick in and you scramble to your feet, knocking into walls and furniture, searching for the glass door you felt before.

You click the lock down and yank the door open, security system be damned!

You start to run. The soles of your feet hit jagged concrete, and then…air?!

Nope, that’s a pool, you realize as you fall into water. Dammit.

You swim to the surface and hear another loud splash as you wade in water.

Did he just jump in?!

That was dumb of him. You swim hastily, a second surge of energy rushing through you, you search for the pool’s edge. Your tiny dress still feels like it weighs a ton when you heave yourself over the edge, knees scraping as you crawl out.

You can hear him already mimicking your actions as he pulls himself out of the water quicker than you thought possible. You crawl quickly away from the noise, using every bit of the energy left inside you, you dig your heels and palms into the earth.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s entire weight is on top of you, stopping your crawl to freedom.

Jungkook grabs your wrists as you claw at dirt. “Stop!” he grunts, yelling, “There’s a ledge here, you’re going to fall off of it and die!” He moves one of your arms out above your head, letting you feel the steep slant of earth downward.

In that moment, you don’t care. This is the closest you’ve gotten to freedom in so long! It’s been so long since you’ve felt grass and dirt and earth. You used to go hiking with Namjoon all the time, you used to breathe in the cool fresh morning air almost every weekend with him.

Your heart aches when you remember the way he would lead you over steep rocks, his fingers interlaced with yours, the way he would explain the scenery and overlooks and sunsets and sunrises to you so animatedly, you could hear the reverence of what he could see in his voice. You cry with your head buried in the tall grass thinking of Namjoon and the freedom you had. In that moment, you would rather throw yourself off a cliff.

“Don’t take me in, please. Just let me stay outside a bit longer,” you hiccup.

Jungkook rests over you until you both calm down, until he finally rolls off of you, sighing, looking at the night sky. “You know…” he pauses. “If you want to go outside, you can just ask-”

“I don’t want to–” you grit out angrily. “I don’t want to ask for permission like a child. I don’t want to be let outside like a dog! I don’t want– I can’t– Jungkook,” your bottom lip trembles as you suck in air. You let the grass blades tickle your face as you hold yourself together, “I feel like I’m not myself anymore. I-” you can’t continue, you won’t dare admit to him what sick feelings that have grabbed a hold of you.

His cold wet hand touches your cheek, why does it warm you up so suddenly?

“Where have you been?!” you cry, fist hitting what you assume is his chest. Yoongi, that bastard was right, Jungkook was the closest thing you had to a friend here. You didn’t want to believe he was just as cruel as Yoongi, you didn’t want to believe it!

“It’s safer for you if you stay away from me,” he says softly. Or bluntly. How could you ever really know if you can’t see the longing look he gives you?

You stay quiet, holding in your objections. You aren’t going to argue with him, you were a fool to care at all about someone who didn’t care at all about you; a criminal; one of your captors. Your eyes sting as Yoongi’s words replayed in your mind, Jungkook saw you as a job, he was being nice because Yoongi told him to, he didn’t want to be around you.

You shiver, hugging yourself. You pull at the tall blades of grass, thinking of Namjoon instead, letting yourself be carried far away from here. Your body couldn’t escape, but your mind could. You hum to yourself.

It was a tune Namjoon played over and over for you, a song of his that didn’t make the cut, it was too soft and sweet, didn’t fit with his persona, yet it was your favorite.

Jungkook sits in his wet clothes uncomfortably, watching you, listening to your sad soft humming as the night starts brightening, and he has no choice but to act. He lifts your defeated body into his arms. “We’re not going to tell anyone about this.”

“About what?” you grumble, shivering in the cold.

Jungkook sets you in the bathtub, in your clothes, the wet fabric of your dress clinging to you and leaving nothing to the imagination. You can hear the knobs squeak as he turns on the warm water. You reach out and grab his soaking jacket, gripping it tight.

“What are you doing, y/n?”

“You’re cold too.” Jungkook pulls away but you hold on tighter.

“I can’t be in here with you.”

“If you leave now, I swear I will drown myself.” You know you shouldn’t force him to be here with you, but you were desperate, lonely, you didn’t care how uncomfortable you were making him if it meant you felt a little less insane.

Suddenly Jungkook moves closer to you, entering the large bath. He grips your knee, bending your leg.

“W-What are you doing?!” A flood of emotions rush through you, so many at once you don’t know what you’re feeling when he begins to touch you.

“You’re bruised everywhere,” he mutters, gripping your elbow and turning your arm. “I’m going to have to tell him you tried to escape.”

He sounds frustrated. You accept your fate but it doesn’t make it any easier, knowing Yoongi will lock you up once again, no doubt find some creative way to torture you for trying to leave.

The bathtub steadily fills with water, and the uncomfortable weight on you lessens as the water surrounds your bodies.

You haven’t let go of him, but you move your grip slightly, feeling for buttons, and once you find them, you start to unbutton his shirt.

If someone were to ask you why you did it, you wouldn’t have been able to articulate a reason, your fingers were working of their own accord, listening to something inside you you couldn’t even hear yourself.

Jungkook hasn’t moved, he holds himself up, gripping the tub’s edges with both hands until you reach the end and push away the fabric. By now the water has filled the tub enough that you float against him. You push both his shirt and jacket off his shoulders.

You place your palm on his chest, you can’t feel the tattoos etched across his skin, you weren’t aware of the extent of his ink markings, but you can feel the cold metal of his nipple piercing and you let out a small gasp in surprise.

Jungkook hasn’t moved, so you let your hand travel down his torso, fingers running along the contours of his muscles, until you reach his belt, his pants, your palm laying along his zipper.

Jungkook is stiffening under your palm and you gasp louder.

Jungkook finally moves, pulling your wrist away. He holds it tight against the cool ceramic of the tub. “Don’t…don’t make me hurt you.”

You were so used to pain, his warning didn’t deter you how he expected. You wanted him to hurt you. You wanted someone, anyone else, other than Yoongi to think about.

Even when he tightened his grip until you could feel the pain sting into your bones, you didn’t flinch, you didn’t tell him to stop. You let out a silent gasp this time, arching your back against him, and Jungkook saw you were more dangerous than he had believed.

If you could have seen him you could have ruined him.

You gently run your other hand down his body, let your legs wrap around him, listening to his breathing grow louder.

He stands up suddenly. “Wash the chlorine out of your hair, don’t tell Mr. Min anything.”

You pause, “Tell him what?”

Dangerous. Jungkook clears his mind of you, focusing on cleaning the house of da what happened.

When later that day, Yoongi teased you about falling down the stairs, you knew Jungkook did what you had been waiting for, for so long…

…He lied for you.

“What’s this?”

You hold the sleek piece of technology in your hand.

Is this…a cell phone?

“You’re going to say hello and tell her you’ve taken a job out of the country, and you’re going to make it sound convincing. And if you don’t, if she doesn’t believe you, I’m going to go to her tiny one bedroom Gangnam apartment off of Inchon-ro and I’m going to kill her.” Yoongi says coldly.

You hold your breath. What? Who? What?!

Yoongi crouches down to your level, watching you so close he could see each of your individual eyelashes as you blinked rapidly.

According to Taehyung, for some reason, one of JTJ’s makeup artists, the girl who used to help you with your makeup, has started asking about your whereabouts.

She’s questioning other staff, wondering why you haven’t answered any of her calls or texts, with incessant suspicions upon why you have suddenly disappeared without any warning. She’s causing others to wonder as well.

Even if you had quit on bad terms like what they’ve been telling her, you would have still answered her! It just doesn’t make any sense, she thinks, you were so happy the morning before, making plans with her and the others to have dinner the next day-

She even wanted to get in contact with your family, Taehyung told him worriedly.

“Okay,” you nod.

Her ringtone, JTJ’s first chart topping song plays in your ear as you try to settle your breathing.

“Hello?” she answers. Your heart rate suddenly jumps and the pounding is all you can hear as you recognize her voice.

Yoongi grips your leg, fingers digging, shaking it. “Minah?! Hey, it’s y/n-”

“Y/n!” she gasps, “Oh my god! Oh my god! Girl, what the hell? What happened?! Where did you go?”

Yoongi grips your knee tight. “I’m fine, I’m okay. Sorry, I’ve just been setting up my new place, I-”

“You haven’t answered my calls, not even my texts,” she says, hurt. “They told me you quit? What happened?!”

“Y-Yes. I did, I uhh, I know it’s gonna sound crazy, but I was offered this amazing job-”

“What?! Where? With who?!”

“In J-Japan, it’s a really good job, I get my own office and everything. After that tour, I just really couldn’t do it anymore, it’s just a lot, you know, that lifestyle.” You pray she doesn’t try to get you to answer her other questions.

“What?” she sounds even less convinced, pausing. “Is this your new number?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry for missing all your calls, my cell was from the company, so I had to surrender it. I really wanted to call you sooner, but it’s just been so hectic…” You hope she believes your lies.

“Anytime I bring you up, the boys act…weird. You just d-disappeared, I-I thought something horrible happened-”

“I’m fine! I think they are just upset, it was such a sudden thing-”

“It was!” She sounds mad. “They told me you were sick when you didn’t show up for our celebration dinner, and then when you weren’t on the plane, they told me you just…left?! No one knew why!” She sounds even angrier.

“Yeah. Yeah, I left, I’m really sorry I didn’t say goodbye.” The words catch in your throat and come out stilted and choppy. You have to get it together.

“But why-”

You take a deep breath, terrified for your friend.

“Listen, Minah, that night I got into a big fight with Jimin, and I just thought it was best for me to just leave. I really didn’t mean to worry you, b-but this is a once in a lifetime job,” you swallow, trying to keep your voice light and happy. “I had to take it.”

“Oh, okay.” Your lie seems to answer some of her worries. “Have you talked to Jimin since then? He’s just been so…he doesn’t seem like himself since you left. I think he really misses you.”

“Oh, really? No, I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to him.” Your heart is pounding.

“Yeah, talk to him, please! I think he finally realizes what he lost. Everytime I bring you up…no wonder… I told you, didn’t I! He likes you!” she says, sounding happier. “Japan is not too far away, you should go for it now that you’re not under the same company! He is totally heartbroken over you.”

You laugh awkwardly. “Jimin is like my brother!”

“Yeah yeah,” she laughs, sighing. “You two are both hopeless I guess. I miss you, promise me we’ll meet up next time JTJ has a schedule in Japan.”

“I’m s-so busy, but yeah.” Your hand trembles so badly you’re worried the phone will slip between your fingers at any moment.

“Promise!”

“I, um, promise. I miss you, Minah.”

“I miss you too!”

“I really miss you.”

“You okay? Do you like your job? They haven’t gotten a new translator since you left! You could come back, honestly, I’m sure they would take you! Joon has been translating for everyone and I’m sure he would love you back,” she jokes.

