#i didn’t even fucking know you had to accept the award they gave you for fa

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Glitchtrap has witnessed Vanessa break down sobbing because of college before. not because of classes, but because she forgot to accept the award that would give her financial aid.

“WHY are you making so much RACKET?!”

“i forgot— i forgot to— i forgot to accept the award given to me for my financial aid for this semester, and now i might not be able to go to school! that’s $21K down the drain, Mr. Afton! i can’t afford to get my classes without it!”

literally, wailing. crying so hard she’s stammering and can’t speak. barely fucking breathing.

and Glitchtrap is just there like 🐇

she won’t shut up, too overcome with panic and stress and self-hatred for forgetting something so important. Glitchtrap finally gets fed up with her weeping and goes into the database to fix the issue himself. he doesn’t do it out of the kindness of his heart, but because her crying is giving him a headache—and he doesn’t even technically have a physical head!

“there! i fixed your fucking problem! now will you PLEASE stop crying?!”

“you— you fixed it?”

“yes. you got the stupid aid so you can do your stupid classes. now SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 20- Shambles ☕️

After Nilou and Ayaka’s performance, it was time for another award winner. This time, it was for Scaramouche’s category. If he won best leading role then that means he’ll only need one more category to win.

You were still behind with only needing three more categories to win. You weren’t sure what your punishment would be if you lost. Knowing him, it’d probably be something humiliating.

Lyney and Lynette were announcing the nominees. You quickly glance over to Scaramouche, his indigo eyes already looking at you.

It was almost as if his eyes were teasing you. Saying that he’s for sure going to win. It was frustrating to say the least.

“Alright, now the winner for the best leading role is…” Lynnette begins to open the envelope containing the name. The suspense was killing you. Even if he did win this category, he didn’t necessarily win the bet. It would just put him to an advantage. An advantage you didn’t want.

Lyney snatches the envelope from Lynette, “THE WINNER IS DILUC IN TOP GUN MAVERICK!!”

Relief washes over you. Scaramouche lost one of the categories, meaning you were on the road to winning the bet. He’s no longer in the competition.

You couldn’t help but stand up and start clapping, really obnoxiously. Cheering so loud that the others around you take notice. It seems like you were more happy for the win than Diluc himself.

Noticing people looking at you, you quickly sat down embarrassed. That’s when you turned to Scaramouche and locking eyes. You can feel the anger emanating off of him. It was so satisfying to see him lose something for once. You playfully stuck out your tongue. Instead of doing the same, he only flipped you off.

What a sore loser.

.

The award show went on and you had already won best new artist and best solo performance. Making sure to make direct eye contact with Scaramouche everytime you gave your acceptance speech.

You only needed one more category. Best music video of the year. This will be announced after you and Xiao’s performance towards the end of the night.

Which happens to be right now.

You were sitting in the stylist chair getting your hair and makeup done. It was your first performance at an award show so naturally you have anxiety over it. You haven’t really talked to Xiao besides him congratulating you on your wins and him occasionally glancing over to your table.

After your hair and makeup, you finally put on your stage outfit. It fit nicely and you already knew it was going to trend on twitter. Satisfied with everything, you headed out onto the stage.

That’s when you bumped into Xiao finally.

“Are you ready?” His eyes looking at you up and down. You felt a bit flustered by this.

“Yeah I am. Is there something wrong with my outfit?”

“No it looks good.”

“Thanks. You look…nice too.”

Fuck why did you say that?

Who says that?

It’s hard complimenting guys.

You both walk to the stage and he goes up first while you get in place for when it’s your time to go.

His song starts.

.

It was at the end of the performance and both of you are locked onto each other’s gazes. You’re starting to get déjà vu from the first time you guys practiced. The cheers and the screams from people were starting to get blocked out.

Xiao kept looking down at your lips and then at your eyes. Signaling if he had permission. You could feel the crowd wanting you guys to do something.

Your hand reaches up, brushing gently against his cheek. You can see him leaning in, your lips only inches apart.

Doubt flickers in your eyes and you pull him into a tight embrace instead. You knew you couldn’t do this. It wasn’t fair to Xiao knowing you hold no feelings towards him. The tension breaks and Xiao wraps his arms around you, flashing a hint of disappointment.

The audience is still applauding, oblivious to the almost kiss that just transpired. For you and Xiao, it was going to linger on your guy’s minds.

You didn’t want to kiss Xiao knowing he was watching the entire time.

Once you and Xiao got done changing back to your original outfits, you both headed back to your respective tables. You turned to Scaramouche who was looking down.

The edible probably took a toll on him.

Now was the time to announce your final nomination. You have won all your categories so far. You were pretty confident you were going to win this one. You worked hard on the music video, if it didn’t win then this award show is rigged.

The incredibly famous movie director, Alhaitham was announcing the nominees and of course, the winner. As soon as your name was called for the nominations, Scara’s head perked up.

Alhaitham cleared his throat, “Without further ado..” He begins to open up the envelope.

Why do these people like to pause for a while before announcing the name?

You and Scara were both on the edge of your seats for different reasons. You needed to win and Scara needed you to lose.

Alhaitham finally opened up the envelope, “The winner for best music video of the year goes to…Barbara with her song we can’t be friends!”

Jaw fucking dropped.

You stood there with your mouth open flabbergasted. You turn to Scara who was up from his seat clapping and cheering more than anyone else.

Someone seemed a little too happy.

He glanced over at you and smirked before sitting down. Looks like nobody won the bet.

Whatever.

Besides, you and Hu Tao needed to get ready to announce the final category of the night.

Male actor of the year.

Which means this is the final category that Scara is nominated for. You both already lost the bet so it didn’t matter if he won or not. It’d just be hella awkward if you were the one that presented the award to him. It probably won’t happen anyways.

After Albedo’s performance, you and Hu Tao make your way up to the stage. You’re the one carrying the envelope.

Hu Tao was the first to speak, “Tonight has been an incredible night. One nobody can ever forget. Y/n and I have met some incredible people so far. Lumine, Alhaitham, Scaramouche.”

You quickly interrupted her at the mention of his name.

“Eugh anyway.” You rolled your eyes.

Gasps and laughter erupted from the audience. The camera panned to Scaramouche only shaking his head. You were definitely going to get a scolding from Furina, but you didn’t care.

Hu Tao finished giggling and continued with her dialogue, “Thank you for that Y/n. Now as the last category of the night we like to announce male actor of the year. The nominees are Childe, Scaramouche, Baizhu, and Diluc.”

As you open the envelope you finish the dialogue, “The male actor of the year goes to..”

You look down and see the name of someone you wish you didn’t start beef with 10 seconds ago.

Scaramouche.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation at hand, “Interesting… Scaramouche!” You gave a painful obvious fake smile as the crowd gives their applause.

You can see Scara slowly making his way up to the stage. You, of course, were the lucky person handing him the award.

Mona set you up big time.

“Thank you both. Thanks to everyone who voted for me. I don’t really know what else to say.” Scara paused for a brief moment. “Thank you to my fans, to my company and my friends who helped me along the way. Couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

Scara quickly walks off stage as the crowd claps once again. He ends up walking next to you and Hu Tao backstage.

“The opps are upon us.” You try whispering to Hu Tao.

“I can hear you. You’re not very quiet.”

“That’s the point.” You walked ahead of them, leaving Hu Tao and Scara alone together.

“What’s their problem?” Scara began to ask Hu Tao.

“They’re still mad that you’ve been ghosting them again.”

“Ok and? I don’t know what they expect from all this. They shouldn’t get their hopes up.”

Hu Tao stops right in front of him, “You can’t just start talking to them again and expect them not to care once you go ghost. You know the type of thing you guys had in high school. It doesn’t just disappear. If you don’t stop with your antics it’s going to end up the same.”

Scara threw his head back in a fit of laughter, “Why should I care? It’s not like this ever meant anything for the both of us. Y/n just likes the attention any guy gives them. They can fuck around with Xiao for all I care.”

“For fucks sake! Y/n doesn’t like Xiao. It was just a performance.”

Scara didn’t have the energy to continue arguing. He began to walk away from her.

“Why do you hate Y/n so much?” Hu Tao called out.

Scara stopped dead in his tracks, “I don’t hate Y/n. I just forgot about them.” He didn’t even turn to look at her. He only walked away again, leaving the girl behind.

Thankfully the night finally ended as you guys head back to the company car. Hu Tao didn’t feel ready to tell you about her conversation with Scara. Maybe another time she will.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: The last chapter of act 2!! Act 3 will be super messy. Alsoo in case you were wondering what the performance looked like, just imagine xiao singing his song on the piano. After it’s done he plays a few notes of espresso on the piano then opens an envelope that says “thats that me espresso.” Then espresso starts playing and y/n performs blah blah blah. Then they perform the cover song together then the end. (I’m not creative when it comes to stuff like this pls bear with me).

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy @scaradooche @theyluvkatt @meigalaxy @noirechomps @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @vxcmx @ariesloves @cayl33n @animeobsessed56 @heartsforni-ki @feikyuu @ichcocat @strayharmony943 @chscklvr @kunikissr @jiminscarmex

[k1sse-s]

TASHI DUNCAN

I’m going to strangle you.

› summary: she makes you hate her a little less after accidentally meeting you on the court.

! warnings: fem!reader, smut, no use of y/n, sex on the court/public place, fingering, obsessive!tashi, cursing, dirty talk.

Please let me know if I forgot something! ˎˊ˗

› wc: 1.5k

Your Wilson racket almost slipped away from your hand when you heard that weirdly familiar whistle behind your back. You didn’t turn your head around out of pure curiosity, no, there was also sense of irritation that made you do it. Because you knew that whistle damn well, and you knew from who it was from.

Tashi Duncan. And her cocky, irritating, arrogant twist of her lips.

“You should wear that skirt more often.” She said shamelessly. Eyes narrowing to get better view of your shiny, tanned legs and the way the muscles of your calves were flexing, making flawless collaboration with the sun that hit your skin. Tashi wasn’t even trying to pretend she’s not attracted to you.

But you had your pride, didn’t you? You had to ignore her just because how insufferable she was in your eyes.

Literal imagine of narcissism.

And you couldn’t stand her nor the way she was mercilessly scanning you from behind. Letting out a soft groan of disappointment when the wind didn’t blow your tennis skirt high enough to give her a good look at your ass.

“Solo practice?” She said sarcastically, pushing her tennis bag off her shoulder, letting it hit hard surface of the court.

She just had to put her gear next to yours, otherwise it wouldn’t be Tashi.

“Yeah.” You gave her unbothered scoff, your fingers intently following the strings of your racket as you walked forward onto the court.

“Should’ve known you’re here to play with yourself.” Her bottom lip going between her teeth while she teased further, riling you up.

Oh how she loved doing that.

“Fuck off.” You mumbled to yourself as Tashi’s lips slowly twitched into a smirk that grew only wider as you positioned yourself to serve. She watched you focused on the game, clueless of her gaze lazily moving along your slim legs, clearly enjoying how your little skirt lifted with your movement.

“Your footwork is a joke.” Playful sarcasm in her voice as her eyes dropped to her own racket. Both of you knew there’s nothing wrong with your footwork. It was amazing. Fabulous even.

“Try this.” She positioned herself next to you, her thumb moving with the fur on the green ball that was in her fingers. You took a look at her racket. There’s no doubt about it, Tashi only accepts the very best when it comes to her equipment.

And it fills you with pure envy. The only thing that goes in your mind while watching her serve is how you want to whip the racket from her hands and smash it against the court.

“I know how to serve.” You almost snapped at her. Why she was still trying to prove she’s better than you? She played more matches, had way more awards than you. Everyone knew no one can compare to her.

Everyone except you. Because you knew you can be better.

“I never said you don’t.” She has to stop herself from letting out a scoff at your exasperated tone. Instead, she let’s her dark eyes glance at your flexing thighs, toned arms, then back to your face. Still annoyed that your damn skirt was in the way.

It was always in the way.

It was almost unfair how hot you are, how effortlessly you make her bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from licking the sweat from your abs away. But oh God, she wants to have a taste. “You just suck at it compared to me.”

“Fuck you, Duncan.”

“You wish.” Irritation appearing in her voice as she grabbed your arm and forced you to face her. The pressure of her fingers digging into your muscles felt amazing. “Watch your mouth, princess, because it will get you in trouble.”

Tashi was clearly pissed by your attitude now, which caused a lot of confusion, some of frustration and shock in you. She never acted like this. Usually you could curse at her and she’ll give you even more vulgar response. And this? This made you speechless. Not even a word could leave your dry throat.

“Are you gonna do this every time I try something, huh? Pushing me away like you can’t stand me looking at you?”

“You think you’re better than me?” You argued further, despite the obvious dominance she had over you because of the tight grip on your arm. “You think I’m not?” Tashi chuckled, leaning forwards a little to close the remaining space between you two. Her front brushing against yours.

“I’m going to strangle you—“ That’s all you managed to whisper through your gritted teeth before she pushed you onto her body. Her full lips immediately found yours and the lack of your protest revealed about what you were thinking at night while trying to sleep.

She’s completely and utterly melting against you, her hand shakes as it comes to cup the back of your head and pull it towards her, tugging you closer as she deepens the kiss, lips hungrily seeking for more. Her tongue moves against yours in heated and such intimate way, she feels unable to stop the low whine slowly leaving her throat.

She’s showing how desperate she is for you, how she craves you. And no matter how many things she wants to do to you right now she still can’t resist the thought of being ruined by you.

She takes the advantage to press you to the fence of the court, trapping your body between the cold surface and her heated body.

“You greedy bitch.” You pushed her face away from yours, only to get a better access to her neck. Your swollen from the kiss lips carefully following her sharp jaw as her hand skillfully slipped under the hem of your skirt that she wanted to take off so bad since she first saw you in it.

Her fingers moving inwards, to your sensitive lips without a warning, forcing a soft moan out of you. “Greedy?” She repeated after you, panting. “Huh, princess?” Tashi whispers into your ear, her finger circles your hard nub, making your body shudder.

Your lips parted, ready to give her another answer, full of attitude, but the only thing that left your mouth was a sharp groan that was muted by her skin, the sound vibrating in Tashi’s shoulder.

She was more than grateful it’s her fingers, that it’s her making you feel like this, and not anyone else. She loves it. She lives for it.

She fights with herself to not let out a sound of pleasure herself as she feels how wet she has got you. Her free arm wrapping around your waist to steady your shivering body as her middle finger circles your hole, not entering. “See? You can be good.” Hot breath met your ear once more, the feeling sending shivers down your spine. “That’s it, just like that.”

The fact you let her have you like this, take care of you, touch you like this and make you feel good — it’s more than she have ever wanted. She can’t resist the urge to push her fingers inside you, she feels almost obligated to remind you that it’s her, it’s Tashi Duncan that is touching you like this right now. And you moan when you think of that.

“Take it, take it all.” She whispers as her fingers dip inside you, the feeling of your slick walls clenching around her fingers, trying to get used to the stretch she just gave you is making her groan out loud. It’s like you’re perfect for her. Only her.

Your noises caused by the pleasure she was giving you are like honey to her ears. It almost makes her regret that she doesn’t see your expression now — eyes squeezed shut, lips slightly parted, because there’s no point in closing them — she’ll make them open again in a second. Subtle, pink blush spread perfectly across your cheeks. She could only imagine how lovely you looked.

Her fingers were busy with going in and out of your hole, meanwhile her thumb moves to brush against your clit, just to give you a little sensation. Her smirk widened in satisfaction when she heard your moans growing louder, fingers pushing all the way in only to leave in another second. “Look at you, taking me so well.” She praised, wanting to draw out more of those beautiful noises from your lips. She haven’t noticed with what pressure she’s pressing you onto that cold fence, the sides of the wires digging into your back, but the euphoria is not letting you feel any kind of pain right now.