“I love my new job.” God, you hope she can’t hear the shake in your voice. “But I really have to go, I am glad I got to talk to you. I might not be able to talk for a while though, but I’m okay!”

“Yeah?”

“Oh! Can you tell Taehyung something?”

“What?”

Yoongi’s presence is suddenly everywhere as you stutter out your last sentence. “It’s about that Blue Moonlight song he’s been working on with-”

The phone clicks as Yoongi snatches it away, and you feel the coldness of loneliness creep back into your body.

“You better hope she’s as dense as she sounds,” he threatens.

“Don’t you dare touch her!”

“You know what? I think we should take a visit to Taehyung then, and listen to that new song of his,” he says, gripping the back of your neck.

You swallow, excitement and fear swirling in the pit of your stomach and rising the bile into your throat.

Yoongi leans against his Rolls Royce smoking a cigarette.

The door opens and someone sits next to you.

“Y/n.”

“T-Tae?!”

You try not to burst into tears. You frantically reach out to him, and his slender fingers wrap around yours, gripping your hand tightly as he scoots next to you. Then you really burst, crying against him.

You quickly try to pull yourself together, whispering, “Did you get my message?”

“Um, yeah. Blue Moonlight, I’m guessing it's more than just a song title?” He whispers.

“Moonlight Blue.” You repeat the phrase in Thai. “Are w-we alone?” you whisper.

Taehyung eyes the shadow against the window as Yoongi lights up another cigarette. “Yeah, yeah.”

“It’s a club in Thailand. If you take a detective there, in the women’s restroom, inside the second bathroom from the door, my DNA should still be on the door stall, I doubt they cleaned it well. You might be able to get CCTV footage too to show that I’ve been kidnapped, or maybe someone took a picture of it-” you say hastily.

“Of what?”

“My name, I wrote it with my blood,” you say rather proudly.

Taehyung grips your hand tighter. “What? Blood?! He’s made you bleed?!”

You nod hastily. “He’s d-done w-worse,” you stutter, this time you hold in your tears.

Taehyung swallows, resting his head against the car’s seat, feeling sick.

You reach both hands out until you find his shoulder and squeeze. “Taehyung, I have the money saved for my eye surgery in my bank account, I-I’ll give it to you if you help me. Please, please.”

He takes your hand in his again. “I’m not taking your money, y/n.”

“You won’t help me?” you cry desperately.

He grips your other hand tight, holding them close to his chest. “I’ll talk to Joon and Jimin, we’ll figure something out. Our last album just hit platinum, we have stocks in the company now. We’ll find a way to help you.”

“We’re leaving for Japan right now. Right now, Taehyung. Please hurry.” You can’t tell whether it’s you trembling now or the scared singer. Taehyung brings your hands to his mouth and kisses your knuckles and you do the same, welcoming his comforting affection.

Yoongi watches as you and the singer cling to each other. He rolls his eyes and flicks his cigarette to the ground, stomping out his frustrations into the tarmac pavement.

“Well?” he asks once Taehyung steps out and shuts the car’s door.

“Midnight Blue.” He says the name in accented Thai. “The club you took her to in Thailand, Blue Midnight.” Taehyung gulps.

“Ahh fuck, you’re right. But why-”

“She thinks if I can get CCTV footage, we can use it in a case against you.”

“Huh really? Most of them don’t even work in that area, but I can have my men check.” Yoongi runs his hand through his hair. “Anything else?” Taehyung shakes his head, unable to look the loan shark in the face.

“You two were talking for a long time, what else?” He grabs the singer by the collar to make a point, shoving him against the door. You flinch inside.

“She told me you cut her, made her bleed there in Thailand, is that what you did?!” Taehyung pushes against the loan shark, shoving him away.

Yoongi cocks his head to the side, looking confused. “Eh?” He rubs the back of his neck, trying to remember, “Oh, it was one of my men. I took care of it.”

“Are y-you hurting her?”

“Why do you suddenly care?” Yoongi crosses his arms, “Are you gonna stop me if I am?” he asks, challenging the singer.

“She’s done nothing wrong, It’s not her damn fault, it’s Jimin’s, if you had just killed him instead-”

“You would have liked that, huh?” he tuts, “Wanted to go solo that bad, now you’re stuck with those two idiots and your album is on hold,” he rolls his eyes. “If you’re not making money, you’re gonna be in the same boat as Jimin, and you don’t have anyone to save your ass-”

“Just let her go then!” he hisses, trying to keep his voice down so you don’t hear. “Make Jimin pay you whatever he owes you!”

“So she can go to the police?” Yoongi crosses his arms, snorting.

“Min, I-I don’t understand. What are you going to do, keep her forever?!”

“Maybe,” Yoongi says dismissively. “Why?”

“Are you s-serious?!” he stutters.

“It was the deal-”

“S-She didn’t understand-”

“She’s a grown woman, she made her choice.”

Taehyung looks at the loan shark with disbelieving eyes. “Please, Y-Yoongi-”

Yoongi grabs the singer again, done with arguing, “Want to take on Jimin’s debt on top of what you still owe me instead, yeah? Go get her, take her.” He’s met with silence. “Then shut the fuck up.” He signals for his men, who have been waiting to board. “Send me Joon’s schedule, I’ll deal with him when we get back to Korea.”

“Okay,” Taehyung mutters defeatedly. He places his hand on the car’s window. You don’t notice him of course. He says his goodbyes silently, to himself to ease his mind, like a coward.

Yoongi didn’t need to keep a low profile in Tokyo, the city was too big, so many tourists and locals crammed together, he and his associates became just another mean face in the crowd. He bought out a few penthouses in an expensive hotel for the week, with a kitchen and a private hot spring and all the amenities you could ever want.

It was your lavish prison cell.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jon asks, setting plastic bags of Japanese convenience store food on the counter. Jungkook shakes his head, sending him a look that reads, ‘Please just shut the fuck up about it.’

Jon clears his throat, he looks around, turning on a lamp, fiddling with the shade until he’s happy with the amount of light before leaving you and Jungkook in Yoongi’s private penthouse.

Before he leaves, Jon steps in front of you, studying you with the same scrutiny as he did the new area. He lifts your head up, a crooked finger under your chin. Your eyes are bloodshot, your lids swollen from crying. “Hey, don’t give up.”

Easy for him to say, that man acts like he doesn’t have a care in the world. You bite your lip, making sure to keep your head up no matter how heavy you feel. “Give me a reason not to give up,” you grumble softly.

Jon stays silent. He steps away from you and nods towards the younger man.

Jungkook sings in his head to drown out your crying as he unwraps the food for you.

You hear the clanging of a glass plate set in front of you.

You raise your hand, hovering over it. Jungkook puts his hand over yours. This is the most he’s interacted with you since your last altercation.

You can’t take it. You can’t take this anymore. You can’t!

“What are you doing, y/n?!” Jungkook grips your other hand quickly, before you can do any more damage. The plate lays shattered under your fist.

“J-Just let me have this, so I can hurt him.”

He yanks the glass plate shard out of your hand.

“Listen to me,” he whispers. “You’re not going to hurt him. Because you can’t hurt him. You’re lucky Jon wasn’t still here, or anyone else for that matter-”

“I’m not with anyone else. I’m with you.”

After a long silence Jungkook finally lets go of your hand, wiping the mess off the counter and into the trash and pulling more food out for you now that you’ve shattered your plate to pieces. “You're testing my patience. Yoongi is mad at me because of you. If you try anything else, I will hurt you again.”

“Hurt me, then. Kill me. Do it.” You reach out, searching for his arms and clumsily put them to your neck. “Kill me, please! I’m not going to fucking do it anymore!”

Jungkook watches you cry. Despite everything you continue to rebel. No matter how small. You refuse to let Yoongi change you.

It stirs something inside him. A question he’s never spoken aloud.

You notice his sharp intake of breath so close to your temple. Is he smelling you?

“J-Jungkook?”

“I will only kill you if Min asks me to.” Soft, chapped lips brush against yours so quickly you question if you imagined it. “Listen to Jon, you’ve made it this far, don’t give up.”

“No.” You tremble, “You’re going to help me get out one way or another, Jungkook.”

You feel him move away and reach for him again in desperation. His fingers are back around your throat, shoving you into hotel kitchen cabinets and lifting you off your feet in his anger.

You struggle, unable to breathe. You let your hands follow down his arms until you reach his face. And instead of what Jungkook thought you were going to do, what he would have done: tried to retaliate, fight against him, you hold his cheeks in your palms, thumb running soft lines across his face and over the scars you remembered.

Jungkook lets you drop, shuddering. You cough, inhaling air quickly.

Jungkook is a trained killer. His hands don’t shake, yet…

He looks down at you, silently crying on the floor.

He lets out a slow breath.

“Eat.” He mutters.

“I’ll only eat if you stop ignoring me,” you choke out, glaring in his general direction.

It makes him smile. “Okay, okay.”

You end up eating on the floor with the young gangster in silence, who has his body pressed up against your side. He hands you bites you take reluctantly. Jungkook pulls out his cell, opening a video he took, and you listen to soft cheering as the second half of last week's soccer match plays on his device. You quietly cry and nibble on food until you get caught up in the match, gasping along with the crowd over the very last play.

“You did well today,” Yoongi says, undoing his tie.

You pull off your heels, frowning. “I’ve been with you for months now, so I want to know exactly how much left I owe-”

“Owe?”

“Yes, the amount. Of Jimin’s debt, I want to know exactly how much I have left! You’ve made hundreds of thousands of won on deals I helped facilitate, haven’t you? That counts for something, doesn’t it?!”

Yoongi wasn’t prepared for your outburst, but he knew it would happen sooner or later. And it didn’t stop him from becoming furious with you. “Any other demands you want to make, want a pension plan?” He goads.

You bite back your retorts and take a deep breath. “I want to know exactly how much longer I have to suffer here with a monster like you.”

“Suffer? You ate Wagyu steak today, the jacket you’re wearing is Givenchy.” His finger pokes into your shoulder so hard you almost lose your balance. “Which, by the way, will be deducted off your earnings, of course-”

“What?!”

“That’s right,” he says lowly.

“I didn’t ask for this!” You yank off your jacket and throw it on the ground at his feet.

He’s in your space again, his body walking into yours with no intention of letting you move away from him. You would have fallen over if he hadn’t grabbed the front of your shirt. “Going to give me back this shirt too?!” Yoongi rips the buttons off as he yanks the front open.

You yell and grab at the pieces and hold them over your chest. “Haven’t you learned anything?” he screams in your face. Yoongi holds your head in his hands. You close your eyes out of instinct as tears well up in the corners, breathing through your mouth so you don’t have to smell his cologne, clenching your jaw to keep yourself silent. “You wanted this. Remember that? When you begged Jimin to let me have you? You’re mine, y/n.”

“I’ll never be yours,” you grit out.

“You’re already mine. And I can do whatever I want with you,” Yoongi rasps out with just as much vitriol.

And then he does what you hate most, he presses his lips against yours. His hand keeps you from pulling your head away, his lips pressed to yours tightly, so you’re forced to inhale him, so you can’t help but gasp in air and open your mouth for him.

You reach for his neck, you try to choke him, fisting his hair and pulling, but it only seems to rile Yoongi up even more as his tongue invades your mouth.

He finally lets you breathe, pulling your hands away from his throat and securing them behind your back, mouth moving to your jaw and down your neck as he holds you tight. “Mine,” he nips your neck.

It snaps something inside you, you caught yourself before you slipped away completely, and you snapped back, fighting against him. “Get off me!”

You squirm your way out of his hold and push him away and to your surprise, he doesn’t push you back. He is no longer in your space.

You wipe your mouth and straighten your clothes, unsuccessfully trying to put your shirt back together.

Yoongi stays quiet. You know he’s there, somewhere, watching you, but he’s so quiet! Where the hell is he?

Yoongi watches as you frown and hesitantly reach your hand out in front of you.

You flinch when Yoongi hand smacks your hand down, and swing your fist out in anger, hitting air.

Yoongi laughs tauntingly to your right.

“I’m not yours,” you finally mutter out. Your head is pulled back as Yoongi yanks you by the hair and then shoves you forward. You cry out in pain, knee hitting the corner of something hard.

Yoongi stays quiet instead of arguing back, he is trying to drive you crazy and it’s working, it’s maddening, you bite back tears as you breathe in sharply.

You stumble, moving around furniture and bumping into a wall. You frantically search for something to grab.

You throw your hand behind you on a hunch that the loan shark was leering behind you, and he catches it easily, pulling you off balance again.

You scream out in anger, “You think because you force yourself on me, I’m yours? I can’t stand you, I hate you! When you touch me, I think of someone, anyone, else! You think because I’m blind, I can’t see how hideous you are? How miserable-” you choke on your words as he grabs you by the neck and his grip tightens on your throat.

He shakes you, moves you around so quickly you stumble backward, terrified he is going to make you collide into something, you have to grip him back to you from falling.

You struggle against his advances until he’s over you, pinning you into couch cushions. “You disgust me.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi doesn’t believe you. You are trying to anger him, you’re trying to hurt him. He’s played this game before, he knows this game. “But if I was Jimin, or Taehyung, or Namjoon, you wouldn’t be disgusted, that right?” He yells in your face. Why does he always have to bring them up?!

He moves his leg in between yours, pressing his knee against you harshly. “You would happily spread your legs, give them whatever they want because they’re famous-”

You push as hard as you can against his shoulders, yelling, “What?! They would never take advantage of me! They saved me,” you grunt. “You have no idea-”

“I have no idea?” he laughs at you. “I grew up with Taehyung in Daegu, did he forget to mention that to you during your little reunion? I know them. I know Jimin is back to getting high again, he tried to clean up his act for a hot second, but like always, he cares more about his own self gratification than anything else. What do you think will happen after he burns through all his money?”

Yoongi runs his thumb across your dry lips. “Do you think he’ll come back groveling to me, or do you think he’ll try to convince someone else to fund his addiction? Do you think if I offered him all the drugs his heart desires he wouldn’t hurt you for it? You’re so sure he won’t, are you?”

You have your eyes closed again and he doesn’t like that. Even if you can’t see him, he likes watching your deep irises. Even if you can’t see, your eyes still redden with tears and your expression darkens for him, blazes for him. “And Kim Namjoon, is he the one you think about? When he could care less about you? He’s no knight in shining armor coming to rescue you, and you’re sure no damn princess!”

Yoongi snakes his hand between your bodies and inside your pants, letting out a deep breath when you struggle and he realizes why. “If this isn’t mine, then why does it get so wet for me? Fuck…you’re so wet…”

You feel the last threads of your sanity breaking, and you want to hurt him the only way you can now, you can’t stop yourself, “No, I don’t think about Namjoon, I think about Jungkook,” he hiss.

You try to claw at his face, which stops his advances momentarily. Yoongi pulls his hand out of your pants and holds your wrists down until you stop struggling, and then he yells, “Jeon!”

You hear the door open as someone walks in.

“…S-Sir?”

“Come here and hold Miss y/l/n’s hands down.”

It’s deathly quiet until you hear movement again as Jungkook crosses the room. Yoongi’s grip lessens for only a moment until it’s replaced, your hands pressed above your head. You start to cry.

The pressure of Yoongi’s knee is gone as he moves down your body.

Your belt is unbuckled.

Your zipper is pulled down.

His hands reach around your hips and you kick out, attempting to hurt him when he pulls your pants and panties off your legs.

“Stop, stop this!” You’re begging Jungkook, but his grip on you doesn’t lessen. Jungkook’s fingers might as well have been shackles as you try to pull free.

“Who are you thinking about now, y/n?” Yoongi slips his fingers easily into your heat.

You clench your teeth so hard your molars feel like they might crack under the pressure. “You’re pathetic, you know that?!” You let yourself be overcome with anger, a much more agreeable feeling than the hopelessness you felt. “You must be really hideous if you can’t find anyone else to fuck! Is that why you went into this business, huh? Couldn’t get any decent woman so you surround yourself with strippers and prostitutes, and they won’t even fuck you?!” You scream out in frustration as his steady pace quickens inside you unrelentingly.

Yoongi chuckles at your outburst, his body weight pressing on your legs. “Ahh now we both know that’s not true.” He says cockily. You chose to ignore the way the girls at Yoongi’s establishments would address him, the flirtatious tone in their voices when the courageous one would ask him if he needed anything, offering their “services” up to him.

“Then why me?!”

“Because I want you.”

Yoongi drags his two fingers out of you, and presses three fingers inside when he enters you again, his thumb rubbing across your clit.

Your heart beats so fiercely in your chest you think you might suffer a heart attack, you hope you do when you feel the heat inside you rise, unable to stop your whimpers no matter how hard you clench your jaw.

Yoongi knows your body now, he knows the pressure that makes you shake, the movement you can’t resist. He rocks his hand into you steadily and precisely as you try not to tremble, as you try to think of anything other than what he was doing to you so you aren’t overcome.

But it only takes a few more minutes before you are overcome, unable to stop your body arching and muscles locking, and your breath stuttering and a moan escaping.

The hands around your wrists disappear and in the next few moments you hear the door slam shut.

“Jun-” Yoongi’s hand presses over your mouth.

Yoongi doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to say, something that would surely make his blood pressure sky rocket. Yoongi looks at the closed door. He has a choice to make. Should he go after Jungkook? No, he will let the young gangster cool down.

That’s not the only choice he has to make. He looks down at you. You look exactly how he feels, a fierce mixture of fury and puzzlement and anguish twisting at your brows and behind your unfocused glare.

He removes his hand from your mouth, gripping at your neck instead to hold you still.

Rather than letting your emotions take over you again you try to think this through. He is still over you, body in between your legs, fully clothed despite your almost nakedness. You had a choice to make.

“You upset him.” You’re met with silence. “Do you think you can treat people like this forever and they will just take it?” His hand tightens around your throat as he pushes your head back. You yell in pain, but keep trying. “Go ahead, you’ll end up all alone just like you deserve,” you gasp.

“Like you?”

His words feel like a cold shower. When you freeze, Yoongi takes the opportunity to switch the subject of conversation. He brushes his lips across your jaw, finally calming down, “Want to know what you owe me now? Nothing. And nothing you could do or say would ever make me let you go,” he says gently, licking across your neck.

He moves his other hand back down your body, achingly slow, pushing the broken pieces of your shirt away from your chest and tugging at the uncovered flesh. Why does he have to do this to you? Why? You hate how his touches twists your emotions and you hate how he knows it too. “Like I said, y/n, you’re mine now,” he says huskily. His mouth captures your nipple as he sucks and licks across your chest.

You feel rooted against him, unable to move as you process his words. You can’t fully however, his touches making it impossible to concentrate on anything but his harsh sucking and fondling.

“Wait-”

“No.”

You let your muscles relax and stop fighting against him, why should you? It never works, it never ever works.

You rest your palm on the window, the glass is hotter than the surrounding air, and you move closer until your nose touches the glass, soaking in the warmth of the sun outside.

Yoongi’s voice is behind you, still in bed. “Come here, you’re giving everyone a free show.” You must have woken him up when you left the bed.

You rest your forehead on the glass. “I want to go outside today, take me to a cafe.” You don’t ask him, you tell him.

Yoongi studies your naked figure framed by the just risen sun.

He clears his throat, “I’ll have Jeon take you later-”

“I don’t want to go with him, I want to go with you.”

Yoongi pauses. “Why? He was just following orders.”

Facing the sun, the brightness allows you to see the most light possible. You don’t know if it's your imagination at this point, but you like to believe it really is orange and yellow you’re seeing in the otherwise blurry darkness.

“I want to go with you,” you say.

“I’ll see…I’ll find some time.” Perhaps it’s the tiredness still in his voice, but his tone seems to soften.

“Okay.”

“Come here.”

You close your eyes, let the darkness settle in, focus on the heat at your fingertips.

You spent the night dissecting what Yoongi had said to you and everything that’s happened to you since finding yourself in the loan shark's service. You had been too distracted, too focused on your own desires of freedom to notice Yoongi’s desires.

You didn’t want to believe it either, that he might have become more than just fond of you. It didn’t make sense, but now that you were really picking apart his actions, it was there, twisted and dark, his own particular kind of affection...for you.

You should have realized this sooner, but you didn’t even want to accept your own twisted emotions. If you had, you would have also figured that it would make sense he was going down the same dark path.

You asked yourself all night, now what should you do?

You have decided now, turning to him and letting your body relax.

You were going to use it against him.

---

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter: Reunion (Update Goal: 500 notes)

Tell me what you liked, and what you hated (is it Yoongi? lol)

#yandere bts #bts yandere #yandere yoongi #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts mafia au #bts au

385 notes · View notes

delusional-dinosaurr · 1 year

Text

We're Moving Too Fast...Aren't We? (Guro Reiten x Reader)

You're enjoying a night out, on a rooftop bar with a few other WSL clubs, and your own team, Arsenal. It was WSL tradition to throw a big party in London for the end of season, usually this is only the major clubs as the others struggle to get to grips with near relegation. Today's team attendees were yourselves at Arsenal, Chelsea, Spurs, The Manchesters and Villa.

"Come ooooon Y/N it's time to dance" Your mate Victoria Pelova slurs at you. You approach her and steady her with your arms.

"Think that's enough to drink now Vic, don't want you vomiting over the carpet in our house" You smile, helping her find a chair and some water, Viv takes over on 'motherly duties' so you can walk away and be with the others.

"Going on the pull tonight Y/N?" Alex Scott nudges your side. She always gets an invite alongside many other retired players, a lot are still very close friends with the teams they played for.

"Nah, you know that's not my thing anymore" You wink at her.