Oh you’re going to be sore tomorrow.

Her lips met your neck, her tongue licking the sweat on your body while her fingers were still busy with your needy hole. Before you could beg her to let you cum you already reached the edge, and she guided you perfectly through the sudden feeling of relief that hit your shivering body. “Good girl.” She murmured against the nape of your neck, her own breath heavy and uneven.

“I’m going to strangle you.” Your lungs seeking for oxygen with desperate need, tongue wetting your lips while your own hand moved towards the hem of her shorts.

“Go ahead, pretty girl.”

[moni-logues]

BDE

Pairing: Chan x gn.reader

Genre: pwp/smut but it's a little fluffy, established relationship

Summary: Chan tries to insist he has BDE when all he really has is a BD.

Word count: 2.1k

Content: Chan has a Big Dick, oral sex (m. receiving inc deep throat and choking), sexual activity in public toilets (but no one is around)

A/N: this started with, who else?, @minttangerines. I honestly don't even remember how the conversation started but then we were talking about a fic about Chan's Big Dick struggles lmao and this idea was born. That was weeks ago now and she finally wrote it. Thank you to Lia @quarter-life-crisis2 for reading this so late at night to reassure me it didn't suck balls.

*

“I don’t know about these, y’know...” 

“Well, I told you, didn’t I? You should have sized up!” 

“But I always get this size!” 

“And they’ve changed their sizing! I told you! And you didn’t listen so now you have to suffer.” 

You turned away from Chan and back to the mirror while he fussed, trying to adjust himself comfortably in his new boxer briefs that were, quite clearly, a little snug.  

“I don’t know if I can wear these,” Chan groaned, sitting heavily on the bed with his trousers unzipped.  

“You don’t own that suit; you cannot go commando. And I’m not letting you wear any of mine.” 

Chan groaned again, loudly aggrieved, and lay back on the bed.  

“Can’t believe I’m being hoisted by my own petard! Too much big dick energy!” he cried and you turned to deliver a withering look. 

“My darling, I am not sure you know what any of those words mean. You do not have BDE.” 

He was back upright in a flash. 

“What?! How can you say that?! We are literally having a conversation about how I don’t fit in my fucking pants right now.” 

“Having a big dick is not the same as having big dick energy?” You did not, before this moment, realise that your boyfriend was quite this stupid. It gave you second thoughts about the entire relationship.  

“It’s in the name? BIG DICK energy.” 

You gestured wildly, looking around the room as if there were anyone else there who could back you up. 

“Big Dick Energy. You might have a big dick-” 

“-I do, thank you ver-” 

“YES, fine! You do have a big dick, but that is not all that’s required. And I will neither accept nor tolerate your saying that it is.” 

“Putting me down in my time of strife. What a loveless relationship we have.” 

You give him an exaggerated wink and turned back to the mirror once more to apply your lipstick. 

* 

With no solution to his problem, Chan had no choice but to zip himself up, make himself presentable, and pray to the gods that the circulation to his dick wouldn’t get cut off. There are some losses no mere mortal could survive. 

“Stop fidgeting!” you hissed to him as he squirmed on the red carpet next to you.  

It was bright and overwhelming and you were reminded why you so infrequently accompanied him to these events. This time, though, he had been nominated for an award so you wouldn’t have dreamt of missing it. The camera flashes made your eyes hurt and the cacophony of paparazzi calls blurred into a singular, uninterpretable noise; it was like entering a completely inhuman world, where you were devoid of your usual senses, disoriented, out of place, and, were it not for Chan, completely untethered.  

This time, you were also distracted by his wriggling. 

“I can’t help it!” he hissed back. “I’m losing circulation down there, I swear!” 

“You’ll lose more than that if you keep touching your fucking dick on a red carpet!” 

He huffed but duly held still for the rest of the photos, shooting off into the toilets as soon as you got into the building.  

* 

He was uncomfortable. He could barely keep his hands away from his crotch. You noticed. You were sure other people also noticed. You were not sure that this was in any way good. You slipped one hand into his and pulled it into your lap. That didn’t stop him. The night was going to be long – already had been long and had so far left to go. You felt as though you were going to have to take things into your own hands. 

Not literally. 

Maybe literally. 

You leant over, your mouth close to his ear. 

“If you can leave yourself alone until the ceremony is over, I’ll make it worth your while,” you whispered, letting your lips just barely touch the hinge of his jaw before sitting back in your seat.  

He didn’t turn to look at you but you saw his Adam’s apple bob and he squeezed your hand tight. His free hand moved to the arm of the seat and stayed there.  

* 

“This counts, right?” he was asking before you were even out of the door. “It’s over?”  

He was pushing you gently, steering you into the nearest dark corner, and then pressing against you, his hands at your waist, his nose in your hair.  

“Have your boxers cut off the circulation to your brain, Chan?” You pushed him, a little less gently, backwards. “We are still in public! You really want me to suck you off right here?” You were whispering, eyes flicking beyond Chan’s head as more and more people filed out of the auditorium on their way to bars, after parties, bathrooms. 

“Honestly?” he asked, eyebrows raised, saying ‘yes’ without actually saying it.  

“I am not breaking public indecency laws for you.” 

“I’d do it for you!” 

“Oh, you’d go down on me here, would you?” 

He was genuinely lowering to his knees before you had finished the sentence and you scrambled to haul him to his feet, your face burning hot with embarrassment. 

“You’re incorrigible!”  

“No, baby, I am fucking desperate. Desperate to get these piece of shit boxers off me and your mouth on me.” 

You had promised him. So you wandered, as inconspicuously as possible, around to the other side of the building, to find some toilets that weren’t so busy. Rather, you were hoping for some that were empty.  

And you were in luck.  

“Shit, it’s my lucky night!” Chan whispered as you pushed open the last stall door, confirming that they were all empty.  

“Honey, you didn’t win the award and your underwear is slowly strangling your dick. What about that is lucky?” 

“First of all, rude. Second of all, in about one minute, I won’t even be able to remember my own name, let alone all that other stuff. Stop using your mouth to be smart and let me choke you.” 

You rolled your eyes and sank to your knees as he eliminated the space between you. He hesitated as he unzipped, then rolled his own eyes, stooping to kick off his shoes, take off his trousers and stretch, roll, and pull the offending underwear off, muttering all the while about how stupid they were and how much he hated them and the strongly worded email he’d be writing. Then he stood, naked from the waist down.  

“Oh yeah, you’re all BDE now. Y’know, Winnie the Pooh, he really fucks.”  

When Chan looked at you, you expected him to laugh or smirk or hell, roll his eyes back at you, but he didn’t. He just looked down with that dark intensity in his face, the one that said he wasn’t going to take it easy on you. He gestured with two fingers for you to come closer and you shuffled awkwardly on your knees. Then he traced your face with a featherlight touch. You reached your own hand up and used the same lightness as you ran your finger down his length.  

As his fingertips reached your jaw, he held you, his fingers starting to press, harder and harder as you opened your mouth wider. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip as he sank his teeth into his own. You stuck your tongue out to lick at his thumb as it passed and he nodded at you.  

He held you like that, mouth open, tongue out, looking up at him, as he took himself in his free hand, stiffening quickly, pumping slowly. He made you wait until the pre-cum was dripping from his head, until he was quietly huffing little satisfied groans, until you were shifting uncomfortably on your knees, your legs going numb, your stomach tightening with anticipation, your mouth watering—saliva flooding, making a mess of your clothes when you hadn’t even had a taste of him yet. You knew better than to ask, better than to protest. He’d only make you wait longer. Even though it was him who wanted this, who was ‘desperate’ for it, you knew he wouldn’t hesitate to make this a punishment for you.  

When you thought you would fall over, pass out, fling your hands into the air and grab hold of him, he nudged his hips forward, only the very tip of his dick touching your tongue. You lunged forward, wrapping your lips around him, expecting him to move backwards, to tease some more, to make you show him how patient you could be. 

He didn’t. He really was desperate. He let you take him to the hilt, eyes springing with tears when he hit your throat, those tears making tracks down your cheeks as you swallowed him, as you pushed until your nose hit his skin. 

“That’s right,” he sighed, his head tipping back, his fingers winding in your hair. “You fucking know- shit, you know how to do that right.”  

You did. When you first got together, he had very shyly confessed to you that he’d never come from a blowjob before, because people were intimidated by his size, because he was self-conscious of it, all too aware that it was too much for most. He never felt like he could ask for what he wanted, how he liked it, didn’t want to demand or pressure or make his partners feel uncomfortable. So he’d just  sucked it up and, eventually, gone without. It was ok, he had said with a light shrug; he didn’t really mind; he knew it was a lot. He had said many things that he had convinced himself were true. That he didn’t matter. Not really. That his partners shouldn’t try to make him feel good, that they shouldn’t work together to make all parts of sex a mutually enjoyable experience.  

But you weren’t easily intimidated. You were quickly and easily infatuated and then in love with a man so sweet, he spiked your blood sugar; a man so smart, he raised your IQ; a man so hot, he was targeted by climate change activists. And you were determined to show him what he had been missing. Determined to show him what he was worth. Determined to show him that no big dick was going to get in the way of you getting him all the way off, using just your mouth.  

He whimpered, the pitch of his voice tremulously high now, his dick leaping in your mouth so you gagged, choked a little, made him really feel the tight squeeze of your throat. He was whispering under his breath, swearing quickly, calling to god (as if he could help, as if he could do anything you couldn’t), breathing your name in a way that made you physically ache for him to fill you.  

You had this down to an art. You knew his every twitch and every hitch in his breath, could time, down to the second, when he was about to finish. Still bobbing up and down, drooling along his rigid length, you took his balls in one hand and squeezed, slowly and evenly, pressing and rubbing on his taint with the other. You felt the full-body shudder go through him and the gasp which always accompanied his release. You took it all, every drop, every time. 

Chan stood, his hands fallen from your hair, limp at his sides, his eyes closed, mouth open, breathing gradually evening out. You sat back and watched him. 

“I can’t believe I have to put those fucking boxers back on,” he said when his feet touched back down to earth.  

You laughed.  

“Don’t make me say ‘I told you so’ again.” 

You stumbled as you rose to your feet, your legs fizzing back to life and making you unsteady. Chan held you securely. 

“You know I like you a lot more with my dick in your mouth?” 

But he was smiling, dreamy-eyed, putting his warm, solid hands on your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. It was more than you had expected: not a peck, his lips firm against yours, opening slightly, the pressure as he sucked at your bottom lip making your knees go weak again. You smiled at him when he pulled back, dazed, a haze of love and lust swirling around you. 

You hummed lightly. 

“Well, if you’re a really good boy for the rest of the night, I’ll put it back there when we get home.” 

He grinned, smirked actually, and gave you another quick kiss. 

“Can’t resist my big dick energy, right?” 

Your face fell as his lifted into a shit-eating grin. You walked away, out of the toilets, leaving him scrambling to re-dress himself and come after you.  

[rosewaterandivy]

Can I request a Steve and rockstar reader where they go to the grammys and she’s there when she wins her first Grammy for like new artist or something

Ooh, you're good. I had one of these planned in the OG series, but... it would fuck with the timeline too much to include it here. 👀 SO! Enjoy actor!steve's first trip to the Grammy's & rockstar!gf's second. W.C.: 3.3K Warnings! My blog is 18+, MDNI. Prosaic devotion, probably. General lack of knowledge of behind-the-scenes/Hollywood et al.

carving through the dark

🎶 Darling, we sacrificed we gave our time to something undefined / This phantom life sharpens like an image but it sharpens like a knife 🎶

Awards shows always felt awkward. Fancy gowns, famous faces, free alcohol, press line, and professional competition. Sure, it was nice to be recognized by your peers or the committee or whatever, but that didn’t mean the entire thing ceased to radiate mean girl energy.

At least it was the Grammy’s, something firmly in your wheelhouse where you wouldn’t be expected to make small-talk with a cinematographer and pretend like you actually knew what that entailed. That being said, there was the added pressure of performing and being nominated for a few awards that evening.

No biggie.

The last few shows had been a breeze, all you had to do was show up and look good: the film festival circuit beginning with Venice, the Emmys, the Kennedy Center Honors, the Golden Globes, etc. None of that had anything to do with you— it was all Steve Harrington.

So when your alarm rang on Saturday morning, you screwed your eyes shut and retreated beneath the covers. Despite knowing that Vickie was already awake and would be gently rapping at the bedroom door soon enough.

You heard Steve clear his throat, shifting the sheets as he turned to face you— all stupidly gorgeous bedhead and eyes squinting in the bright morning sun. His right hand flopped over and landed on your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Good morning,” Vickie coos, once you’ve managed to swipe your phone off the night stand and onto the floor. She picked it up quietly, pausing the blaring alarm and set it back on the table.

Reluctantly, you sit up as the covers are peeled away from you, open your eyes and blink slowly. Game day.

Steve had long accepted now that Vickie would show up at the ass crack of dawn on days like these, coffee and breakfast in hand, before you were relegated to the makeup chair where you’d spend hours being poked and prodded to near perfection.

He had plenty to do today as well and Robin was expected shortly. You wouldn’t be surprised to find her puttering around downstairs finalizing his schedule.

Speaking of which—

“Want me to run through the day?”

You nod and reach for your matcha latte, taking a sip while Steve wraps an arm around to pull you back down to the pillows with him. He’s managed to find his glasses and get them on, so at least there’s some progress in the Harrington camp. There was a noise from the hallway, the bedroom door opened and Robin appeared.

“‘Sup nerds?” She greeted and deposited Steve’s protein shake on his nightstand. 

“Ugh, still?” He grimaced, eyeing the green concoction warily.

“Yes, dingus, still.” Robin falls into a club chair by the windows and sips loudly from her frappucino. “Now, drink up, buttercup. Nolan wants you in tip-top shape.”

Steve rolls his eyes and begrudgingly takes a sip of the drink. Robin smiles, delighted, before turning back to Vickie with a wink.

“Right, as I was about to say,” she begins, a blush steadily creeping up her cheeks under Robin’s gaze. “Carpet starts at 3pm— you’re expected right at the end.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Your helpful suggestion of skipping the press line and carpet was quickly vetoed by pretty much everyone on the team due to the fact that you were a nominee.

“Your hair is 10am, make up at noon when you finish lunch. Drinks and everything in Bar Marmont with management and crew at 2pm–everyone has different departure times so time on the carpet is staggered. You and Steve are last.”

You nodded. It had been a stressful few weeks— Steve filming on location and you in rehearsals for tour. Not to mention the tabloids and rumor mill running rampant with ‘America’s Sweethearts on the Rocks?’ and ‘Cherry Spotted Solo - Is This the End for the Hollywood Power Couple?’

Steve would walk after the last call, a warning voice would come through speakers and that’s when he’d take his seat. Better to skip the carpet than get drug into the spotlight and inadvertently fuel a fire that neither of you started.

Robin sipped from her own coffee, sensing the hestiancy that hung in the room like the smog around LA. “It’ll be fine guys, piece of cake,” she tried to reassure. “Just focus on celebrating the banger of an album you’ve made!”

You nodded as Steve threw off the sheets to take a shower. He drops a kiss to your forehead and says, “Yeah, honey, the rest is just confetti,” before disappearing into the ensuite. 

Knowing that no matter what happened or what the interviewers threw your way, you’d make it out alive and wake up to the same sky and the same guy beside you was a good reminder. 

Which was what you repeated in your head when you followed behind him after your last interview, a security detail by your side, all the way by the lingering reporters, inside, past the bars, into the arena, and to the table.

The opening sequence was smooth and energizing, someone delivered drinks and you clinked your glass against his, a quick wink at you in the dark before he leaned and cracked a joke to Eddie at the table nearby.

The night unfolded like that, relatively peaceful and uneventful. That was until one of your categories was called. Steve’s hand gripped yours when your name echoed in the arena with the other nominees. Your eyes went a little wide when he stole a glance at you, the whole table laughed in an effort to ease the tension.

“And the Grammy goes to…” Jennifer Lopez deftly opens the red sealed envelope before glancing back up to the cameras with a smile. “Being Unknown, Cherry McGowan!”

Your head falls into your hands at the shock of it all, the entire table erupted in a cheer and toppling over chairs in their haste. Steve’s arm wraps around you, head tucked close to yours, lips grazing the crown of your head.

“You did it, baby!”

You nod, hands still covering your face so he has to pry them from you and dry your tears. Steve pulls you up, his smile beatific and eyes misty. Fisting your the full of your skirt, you nod to Hop and make your way up to the stage. 

But not before a clumsy kiss that has Steve pulling you back for more. You hide your face in his shirt, laughing before you yank him back down, smothering his growing excitement with something better—enough to make him and you forget that everyone is watching.

“Later, hot stuff,” you promise with a wink and follow your producers and collaborators to the podium.

The rest of the night went by in a blur, including your performance of “Who We Are.” Despite Steve’s needling and unique methods of persuasion, you’d managed to remain tight-lipped about the song in question, knowing it was his favorite and with good reason.

You’d written it for him, after all.

Slipping backstage to change into your performance gear, getting micced up and fitted with your in-ears, you allowed yourself a moment to exhale. You weren’t expecting to win, too much of a fan of the other artists and albums to think you’d beat them out.

But here you were, two Grammy’s under your belt and being ushered on-stage to perform. A tech hands you the cherry-red Stratocaster Steve had gotten for your birthday last year, the same one you’d recorded the song with. The stage manager counts you down and cues your entrance. 

The crowd cheers as the lights go up, drowning out the announcer echoing through the arena, and the opening piano chords earn a dull roar in anticipation as you approach the mic. You find Steve in the crowd easily, Eddie at his side— both proud and nursing celebratory bourbons. 

And it’s the easiest thing in the world for your hands to cradle the mic and sing the first verse, directly to the man who’d inspired it and had been by your side through it all.

“What I had left here I just held it tight / So someone with your eyes might come in time / To hold me like water / Or Christ, hold me like a knife.”

To say he’s shocked is an understatement. Steve all but drops his drink when he realizes the significance of the song you’d selected to sing. When the drums and bass kick in, you maintain eye contact with him, throwing in a knowing smile.

The final single from your now Grammy award-winning album premiering on the biggest night in the music industry, not too shabby. Catching sight of Steve trying not to shed a tear was just a bonus, really.

Back at the table, comfortably buzzed after your performance, the night was coming to a close. Steve had somehow wrangled your legs into his lap under the table and was working on the sore muscles of your calves. Eddie had pulled up a chair on the opposite side, under the pretense of “toasting the belle of the ball.”

Trevor Noah appeared on-stage to present the final award of the evening. The announcer listed the nominees, cameras veering toward tables for the live broadcast. You subtly extricated yourself from Steve’s grasp, lamenting the loss of his warmth and touch. He slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, nerves fluttering in your stomach. The cameraman swung by for a close-up as your name was announced, you smiled politely before turning your attention back to the stage. A number of people had gathered behind Trevor on-stage, and you spotted a familiar face immediately. 

“And the Grammy goes to,” Trevor intoned, pausing to open the envelope and glance behind him. He beelines for the older woman immediately, the realization crashing on you like a lightning bolt. “You can read it,” he says to your mother, her eyes scanning the envelope before her.

“C-Cherry McGowan,” she breathes out, followed by a roar from the audience. 

The entire table is up on their feet, fists pumping, jumping for joy, high-fives all around. You’re barely able to process it all when Steve lifts you into his arms, coaxing your legs to settle around his hips and kisses you stupid. 

Eddie’s wolf-whistle pierces through the spit slick haze you’ve found yourself in. Steve’s hand cradling the full of your thigh as he reluctantly sets you back to rights. He’s got lipstick smeared on his mouth, just like the Emmy’s, but won’t let you wipe it off. 

“Don’t keep ‘em waiting,” he says, hustling you off to the stage. Your co-writers and Hopper meet you there, all wide smiles and murmured congratulations. Your mother is bouncing on the balls of her feet holding the Grammy, like she can’t believe it’s real. She tugs you close in a warm embrace as you kiss her cheek. Wiping at the corner of your mouth her thumb comes away tinged pink with lipstick. She murmurs her praises and hands you the award, shooing you to the mic at the center of the stage. 

Walked up with no plan, head empty, so all you can say is, “Shit. Well, shit.” Your eyes flit to Steve batting Eddie away while the frontman of Corroded Coffin attempts to get the remnants of lipstick off your boyfriend’s face, with little to no success. You sigh, “I wouldn’t be here without my wonderful collaborators and team,” you say and rattle off their names. “I’ve been so inspired by the artists here this evening and I’m grateful for their friendship. And I think it’s important to remember, especially on nights like tonight, that there is no such thing as ‘best.’” 

Eddie whoops and toasts you with a glass from the table. Steve is all smiles and eyes on you— you try not to lose it seeing him mouth ‘I love you.’

“I’d also like to thank my family and the fans for supporting me and loving me unconditionally as an artist and human being. I wouldn’t be here without you, and I love you very much.” You pause to clear your throat, coming to the end of your speech. “I’m so incredibly thankful and will share this award with the inspiration for this album,” you say, a little breathless when your eyes fall on him.

And Steve is shaking his head while Eddie claps him on the shoulder, his hands coming up to hide his face as a cameraman makes his way to the table. 

“The entire experience of doing this with you has completely pierced my heart and pried me open.” The room falls to a hush around you, and it’s as if there’s no one there— just you and Steve. “Y’know, sometimes I look at you and can’t believe my luck; that you’re actually real and I get to call you mine,” you laugh, a choked wet thing and will yourself not to fall apart. “You are a stunning, gracious person, and all the rest is just confetti.”

The music swelled and you were ushered off-stage into the press room backstage, along with Hopper and your collaborators. A tech shoves a mic into your hand and kicks it off.

“First question we have is from the Associated Press, take it away.”

“Hi Cherry, and first of all congratulations. How’re you feeling?”

You squint against the bright lights, “Sorry, where are you?”

“To your right.”

You spy a slight woman standing in the press pool. “Gotcha, thanks. I’m, uh, a little overwhelmed to be honest.”

“Understandable, this is the cherry on top of a really successful year for you— a world tour, headlining Coachella, residencies in LA and New York. So, what’s next?”

You sputter a laugh, “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Hop scoffs behind you. “I think the real win for something like this,” you shake the heavy award in your hand, “Is being acknowledged and nominated amongst your peers.”

“Okay, our next question is from The Rolling Stone.”

A man takes the mic and stands somewhere in the center of the crowd. “Let me begin by saying, from all of us at Rolling Stone, a massive congratulations to you Cherry - what an accomplishment!”

Hop claps you on the back with a nod to the reporter, Rob Sheffield. 

“Thanks Rob,” you say, ducking at the praise. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

He laughs, “Same to you.” A brief glance down to his notes before he begins, “So much of your music and process ends up pushing other artists and your audience into new places or things they may not have otherwise sought out on their own— Dante’s Inferno, for example, or the use of Irish, Gaeilge, in the lyrics for this album. How do you get to a place like that?”

You let out a low whistle, “Never one to pull punches, are you Rob?” The man in question simply shrugs and winks. “Right. Okay.” You take a deep breath and attempt to gather your thoughts. “I was fortunate to come of age when artists were consistently pushing the envelope— people like Sinead O’Connor, Bowie, Prince— they were the blueprint.” You foist the Grammy off to Hop, the weight of it finally getting to you. “And as far as incorporating a medieval poem and various piece of literature for this album, what can I say? It’s not reinventing the wheel to call upon some of the greatest storytelling in world— Dante literally shaped the modern perception of Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven. He shifted from writing horny love poetry about a woman he’d seen only twice, to creating a whole new type of poetic verse, celestial love, and elevating her to an impossible echelon. If that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is.”

The mic is passed around the room, a few questions dodged for the sake of privacy— can’t confirm what you don’t acknowledge, as your publicist always says. Steve and Eddie sneak their way in eventually, side-stage and a little more than sloshed, Steve’s tie is askew and Eddie’s blazer is nowhere to be found.

“Our final question comes from The New York Times.”

“Hey Cherry, congratulations my friend, truly well-deserved.” 

The voice is familiar, feminine and matter of fact.

“Thanks Nance, you’re too kind.”

“Not at all.” She smiles from her spot in the crowd. “In your acceptance speech, you mentioned the inspiration for the album, and I don’t mean to pry, but you’re a notoriously private person. Why did you feel the need to address that?”

Not a softball question, but definitely something you could handle. Bless Nancy and her carefully strung together words.

“I, uh,” you clear your throat, suddenly nervous. “While I am a private person, which I think is an important facet of interpersonal relationships, regardless of status, I think it’s also crucial to acknowledge that something like this—” you gesture vaguely to your team and those around you, “Can’t be done alone. This is the first album I’ve had cowriters on, that I’ve had other people helping to compose and create the sound. I was an island for so long that I was blind to the fact that I was drowning.”

You hear a faint gasp from somewhere behind you.

“Look, the pandemic took so much from all of us, as a collective, and I wrote most of the songs during that time of isolation and loneliness. But there are songs that speak to the beauty of life and love, even if it ends up not working out in the end. There’s a sadness and a serenity in that.”

Nancy nods for you to continue, pen scribbling furiously.

“So my decision to acknowledge the community of artists and musicians who helped me along the way, as well as the inspiration for this album was my half-assed attempt as a love letter. Love,” you conclude, “Is the only thing that can make life not just bearable, but beautiful.” You take a breath, coming back to yourself, “I think that was an answer to your question? It was words,” you laugh, “A lot of words.”

“Wonderfully said,” Nancy says with a smile on her face. “Thanks for allowing us a peek of that journey.”

You smile and shoot her a wink, exiting stage left where Steve greets you away from the prying eyes of reporters and telephoto lenses. He pulls you close, hands anchoring at your hips, fingers scrambling for a slice of skin.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes, “Who do you think you are, wearing something like this?” He fists the full of the silk skirt, just where it hangs above your crystal-encrusted knees. The Paolo Sebastian team has been more than generous in dressing you for the evening. Black mesh dotted with crystals against your skin, a luscious black silk gown with a high-low bubble hem and tights to match.

Steve was kind of easy like that; the illusion of barely there fabrics, a flash of skin where it mattered most. His hand snakes its way to dig into the plush of your thighs, tender with the promise of something more. 

“Oh, this old thing?” You drawl, “If you like this, just wait until you see what I’m wearing for the after-party.”

Eddie scoffs, “Please spare me,” he says, “Well, me and the rest of the press corps who can definitely see you if they lean a little to the left.”

Steve’s hand falls from your leg as he pulls you further down the corridor. “Car is outside, think you can do a quick change en route?” He pushes open one of the stage doors with his free hand, the other firmly grasped in yours.

You arch forward again, the cool night air a relief for your fevered skin, strain yourself to kiss his chin, grazing his throat on the way back down, needing him more urgently each passing minute. “I think I can manage,” you rasp, as the car comes into view, “But the question is, can you?”

[srorgana1]

Picture Perfect

Rock Star Kylo Ren/Reader

Warnings: Expecit Sexual Content, Marriage, HEA 🥰

Epilogue to Into The Reverb, requested by the lovely @ladyzimmerman

“Hold on Kylo” Patrice says, powdering his forehead and cheeks lightly “there ya go.” You look between them confused. What is happening? Kylo seems to sense it, side eyeing you. “Don’t worry baby girl it’s a surprise” he says as Patrice fixes his collar, exposing more of his tattoos. 

Your lip quivers as you bite it. You have no real reason to be anxious but yet, yay anxiety. You try to stave off the incoming invasion of irrational thoughts. Should you be doing this? Is it too soon? Yes, the single is a hit on YouTube but is it really enough to warrant having an interview and photoshoot with Revolver Magazine? You didn’t honestly think so but the studio felt otherwise. 

“Hey Y/N” a feminine voice says, rudely but thankfully interrupting your impending spiral. You look up to see your stylist for today looking at you, a perfectly manicured eyebrow raised and blush brush in her hand. Your cheeks heat up instantly. “Sorry Patrice, what did you say?” you say, hoping she won’t judge you too much.

She chuckles, giving you a soft smile as she puts down her brush. “I said you are done and wanted your opinion on it but obviously you have other things on your mind.” “Is it that obvious?” you mumble as you look down at your newly manicured hands clutching your phone. The dark wine colored stiletto nails make your hands look like they don't belong to you.

“Babe, it's okay. This is a celebration of you and your achievements. No one is here to bring you down” she says softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You know what I see? I see a hot badass bitch who stood up to the industry, gave it a big fuck you and then turned it on it’s head for the better, all the while snagging the hottest man in the scene.” You feel your blush deepen at her multiple compliments.

You know she is right. The lawsuit against First Order Records and the residual fallout did revolutionize the music industry. It exposed the over control the big corporate labels had over their artists and how they were unfairly compensated for their hard work. Many artists took the opportunity to jump ship and sign on with smaller studios where they had more freedom and control of their art. Fans were divided, but most of them loved that their favorite artists had a say now.

D'Kar had been growing by leaps and bounds, opening two new studios in Miami and New York. You had gone and helped Chewie get the Miami office off the ground, signing up and coming artists at every turn. You really enjoyed talking with them, learning about their unique viewpoints on music. It was fascinating.

The Knights of Ren continued to be successful as well, winning best new album at the Billboard Music Awards and Heavy Music Awards. You traveled with them to the UK for the awards show, smiling like a fool when they performed Never Giving Up live. The media presence was intense, requesting interviews but you declined stating you were there to support them. 

When you returned back home, Kylo quickly asked you to move in with him. He didn’t make it a huge deal, just saying there was no point in being apart. You accepted and offered Rae your place, knowing it was bigger than her current place and would be the perfect spot for her to raise Kayla. You and Kylo took your time and ultimately made his place a home, a perfect mix of the two of you. 

You continue to be KOR’s senior producer, assisting them in developing new ideas and music. Their newest album is due for release in March but their newest single, a collab with Horizons and AntiChri$t, a dark trap/Hip-Hop artist from Echo Station Records, was currently blowing up the charts. You loved watching Kylo work, always amazed at how he weaves himself into each note.

So when he caught you one evening toying with a song idea, he pushed you to try. You did after much coaxing and through the support of D’Kar and The Knights you released an acoustic song online. It was simple but full of meaning and emotion. Kylo and Vic of course didn’t take no for an answer and played the musical accompaniment on the video as well as the subsequent recording. 

You had never been so nervous in your life as you were that day, setting off a severe panic attack. Kylo held you tight, talking you through your breathing exercises. You begged him to call it all off, saying you weren’t ready but he refused. He showered you in loving kisses, telling you how worthy you were and how much you deserved this.

Kylo. Your heart warmed at the thought of him. Your amazing, goofy, sexy but sweet, talented man. You love him so much and you thank the stars every day for him. “Yeah you're right, I know I’m luckier than most” you say, giving her a small smile. She smiles back as she grabs her hairspray. 