"Y/N I've seen you kissing multiple girls on the same night, why not here!" Leah nudges you.

"I don't like to mix business with pleasure" you joke, asking the bartender for another glass. “For the record, that was a joke. I’m not like that anymore, I’ve matured from the partygirl I was when I was 19! Magda helped a lot with that”.

"Well at least flirt around a bit, it's always fun to watch how quickly you work your magic" Leah says, convincingly.

"If you need tips on how to pull you could've just asked Lee" You tease. "but fine, I'll do it, what harm can it do".

"Okay challenge for tonight, a Chelsea girl" Alex wiggles her eyebrows at you, both you and Leah visibly shudder at the word 'Chelsea'.

"For one night fine, but mark my words, you'll never find me dating or sleeping with a Chelsea girl" You shake your head walking over to the dancefloor drink in hand.

You dance with a few of your friends, one of those being Magda, even if she is still Chelsea through and through she was like a mother figure to you during your loan spell at Linköpings when you were much younger. She sees you glancing around and stops you with her hand on your chest, letting out what seemed to be a sigh.

"Y/N... Really? I thought you grew out of this during your year in Sweden with me" She smacks your shoulder.

"It's for Leah's entertainment,and for a bet… and it's a Chelsea girl" You shudder again, making Magda laugh and nudge you.

"Well here's some advice. They don't like the gunners and wouldn't want to flirt with one, but I've heard Guro, Niamh and Jessie all say something somewhat nice about you" She sighs, gesturing over to the girls.

"It's only some flirting to show Leah I'm better at flirting than her" You offer a small smile "Promise I won't be sleeping around or trying to get with one of them" she holds out her pinky, which you interlock yours with hers.

You dance over to the Chelsea girls and greet them somewhat politely, getting hugs from all three.

"You guys had an insane season, congratulations" You hold your drink up to them, which they do in response as you all sip your drinks.

"So what brings you over here?" Jessie elbows you.

"My girls are boring or waaaaay too drunk to be dancing with me" you chuckle, sliding up a bit closer to the group.

“Reckon you’ll ever play for us Y/N?” Niamh smirks at you cheekily.

“Absolutely not, you won't catch me dead in a Chelsea shirt” You grimace, causing the three girls to laugh at your response. “Now what about you guys wearing a Y/L/N shirt to an Arsenal match one day in support of the better team?”.

“Not a chance” Guro says, rolling her eyes.

“I bet I can get you wearing an Arsenal shirt to one of my matches by the end of this year, in support of me” You smirk at Guro. Jessie and Niamh seem to be deep in another conversation with Magda and Pernille to the side, leaving you to work your magic like you told your friends you would do.

“It’s so on, if you fail, you can wear a Reiten shirt at one of our matches, I’ll get you front row seats so you can admire the view” She winks holding out her hand which you shake, sealing your bet.

“Oh believe me I am enjoying the view already” You look at her eyes and give her a soft smile.

“Wait a second…are you doing what I think you’re doing?” She questions.

“Depends on if you like it or not” You mumble, suddenly feeling slightly nervous. This was unlike your usual behaviour when it came to flirting. As you’re feeling the nerves you look into her eyes and feel yourself melt slightly at the soft look she’s giving you.

“And what if I do like it?” She says in a more suggestive tone “Is this the great Y/N getting nervous? Never thought I’d see the day”. “If you do like it, then I’d suggest we take this to the dance floor” You nod over to the dancefloor where many of your friends are dancing together. “Oh and I don’t get nervous, even if it’s a beautiful woman like you”. You whisper in her ear and see a very faint blush on her face. You smile to yourself as you both walk to the dancefloor hand in hand.

You dance together for a while, still engaging in conversation with each other. As the night goes on the drinks continue flowing and you feel yourself getting more and more confident, making somewhat bolder moves and both getting drunker.

━━━━━

“åh herregud!” You hear as your eyes shoot open. “What the hell, why are you here?”.

You look around and have absolutely no idea where you are, apart from the fact Guro Reiten is sat up next to you in a bed that you’re both sharing.

“It’s okay, we’re fine” You calm her down. “Now, how the hell did we get here? Where are we?”

“My apartment, and I have no idea how we got here together” She sighs, you admire her morning hair, messily laying on her shoulders. The light coming in through the blinds of her room makes her eyes glisten and skin glow. Wait what?

“Okay question one, do you live here alone?” You ask her, she shakes her head. “Oh my god you have a girlfriend? Shit I’m so sorry, fuck, I should go” You panic and start standing up to get ready to leave. “No you idiot, I share a house with Erin and Niamh” She drags you back down. “My question for you is, what do you think we did last night?”.

“Well from the fact we are both still pretty much in last night's clothes, not a lot” You chuckle, walking over to her mirror “Although I don’t remember me having these yesterday” you narrow your eyes at her in the reflection in the mirror whilst pointing at the trail of hickeys on your neck, causing her to blush.

“It could’ve been anyone!” She says with her eyes wide.

“Considering I woke up in your bed, I’m very sure on who it was” You roll your eyes. You sit in silence for a few seconds, both getting your bearings on what happened, how and what you’re gonna do to get away with it.

“Do you actually remember much from last night?” She asks you, leaning back against the mattress, you follow her lead and lay next to her. Her shirt has risen slightly from her flopping onto the bed and you can’t help but admire her body. “Eyes up here Y/LN” she smirks as you quickly snap your eyes back up to hers.

“I remember enough to have a good understanding of why I’m here. For the record, Leah and Alex dared me to pull a Chelsea player but as soon as we started talking that all went out the window” You break eye contact, your nerves get the better of you until you feel a hand gently moving your chin to force you back into eye contact with her.

“I guessed that after you snuck your way over to our table, they were watching you the whole time. I also really enjoyed time with you Y/N, I can make myself nice and free today if you want to re-do last night… but with less alcohol please” She says holding her stomach, you nod back enthusiastically.

“I can run home and grab my car? I can drive us somewhere if you like, as it seems we only live around the corner from each other!” You say excitedly. “That and I need to try to sneak in without waking up Vic and Gio, that’s going to be a nightmare”.

“Meet me outside in an hour? That gives me time to freshen up and look less like I had a night with an Arsenal player” She fake heaves, you roll your eyes in response and walk to the door of her room.

“WAIT” She grabs your hand “I think the girls are downstairs, let me distract them and I’ll say Cereal when you’re clear to escape” She says walking out the room. You sneak down quietly and hide around a corner from the girls.

“No I didn’t sleep with Y/N! Jesus Erin, you’ll never catch me with a gooner” She laughs. You hear a gasp from Niamh, instantly you feel that dreadful feeling of being caught.

“Did she do this?” Niamh continues fussing over Guro “In all seriousness I’m proud of you for getting some Guro, it’s about time”.

“Ugh, can we stop talking about her now, have we got any cereal in the kitchen or did you eat it all Erin?” Guro says, you notice the codeword and slowly make your way to the front door of the house and manage to escape barely making a noise. Rather than the walk of shame, you opt for an Uber home rather than walking for 10 minutes, still unable to fight that nauseous feeling.

When you arrive home you open the door to find Vic passed out on the floor in the living room, you start making her a coffee to help her with the wake up, alongside some painkillers. You lift her gently off the floor and place her on the sofa whilst making her drink, she starts waking up too thankfully.

“Morning Y/N, still wearing last night's clothes?” She jokes.

“Didn’t even make it to my bed, you’re expecting me to go through all that effort to get dressed too?” You lie.

“Morning you two” Gio sings as she walks in with a starbucks in hand.

“Where were you, young lady?” You joke, hands on hips.

“Oh I stayed at Katherine’s, I can see you two got home safe?” Gio says looking over at you both still in last night's clothes.

“Oh yeah, I got in a little after this one, but all in one piece!” You say nudging Vic.

“God how drunk was I? I don’t even remember getting home, bet it was Viv” Vic sighs. You sigh, relieved that your housemates have no suspicions of you staying out last night.

“Anyway as much as I love you both, I need to get out of these clothes, and get some shopping done” You say.

“Can I come?” Vic asks.

“Nope, unless you really want to go with me to test out which guitar I want for 3 hours” You smirk.

“Nevermind, I’d rather sit at home eating ice cream” She kisses you on the cheek as she walks off to the kitchen with the coffee you made her, you make your way up to your room. As you get dressed after your shower, there’s a gentle knock on your door.

“What? I already said I’m going guitar shopping!” You grumble. “It’s me” You hear Gio on the other side “Are you decent?” you open the door for her to come in, you’ve not put a shirt on yet but have your sports bra on.

“Now, Vic may believe your lies, but I do not. Where were you last night?” She squints at you.

“I’m not lying, I was at home just after Vic” You shrug, Gio chuckles.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I won’t tell on you, but I can tell” She gives you a soft smile.

“But..how? You weren’t even home?” You sigh.

“One, you set off our ring doorbell with motion just now. I’ve deleted the recording of you fumbling your way in earlier. Two, your neck tells me a different story” She smirks poking at one of the dark red marks “Now I’ll keep your secret safe, on one condition. You tell me who it was”.

“You know I love you right?” You look at her guiltily, again she gives you her squinted look. “It was a Chelsea player”.

“I can’t believe you! I don’t even care who it is! If the team finds out you’re so fucked” Gio gasps. You throw a shirt on and get ready to leave whilst Gio is still fussing about your ordeal.

“You’re meeting up with her, aren’t you?” She smirks.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not” You say whilst still grabbing your stuff to go.

“Listen, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking… This is massively out of your normal behaviour. The Y/N Y/L/N doesn’t do dates. So this is clearly something special. I promise I won’t tell anyone, and I can’t wait for you to tell me all about your date later” Gio wraps you in a tight hug and kisses your cheek. “Now go get your girl!” She smacks your back.

You jog out of the house yelling a ‘bye’ and ‘love you’ to your housemates. You get in your car and drive to Guro’s apartment. As you pull up outside you see her having an animated conversation with Erin and Niamh and lower the window slightly to hear the conversation.

“No Erin, it's not some random creep I’ve met. I promise she’s really nice” Guro groans.

“I trust you, but I don’t trust her. Let me meet her. Is that her now?” She points directly at your car and starts walking towards it alongside Guro and Niamh. You decide to hop out of the car and greet them.

“Absolutely not, not a chance. Guro why a gooner!” Erin groans. You two have hung out a few times together post Chelsea and Arsenal matches so you are on good speaking terms.

“Hey nothing wrong with us!” You joke back smiling at Erin.

“Right, I’m going all protective on you now” She nudges Guro to get in your car whilst you two talk. “What are your intentions with Guro, and what happened last night?”.

“I had a feeling this was coming” You sigh “I know I have this history, but that’s all it is now. My intentions with Guro however? I don’t even know, but I do know I will treat her with the respect she deserves. I’m sorta new to this whole going on a date thing and I’m super nervous and I really like her…and now I’m rambling” You blush, Erin starts grinning, Niamh gives a nod.

“Our protective duties are done. She’s all yours. I trust you Y/N” Erin gives you a hug.

“But you didn’t even let me tell you what happened last night?” You question.

“Ah we don’t need to know, because I let you two and Niamh in last night. You were like giggly schoolgirls. You and I had to carry Guro up the stairs and that was a disaster, followed by us doing the same for Niamh. I was only joking about being protective, I know you care, even if it has only been one day of getting to know her and for the record, I had a feeling you guys would hit it off one day” She winks. You laugh and have a small conversation with the two of them before leaving for your date with Guro.

“Have fun you two! But not too much, yeah?” Niamh jokes as you start pulling the car away. As you get on the road you put your playlist on in the car and sit comfortably in Guro’s company.

“What did they say to you?” She asks, looking over to you. You keep your eyes on the road.

“Well, they went all protective, I rambled, turns out Erin let us and Niamh in last night and we carried you up the stairs, and then had to carry Niamh too. Now she thinks she’s cupid as she expected us to get on well” You chuckle, Guro groans.

“I swear to God she’s so annoying” Guro whines. “What did you ramble about?”.

“You” You say quietly.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you” She teases.

“You know what I said. You, I rambled about you. How this is all very new to me and even if it has been less than 24 hours I already really care about you and think you deserve the world” You ramble “Look what you’ve done I’m rambling again!” You grumble.

“Well I think it’s cute” both you and Guro start blushing. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever be such a mess for someone.

━━━━━

"...and that's how I missed the Derby last year" You chuckle as Guro laughs along.

"To think I thought it was a sport related injury, not tripping down the stairs drunk trying to chase Frida" She laughs. You stir your coffee and admire her, you find yourself getting lost in her eyes once again.

"You know, you aren't all that bad Y/LN" Guro smiles, placing a hand on yours.

"Same with you, Reiten" You give her hand a squeeze.

"I don't wanna go back to the girls after this, I'm gonna get quizzed" Guro groans.

"You can always come over to mine? Vic and Gio will be home but we can order some food in and chill?" You offer, she nods in response.

━━━━━

You open your door and you're hit with silence, either they're in their rooms or out.

"The coast is clear, go go go" you say, dragging Guro in. Luckily you were right, neither of your housemates were home. Your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Gio - GURO REITEN?!

As you both settle on your sofa you respond to Gio.

Y/N - Damn doorbell… Just a friend x

Gio - Liar. Keep your naughty business to your room please, we will be home soon (I didn't tell Vic)❤️

You sigh as you lock your phone, look at Guro who's also looking at your phone.

"Just a friend?" Guro looks at you.

"Well… I didn't wanna put a label on it, that's a lot of pressure for us" You mumble.

"Well I don't wanna just be your friend Y/N" She strokes your cheek "I like this side of you, nervous, caring and a real charmer".

"I try, I try" You chuckle "But in all seriousness, I feel the same. How about… Dating?" You suggest.

"As long as that means I can do this…" She leans in and kisses you, you get carried away until you hear the door being unlocked, you both run up the stairs and hide from your housemates who luckily didn't spot you.

"That was a close one" Guro breathes out heavily.

You hear a hello downstairs from someone you didn't expect.

"Oh my god Frida's home from visiting her girlfriend!" You instantly jump up "I'll be right back! FRIDA FRIDA FRIDA" you run down the stairs yelling and jump into your best friend's arms.

"Oh hello Y/N, I missed you too" Frida laughs, hugging you tightly. "Where are the other two?".

"They went out, they'll be back soon though!" You smile "You should probably unpack and shower, I'll leave you to it!" you say as you run back up to your room. Guro is just sitting on your bed, admiring your room and looking at your medals and awards.

"Enjoying yourself?" you smile, she nods. You pass her your phone with your local Chinese takeaway menu on it so she can pick what she wants, once you order you cuddle on the bed just chatting quietly.

"I can't believe I'm dating an Arsenal player" Guro groans.

"I'd be honoured too" You smirk.

"You're never getting me to wear your shirt, national team maybe but Arsenal it's a hard pass" She kisses your cheek.

"What would it take to get you to wear an Arsenal shirt" You ask her.

"Hmmm" she taps her chin thinking. You smirk and lean in to kiss her. "That won't work but it'll help your case". You connect your lips and carry on from where you left off downstairs. You lean over her and kiss her from above her, it continues getting fairly heated, quiet moans, shaky breaths.

"Hey Y/N your food is…. WOOOAH! I am so sorry! I didn't know you had someone up here… wait GURO?!" Frida shrieks.

“I would say it’s not what it looks like but… yeah” You sigh as you roll off Guro.

“Y/N, a word please? In private” Frida says, waving you out of the room and shutting the door. “Okay you know I love you a lot. But Guro has been through a lot, don’t play around with her, be honest and open and you’ll be fine”.

“Frida trust me, I don’t ever want to hurt her. Yeah it’s a lot for only a day of getting to know eachother, but there’s a connection we have and I can’t explain it. Ever since I first played against her a few years back I always felt nervous seeing her. She’s just so pretty and I used to find her somewhat intimidating. I wanted to get her attention but I knew she had a girlfriend and it’d just be seen as me doing ‘a Y/N’. Main reason I stopped partying and messing about, and she doesn’t even know it.” You ramble.

“Y/N…you really do care about her don’t you? I remember the last match you played Norway that you went all blushy when you did a shirt swap with her. It all makes sense! Y/N has a loooover” Frida sings.

“Shut uuuup!” You groan. “Now can I get back to my girlfriend but not girlfriend?” You whine.

“Yep, but on one condition, you tell the team when you’re official. Both teams that is” She smirks.

“Deal” You say as you open your bedroom door to go back in.

“Come sort out your food you two, or I’m stealing your spring rolls” Frida yells up the stairs. You instantly spring off the bed.

“NOOOOO!” You run down the stairs and tackle Frida, with Guro following behind, removing you from your friend and pinning you down.

“Traitor! You’re a traitor!” You say towards Guro.

“Us Norwegians stick together” Frida fist bumps Guro and you scowl at them.

You hear a commotion at the door followed by your other housemates walking in.

“Oh. My. God. We have a Chelsea player in our house, this feels so wrong” Gio jokes, going to greet Guro “I’m Gio, but you can call me Y/N’s worst nightmare”. Guro laughs and gives Gio a small hug. Followed by Vic. The two had brought home food for them and Frida so you all sit on the sofas and eat your food, engaging in chatter.

“Guro, why her though” Frida whines.

“Hey I heard her ramble to you through the door, I think just that alone was self explanatory” Guro shrugs, your eyes go wide. Guro hugs into your side.

"I never thought I'd see Y/N with a girlfriend. You're so happy and it's barely been a day" Vic grins.

“Yeah well, get used to it” You smile leaning more into Guro.

After a few hours of chatting, eating and watching shows your housemates decide to call it a night.

“I should probably get going, I’ve got training in the morning” Guro sighs, with a sad smile on her face “I had a lot of fun Y/N, I’m really glad we did have the guts to have a drunk sleepover”.

“Me too, how about I give you a lift home? That or you can always stay for the night? I’ve got some spare clothes and I can take you home in the morning and give you a lift to training, I have no plans tomorrow so I don’t mind hel-” You ramble until Guro breaks it with a gentle kiss.

“If it helps you stop rambling, I’ll stay tonight. How about we go out for dinner tomorrow…its a team dinner with partners at Chelsea so you’re more than welcome to go with me, that’s if you’d want to do that” She blushes. You nod in response.

“We aren’t moving too fast are we?” You chuckle “Because if so, I don’t care”.

“I think we’ve both had our eye on each other for a while, so I guess we are just making up for lost time” Guro smiles, squeezing your hand as you stifle a yawn.

“Right you, let’s go to bed” She pulls you upstairs.

━━━━━

Part 2 is already in the works :)

#woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #guro reiten x reader #guro reiten #guro reiten imagine

502 notes · View notes

andbreakmynose · 27 days

Text

You Are My Sympathy - My Better Self

You never expected to work as the babysitter for a single father who just happened to be Alex Turner, you also never expected to end up in this situation with the man you technically worked for.

WARNINGS: SMUT!! slight angst, also slight fluff. single dad! alex, the car! alex, age gap (not specified), blowjobs

Word Count: 4.5k

Celebrity babysitter was never something you thought you’d put on your resume. You had been babysitting since your teen years, so it was natural you continued doing it as an adult. It also helped that you really enjoyed it.

One of the worst parts of moving to the city after graduating university was that everything cost more than it did in your small hometown. Paying rent, your student loans, and the general costs of living was becoming difficult on a babysitter's budget, and you felt bad about upcharging your regular clients.

It got worse over the summer; the parent who paid you the best no longer required your services because she got the summer off of work. You were looking everywhere for a new family to work with, but it seems like everyone was asking for too much and paying too little. Sometimes you consider having to get a full-time job instead of just babysitting.

It was a casual comment by your housemate Laura that led you to where you are now. You were complaining about not finding work while downing beers when she joked that maybe there was some celebrity looking for a nanny that would pay you a ton. To her it was a joke, but after she went to bed you spent all night browsing websites that quite literally were for celebrities needing nannies.

You applied for a bunch, but the first one that reached back to you was a single father who was looking for someone to watch his 3-year-old daughter while he worked long hours. Some overnights would be required, but you’d also be able to sleep in your own bed at night. It sounded perfect.

Going to the interview, you expected anyone but him. You thought you’d be working for some sort of businessman, maybe a CEO, with the amount he was offering as pay. But no, you sat in front of Alex fucking Turner and his 3-year-old daughter, Ayla. You were starstruck at first but got over it when you realized how normal he was. All he wanted was the best for his daughter. He seemed to like you, and so did the little one, so you got the job.

And here you were, getting paid $4,000 a day to take care of the sweetest toddler you had ever worked with.

You sighed, looking over at the clock: 7:50pm, which meant it was about time to put the child to bed. You had bathed her, and she was already in her pajamas, but you were honestly enjoying the current game of Barbie dolls you had going on.

Kneeling on the floor of the cozy but fancy living room, your Barbies were currently busy packing their bags for a trip on their Barbie airplane. The pink plastic airplane was the gift you gave Ayla last Christmas; it wasn’t the most expensive gift, but she absolutely adored it. Alex, in return, got you a new coffee maker that you savored every morning.

You were just about to tell Ayla to put the dolls down and start heading up to the pink plush palace she called her bedroom when the door opened. Alex had come home early.

“Daddy!” The little one cried out when she saw him, toddling over to attach herself to his leg.

He laughed and scooped her up, setting her on his hip.

“Hello yourself, sweetheart,” he boops her nose, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen him smile, and then turns to you. “Was she good today? Cause any trouble?”

You shook your head; you honestly had never had ANY problems with the child.

“She was perfect. And she ate all of her veggies for lunch and dinner!” You tell him with a proud smile that you were both proud of her and satisfied with your own work. You were a good babysitter, and both of you knew it.