“If it means anything my Arielle loves your song, she says it's really deep” she says as she spritzes and does her finishing touches. You never expect it to blow up the way it did. It felt good to know your song is touching multiple age groups. It was a perfect example of how music was truly something everyone can enjoy. 

“Well if you want I can say hi to her if you want” you offer. “Really?” she says with wide eyes “no no that’s too much. I think just a picture with you will be enough. Are you okay with that?” You smile and look at her through the mirror knowing you two are becoming fast friends. “I think I can swing that”. 

A knock on the door pulls both your attention. “Are you decent?” a prim English accent says through the door. You laugh and shake your head. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before” you say as he enters. “Yes, that's what I’m afraid of,” he says, sounding uncomfortable.

You giggle softly at the memory of him catching you and Kylo in your hotel room last month. He had squawked about it being lewd and indecent while Cassian laughed his ass off calling him a hypocritical prude. He must be thinking of the same memory because his cheeks reddened as he huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t” he says, the side of his mouth twitched upward. You give him a smug smile, saluting him through the mirror. “You did great Patrice as always” he says, walking up to the two of you and handing her a stack of bills. “Pleasure as always Huxy” she says as she packs up her bags. You stand, tucking in the front of your shirt as you join them. 

Patrice must have told Hux about the photo, motioning to the both of you as he raised up her phone. You wrap your hand around her waist and smile, taking a couple photos with her. “Beautiful” he says as he hands her phone back. She smiles warmly and gives you both another quick side hug before slipping out the door. 

“How are you feeling Y/N?” he says as the door clicks shut. “I’m okay, just nervous I guess” you respond, your fingers beginning to fidget. “Don’t be, this is the easy part. You killed the interview, now you just have to stand there and look pretty” he says as he phone buzzes. Easy for him to say, you think as his eyes darken and eyebrows furrow at whatever he reads on the phone. 

“Sorry love but I got to go, the assistant will be here in a bit to escort you. You look beautiful and you will kill it” he says quickly as he turns, leaving you alone. You take a breath, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. You wonder what could be so important that would make Hux react like that. 

“Fuck I thought he’d never leave” a dark smooth voice from the side, surprising you. You yelp, your heart almost leaping out of your chest. You turn to see Kylo’s head peeking out from the dressing racks, a huge shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Kylo! What the fuck!” you exclaim as you hold a hand to your chest, willing your galloping heart rate to a normal level.  

“Sorry baby girl, it was just too perfect” he says, laughing as he ducks his head under the bar, exposing himself at last. You take him in, his fresh white button down and distressed black jeans definitely was not what he was wearing when he dropped you off, but damn did he look good. The soft white cotton fit his broad chest well, the first couple buttons left open to expose his tattoos. You eyes reach his face to notice the hunger in his rapidly dilating eyes. “Hmm” he growls “you look stunning” he says as he takes a step forward, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close to him. 

The smell of his Tom Ford cologne hits your nose, making you want to melt into him. Damn him. You huff as you school your features, smack him in the chest. “Ow what’s that for?” he says dramatically, suddenly starting to tickle you. You squeal, pushing yourself closer to him to avoid his fingers. “Stop! Stop! Ok Ok!” you giggle “you just scared me is all.” He smiles, his fingers grabbing at your curves as he places a big kiss on the top of your head. 

“God I love you” he says, squeezing you lightly as he takes your hand in his. You look up at him and his amber eyes say it all. The amount of love this man has for you still scares you at times. You truly cherish how much he trusts you with his heart. You sigh happily, knowing you will never be alone again. 

You look down at the arm wrapped around you, the skin on his wrist still pink and healing. “You know you can cover it up if you want to” you say as your fingers trace one of his newest tattoos. “Why would I do that, beautiful? I got it in honor of the happiest day of my life. If someone doesn’t like well fuck them” he says, kissing your entwined hands. You nod in agreement. It was the happiest day of your life as well.

He holds you close, his cologne and his warm breath on the back of your neck soothing you. You feel him kiss there softly, his facial hair a hard contrast to his plush lips. Your body instantly reacts to his attention, a shot of desire making you shiver. The growl he lets out vibrates through you, further stoking the flames. He grinds his hips against your ass, his cock hardening quickly within its confines. 

“Really Kylo? We don’t have time for this” you say, trying to distance yourself from him. Clearly he knows you are literally going to have photographs taken the whole world will see right? His grip tightens, his teeth lightly scraping against your neck. “I need a fix baby” he whispers against your ear, his tip of his tongue tracing the shell.

“We can’t. The assistant..” you gasp, your breath catching as his hand skims over your breasts. “We have ten minutes, I paid him off and I owe Vic a back massage for getting Hux out of here” he says as he spins you around and places you atop the vanity. Your hands slide down his neck as his lips slam into yours, his kisses needy but aggressive. It further ignites your need for him. 

His wicked lips torture you, his tongue coaxing moans from you as he shifts your hips up, his fingers working the buttons on your pants. “You have to be quiet for me, baby girl” he says, his fingertips now tracing the top of your underwear. He smiles wickedly as you nod quickly, already desperate for his touch.

He starts kissing your neck, his fingers descending slowly, teasing you further. You gasp as his thick fingers finally reach your pussy. “Fuck me, you’re soaked Y/N” he hisses, his fingers exploring further and pulling your now useless underwear aside. Your grip tightens around his thick muscles as he inserts one finger, pumping slowly. 

Damn his fingers. They are always so perfect. He knew from the beginning how to play you to make you delirious for him. You fight to keep your eyes open as the core tightens. “Fuck I love you like this” he growls, slamming two finger inside. He crooks them to hit your g-spot and rubs the heel of his hand against your clit. “Fuck” you whine, your hips shifting more forward. 

“Shh, lemme do the work baby. Gotta keep you photoshoot ready. God damn it, this is so fucking hot” he grits out, biting the junction of your neck lightly as resumes his thrusting. You bite your lip to stop your sounds of pleasure. “I feel it baby girl, I feel you winding up. Please baby I need it” he says his voice getting lower and huskier. 

Your body responds immediately, your back arching as your orgasm crashes over you. He swallows your moans with his own as you cum all over his fingers. “I love you, I love you” you chant breathlessly, placing your forehead on his as you catch your breath. “I love you more” he responds softly “I’m so fucking lucky.”

“We both are” you say as you take a deep breath, your body clinching as he removes his fingers. “Very true and it’s not just because I get to worship you whenever I want” he says as he licks your arousal off his fingers, his eyes closing in bliss. You fight off another shiver upon watching him. Damn him for being so fucking sexy.

A knock on the door breaks your lust filled bubble. “Kylo?” a shaky voice says “You good?” You look at him as he steps back, offering you his other hand. “One minute” he calls out as you take it, hopping off the vanity and putting yourself back together. You fix a couple flyaways and your mascara, smirking as you see him adjusting himself in the mirror. 

“I can take care of that after” you whisper as the door opens, revealing a skittish looking assistant. Kylo places a hand on your lower back, leading you out to the hallway. “I am looking forward to it” he responds, patting your ass lightly. The assistant looks at the two of you nervously. “Lead the way Michael, after the shoot I’ll sign your stuff” Kylo says, running a hand through his hair. 

The assistant nods, his face a little less nervous as he leads you both to a large room full of people and equipment. The photographer sits in a directors chair, barking out orders as assistants rush back and forth. Two of them pull you from Kylo and lead you forward to a source of the shouts. “Luke?” one of them says nervously. The orders stop instantly as a pair of blue eyes land on you. “Ms L/N? Pleasure to meet you” a short gray haired man says, offering his hand.

You shake his hand, hoping it’s not too sweaty. “I know you are new at this so here’s the synopsis. We will do pictures standing, on the coach and by the bike. Biggest thing to remember is not to stress, I’m here to lead you through” he says, one hand messing with the camera settings. 

“Thanks Luke” you say as you are led in front of the cameras, the assistants hovering as Luke begins barking out orders once again. You try your best to keep your face neutral, not letting the assistants’ stressed energy get to you. “Okay Y/N I think we are good to start” Luke says transferring to the stool next to his chair “take a deep breath for me okay”. 

You do so, shaking out your limbs and fixing your shirt once more before getting into position. Arms crossed with a relaxed posture with one hip leaning on the side of the couch. “Perfect” Luke says, camera clicking away. You spot movement behind him, your heart warming to see Kylo standing behind him, a soft look overtaking his features. You smile involuntarily, your nerves lessening when you hear him say “I love you”. 

You are led through a couple different positions, both standing and sitting on a black leather couch. They were very professional, with just a hint of sexy. Luke complimented you through it, finally calling for a water break and a background change. 

Two assistants rush you, pulling you aside as the couch is removed and replaced by a vintage Harley motorcycle. You smirk at the multiple memories of a very similar one. “Mine’s better that’s for sure” he says as he comes up next to you, immediately wrapping  an arm around you. You nudge your hip out to bump his as Patrice fixes your makeup. 

He kisses the top of your head, releasing you as Luke calls his name. You watch him wink as he turns and lumbers to the motorcycle, shouting something to Luke. No. No fucking way.

Patrice’s laugh pulls you from your shock at the dramatic turn of events. “What? He didn’t tell you? Figures” she says, trying to compose herself as she fluffs your hair and adjusts your shirt to more off the shoulder look, exposing your collarbone tattoo as you hear camera clicks behind you.

She smiles wide, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “He paid us all to keep this part a secret as a surprise for you. Yes, some are for the magazine, but most are for you two as your wedding photos.” Your eyes widen and begin to water as your jaw goes slack, finally putting it all together. 

“Now don’t start that! Don’t make me have to redo my work” she says sternly. You shake your head, laughing at the ridiculousness of all this and how much Kylo fucking loves you. It’s seriously unbelievable. “Hey, you got this, okay babe? Just enjoy the moment” she says, leading you up to your man. You take his awaiting hand, his eyes darkening once more as he takes you in. “Yes Kylo keep that fire” Luke yells “Y/N get closer to him, yes like that.”

You get as close to Kylo as you can, your back to his chest and his arm around your waist. He nuzzles your shoulder in a couple while in others you share soft kisses. “Thank you” you whisper to him when Luke calls for a lighting change. “No need to thank me baby girl. You make me the happiest man on the face of this earth. It’s time the world knows” he says as he kisses you again.

“Alright guys final position” Luke calls out “ okay arms around her Kylo, yep that’s right. Remember left hands exposed and facing out, good perfect” He encircles you, a strong protective shell from the world. You know when you’re here you're safe because your husband will do anything to protect you. 

As on cue, Kylo lays his head on your shoulder, his long black hair hiding his face. You feel him leaving kisses on your skin as you turn your head, nuzzling your nose into the side of his head. “Shift your arms down Kylo, yep perfect I can see her tattoo better now” Luke says as the camera rapidly clicks. “I love you Mrs. Y/N L/N-Ren” he whispers into your skin. 

See the whole collection including original story:

You can’t help the tears that well up as your fingers caress the raised tattooed roman numerals on his side of his wrist. “Okay perfect guys, now show off the finger tattoos.” Kylo shifts a little bit behind you, raising his head to kiss your check. You hand lays over his, your matching delicate ring finger tattoos and wedding bands facing the camera. “I love you too Mr. Ren” you respond knowing no matter what life gives, you have each other and nothing will never ever break it. 

I hope you all enjoyed their HEA, I know I did 🥰❤️ lemme know what you think on here or on A03 ❤️

[thebookowal]

I am going nuts over Webzone (not sure about the logo maybe I’ll change it) you better grab some snacks because worst staying here all night

Ever since I created them and I got nothing on my mind except them…. I have already created a lore for each and every one of them…. And I even finished their main design. They’re on my doodle book, but just the heads…..( only one of them I wasn’t really relaxed about how their hair look so I’m not gonna show until I figure out the good hair design)

The members of Webzone

1-Vj : the eldest, and the one with the bright idea about the themes of their shows and concerts… Responsible for everything(he might act like he isn’t and he is really is (not /sometimes ) responsible)

2-Vl: the second eldest and the mastermind behind the idea of creating this band….. who also got the looks… and the bod…(he trains a lot /drinks, a lot of protein)good at cooking take care of their little brothers when vj is busy, take care of &&$&&&$… slushy‘s gossip friend and prank, buddy

3-Slush.y : “THE ‘Y’ IS SILENT-“ the third oldest hyper and got the good moves, but got an anger, problem short tempered more like….and…… have a drug problem(fucking weed) sarcastic…. Prank master.(a fucking beast.)

4-mk: the fourth oldest….. Got the soft voice…. Knows how to flirt… shy little dude.. do not let him in the kitchen (can burn water) a nerd likes to read a lot(secretly want to be a lawyer)… the victim of all slush.y work(pranks)

5-DJ: the baby brother….. got the groove and the lyrics and the background music…. Without him webzone is nothing.(because of the lyrics and the background music.)…. you wanna laugh? He’s your man… smile never leaves his face (blush)* ahm*… Can be straightforward sometimes….. knows what boundaries are (but not as a robot)….. sometimes he overwork himself….. to the point he never slept in three days…(job application )….(sometimes when he talk, you feel like he smoked weed.)(cannot quit cigarette…… but can reduce the amount of using) spoiled Little baby girl ✨…..

Now for the lore 😈

OK…. So…… let’s start with how everything collapsed…… because everything was fine till this incident happened….. and I’m not talking on stage….(I’m really trying so hard not to copy brozone ) this incident happens to be inside their house…. All the older brothers were pressuring DJ telling him that this concert they’re going to have it’s the most important concert ever because if they mention to impress one person through this whole crowd (this person is very important ) they will succeed…… so they asked him to make a song very very important song….. at the moment to hear its name you’ll hear Oscar ‘ award’

he was so pressured to the point he started to cry when they all fall asleep he didn’t slept for a long time and he can’t deal with this whole pressure thing. He does good under pressure, but the amount they gave him was not like usual….. until the next morning they were all freshen up very well slept and ready to hear DJ new song….. which he never wrote…… they asked him more like yelled at him. Why haven’t you wrote in the song?….. he screamed back for the first time in years…… he can’t deal with his pressure and he’s scared…. They had a very terrible fight. and the only person that actually went kept quiet (after he saw how stressed DJ was confused of course he was ) was. Vl……. DJ stormed. out of his room the one proceeded to go after him was slush.y…. Slushy did felt. pressure. That small little DJ.(who is a teenager by the way.) was having.

DJ secretly was preparing His excepted to art and music college application…. He sent it and they accepted him.(he was so happy he’s going to fulfill his dreams of becoming a DJ…… is going to be hard to find a job….. but at least he’s going to be he always wanted to be)…… so that night DJ was preparing his bags to actually leave for college….. He didn’t tell his brother which he got accepted and he didn’t even tell him he sent it already…… he wanted it to be a surprise (but then this concert showed up) He wrote a letter saying that he’s leaving and will meet when he is succeed in life…. And he left it in the living room on the coffee table…. And took one look and never got back again….. this was the end of WEBZONE

What actually caused them to leave was the pressure ….. and the fact they didn’t really wanted to hear what he wanted to be….. they all actually took it from having fun……to succession for money for fame… each one of them got blinded by greed…… until they lost their little baby brother….. this caused them to separate

The aftermath of the break up of the well-known band webzone

1-Vj: became a wrestler in an illegal arena…. he’s not proud of it, but it gives him money…… the man that will break your heart kind of material…. known by ‘poison smile’ got tattoo of his Arena name

2-Vl : open the restaurant (it got karaoke… and a stage to perform in) married a goth woman… her name is Lilith…. he got 5 kids 1 girl 4 boys . The oldest is a boy. The second oldest is a girl…. and the youngest is a baby named disc(you can say he’s a younger version of DJ by the action I mean) very chill dude….talks business…. financially stable.