“All your veggies? Really? What a good little angel!” Alex beamed, ruffling the girl's head. He made sure to tell you every day how much of a lifesaver you were and how much he appreciated it, but it really wasn’t enough to explain just how grateful he was.

“I was just about to put her to bed; actually, I’m sure she’d love it if you came and read her a bedtime story.” You suggest with a soft smile; you loved Alex’s voice, and you’re sure the little one did too; the idea of him reading a bedtime story sounded like the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard of.

He thought it over for a second before nodding. He was dead tired from his day, but he’d never miss the opportunity for some more time with his little angel, especially since he didn’t get to see her as much as he’d want to.

He motions for you to follow him up the stairs to the pink palace that his daughter called a bedroom, sitting her down on the bed and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Alright, babygirl, Daddy’s going to read you a story, okay?” He says gently; the smile on his face from being around her was like something you’ve never seen before. The little one claps excitedly and gets comfy in her bed while Alex looks at the books scattered on the floor.

“Which does she like?” He asks you; he wants to get it perfect, to make this the best bedtime story for his baby.

You hum as you look through all the books on the floor, eyes settling between two. “She’s a fan of both ‘Goodnight Moon’ and 'If You Give a Mouse a Cookie’, maybe one of those?”

Alex nods and picks up ‘If You Give a Mouse a Cookie,’ grinning widely as he does. “This one sounds good, especially since Daddy really wants a cookie right now.”

His words inspire laughter from all three of you, his being quieter and more reserved at his own joke while yours was sweeter and more of a giggle (the little girl’s laughs were more to copy her two favorite people).

He sits down on the floor next to her and starts to read through the pages: “If you give a mouse a cookie, he will ask for a glass of milk.” His voice is somehow firm and gentle, his accent giving almost a form of refinement to the stupid words on the pages. You sit down next to him and watch in awe as he goes through the different accents and makes different sounds to represent what he’s reading. It’s clear he was in showbusiness; if he wasn’t a singer, he might be a damn good actor.

By the time he’s finished the book, her eyes are already shut and small snores are coming from her tiny lips. To Alex, it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen, but you’d say that’s actually the sight of him watching her with so much adoration in his eyes.

He stands up and beckons you out of the room, shutting off the light and closing the door.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks you, thinking about the new bottle of Merlot he bought a week ago and hadn’t really had the time to get to yet.

You should probably say no; you still have to walk home. But there’s such a sparkle in his eyes that you really just can’t say that to him. So instead, you nod and follow him to the kitchen.

The conversation is simple as he pours the first glasses; he asks about what you and Ayla did today, and you ask him about his day at work. He never really says much about his job; you assume there’s some sort of confidential stuff with the album he’s recording. It’s fine though; you can’t expect him to let his guard down around you.

“You know you’re the first fan I’ve ever shared a glass of wine with?” He says with a small smirk, He thinks you’re unreasonably pretty, but he’d never say that. To him, you’re the savior of his life, making sure the only person he cares about is safe and happy.

“I’m sure I’m also the first fan who’s ever gotten to watch Peppa Pig with your daughter.” You joke back, bringing the glass to your lips. Alex laughs at your joke; his eyes are tired, but they still light up just at the idea of you and his kid.

“You’re so good with her. I know I say that every time we talk, but you truly are so good with her.” His compliments never fail to truly touch your heart, especially since you know he means them completely.

"Aw, you’re welcome. You may be the most unusual family I’ve worked with, but she’s one of the sweetest kids.” You smile back at him; it also never hurts to have your work complimented.

“I think she wishes you were part of our family full time; every time I take her to an outing, she asks if you’re coming too.” He looks over at you as his lips attach to the wine glass; he doesn’t include the part about how he’d also like you to be part of the family; it’s all about the little one.

“She’s such a darling!” You reply, making an ‘aww’ face at his words. The idea that you’ve been such an important part of this child's (and this rockstar’s) life is so special.

“You know if you ever want me to come to those things and be an extra pair of hands, I’d be honored; you don’t even have to pay me. You already pay me enough.”

Alex nods at your suggestion; it’s a nice idea. He’d love to bring you to cookouts with the rest of the band and playdates with the other parents he knows. He’d love to bring you around anywhere; you were really one of the most gentlehearted people he’s ever met.

“I’ll have to take you up on that sometime soon.” He says, straightening his button down slightly. He hasn’t had a chance with you alone like this in a long while; maybe it was time for him to finally say what he’s wanted to.

“You know love,” he starts, the pet name not going over your head. “I think you’re really special. One of the kindest women I’ve ever met. And I know how much you get along with Ayla, but I’d love to just get to know you one on one more. Would that be okay?”

He’s anxious at his own suggestion; if you don’t approve and find him weird, you could get mad at him. And the worst-case scenario is that you could quit and he’d have to find a new babysitter; none would be as good as you.

His words might just be music to your ears; you always found him rather attractive, and seeing him and his daughter evoked feelings you didn’t really understand, but you never wanted to let yourself think about that further. He was technically your boss, but he was also suggested going on what sounded like a date. Every professional bone inside of you was screaming at you to say no, but goddamnit, you haven’t been on a date in years now.

“I’d love to!” Is the word you decide on, a smile appearing on both of your faces instantly?

Alex thanks the Lord internally that you didn’t flip out and that you actually seemed excited about the whole thing. So many ideas flood his head of what he could do to make this date perfect for you.

“Do you like Italian food? There’s this really nice place down the street that I’ve been to a few times. It's also super quiet, so no one can bother us,” he suggests. He hadn’t actually been at that restaurant since he was with his ex-girlfriend, Ayla’s mother, but he’s been meaning to go back.

You nodded almost instantly; you did love Italian food. It was like he could read your mind; that was literally your idea of the perfect first date. The idea of it being quiet was also appealing; she’s heard stories from him of what it can be like when fans or paparazzi find him.

“Sounds lovely!”

Alex beams at your words, a wide smile appearing on his face. He was already deciding on when to take you and what he was going to wear. You were just so special, and he wanted to make sure you knew how much he cared about you and appreciated you.

“You’re lovely, truly. I don’t think you know how lovely you are.” His voice is warm, and he takes your hands in his. He hasn’t felt this giddy about a woman in years, and he almost felt like a teen again.

“You flatter me; you’re a lovely person too, and a great father.” You respond to him, looking down at your joint hands. Sometimes he was so in his own head and it bothered you; he was just so special.

He lets out a low laugh and shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling for a second.

"God, no, I’m a mess. And I’m barely a father; you do more work than me.” His words were sad, but he meant them; he never felt truly good enough in any way. As a musician he thought he was past his prime, and as a father he thought he was an utter failure. It was you that kept his family afloat.

You furrow your eyebrows at his words; they hurt you for some reason. You’ve seen him and his daughter; they were so happy together. She loved him, and you could tell he thought she was the most beautiful person on earth.

You gently release your hands from his and cup his face. “Hey no. That’s not true. You are such a good father; your daughter loves you so much.”

He lets out a small gasp at the feeling of your hands on his face; it was a tenderness he hadn’t felt in about as long as he could remember. He never let his guard down, and now you were practically coaxing him into being vulnerable and open, and he felt safe. At the sound of his gasp, your own heart starts to beat faster, and you rest your forehead against his. It’s a silent gesture to show him that you really, truly care. And he feels it, and for once the world doesn’t feel so awful.

He looks up at you with his dark eyes, waiting for a silent signal of anything. He wasn’t going to push you into something; he just wanted you to stay. You let out a small nod; he could probably manipulate you into joining a cult at this very moment.

He leans slightly closer to you, his lips almost touching yours before he pulls away. He can’t be the one to kiss you; that would be breaking every rule. It’s an easy thing to notice how hesitant he seems, and it’s almost adorable to you. You grin up at him, reassuring him by squeezing his cheek with the hand still on his face. Realizing he’s probably too shy to be the one to break a boundary, you decide to cross every bridge, pressing your lips gently against his.

His lips are dry and cracked; he probably didn’t think about taking care of them. He didn’t have a reason to; he wasn’t really planning on kissing anyone until all of this. The kiss is simple, the type that you see at the end of an old Hollywood movie where they weren’t allowed to make out. He takes a second to fumble with his hands; he doesn’t really feel like going directly into groping right now. His biggest fear is scaring you off. So instead he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

Even if the kiss wasn’t passionate, there was more emotion found in his lips against yours than any makeout session you had with college boyfriends. He felt truly cared for for the first time in a while; you just felt head over heels crazy about him.

Slowly, after he pulls away for a deep breath and to take in your rosy cheeks, he deepens the kiss. It starts with him gently licking at the bottom of your lip; it’s light enough that if you want to pull away, you can, but you don’t. You give him the permission he wants, and he swirls his tongue into the cavern of your mouth. He wants to get to know every inch of you—everything that made you the sweetest girl he had ever met.

The insides of his mouth had an aftertaste of coffee and cigarettes, just as you may have predicted in your late-night fantasies. There was rarely a time you saw him without one of the two, and it was endearing how that even crossed into his kisses. He hugs you impossibly closer before removing his lips from yours.

“You’re so fucking perfect. I don’t understand how I deserve you. I’m a fucked up single dad; I pay you to help me make my life less chaotic. I don’t deserve your tenderness.” He starts to ramble, pressing his head against yours again. His words ignite a spark in your chest; it’s just so untrue that it makes you angry. You wish there was a way to explain to him that he was doing nothing wrong; he was maybe the best parent you’ve ever seen.

Your brain is filled with thoughts on how you could reassure him, but there’s no words you can think of. You look down at his jeans and then back up at him.

“Can I show you how enchanted I am by you? How much I don’t care about your flaws?” You ask him, hand gently ghosting over his hips. His breath hitches, and he nods. There’s a deep worry at the back of his throat that you may feel obliged to do this, but the devotion in your eyes changes his mind instantly.

“Of course, sunshine. I’d love that.” He smiles at you as you sink to your knees on the kitchen floor, looking up at him with a warm beam. ‘Sunshine’ was one of the first things he ever said to you; on the first day you worked with Ayla, he told you that you were just like a work of art.

You wrap your fingers into his belt buckle and remove it, setting it on the floor next to you. You’ve given plenty of blowjobs, but this one felt more personal, more important. As stupid as it sounded, you felt like the safety of the world depended on you sucking his dick at this very moment.

By the time you slide his jeans and boxers off, you’re met with the fact that he’s big, like really big, and he isn’t even fully hard. Of course he was big; he was a fucking rockstar. There was no way he wasn’t big. But you were still a bit nervous that you wouldn’t be able to handle it all.

As if he could sense your hesitation about his size, he ropes his fingers into your hair and forces you to look up at him. “Take the time you need sunshine; you’ll be perfect, I promise.”

His words not only send a wave of arousal between your thighs, but they also give you the reassurance you need. Wrapping your hand around his thick cock firmly, you give him a few pumps to get him totally hard.

It doesn’t take long; he’s so attracted to you, and this moment was just so fucking hot. His cock is even bigger than you could’ve imagined; you hollow your cheeks just looking at it. It takes you a minute to think of where to start, but you remembered one thing your ex-boyfriend loved.

You begin by peppering his shaft with soft kisses, going all the way from the head to his balls (you pay extra attention to his balls, noticing the way his breath hitches at the lightest bit of contact). This is almost exactly what Alex would’ve expected from you; even the way you sucked Dick was sweet and tender.

After his dick is thoroughly covered with every kiss possible, you wrap your hand around the base and lean forward, swirling your tongue around the tip. His breath hitches, and he fights back his body’s urge to thrust forward; he wanted to let you take as long as you needed.

It starts with gentle licks and suckers; you want to warm your mouth up. It’s been a while. You do eventually start to suck on his head, hollowing out your cheeks so you can go farther. You don’t start to bob on his cock immediately, just a few gentle sucks. You look up at him for confirmation that you were doing okay.

Of course you were doing okay; it’s been so long that you could’ve just grazed his dick with your pinky and he would’ve exploded everywhere. He gives you a reassuring smile and brings his hand to your hand, gently guiding you to start bobbing.

That’s just what you needed—the slight act of dominance. You start moving your mouth up and down his shaft, your mouth feeling so perfectly full. The first time you try to deepthroat him, you gag, his dick hitting a spot pretty deep in your throat.

Alex, gentleman he is, immediately pulls you off and looks at you with concern, but you shake your head. “I’m fine, Alex, I promise,” you say before reattaching yourself to his hardness. This time it’s more passionate, faster. You’re remembering everything that made past partners tick, and you’re learning what Alex loves.

For example, he lets out a guttural moan when you gently fondle his balls, but you could’ve guessed that from the way he reacted to the kisses earlier. He moans again when you suck on him AND swirl your tongue at the same time, and you can hear the way his breath changes based on how fast or slow you’re going.

Once you determine the pace that’s drawing the most whines out of you, he brings his hand back to your head, guiding you down his cock further. This time you’re able to go all the way down, and with his full cock in the back of your throat, you look up at him with a sense of pride. All you ever want to be is helpful for him, doing the most. He gives you a tap on the back as if to say ‘good job.’ These seconds of quiet without your head moving remind you that you’re so soaked the floor is probably wet, and then he pushes you back up.

You keep this rhythm for a while, alternating between sucking him and letting him guide your head. You know he’s close; you can sense the way he’s starting to twitch in your mouth, and his heartbeat is starting to become erratic. He wants to cum in your mouth, on you, inside you, anywhere he could get it. He’s starting to become obsessed.

“Can I cum in your mouth sunshine?” He asks you, voice breaking a few times in his sentence. He doesn’t know what you’re okay with yet; maybe you’re the type of girl that would prefer to be covered in his spillage.

You pull away enough to respond, watching the way his shaft is almost convulsing. “I would love for you to cum in my mouth,” you say with a grin before laughing slightly. It was an absurd statement to say to someone who was practically your boss, but it was also really damn hot at the moment. He laughs too; he liked that he could do that while still having sex with you.

His laughs, however, are interrupted by you suddenly deepthroating him, looking up at him with eyes that are just giving him permission to cum down your hot throat. After a few more suckers, he starts to grip the kitchen counter and loses control over his hips and breath; if he wasn’t so turned on, he’d think he looks pathetic. To you, it’s beautiful that he’s coming apart and you’re bringing him this level of pleasure.

He whines when his loads start to spill into your throat, pulling out of you and gripping harder to the counter. It takes him a minute to steady his breath, admiring the way your eyes are lust-blown and the sight of your throat swallowing.

There was a lot of cum, but it was his. You liked that it was his, and you made sure to swallow it all. It didn’t have a taste you could really identify, so you decided to call it 'Alex.' It was him at his most vulnerable. You loved it.

He pulls his pants up, shuffling for his belt on the floor. You look over at the time, 10:30; you should probably get home soon before your roommate starts to worry.

“I want to return the favor. Let me taste you.” He says suddenly, almost begging you. It breaks your heart to have to shake your head no.

“I should really get home, but I’ll have to take you up on that offer later. Maybe after that date, yeah?” You smile warmly at him, grabbing his clammy hand and squeezing it a few times. He pouts in protest but then nods; he didn’t want you to be too tired at work tomorrow either.

"Alright, love, I’ll see you here tomorrow in the morning, yeah? I probably won’t be home until late again, big studio session. But I’ll make sure to take Friday off for our date.” He grins; just the idea of taking you on a date fills him with a warmth only his daughter had made him feel in the past years.

You pull him into a hug and press a quick kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Alex. Maybe I’ll take Ayla to the park.” You grab your bag and start to walk towards the door, your face still flushed pink. “I can’t wait for our date.”

He gives a nod in agreement at that, too out of words to say anything else. It hurt him to see you leave, but you’d be back in no time.

“And Alex, thank you for letting me be a part of your family. Even if our dynamic is changing.” You reach the door, opening it with your hand.

“Thank you for being a part of our family, Sunshine. I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

AN: was reading jane eyre (also where the title came from) when i came up with this, i got really obsessed with that dynamic. might turn this into a series idk

#andbreakmynose #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner fic #alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x you #fanfic #smut #dad! al

114 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

On Your Knees

mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

18+only, jealous!eddie, unprotected sex, bathroom sex, mutual pining

The year is 1991. You work across the street from Eddie's garage, and the two of you have been flirting for months. Neither one of you make a move, though, but when Eddie sees you out on a date at The Hideout with someone else, he realizes he doesn't want to share you.

Word count: 3.8k

Song Inspo: No One Like You/Scorpions and On Your Knees/W.A.S.P.

You’re finishing up dinner on a date with a guy you don’t even like, and you’re bored as hell, when you realize that the restaurant he took you to is only two blocks away from The Hideout. Your heart grows arms and legs and does a cartwheel as you think about Eddie. Eddie Munson, the one who turns wrenches at the gas station/mechanic shop across from the cafe where you’ve been working to pay off your student loans. Eddie, the one who calls you Princess, and you hate it, but he calls you that anyway. Eddie, the one who sat with you and made you laugh when you found out your parents were getting divorced. Eddie, the one who has a secret crush on you, but keeps his distance because he thinks you’re too good for him.

Eddie, the guy who hasn't dated anyone all summer because he compares everyone to you, and they all fall short.

Tonight, you’re with Troy: he just graduated with a business degree and his dad owns half of Hawkins. He has an Andrew McCarthy look about him, but he spent almost the entire evening bragging about all of the hot women he’s dated, and reminding you what a catch he his. Before Troy drives you home, you tell him you want to see some live music at The Hideout, that a friend of yours has a band that plays there once in a while.

“Have you ever been to that place?” Troy asks, a disgusted look on his face. “It’s a dump. We’ll probably get hepatitis just from sitting on the seats.”

There is a guy at the door on a stool with long blonde hair and a handlebar mustache wearing sunglasses at night taking the $1 cover. He doesn’t check your ID’s but he does look you both up and down with a grunt as Troy passes him the cash. A waft of cigarette smoke billows out as you enter, the old wood plank floors squeaking under your feet. On stage at the end of the room is a band covering No One Like You by Scorpions, and you notice right away that none of them are Eddie. It’s not until you realize how disappointed you are that you finally come to terms with the fact that you do, in deed, have a thing for Eddie. It was always a possibility in the back of your mind, but now you’re not sure why you didn’t realize it sooner.

It would be too obvious to turn around and leave now, so you ask Troy to get you each a beer. Eddie told you that there are never many people at The Hideout, and he was right, but the crowd that chose to be there was plenty enthusiastic. You were able to find two stools at a small, round table against the wall that was sticky to the touch. You watch Troy wipe the top of his beer bottle of with the inside of his polo shirt. You’re facing the stage, sipping your beer, enjoying the crowd, pretending to hear whatever college glory story Troy is telling you. You were putting your beer down to clap at the end of the song, but then…

There he is, in the flesh: Eddie Munson.

You see him sitting three tables away, near the middle of the room, and just as you realize it’s him—his eyes connect with yours. You have a sharp intake of breath at how good he looks sitting there in his leather jacket with his long hair all around him. Normally, you see him during work hours and he wears his coveralls and his hair back in a ponytail, which you also find sexy as hell.

Suddenly, you don’t want him to see you here with Troy. You don’t want him to think that this date means anything to you. You put your head down as if the beer bottle can hide you. But when you lift your eyes to sneak a glance at him again, you see he’s still looking at you; his eyes shifting from you to the back of Troy. He lifts his beer bottle in greeting, his eyebrow up, his face unreadable. You’d always known Eddie to be quick to smile—always joking with you and teasing you; trying to find any reason to touch you or talk to you when he came around before work, on his lunch break, and sometimes after work if he saw you closing up. But, in that moment, his face was anything but pleased.

You curse under your breath.

“What was that?” Troy asks, his face cringing at the next song (On Your Knees – W.A.S.P.)

You smile because you have no idea what he just said.

Troy chuckles, picks up your hand, and puts the back of your fingers to his lips to kiss them. You don’t even need to check and see if Eddie saw that, because you know he did. You force yourself to count to ten before you look in his direction again.

But he’s not looking at you this time, he’s talking to one of the two other guys at his table. A sexy waitress wearing daisy duke shorts to show off her long legs and a low cut shirt to show off her goods, was at his table, probably taking their drink order. To your chagrin, the hot waitress moves behind Eddie’s chair and bends over to wrap her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his head. Eddie sat there and let it happen; he looked like he was enjoying himself, one side of his mouth kicking up in one of those playfully devilish grins. In a follow up bold move, the waitress slides around to sit in his lap, her arm around his shoulders, her mouth only inches from his.

You jerk your head away so fast, it’s almost like you got slapped. You pretend to watch the band over Troy’s shoulder, not sure if you could handle it if you had to watch Eddie kiss someone else. Just as you are internally screaming at yourself not to look over again—you do it anyway.

The waitress is on her feet now, but Eddie has his arm hooked around her legs, her ass close to his face. With an adoring smile, she runs her hand down Eddie’s hair, and then gives him a wink before she walks away.

Eddie’s eyes snap to you.

You look down at your beer and choke, but turn it into a cough, and cover your mouth with your hand. The thought occurs to you that he was egging that waitress on to get back at you for being there with Troy. What did Eddie have to be jealous about? He never asked you out on a date or let you know he had any romantic interest in you. Sure, you suspected that the feelings between the two of you were growing, but for all you knew, you were misinterpreting things. You both graduated from different high schools, and Eddie liked to joke that you never would’ve given him the time of day back then. You were the prom queen, and he was The Freak.

“You okay?” Troy asks, putting his hand on your arm. “You ready to get out of this shithole?” But he only mouths the word shithole, as if anyone could hear him over the music.