3-slush.y : owns a party house(it’s a place where you’re going to party 24 hours every day) it looks more like a a nightclub than a house(and yes, it is his actual house)…… nightstand(to the fucking roof he lost track boy)…… the last person you go to for advice…. Actually loves slushy’s..(he actually loves to drink them all the time/he even makes them with alcohol drinks)….. smokes weed….. from where he got all that money?? answer ! scams boy(he plays 21)

4-mk : he became a lawyer. He is a very famous one too….. and actually… knows BB from a distance…(I don’t know if anybody remember this or does this person rings a bell)…. Actually, have a very stable lifestyle…. And love, criminal movies and yes, he is still a nerd….(try so hard to contacts all his brothers managed to only contact Vl…. and now he is his lawyer)

5-DJ the baby brother have become successful and heard about…… all over(he worked at the make a pizza Plex) he is a stable relationship with y/n…. Best friends with moon and sun (specially moon) doesn’t really speak to eclipse(eclipse is very distant from DJ) he got what he have always wanted and more(he doesn’t want his siblings to find out… because he doesn’t know how they’ve changed….. he just hope that everything happened for a reason and it’s probably for the better)

~THE END~ Did you have any idea how long this has been cooking in my brain?……. And I have been preparing some old pictures as well so as a small little, you know apology….. even though it’s not really a good apology

Baby DJ wearing Vj shirt

and here is a first description of how the siblings are now after the aftermath

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Oh God, I was just saying last week how I don’t go on Twitter because an hour on there can make me angry about like five different things that don’t matter. I listen to my CBC podcasts every day, where I get the actual news from sources as reputable and un-sensationalized and conscious of journalistic integrity as I can possibly find, and that’s still very upsetting, makes me angry about all those things that do actually matter. I do my best to do my civic duty of being informed, and therefore angry, about genuine issues, and do not have the energy or the responsibility to also get angry about whatever bullshit is on Twitter.

That’s how I normally see things, it really is. But I made the mistake of jumping on Twitter in the last couple of days because it was really annoying me that the normally reputable CBC news was giving the coronation so much attention, and I wanted to see some comedians talk shit about it. But I came across this and I think I might be mad about some shit that doesn’t matter again.

God damn it, Adam. God damn it. I realize I don’t really get to be surprised by this, given that he accepted an MBE last year. But I figured that was different, you can accept an award without endorsing the organization that gave it to you. I mean, you can’t, it is a tacit endorsement and someone with perfect integrity would turn down an award from a corrupt organization, but realistically, most people won’t do that, and I don’t think I have enough integrity myself to judge people for that. And Sandi Toksvig’s got an OBE, so I can’t start hating everyone who’s accepted honours.

Also, I thought he did deserve it. Adam Hills has done a lot to advance the cause of disability rights, and not just by being a high-profile disabled comedian who uses his platform to give attention to other disabled comedians, writers, and athletes as much as he can. He’s also raised awareness about a lot of issues, campaigned for causes that matter, raised money, contributed to increasing the profile of the Paralympics and disabled sport in Britain. He did a lot of that stuff for many years and when it was announced that he got this award, I thought it’s nice to see that recognized, even if it’s through less-than-ideal means.

Obviously the real reason I can’t be surprised by this coronation thing was their incredibly painful post-queen death episode last year, where they went so far beyond all the other shows that toed the line of national mourning enough to avoid getting in trouble with the Daily Mail. Last Leg was the only comedy show I saw go way beyond that, an almost completely uncritical veneration of the queen and the entire monarchy.

And honestly, it has coloured my views ever since. I tried to get over it and just enjoy the show anyway, but it wasn’t quite as much fun anymore. The season of The Last Leg that aired earlier this year had its ups and downs, it had a few really strong episodes that I completely enjoyed. But a lot of its average or below-average episodes, which I might have previously enjoyed anyway just because I really like the hosts and the format and the show overall, didn’t have that goodwill from me anymore. Adam Hills specifically no longer has that goodwill from me, because he was always the one I respected for how politically engaged and opinionated he was, and that is slipping away fast.

This fucking Twitter/Facebook post might scrap the last of that respect, I don’t know if there’s coming back from this. Not even because I want to boycott The Last Leg on principle or whatever (I’m quite sure The Last Leg does not give one fuck whether I watch it), but because the hosts’ likeability carries a lot of that show, and if I don’t like them anymore, then I won’t be able to enjoy it even if I try. They’ve aired 300 episodes and I’ve watched them all and enjoyed many of them, but I might be about done with it.

God damn it, Adam. Why did you have to be like this?

[theremnants]

I just recently had my first real experience with someone not being there because of me being trans, and it kinda broke my heart in a way I didn’t expect. It was this big writing award that I won, and that I submitted under my actual name. I was kinda surprised but honestly I haven’t been as happy and excited about something in years. Seeing my real name coupled with something I put a lot of passion and time into made me really emotional, and that’s something I don’t think I’ll forget

But, of course, my parents wouldn’t be there. They know and are in that pseudo “we love you but we hope this is a phase” level of support, which considering their values was about the best thing I could hope for. However, that meant that they weren’t gonna be there when I got the award. I didn’t wanna tell them, because honestly I didn’t wanna see their faces when they called me by my actual name and gave it to them. I knew they’d be upset, and that that’d make me upset, and so on. So I didn’t tell them, which was the first time I’d ever hidden something like that from them

I regret it now. The whole reason I came out to them in the first place was because I didn’t want to hide, to feel like I was constantly putting on a show for their benefit at the cost of my own. And as much as they don’t really support it, at least I don’t have to hide it. They know who I am and they still love me, which makes me feel ok. But now I hid something from them, something that was something super important to me. It’s not like I blame myself, I know it’s not on me that they wouldn’t accept it, but it still hurts. Not having them be there, just being by myself, watching other winners and runner ups with their families (including two that were trans) almost brought me to tears.

So I regret it, I wish I had at least given them the chance to say no. Because either way, I still feel shitty, but in different ways. I don’t know, I don’t know what the right call was. I just wish they’d get over it, because I hate this more than almost anything. Feeling like there’s part of me I can’t share, a part of me that makes me so happy and free. Because as shitty as their absence felt, being recognized as me, both for my writing and as a woman, almost made me cry tears of joy. More than anything else I just want to share that with someone, with people who I love and I know love me but put this wall in between us.

Next time, if there is a next time, I’m telling them. At least giving them a chance to say no, or a chance for them to see just how happy I am. Because as much as being rejected by them might hurt, hiding it from them hurts just as much. I’m hoping that it’ll help, but even if it doesn’t at least I won’t regret it. It’d almost be easier if they were just totally unaccepting, so that way I could just shut them out. But I don’t want to, and I know they still want to be a part of my life. It’s just fucked, and I wish I knew what to do. At least I know hiding it from them won’t do me any good, so that’s one less thing to try.

I wish that they’ll see it one day, and that they’ll be there to share it with me. As happy as winning the award and being recognized was, that’s one thing that would make me really cry from joy. Here’s hoping

[cyarskj1899]

The Lionel Richie-Dave Grohl Lovefest Continues at Rock Hall of Fame Performance

"Rock and roll is not a color," Richie said. "It is a feeling. It's a vibe. And if we let that vibe come through, this room will grow and grow and grow"

Larisha PaulNovember 6, 2022

"Rock and roll is not a color," Richie said. "It is a feeling. It's a vibe. And if we let that vibe come through, this room will grow and grow and grow"

Lionel Richie performed his greatest hits — with Dave Grohl on guitar — before accepting his induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Saturday night.

After being introduced by Lenny Kravitz, the Commodores musician and American Idol judge opened the medley with “Hello” on piano, immediately taking control of the crowd as they sang the ubiquitous chorus. 

He quickly switched into the Commodores’ “Easy,” which brought much of the crowd to its feet clapping to the rhythm, swaying and singing the backing vocals. Grohl joined onstage as a surprise guest to perform “Easy,” one of the night’s musical highlights. (Grohl has been a longtime fan of Richie’s, hosting a town hall with the singer, appearing at Richie’s MusiCares award, and recruiting him for Foo Fighters’ comedy-horror film Studio 666 to chastise Grohl for stealing “Hello.”)

Richie finished with a groovy, bongo-tinged “All Night Long,” pacing the stage and pointing at the crowd to join in.

“If Mozart were Black, would he be Mozart? No, because he wasn’t funky enough,” Richie said during his speech about making music and the criticism he faced when his music wasn’t “Black enough.”

Speaking to Rolling Stone earlier this year, Richie compared being inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame to reaching heaven, saying: “This is the holy grail of what we do in the business.” 

“I was the kid that was a fan to practically everyone in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame,” he said. “To go from fan to in it … they let the fan in the club. Can you imagine?”

His excitement rested not in the praise of the accolade itself, necessarily, but in the company that it surrounded him with – to take the stage Saturday night and be listed alongside the world-changing artists who he had idolized and loved his whole life at the wishes of his peers.

And as his discography shows, he has more than earned his spot with career-defining hits such “Hello,” “All Night Long,” Say You, Say Me,” “My Destiny,” “Lady” with Kenny Rogers, “Endless Love” with Diana Ross, and a crucial co-writing credit alongside Michael Jackson on “We Are the World.”

Richie’s Rock Hall induction comes several months after the Black Music & Entertainment Walk of Fame inducted him as a legacy artist. Around the same time, the Library of Congress awarded the musician with the Gershwin Prize for Popular Song. 

Read Lion Richie’s full acceptance speach below:

Let me just take a real moment to take this in for a moment. it has been a very interesting road from Tuskegee, Alabama to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Before I start talking about me, let me talk about Alan Grubman for a moment. If you know Alan, to make Alan cry, I don’t even know how that happened. I was shocked and he didn’t say “fuck” more than twice! That’s insanity.

Anyway, let’s go back to what I was going to say. We are celebrating tonight probably one of the funniest things, funniest jokes in my life because all the songs that I wrote and recorded were told to me by so many people, “These are the songs that will destroy your career. What in the hell are you thinking about?”

For example, I had a group of people come to me and say, “Lionel, this is funk. What are you doing with ‘Three Times a Lady?'” … It went on and then they said, “Can you give us another one of those, ‘Three Times a Lady?'” And I gave them “Sail On.” Then they said, “Can you give us another one of those ‘Sail Ons.'” That’s when I realized that the true business was in the copy: not being original. So that’s when I realized that there’s two types of arts: creative arts and created arts.

From that point, I decided I would be the creative arts. What comes with that category is ridicule. Lots and lots of ridicule, but I I use it as my perfect example of “If I’m going in the right direction.” So when someone said to me, “Oh, my God, I wouldn’t do that song if I were you!” That’s the exact song you put out. If it made you nervous. 

Then someone came to me and said the most unusual phrase. I was doing an interview one day and he said, “How does it feel now that you’ve left your roots?” I said, “What does that mean?” Because at the time I signed to Motown I didn’t know anything about the record business. I didn’t know there was an R&B department and pop department, jazz. I thought I was competing with all the music.

And so when I went and said, “What do you want me to do?” And he said, “Well, Lionel, you’re not Black enough.” And I said, “Let me ask you a question: If Mozart were black, would he be Mozart?” And the answer is no. Because he wasn’t funky enough. At that point, I realized I’m going in the opposite direction. Because at this time, I needed to understand there are some people who specialize in their job. And then there’s some people who don’t know any better than God’s gift was, “What do you want to write, we can write.”

So tonight, I’m standing on the stage because I want you to understand how important it is to let the artist go. Let the creativeness flow. If you get an idea, the last thing you want to do is open your mouth and say something stupid, like “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Especially if you’re talking to a creative artist.

Tonight I want to say one other thing because it’s very important looking in this class tonight that I’m in: Judas Priest. Brought on by Lenny Kravitz…. You see what happens here is that this is a complete thought of what I was thinking when I first got into business. Rock and Roll is not a color. It is a feeling. It’s a vibe. And if we let that vibe come through, this room will grow and grow and grow.

I cannot and will not walk off this stage without acknowledging my dear dear dear friends the Commodores. Thank God for the Commodores because there would be no Lionel Richie… I must say also that there are people that have actually had to tolerate quite a bit. Sometimes when you fall in love with the music business, you tend to fall out of love and people don’t understand what the hell you doing over… I missed 25 years of pep rallies, bonfires, family reunions.

I’m on the stage tonight. But the most important thing is I want to thank all of my friends, my family, Miles, Sofie, Nicole. The grandkids. Lisa, my heart. I want to thank them for actually sitting through my magical mystery tour. And I want to let everyone know that I am probably not coming home for quite a while. I’m in love with this business. I love what I do. Thank you so much for this amazing moment.

Popular on Rolling Stone

Maxo Kream Talks Choking at His First Show, Getting Slapped, and DJ Screw | The First Time

James Anthony Carmichael, my co-producer, on every album, every song. You listen to every complete, crazy lyric I ever wrote. And said ‘I know that’s not the right word. Find the word.’ I want to thank James for being right there with me every night, 25 hours a day, discovering my voice .Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, thank you very much.

[writeroutoftime]

take my jacket

pairing: roy kent x gn!reader

summary: when you find yourself watching richmond's pratice one chilly morning, roy is there to be a knight in shining armor

warnings: none, other than swearing

words: 0.7k

a/n: sooo, in honor of all the awards ted lasso won last night, I'm very excited, but nervous to be posting my first roy kent story. this is quite short, but I hope you still enjoy it, and I hope that I was able to somewhat get roy's character right. please comment and reblog if you enjoyed! oh, and if you want to see more, I am accepting requests for ted lasso requests only. have a great day! 💛

oOoOo

“Fuck you, Keeley.” you mumbled under your breath as you shifted from leg to leg, arms wrapped around you in a futile attempt to keep yourself warm.

When Keeley had invited you to visit her at work, you figured you would be cozied up in her office, not on the pitch watching the team practice in the chilly, morning air while Keeley sat through a marketing meeting. If you had known, you certainly would have thought to rework your outfit.

“Everything alright over there?” Ted asked with a large smile.

“Just peachy, Ted.” you shot back with a faux smile and two thumbs up which seemed to placate the head coach for the time being.

So wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t realize another person was behind you until you completely ran into them. Turning around, you froze when you saw who it was. “Roy!” you nearly shouted.

“y/n, what are you doing here?” Roy greeted rather gruffly, but there was still a small smile on his face at your presence.

“Oh, um, you know…Keeley invited me.” You trailed off, silently cursing your best friend. Ever since you had admitted to your slight crush on Roy, she had been going crazy trying to set the two of you up.

“I find great matches for the players, why shouldn’t I find one for my best friend?” she had asked you one evening, apparently not noticing a difference between marketing deals and human relationships.

Roy acknowledged your response with a small grunt before he turned his attention to the pitch and sighed. “Oh, fucking hell.” he mumbled, attention turning towards the current drill the players were running, jogging off to the action.

You began to pace back and forth, shivering quite violently every so often. It would be at least another twenty minutes before Keeley would be out of her meeting. Although you could’ve waited inside for her, you rather enjoyed the opportunity to admire Roy in his element, which soon had you zoning out to another else around you.

“Did you forget your jacket?” a voice eventually sounded behind you, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

Recognizing the voice as Roy’s, you felt your heartbeat quicken as you tried to think of a clever reply. “Uhh, no.” was, unfortunately, all your mind could think of.