You swallow hard and give an enthusiastic, albeit fake, “yes! Absolutely,” but first you needed to use the restroom; you’re not sure what is going on in your gut, but it feels like a swarm of butterflies wielding knives.

You stumble a bit getting off your stool, but then collect yourself, faking a confident smile. Troy lets you know that he would meet you outside in the car. Feeling somehow justified to do so after Eddie’s handsy nature with the waitress, you kiss Troy on the cheek as you head to the bathroom with your head down.

Ducking into the narrow hallway that was off to the back of the stage, you exhale a long-held breath, steadying yourself against the wall. The hallway is painted black brick, plastered in stickers, hand-drawn band posters, and graffiti. There is a payphone separating the two bathrooms, and when you pull open the door with the outline of a stick figure in a dress on it, you’re relieved to find that it was a one-person bathroom; gas station style. The bathroom itself is filled with graffiti tags and stickers as well, and there are peoples names etched into the mirror, along with phone numbers and curse words.

You make sure the door is locked, and then start pacing back and forth. “Damn you, Eddie,” you whisper to the emptiness around you.

You brace your hands on the edge of the white porcelain sink, meeting the eyes of your reflection in the mirror; they are positioned right under a very crudely carved broken heart outline. “Get a hold of yourself,” you’re still talking to yourself---Eddie Munson is slowly but surely making you certifiable. Everything is cool, everything is great. You’ll make a beeline for the exit, and you won’t have to see which girl he has on his lap now.

You shake your hands out, sigh heavily, and then unlock the door on an exhale.

As you come out, another woman who had been waiting gives you a dirty look and then goes in behind you. Once she shuts the door, you realize that you’re standing out in the dark hallway with Eddie.

He’s leaning casually against the opposite wall with his arms crossed over his chest, and then he lifts his chin at you once you realize that it’s him, a bored look on his face. “What are you doing here, Princess?”

“Hi Eddie. I have to go now,” you say in a rush as you move to walk by him. In response, he stretches his arm out, takes a big step, and plants his hand flat on the wall next to you, using his body to block your path, his wallet chain hitting the brick with a clack.

There is a dramatic pause as it takes you a few seconds to find the strength to look up at him, and meanwhile you stare at the tattered metal t-shirt under his leather. There is a tightening in your chest: part confusion, part fear, and part deep, primal need that makes your core throb.

When your eyes slowly climb to his, you see that the pupils in his chocolate brown eyes are blown, and his lips are parted.

“What do you want, Eddie?” You ask, trying to read the hard set of his jaw.

He moves closer and lowers his head so that your eyes are now on the muscles of his neck, his heart beat visible.

“Is that your boyfriend?” His voice is a low murmur.

In a strange burst of frustration, you cock your head at him, pulling back to meet his eyes again. “What do you care?”

The woman comes out of the bathroom and give you both a side-eye as she walks by.

You follow suit and duck to the side to move around Eddie, but he is quick to switch positions---stretching his arm out so that the flat of his palm meets the opposite wall with a smack, his metal rings clinking together. The smell of his cologne mixed with leather and tobacco intoxicating you like a drug about to send you on a high to outer space.

Fuck, I can’t let her leave, Eddie thinks to himself, his mind racing, his heart about to explode out of his chest with the massive crush he has on you. For the past couple weeks, he’s been trying to build up the courage to ask you out, but then he would look down at his dirty hands and drive back to his messy trailer and push the thought out of his mind. But, seeing you on a date with someone else, someone other than him, flipped a switch that turned him into a bit of possessive, jealous asshole, and he didn’t like that side of him. It also set off an alarm deep in his gut letting him know that he was already in deep with you, and he hadn’t even kissed you yet.

“Why was he touching you?” He glances up at his hand on the wall, but then flicks his gaze back down to you, lingering on your mouth, expecting an answer.

“Are you in charge of who gets to touch me now?” You rest your shoulder on the wall, returning his eye contact with a defiance that makes him the first to look away.

Eddie’s jaw muscles tighten, his back teeth grinding—he felt like he was losing control. The need for you to be his—to belong to him—tightened like thorns around his heart more and more every day.

“Listen, Eddie,” you soften, remembering that this is the guy who makes you mix tapes and leaves his tip money in the shape of origami animals. “I went on a date with him because he asked me. And I’ve been really...lonely,” you were a bit ashamed to say that last part, but it was true.

Eddie softens too, hearing your voice tremble.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “Being with him only made me realize how much I’d rather be with you.”

The look you give him moves him in a way he could not have predicted. In the time it takes for him to exhale the breath held tight in his chest, Eddie cups your face in his hands, and backs you against the far wall, his mouth covering yours, moaning as you slip your tongue between his lips, meeting his desire with equal force.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers against your mouth.

You grab him by the belt loop and yank him closer. “You can have it, all of it,” you say, breathlessly. You can tell his hands are hovering, not sure if you want him to touch you in other places, and so you reach down and cup between his legs, a bit taken aback at the size of the cock growing in his jeans.

“Holy shit,” you say as you glance down.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says in regards to his size.

“Don’t be sorry,” you assure him. “I want it inside of me.”

Eddie pauses to make eye contact with you, swallowing hard, the need for you tightening in his balls. You both glance at the empty bathroom and simultaneously start to move, shutting and locking the door as soon as you can. The romantic in Eddie can’t help but think that this isn’t the ideal place for a first time with you, but you’re both too horny—too ready. He can feel how ready you are soaking through your panties as he reaches under your dress to stroke you.

Eddie has you against the door of the bathroom, his tongue searching your mouth, moaning, while his fingers rub you on top of your underwear before slipping them aside to stick one finger in.

Your breath catches, and Eddie groans at your resistance, at how tight you are.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your mouth. “I want to taste you.”

He drops to his knees, taking your underwear with him as you hold your dress up at your waist. He takes one more look up at you, still not believing this is really happening. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he gushes, just as his mouth buries into your folds, his tongue dipping down to fuck your hole. You put your hand to his hair and cling to it. He brings one finger up inside of you again, finding a little less resistance, as he sucks and flicks his tongue on your nub.

“Oh my god...Eddie...just like that…”

You hear people out in the hallway, but one uses the payphone and another one goes into the men’s restroom. You can feel Eddie’s hand with the chunky rings resting on your thigh, and you reach your hand down to intertwine fingers with his as he ventures to sink a second finger inside of you. You cry out a little, and his eyes snap up to look at you, but then he realizes it was a cry of pleasure as your opening spreads open for him, swelling to meet his needs.

Your leg starts to tremble; you release his hand to pull down the front of your dress and cup your breast, plucking at your nipple.

“Baby..I think I’m about to….oh fuck…”

Eddie takes your core into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue at a rapid speed, filling you with two fingers as your arousal drips down your inner thighs.

“Wait...wait….” you stop him, and reluctantly he tilts his face back to look at you; his mouth and chin glistening with your juices. You grab his chin. “I want to cum with you inside me.”

Eddie’s cock jerks in his jeans at that suggestion, even though he intended to make this all about you.

“Please, baby,” you plead with him, still holding him by the chin, and then he rises to his full height and prepares to wipe his mouth off with the back of his hand before he kisses you, but you stop him.

“I want to taste me on you,” you tell him, as your mouths collide again, murmuring about your mutual need for each other. Eddie feels like the tip of his cock is about to blow off with how turned on he is by you.

Eddie turns you around, reaching around to play with your clit as he does so, your head tilting back to kiss him. You press your cheek against the door and pull your skirt up, your underwear still around your knees, arching your lower back so that your ass lifts up to him.

He spanks you with the flat of his hand, and then rubs it; he opens you up with his thumbs to look at your perfect asshole. He runs a finger from your swollen lips to your backdoor, watching you shiver at the sensation.

He undoes his belt and drops his black jeans and boxers just enough, clutching his throbbing hard cock. You look behind you at the weapon in his hand and start to rock your hips back, begging for it.

Eddie squeezes some precum to the tip and then rubs it along your soft, soaking hole, feeling it grip him and suck him in. Your tight entrance makes him shiver as he clutches your ass with a grunt, his rings slightly pinching your skin. He thrusts it in half way and you toss your head back.

“Oh my god, fuck fuck, oh my goddddd….” you can feel the orgasm mounting again, unfurling like a band of firecrackers at the base of your spine.

Someone knocks on the bathroom door.

“Out of Order!” Eddie growls back at them.

His hips are rocking now, sending his cock deeper and deeper inside of you, “holy fuck, you feel so good,” he groans with a curse, moving faster now, watching your juices soak his cock.

A few more thrusts and you are bracing yourself against the door, muttering about how good it feels, pushing your ass back into him so that he can bottom out inside of you, cursing and groaning as he does so.

“That’s it,” he tells you, your skin meeting with a satisfying slapping sound. “That’s my good girl.”

You reach down and rub your clit as you reach the brink, your body vibrating, the heavy beat of the music thudding in your chest.

“Eddie...Eddie baby...I’m...I’m…” And then you go momentarily limp and he holds your hips as you stupify for a moment, seeing white behind your eyelids, soaking his cock with your cum, mumbling, as a whip inside of you snaps.

Eddie’s orgasm isn’t far behind, he hisses at the way your walls grip him as you cum, hearing your whimpers of pleasure.

His hips start to pump at twice the pace, pouring into you, his wallet chain slapping his jeans. “Fuck, I’m about to...where do you want me to…”

“Inside of me, oh god, inside of me….”

A few more thrusts and he starts to explode, sending his seed deep inside of you, kneading the skin on your ass as his pelvis curves against you. He trembles as he gushes, his hand traveling up to cup the back of your neck.

Heaving deep breaths, he pulls you back against him, kissing your neck, fondling your breast, his cock not ready to leave the tight grip you have on him. “My cum is so deep inside of you, you belong to me now.”

You turn your head to look up into his eyes and he kisses your mouth and then your nose, holding you there.

Someone bangs on the door again, and this time they rattle the handle.

You both share muffled laughs as you quickly pull yourselves together.

“Sorry, toilet was broken,” you yell, checking your face in the mirror.

When you’re both ready, Eddie reaches back to take your hand in his before he unlocks the door.

On the other side of the door is Troy. He’s frowning, and then his face drops, his mouth going agape as he sees the state of you two and his brain scrambles to register what he is looking at.

“What the hell is going on?” He barks at you, incredulous. You find it amusing that Troy was worried about catching germs from merely sitting on the seats, and here you are getting raw-dogged in one of the bathrooms.

Eddie keeps a firm grip on your hand, pulling you closer to him, as he checks Troy in the shoulder on his way out. “She’s with me now,” Eddie tells him. “Don’t ever touch her again.”

You shrug your shoulders at Troy, and give him an ‘oops’ face as you follow Eddie’s lead back to his van, back to more debauchery.

#eddiemunson #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson oneshot #the hideout #fem reader

808 notes · View notes