Rolling his eyes, but letting out an amused chuckle, Roy began to shrug off his own Richmond, coaching jacket. “Here, take mine.” he offered gallantly, silencing your protests with a single glare. “It’s fucking freezing, don’t argue.” he commanded, stepping behind you to drape the jacket across your shoulders.

Instantly, you felt a wave of warmth engulf your frame, and you instinctively pulled the material tighter around your body. There was a lingering smell that was earthy and a bit citrusy that had you intoxicated. “Uh, thank you.” you said after you realized it had been more than a few moments since Roy gave you his jacket.

Nodding his head, Roy let his eyes stay on your figure, observing the way you looked in his jacket before clearing his throat to shake the thoughts out of his mind. He wanted to say more but was interrupted by Ted calling for a team huddle before he could get the chance, leaving you off on your own.

Watching the practice for a few more minutes, you eventually got a text from Keeley telling you that you could retreat back into the warm building. Although you were relieved, part of you didn’t want to leave, nor did you want to take off the jacket and hand it back to Roy. Slowly approaching him, you began to take off the jacket and offered it back to Roy.

“Thank you, for letting me borrow this. I’m going to go back inside with Keeley.” you explained, holding the jacket out as Roy simply stared at it.

There was a moment of silence before Roy blurted out. “Keep it.” Realizing what he said, he took a breath and backtracked. “Fuck, um, for now, I mean – if you want. And then, you can give it back to me tonight when I pick you up for dinner?” he suggested, though you could detect the slightest hint of nervousness in his tone.

Roy was usually so confident and brash that you found his hesitance endearing. “Sounds like a date, Roy. I’ll see you at six.” you told him, grinning widely the entire way back as you overhead Ted, Coach Beard, and Nate offer cheers of joy for Roy; all the while, Roy’s jacket stayed confidently wrapped around your shoulders.

oOoOo

tagging: @prettybiching (sorry if you didn't want to be tagged, I just figured since you responded to my post, you might be interested)

[frogtanii]

iwaizumi was... overwhelmed, to say the least.

the past few days had been such a whirlwind of change that hajime could barely properly process, much less appropriately react to it all, so he behaved much like a zombie, saying yes when prompted, signing papers when told, and packing up what was his entire life for the past 11 months.

wow. iwaizumi collapsed on his bed as he scanned his now barren bedroom. he’d been here for almost a year and yet, all his belongings were in boxes within a couple of days.

hajime couldn’t keep the disbelieving chuckle from escaping his chest as he leaned back on his bed, dark brown eyes trained on the ceiling.

it felt like he’d spent such a large chunk of his life trapped in this house, under the foot of the woman who he thought he’d marry but in reality, he’d been in little leagues longer than he’d been in love.

iwaizumi scoffed and rolled his eyes. yeah, “in love”. it’d been about a week since his whole life started to unravel and he had hardly seen, let alone spoken to meiko throughout that entire time.

over text, she’d sworn up and down that she loved and cared about him but as she passed by him packing his things a few days ago, she’d barely spared him a second glance.

hajime wasn’t going to lie. it hurt. he’d opened his heart up to her, something he didn’t do easily, and she’d taken his trust and used it to twist him into her weapon.

he always believed he was stronger than this — he’d never forget his mother telling him so when he was younger. he had fallen and scraped his knee yet he refused to cry to keep from upsetting his mom. iwaizumi existed to live up to what his mother thought of him but here he was, completely enveloped in meiko’s shit, doing her dirty work and following her bidding like some mutt.

god, toorū was right. he really was her bitch.

“i could hear you thinking from down the hall, iwa-chan.” speak of the devil...

oikawa stood at his doorway, leaning against the frame with a posture that seemed relaxed at first glance but if you looked a little closer, you’d notice the tenseness in his shoulders and the tightness of his smile.

hajime quickly sat up on his bed before motioning for his old friend to enter. “uh, yeah,” he began, his voice cracking a little from disuse, “i have a lot to think about.”

the light haired brunette let out an understanding hum before wandering into the room, sharp observant eyes darting to look at all the empty walls. “looks like you’re all packed.”

“pretty much,” iwaizumi nodded before the room fell into an awkward silence, the two childhood friends completely avoiding one another’s eyes.

“look, i-“

“iwa-chan, i’m-“

they both paused for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound carrying into the hall and throughout the house.

hajime wiped a few stray tears from his eyes, shaking his head at their awkwardness. “you first, shittykawa.”

toorū gasped in halfhearted mock offense before quickly sobering up, training iwaizumi with a completely serious look. “i’m sorry and before you go on some bullshit, self sacrificing rant, you’re not the only one to blame for what happened to our friendship.”

he sighed while making his way to iwaizumi’s bed, sitting down gently beside him. “i should’ve known better, okay? i shouldn’t have let my jealousy and insecurities get in between us but i guess i got swept up in the attention, yknow? meiko is actually charming when she wants to be.”

iwaizumi nodded in agreement, knowing all too well how compelling meiko could be. the room fell into a more comfortable silence as both boys escaped into their thoughts, questions about the future of their friendship flitting throughout their minds.

“oh!” oikawa was pulled out of his own head at hajime’s exclamation, his eyes moving to observe his friend dig through his pockets to procure a thick white envelope. “here. i’d like you to give this yn.”

all toorū could do was nod, his brain short circuiting at the sight of iwaizumi’s apparent kindness to the woman he tormented for so long. “uh, what’s in it?” he ventured to ask, his soft hands toying with the sealed envelope flap.

a soft chuckle came from across the bed. “don’t be so nosy toorū, just give it to her, yeah?” oikawa rolled his eyes but obliged, the bed creaking as he stood to his feet.

“so... this is it, huh?” it was like the reality of the situation was just now sinking in — they hadn’t been close in a while but iwaizumi was still his best friend and he wasn’t quite ready to let him go.

they’d been through so much together, practically growing up together and now, they’d only see each other on holidays, if even then, and then he’d never be invited to hajime’s wedding as his best man as they’d planned and he also wouldn’t be the coolest uncle/godfather of iwa’s children and—

“fuck no,” hajime scoffed with a bright grin on his face. “thought you were gonna annoy me til the end of time shittykawa. don’t tell me you’re quitting your job now.”

the hidden meaning behind iwaizumi’s words brought tears to oikawa’s eyes and before he could stop himself, he launched his body into iwa’s arms. hajime hesitated, his hands stuttering at toorū’s sides as though he’d forgotten how to hug but the feeling passed, his arms winding around his friend’s lithe waist.

“‘m gonna miss you hajime,” oikawa’s voice came out as a broken whimper, his arms tightening around his shoulders.

iwaizumi hummed instead of responding, too afraid of his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. they stood there for a moment but the honk of the moving truck outside signaled the both of them of their limited time.

hurriedly, oikawa wiped the tears off his cheeks before waving awkwardly at iwaizumi as he left the room with a friendly, “don’t be a stranger.”

and then he was gone.

toorū finally allowed himself to collapse into sobs on his best friends empty bed, his palms pressing into his eyes as he sat there and just let himself feel.

apparently, he wasn’t crying very quietly because it took only a few moments for you to find him, your soft footsteps alerting him to your presence. oikawa scrambled to wipe away what he knew was an unattractive mixture of tears and snot as you got closer.

you were one of the last people he wanted to see him like this.

“hey,” you whispered, standing a few feet away from him. “um, i know this is probably a bad time but i just wanted to thank you for apologizing? back at the awards show?”

toorū sniffed as he looked up at you with confusion written on his face. “what? you shouldn’t thank me for apologizing. ‘s common courtesy.”

you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “well, not always. so, thank you.” finished with your piece and not too keen on lingering where you weren’t wanted, you moved towards the door but were swiftly stopped before you got there.

“um, here. it’s from iwa-chan.” you gaped at the thick envelope oikawa was handing you before taking it and opening it, a low curse falling from your lips.

inside the package was a dense wad of cash, more money than you’d seen in months. accompanied with it was a letter, written in beautifully loopy handwriting.

you shut it quickly before oikawa could see, stuffing the envelope deep within your pocket where you could access it alone in the depths of your room.

“do you wanna come eat? last i heard, bokuto and tsumu were doing a cooking competition and i’m sure it’ll be fun to watch.” you were severely thrown off by the money and letter but you were determined to show toorū that you’d accepted his apology and were on your way to making amends.

he gave you a shy nod and trailed behind you to the kitchen, the loud sounds of fire and screaming coming from down the hall. you wanted to focus on the fun and merriment but the envelope was practically burning a hole in your pocket.

later that night, you finally got the chance to open the letter and read it, your former manager’s words bringing tears to your eyes.

dear yn,

i’m probably the last person you expected to hear from. you probably didn’t want to hear from me at all if i’m being honest and i don’t blame you. i know there is nothing i can say that could make up for what i’ve done to you but i’d like to try.

i’m sorry. those words don’t nearly express in and of themselves how truly remorseful i am but they needed to be said. there’s no excuse for how i treated you — not meiko, not my stress, absolutely nothing.

you deserved my common decency and respect and i didn’t give that to you. instead, i abused my position and made your life hell. i’ll never forgive myself for that.

uh, i bet you’re wondering what the money is? i promise i’m not trying to pay you off, it’s just all the money i’ve denied you since you moved here. i have a lot of wrongs to right and this is one of them.

sorry, i’m not very good with words but i just wanted you to know that i’m very sorry for everything that i’ve done. and i’m in no place to make demands or anything but i just wanted to ask if you’d keep an eye on oikawa for me.

he’s strong but he’s also vulnerable. he might be a pain in my ass but he’s my best friend and since i can’t keep him from drowning, i was wondering if you’d do that - not for me but for him.

anyways, this letter is shit but i suppose you get the gist. use the money for whatever you want and if you’re as unselfish as i’ve heard, you don’t owe me anything. you don’t owe me money, kindness, or forgiveness.

take care of yourself,

iwaizumi hajime

℗ poker face

so... this is it

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - soooo m back :D hopefully this is the last of my mini hiatuses!! this chapter sucked to write but i’m not mad at how it turned out?? pls let me know how i did skjdkd don’t forget to feed me <3333

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@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[erodasfishtacos]

The Brits Dilemma

” Prompt: Harry & Y/N go to the Brits. It’s the first time they’ve been away from their baby. Y/N is struggling but doesn’t want to ruin the night for her husband.

Word Count: 1.8 k +

Warnings: Depictions of breastfeeding

+++++++

The award show was going well. It was the first time Y/N had been out in nearly three months besides a few brunch dates and grocery shopping.

Usually, she was pretty confident in what she wore to accompany her husband to all of these flashy events - but not tonight.

Her bump had deflated but she was still attempting to get rid of the stubborn pouch that stayed after the baby had been born. It wasn’t anything out of the norm - just still trying to lose it.

She was breastfeeding and her breasts were much larger than before. They felt heavy and too big for her body. Not to mention, they were constantly swollen and achey. Pads were a must so she doesn’t leak through the tight satin black dress.

The dress was a beautiful custom design by Gucci that complimented Harry’s sharp suit but nothing felt right. It was digging into her sides and made it hard for her to sit on her chair.

The Brits were held in the O2 Arena which wasn’t very far from their London home but she felt like she was lightyears away from her baby. Even though she knew Sasha was in good hands with Anne.

Y/N was so proud of Harry for being up for five - yes, five different awards. It was a record for him and she didn’t want to let him down by complaining. It was his night. He’s been such a devote father - he deserved a break too.

So she swallowed down the anxiety she was feeling about being away from their little newborn for the night along with her worries about her changing body.

There was milling about between the tables before the show got started. Harry had people coming up him constantly - congratulating him on the album, the nominations, the baby.

Married life and fatherhood suited him well. A dazzling wedding band on his left ring finger, a necklace with an S for his daughter, along with her name freshly inked on right above his butterfly tattoo.

The open jacket he wore with is his barely buttoned dress shirt displayed it proudly. It was beautiful, done delicately in a timeless cursive. The font match his wife name that was tattooed on his hand.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t excited to have a night out with his wife. He had Jeff booked a hotel for the night to have some alone time with you while his mum got to enjoy a night with her only grandchild.

Y/N was counting down the hours up until tomorrow when she could go home to see her baby. She should really tell Harry that she wants to go home and not out to a club and the hotel.

But the it just slowly starts to deteriorate further when a bald, plump business exec comes to greet the two of you. He gives his warm wishes about the birth of your child before smiling at Y/N and stating, “The baby weight will come off soon enough.”

Her throat closes up a bit and she self-consciously tries to push her chair closer to the table. It was the last thing that she needed to hear. Confirming all of her worst insecurities.

Harry glares at the man before turning to his wife, “Hey, you look s’perfect, my love. I’m so bloody lucky you’re mine.”

He’s truly trying his hardest to bring a smile to her face but he notices it’s never quite meeting her eyes. 

It get even worse when Harry gets his first award, male solo artist of the year. 

As she’s standing and clapping for him - she realizes she’s beginning to leak through her nipple inserts.

Y/N excuses herself in the middle of his acceptance speech to rush through the string of tables - out into the corridor. The last thing she wanted to do was for it to show up on a very expensive dress.

The echo of his voice can still be heard, “Love to thank my beautiful wife who makes writing sappy love songs easy and was the main inspiration for my recent album. She also just gave birth to our beautiful baby.....”

She feels awful when she tunes him out, finding the bathroom and hurriedly rushing in. There’s a gorgeous woman standing at the sink, washing their hands. 

Fucking Taylor Swift.

Any other time it’d be awkward and uncomfortable - running into an ex who wrote multiple songs about her husband.

But she couldn’t careless right now, “Hi, erm, this is really weird but could you unzip my dress? I’m leaking and - shit that was way too much information.”

But Taylor smiles kindly, “No! It’s okay, totally. No worries. Congratulations on your baby - you look so hot tonight.”

Y/N laughs and thanks her for unzipping the dress before going into a stall and locking the door. She slides her bra straps off her shoulders and disposes of the soaked pad in the sanitary bin.

Luckily, she has a clean burp rag that she gently swipes at her breast - wincing as it brushes against her swollen nipples. Even the soft fabric felt too rough on them.

It’s a minute or two before the bathroom door swings open, “Y/N? Lovie? Are you in ‘ere?”

She feels guilt at the panic in his voice. Managing to croak out, “I’m in here,” before leaning forward to unlock the door.

Harry waste no time in sliding into the stall before latching the lock again. Taking in the sight of his wife in front of him.

“I-I started leaking, M’sorry,” Y/N whispers, she has no reason to feel embarrassed but she is. “I missed your speech.”

“None of that, baby. I’ll give more speeches for you to hear - I only care that you’re okay. I’m sorry y’leakin, lemme help you, pet.”

In true Harry fashion, he takes the rag and turns on the sink - running it under warm water before carefully cleaning his wife up.

“Are they botherin’ you? They look irritated and super swollen, darling,” Harry frowns, a very gentle thumb coming to brush against her nipple. Then cupping her swollen breast in his hand, thumb rubbing at the pink skin.

“Just a little bit,” She lies, they’re absolutely on fire with chafing and skin irritation from the bra she’s wearing. She never thought she’d miss her nursing bras and sports bras this much.

He nods and helps place new inserts in her bra. Who’d think this is what Harry would be doing between accepting awards. Everyone unassuming in the arena.

**

Harry has been four for four thus far into the ceremony. They’d only had him go up and give two acceptance speeches. His hand firmly planted on his wife’s thigh throughout. 

When he went up for his second award, the camera zooms in and the crowd coos are he plants a kiss on his wife’s lips before pulling her into a hug - whispering something into her ear the audience can’t hear.

He was much more focused on his wife. He could read her fairly well - he’d like to think. Enough to know she’s having much fun. But he didn’t want to bring it up and make her feel bad.

Harry sees the way she keeps adjusting her bra, fidgets with his rings when his hands in his lap, and not even really looking up while one of her favorite artist - Dua Lipa -performs.

Y/N loved a good party before the baby. So Harry was hoping going to the Brits afterparty would make her feel better and then going back to their hotel room for a some alone time.

**

Y/N has been increasingly quiet when they’re exiting the arena after the final award artist of the year - which Harry had also won.

He was on cloud nine and admittedly a little distracted as he joked and laughed with a small group of friends on the way out. 

“Alright, should we all just pile into a cab for the ride to the party?” Nick Grimshaw asks everyone.

Everyone is in agreement - including Harry -as he calls to order one - standing in the blocked off area away from fans and paparazzi.

Y/N wants to tell him she wants to go home to Sasha but when she hears him say, “Can’t wait to get to Exhibit - haven’t been there in forever. One of my favorite clubs.”

She bites her tongue. Harry is enjoying his night out - why can’t she?

In the taxi, she’s sat on Harry’s lap as they make their way to the club. His one hand is on her inner thigh and the other is on her waist holding her steady.

In the morning, she’ll blame her post-partum hormones and anxiety. But she doesn’t even realizing her eyes are filling with tears and when she blinks they spill down her face.

She wouldn’t feel as embarrassed if she wasn’t in the car full of literal celebrities who are filled with adrenaline and excitement. Chattering and drinking from little liquor bottles they’d snuck in their jackets and clutches.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Rita Ora asks from her seat - noticing the streaks ruining your makeup.

She nods pathetically, wiping at her eyes but Harry is turning her to face him. His bright green eyes filled with concern as he studies her face.

The previously very obnoxiously loud cab becomes silent as they try to give the couple a semblance of non-existent privacy.

“What’s happening, dove? Are you hurting?” Harry panics, coming to wipe the smeared makeup away.

“I don’t want to go to the club,” Y/N sniffles, squeezing her eyes shut at how embarrassed she is of her behavior. She would usually never act this way - especially in public. And Harry knows that so it makes him even more concerned.

“That’s okay, pet. We can go have a night in, when the cab stops - we can uber back to the hotel,” Harry soothes, surprised when that brings on fresh tears.

“N-no, I want to go home. I miss the baby, I want to- need to see our baby. I-I can’t do this. My anxiety is through the roof, Harry. What if she can’t sleep? Or isn’t taking the bottle?”

“Baby, breathe, breathe. We can go home. I miss the bub terribly too. Have been worried about her all night.”

Harry tugs his wife into his chest further - tucking her head into his neck as he shoots his friends grateful looks. They all nod, sympathetic and understanding - despite them not having kids of their own.

**

“I ruined your night,” Y/N says softly in the back of the uber home. “I leaked during the show; cried in front of all your friends.”

Harry takes her chin gentle but firm until she meets his gaze, “You didn’t ruin anything f’me. All I care about is you and the baby - not some stupid award ceremony or party.”

He continues on, “You just gave us Sasha three months ago - y’bloody amazing. Best mum, best wife. Sexiest too - know you don’t think that right now but your body literally grew my baby. I get a hard-on everytime I see you.”

They both laugh, Y/N leaning forward to capture her husbands lips in a meaningful kiss of gratitude and thanks.

**

Anne smiles kindly when the two of them arrive home. A very fussy, red-faced swaddled baby coddled in her arms. 

“She hasn’t settled for quite a while now - she missed her parents very much,” Harry’s mum tells them, transferring her into her father’s arms. He’s automatically rocking and running his thumb over her cheek.

“Ooh, we missed you. Was Nana nice to you?” Harry coos. Sasha has already quieted and is blinking tearfully up at her smiling father.

“Such a good girl, best girl,” Y/N sighs, leaning in to kiss her downy hair. Harry’s hand coming to wrap around his wife’s waist as they peer down at their perfect little daughter.

Anne smiles at his son and daughter-in-law fawning over their little creation with so much love and adoration.

After a minute of chatting -Harry’s mum makes her way up to the guest room after a long night with a miserable baby. They make their way to their room where Y/N strips out of her tight dress and awful bra. 

She sits against the headboard in just a pair of soft cotton panties. Harry is gently shushing her and humming a melody as his wife gets situated. He knew she was anxious to feed the baby.

“That’s it my sweet thing. Y’missed us, hm? We missed you too, bub. Nana said y’wouldn’t take the bottle. Only want your mumma, hmm?” Harry coos, kissing her chubby cheeks.

He’s then giving Y/N the baby, who ferociously latching within seconds and begins eating like she’d been starved for the last week. Making weak little rumbles as she does so.

They both giggle fondly, Y/Ns fingers come to touch her fluttering cheek - memorizing her over and over again.

Harry gets onto the bed and settles next to the both of them. Watching his baby feed in amazement at what his wife was capable of. He smears a few kisses against her bare shoulder - hand on his baby’s back.

How strong she was - as he knew it had to be at least a little bit painful with how irritated her nipples had been. He can tell when she winces every once in a while.

He plants a few more kisses to her warm skin - noticing her eyes getting a bit droopy as Sasha feeds at a slow, suckling pace.

“If I’m being honest, being with you - watching you feed our baby...I’d rather be here than at any club.” 

Y/N snorts, rolling her eyes, “Sure.”

Her husband frowns, “M’serious, this is all I need, baby.”

“I love you, congratulation on all your Brits,” Y/N murmurs, pecking at his lips.

“I love you too. I meant it, during my speeches. I wouldn’t have been able to write those songs if you hadn’t inspired me. You’ll and the bab will always be the best muse.”

[jooniyah]

Lover Bouquet : One

Pairing: OT7 x Fem Reader

AU: Yandere!au, Idol!au

Genre: Angst, Mature, Smut (R)

Warnings: Two instances of NON CON, polyamory, established relationship, yandere behavior, pregnancy discussion, emotional abuse, violence, kidnapping, scandal, blood, degradation kink, mobbing, manipulation, profanity, group sex, oral, smut, cum play, groping

Word count: 19.58k

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

This is an idol au setting, please proceed only if you are not triggered by the warnings. I repeat, please be sure to read all the warnings carefully.

Author’s note: This fic is set in an au where the boys are part of a 7-member boy band called the Biker Boys Squad (BBS) and everything that follows is completely fictional with no intended resemblance to actual places, bands or agencies.

Cover credit: @maleficosmos-2 ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ, ˡᵒᵛᵉˡʸᵎ

─── ·❆· ───

The smooth roll of wheels outside had visibly no impact on the inside of the limousine. The shiny interior, complete with Italian leather and crystal wine glasses screamed luxury. The windows were completely tinted, reflecting the bright lights of every radiant storefront the car zoomed past.

The car smelt like heaven, a bouquet of smells fanning your nostrils and intoxicating you. Cologne, aftershave, hairspray, all the most delicious masculine smells danced around your senses, tugging at your inner coil that was slowly rearing its head up.

Namjoon was going through a little chit in his hand, mostly out of habit than necessity. He didn’t really depend on those notes, but it gave him a sense of security to know he had all the points in hand before stepping up to the mic.

“Hyung, add a line in English at the end for our International fans,” Taehyung said, peering over at the chit in Namjoon’s hand. The little note had words written in neat Korean letters, which the younger man glanced at.

“Yeah, will do, Tae,” the elder man responded, his hand reaching down to pat the head nestled in his crotch.

“Keep going, baby girl,” he said, gently ruffling your hair as he resumed scanning the chit. Taehyung and Jimin were sitting on either side of him, Jimin casually sipping the Cheval Blanc from his crystal glass, his pillowy pink lips made even glossier by the fine red wine.

You bobbed your head up and down Namjoon’s length, savoring his unique scent with your cheeks hollowed out around him, sucking deep and hard.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he hissed, too far gone to focus on his acceptance speech anymore.

Jimin smiled warmly, his hand snaking down to Namjoon’s lap. His fingers gripped your hair, and he tugged it gently, seeking control over your head. You obliged happily, letting him maneuver your head as he liked.

He slowly pushed you further and further down Namjoon’s shaft, his eyes trained on Namjoon’s face, watching his face twist in hunger. Jimin’s palm was flat against your skull, pushing you to gobble Namjoon’s cock without sparing an inch.

Yoongi was playing a game on his phone, and he looked up just in time to see you struggling against Jimin’s hand.

“Let her breathe, Jiminah,” he lazily scolded, his gummy smile out in full brilliance.

“N- no,” Namjoon panted, looking at Yoongi with pleading eyes. “So close- I’m so close.”

And with that, he groaned out loud, his hips bucking up subconsciously. He ground his body down to the leather seat, his legs trembling in the aftermath of his orgasm.

The hand pressing against your head stayed put, not budging until Namjoon’s legs stopped shivering. Namjoon leaned back and removed his glasses, wiping his hot forehead with a groan. The hand left your hair, moving down to caress your neck.

“Feeling good, hyung?” Jimin’s voice came to your ears like a song.

“You wouldn’t believe how good, Jiminie,” the elder man replied, his breaths coming out in strained intervals.

“Tch, baby…” Jimin said, handing you a Kleenex to wipe your mouth. “You left a drop on Hyung’s trousers.”

Namjoon snapped his head down, his eyes rolling when he saw the single blob of cum on his crotch.

“Damn, those paparazzi will roast us alive,” he murmured, reaching down to wipe it clean.

“No, Joonie,” you whined, hastening to dip your head back down on his crotch. Namjoon’s hand remained suspended in the air with his fingers grasping a tissue, his thigh muscles tensing up when you timidly licked a stripe on his expensive trousers, gathering the blob and sucking it up.

“Oh Y/N, you are so fucking naughty,” Jimin giggled, pulling you up so you could rest your knees.

“Come here, baby,” Yoongi said, his voice thick and raspy. He had waited patiently until Namjoon finished, and now he couldn’t wait a second longer.

Hoseok was sitting next to Yoongi, and the seats were somewhat cramped because four of them were sitting across from Namjoon. The limousine had been altered to their taste, but the seats were a bit smaller than needed.

“Here,” Jin extended his hand, pulling you so you could sit on his lap.

You took advantage of the brief moment to lock your lips against Jin’s neck.

“Hey, no hickeys,” he said, gently swatting at your shoulder. “It’s awards night. No hickeys.”

You puckered your lips up in disappointment. You were only pretending to bite him, just to see his eyes flash. Stern Jin was so fucking sexy.

Yoongi was in the far corner of the seat, and Jin being the smart guy he was, always found a solution.

“Lie down on our thighs,” he said, helping you sprawl yourself across the three sets of thighs, the tips of your toes resting on the owner of the fourth set.

Yoongi’s fingers worked quickly on his zipper, and Jimin’s clear voice teased, “Hyung, you’ll be wrinkling your Saint Laurent suit if you wiggle around too much.”

“Y/N is worth ruining a thousand Saint Laurent suits, Jiminah,” Yoongi quipped as he fished his dick out.

Jin’s long sensitive fingers drew soft circles on your calves, admiring your splendid legs. He brushed his fingers against the curve of your ass, finally settling down to squeeze and knead the firm flesh in his big palms.

The man next to Jin sighed heavily, looking out of the window and squinting through the tinted glass. He had a hard time trying to control himself, but the little toes that kept grazing his thighs distracted him. He bent his head, fighting himself to avoid looking at the sight around him. Of all the men in the limo, Jungkook was the only one who wasn’t staring at your body with simmering lust.

Yoongi was groaning, his hand fisting in your hair as he guided you to take him even deeper. He rested his head against Hoseok’s shoulder, closing his eyes and losing himself in bliss.

Hoseok gazed at Yoongi’s scrunched-up face with warm affection. He always felt supremely happy when Yoongi was having a good time. Your torso was laid on his lap, and he patted your back, encouraging you with soft whispers of praise.

“Yes, baby, that’s it keep going. You’re doing so good.”

Yoongi’s vein bulged alongside his cock, throbbing hard. He was straining so much, curling his toes inside his shoes.

“Gosh, I wanna get inside you,” he moaned, his voice coming out needy and whiny. Taehyung raised his eyebrows, whistling at his wristwatch.

“We’re gonna be on the red carpet in ten minutes, hyung,” he said, clucking his tongue. Yoongi opened his eyes, sending Jin his best pleading look right from his position on Hoseok’s shoulder.

Jin pursed up his pretty lips, looking down at your butt. It was not an easy feat to have full-on sex in the limo. As usual, he was the one who had to improvise a plan.

“Ten minutes is enough for a quickie,” Yoongi whined, his meat still lodged in your hot mouth.

“Okay okay, quit whining. Y/N baby, go sit on Namjoon’s lap,” Jin said, patting your ass. Namjoon looked up, removing his glasses and tucking them inside his breast pocket. He wished he had thought about asking Jin earlier.

You grinned and crawled over to Namjoon, cozying up with your back against his chest, his strong muscular arms spreading your legs wide open.

“All yours, hyung,” Namjoon said, nodding at Yoongi.

It was such a pretty sight to see your red lace undies completely soaked. Hoseok couldn’t hold on anymore, and his hand slipped down to palm himself through his pants.

Yoongi licked his lips, unbuckling his belt for better access. Your legs were already open for him, and Jimin had started caressing your clit with gentle touches. He crouched into a half-kneeling position, grazing his tip against your core.

“Please, just fuck me already,” you cooed, unable to bear Jimin’s teasing anymore. You had to have a cock inside you, it was urgent. Jimin was such a tease, and he enjoyed working you up into a frenzy.

Yoongi smirked, winking at Jimin and slamming his hips into yours, burying himself into you completely.

The car started slowing down, and Jin’s panicked voice rang behind Yoongi’s heaving form.

“We’re here, there’s so many cameras! Stop it, you two!”

Sure enough, there were hundreds of cameras outside, flashes going off every few seconds, waiting for the biggest boyband in the world to step out onto the red carpet.

Yoongi pounded into you harder, sweat running down his temples. He was growling with each thrust, the sound rumbling from deep inside his chest and sending a delicious thrill up your spine.

The car rolled to a stop, directly in front of the sea of people. Hushed murmurs were going around as everyone strained to peer through the tinted windows.

“What’s up? Why aren’t they stepping out?”

“Is something the matter?”

“Are you sure they are inside?”

A few reckless journalists tried to inch closer and glance through the windows. But the blinding camera lights reflected off the glass, completely blocking out the interior of the limousine.

Inside, Jimin hastened to pat down Yoongi’s streaming face, his nerves strung out completely. Yoongi buckled over and collapsed on Namjoon’s shoulder, blissed out at his climax. Jin grabbed him by the waist, pushing him back into his seat.

There was no time to be lost, and you got to work immediately, sucking Yoongi clean and zipping him up. You were just done tucking his shirt back neatly when one of the agency’s managers politely knocked on the door.

Looking up, you grinned at Yoongi, patting his knee.

“All done. Off you go, guys.”

You stayed back, keeping yourself hidden while the boys got out of the car one by one, smiling and waving at the crowd. The camera flashes multiplied manifold, clicking incessantly as the lenses gobbled up your boyfriends.

─── ·❆· ───

“I miss you,” you whined, pouting at your phone screen. Hoseok’s gorgeous face pouted too, as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“I miss you too, Y/N. Everyone does.”

A chorus of groans behind Hoseok declared their assent. Taehyung’s head popped into the screen, and he settled his chin over Hoseok’s shoulder.

“It’s so frustrating without you, Y/N.”

You sighed and shook your head sadly.

“I know, it’s the same here.”

“Hold up, Yoongs wants to talk,” Hoseok said, moving his phone and pushing it into Yoongi’s hand.

“Babe...” he drawled, only half-awake from his power nap. “Get on a flight and come over.”

You twisted the cord on the hoodie you were wearing.

“How? You guys are all so busy. You’re touring so many places. Besides, your schedule is jam-packed.”

Namjoon’s voice piped up from the background.

“I got an idea.”

─── ·❆· ───

“Are you sure this will work?” you asked, shimmying into the black uniform Namjoon had brought you.

“Of course. You can travel with us throughout the tour and no one will know.”

Taehyung whistled on seeing your outfit.

“You know hyung, I’m beginning to see why they call you the brain of our band.”

Namjoon chuckled, his dimples popping out.

“Yeah,” Jimin said, holding you by the shoulders and turning you over to let the others see. “This is brilliant.”

The white letters were stamped boldly on the back of your outfit.

‘BBS CREW’

Jin came closer, pinning an identity badge on the belt loop of your jeans.

“There. You’re officially a crew member now.”

There was a knock on the door, and you ran to hide behind the clothes rack.

“We’re all set,” a crew member said, gesturing that it was time to go on stage. “In five.”

She left the door half open, and you peeped out from behind the rack.

“Time to go?” you asked.

“Yep,” Jin said, gripping your hand. “Come with us.”

There were so many people wearing the same outfit as yours, milling around the backstage rooms. It was very easy to blend in.

You walked with the guys to the very entrance they would go through, heart fluttering to hear the thunderous welcome they received from the audience as they stepped on stage.

It was a terrific experience to stay so close to the stage and see them perform. It was even more astounding to watch the audience get enthralled in the magic your boyfriends created. You stood at the wings, your heart swelling with pride.

After a while, it was finally time for a break, and the guys made their way off stage. They were soaked in sweat, and were panting hard.

“Sprained my ankle,” Hoseok whispered, limping gingerly while Jimin supported him.

“Fan, please,” Yoongi groaned, and a crew member hurried to get him a mini fan.

People were running everywhere, stylists were dabbing touch ups to the makeup and assistants were helping the guys change into the outfits for the next routine.

You hurried to Hoseok’s side, kneeling beside him and taking his hand. A medic was tending to his sprain, and you squeezed his hand tenderly.

“You okay?” you whispered, and he managed a weak nod.

“Better rest this foot,” the medic murmured, to which Hoseok shook his head.

“No. Rest after the concert. Gotta dance.” He was clenching his teeth tightly.

A heavy hand gripped your shoulder, and you looked up. Namjoon was standing with a mini fan, sweat streaming down his face.

“He won’t listen to the medic,” you said in a low voice.

“I know,” he sighed, gently pulling you up to your feet. “Don’t worry too much. It’s like this all the time.”

You nodded, looking around. Everyone was holding mini fans and wiping their sweat off with towels. Yoongi was sprawled out on the floor, and a crew member was fanning him with a big cloth.

“This is hard,” you said, turning back to face Namjoon.

“Yes. But they’re all strong. They’ll handle it.”

You nodded again. This was something they were used to. It would take you some time to get used to it, though.

“Here,” Namjoon said, clasping your hand and walking towards the wings again. The audience were still energetic, doing the fan chant over and over until the guys would get on stage again. Their light sticks were glowing bright, lighting up the whole arena and making it feel as if the stars had rained down to watch the concert.

“See that?” Namjoon whispered, his voice taking on a tone of astonishment. “That’s surreal. So much love, so much energy. They’ve all camped out in the cold for two days. Forget us, imagine how much they’d have gone through to get here.”

You hummed in agreement, still lost in the beauty of the light sticks.

“That’s who we perform for,” Namjoon said, his voice warm and sincere.

You smiled and looked back at his shining face. His eyes were reflecting the radiance of thousands of light sticks.

“Stand by in three...” someone’s voice shouted, and all the guys shot up to their feet with exhausted groans.

They assembled in line again, ready to get on stage for the next performance. One by one, they hurried through the entrance, until everyone except Namjoon had gone back to the waiting area.

“Namjoon-ssi!” someone screamed in alarm, and you shook his arm to get him going.

“Go on, Joon,” you hissed, trying to push him into action.

He looked at you in a daze, and dipped his head urgently.

“Namjoon-ssi!” Another voice called out in emergency, when he cupped your chin and captured your lips in a frantic kiss.

You saw people running towards Namjoon out of the corner of your eyes. There were confused shouts, as the red digital timer counted down the seconds to cue the music.

In a quick flash, he broke the kiss and squeezed your hand, running over to join his mates on stage.

─── ·❆· ───

“Jinnie?”

The mischievous eyes twinkled at you when he replied with a coy “Hm?”

You were lying on his chest, content with listening to his heartbeat thudding away. When you raised your head to look at him, you placed your chin on his ribs, making him squirm and giggle.

“Y/N! It tickles!”

He was still laughing, trying to lift your pointy chin when your next words caught him off-guard.

“Jungkook was so sulky today.”

His laughter died down, the glee on his face replaced with an inscrutable emotion.

“Do you know why?” you pressed, not ready to leave it undiscussed. “He looked like-”  you batted your lashes, “-like he was pissed off at us.” You drew a long breath. “Mostly at me.”

Jin was quick to cup your cheek, tutting at the last comment.

“Of course not, Y/N. He was probably nervous about the concert.” He could clearly see that you weren’t convinced. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

You nodded, lost in thought. Did Jungkook not want to be part of the relationship? He hadn’t kissed you or said a kind word to you in days. He had flinched hard when you had touched him earlier in the day. You were about to open your mouth and voice out your thoughts when the bed dipped beside you, and Taehyung’s large sinewy hands landed on your waist.

“Jin hyung, I need to cuddle Y/N to sleep,” he said, his sleepy voice deeper than it normally was.

You swallowed your words, forgetting your thoughts at the deep voice booming into your back. Jin hummed his acknowledgment to Taehyung, gazing at the ceiling in peace, content with having you draped on his chest.

The boys rarely closed their doors, because it was so normal for one or the other to pop into your room at night. You were in love with all of them, yes, but you always slept with Jin. He had been your first boyfriend, and it was a given that you would go to bed with him every night.

The rest of them dropped by sometimes, as Taehyung had just done. Sometimes it even led to threesomes and steamy hot sex. But tonight, you were content with the Jin-Taehyung sandwich. Because the boys were frequently in and out of the room, you left the door open at night.

A digital watch somewhere in one of the rooms lit up its iridescent digits, sounding a slight chime when it turned 2 am.

You were having a dream, and the sound interrupted it, waking you up. You had no desire to open your eyes. You lay with your eyes closed, listening to Jin’s even breathing in tranquil happiness.

Taehyung moaned slightly in his sleep, burying his head into your neck and crushing you tighter against his chest. His thick hair brushed against your skin, and you grudgingly opened your eyes.

It was so dark, and you made out Jin’s hand stretched towards you, in case you wanted to nestle into the crook of his armpit. You smiled to yourself, loving how sweet he was. You wanted to crawl into his arms, so you decided to move slightly.

You raised your head, and your sleep-heavy eyes caught sight of a figure sidling along the open door, the sudden apparition eliciting a strangled scream from deep within your bosom. You rubbed your eyes and squinted again, but the apparition had vanished.

“What? What is it?”

Jin was up in an instant, his groggy voice somehow soothing your anxiety. Taehyung woke up too, and between them, they asked you what had happened, and you pointed at the door with shaking fingers.

“I- think I saw someone. Something.”

Jin squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“Y/N, baby, what exactly did you see?”

Your nerves were shaken so bad you couldn’t raise your voice above a whisper.

“Someone- was watching… me. I only saw the eyes. And then- it- disappeared.”

Jin looked at Taehyung, the brief glance laden with meaning.

“Okay, I’ll go investigate. Taehyung, stay with Y/N.”

Jin got out of bed, tiptoeing out of the room in search of the mysterious apparition. Taehyung hooked his chin on your shoulder, hugging you protectively and blowing air softly on your neck. Jin was gone for a good ten minutes before he returned to the room.

“I did a thorough sweep, Y/N. There’s no one at the house except the guys.”

He climbed into the bed, pulling the sheets over his legs. He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently.

“Don’t worry baby, even if he or she comes back, you’ve got two strong boyfriends in this room to protect you.”

God, Jin was so good at making you feel perfectly safe. You smiled and squeezed his hand back. Taehyung hummed behind you, agreeing to Jin’s words.

In a few minutes, Jin was peacefully breathing again, his hand resting on your waist. It was heavy, but the weight gave you reassurance.

─── ·❆· ───

“Yoongi!”

Hoseok’s morning routine included waking up his friend and kicking him out of bed. The guy was simply impossible to rouse, and the rest of the guys steered clear of his morning temper. He reserved a string of eloquent curses to fire at the unfortunate person who woke him up, intentional or otherwise.

Hoseok and you were the only ones immune to his foul mouth. Hoseok simply cursed back at him, and you had a completely different method of waking Yoongi up. A method that involved locking your lips around his morning wood and humming around it.

Today, however, you weren’t around to save Hoseok’s ears.

“Where the hell is Y/N?” Hoseok muttered to himself, ripping the sheets off the man curled like a kitten underneath. Yoongi had a large queen-sized bed, but he insisted on rolling into a ball when he slept. It was endearing to find him curled up like that, but the next moment he would hiss and scowl, cross at being woken up. That man certainly ran hot and cold so quickly.

Yoongi opened his mouth, ready to go off, when Hoseok pushed a pillow into his face.

“Save your breath. I’m gonna go find Y/N. Get your ass off the bed, hyung.”

The rest of the guys were up and about, chattering noisily and clattering dishes in the kitchen.

“WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU USE THAT PAN FOR THE EGGS?”

“Taehyung I swear to God if you break that plate…”

“Namjoon just flip the pancake, man you’re burning it!”

Hoseok waded through the noise, walking down the kitchen and crossing a suite of rooms. His sharp ears picked up your whimpers, and he followed the sounds, briskly trotting towards the source.

The door was half-open, and he stepped in, not bothering to knock.

“Goodness, what a racket!”

Jimin had you pinned up against the wall, your legs wrapped tight around his lithe body. One of his hands was around your neck, and the other was working on rubbing your clit. He had been ramming into you hard, and he jerked to a stop at Hoseok’s voice.

“Hobi hyung!”

Hoseok licked his lips when he saw your pretty little cunt filled to the brim with Jimin’s thick cock. He felt himself stirring in his pants.

“Such a noisy one,” he said, walking towards you. “I could hear her whining all the way in the kitchen.”

Jimin grinned, his eye-smile lighting up his face.

“I’m doing my job right then.”

Hoseok snickered, tracing his finger along the bridge of your nose, bringing it over your lips. You opened up obediently, sucking on his finger with closed eyes, still impaled on Jimin’s cock.

“You need something to stuff your mouth with, darling,” Hoseok murmured, and you nodded in agreement. He wasn’t satisfied though, and he glanced at Jimin, and the latter slipped out of you without a word.

“No,” you moaned around the finger, whimpering at the loss.

“Use your words like a good girl, baby,” Hoseok said, popping his finger out of your mouth. “Only then you’ll get Jimin’s dick back.”

You loved it when Hoseok was all riled up and ready to snap. He was delicious when danger oozed out of his persona, threatening you into submission.

“My mouth needs to be stuffed, Hobi,” you said, drawing the syllables out sexily.

“With what, baby?”

Jimin’s sly smile returned, and he bit his lip while he waited for your pretty lips to form the words.

“With your cock.”

“That’s right.”

Hoseok nodded at you, and Jimin set you down gently, untangling your legs from his hips. You went down on all fours, and Hoseok turned so his back was supported against the wall. He sunk his fingers into your hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling your face towards his crotch.

You had learned the art of unzipping pants with your teeth, so it was easy to unzip him. Behind you, Jimin was spitting on his palm and stroking his length.

“Please,” you whispered, lust blinding you. “Please fuck me.”

The men grinned at each other, and with one savage push, Jimin sheathed himself inside you again. Hoseok had been slapping his dick against your cheek, and when you opened your mouth to moan at Jimin’s entrance, Hoseok took the chance to push himself inside your warm silky mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand grabbing at your roots hard. “Beat that pussy hard, Jiminah.”

Between the two of them, they found a steady rhythm that let you get fucked on both sides without any lag. Jimin was going at it hard, slamming himself into you like it was his last day on earth. It was sinfully delicious to hear his angelic voice groaning loud with each thrust.

You moaned around Hoseok’s cock, tapping his thighs softly. He stopped abruptly, looking down at you in concern. He slipped out of your mouth gently.

“Yes, baby?”

You ran your finger on your lips, smearing his pre-cum all over your mouth. You knew it always drove him crazy when you did that.

“Hobi, sit on my face.”

A smirk spread on Hoseok’s face, and he chuckled lightly.

Jimin pulled your hips towards him, helping you lie down on the floor. Hoseok gently placed your head down, making sure you weren’t uncomfortable in the slightest. And then, he knelt so his thighs were on either side of your face, and dipped his pelvis down a bit, ghosting his weight on you.

You reached out and pulled his thighs closer, whining “Just sit on me please.”

He giggled, his whole body vibrating in mirth.

“Want me to teabag you, little slut?” He lowered himself down a little more. “Huh? Is that what you want?”

“Mmnnhhhh” you buried your face into his balls, and Jimin lay down flat on the floor, his face burrowed into your clit. His lovely lips clasped tight around your bud, his tongue working hard and fast to reduce you to a pool of wobbly jelly.

Above you, Hoseok grabbed his dick and pumped himself hard, dipping his balls in and out of your mouth all the while. He growled when you sucked on them and used your teeth to slightly graze them.

His hands roamed over your chest, gathering your breasts and massaging them. He saw Jimin eating you out at a feral pace, and a fresh pang of want made his dick throb. He aligned his cock between your supple mounds, starting to fuck your breasts while you suckled on his balls.

“Fuck, Y/N. You are a damn fucking goddess,” he breathed, picking up his pace and working his cock faster, amazed at how your breasts bounced so beautifully around him. His thighs started quivering, and you could feel his sweat beginning to moisten his skin. He was so close.

He ran his hands over your breasts and traveled down, leaning forward a bit, doubling up so that his face was in level with your navel. His hot breath sent all your nerves into overdrive, and he started kissing a line down to your belly button.

You moaned out loud, but the sound came out strangled because you had a mouthful of balls. Jimin felt you tremble and shake under him, and he smiled into your pussy. He worked his finger into you, curling and twirling proving even his fingers could dance.

You felt Hoseok’s tongue lick a hot circle around your belly button, and that was it for you. There were stars in your vision, and you trembled so hard that Jimin gripped your calves tight, helping you ride it out. Hoseok straightened his back, seeing you shake all over. He put his arm around your neck and held on to your shoulder, wiping your sweaty forehead and kissing your hand softly, cooing to you.

Jimin shot up the next moment, wiping his mouth and laughing that sweet tinkling laugh.

“Hyung, she squirted all over me!”

Hoseok had just finished shooting his cum all over your breasts, and you strained to look at Jimin.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Jimin.” Hoseok tilted his hips and you propped yourself up to look at the mess you had created. All of Jimin’s shirt, right from the collar to his torso, was soaked.

“I’m sorry... let me clean it,” you reached your hand out, and he simply swatted it away.

“What are you sorry for?  Lie back down and let me eat your pussy again, baby.”

─── ·❆· ───

Eighteen months ago

“Jinnie,” you called, turning to face your boyfriend who was stuffing his face with noodles. You were fidgeting before the mirror, unsure what your boyfriend’s reaction would be.

“Huh, babe?” he asked, still busy scraping the last bits of noodles from the takeout box.

You quickly stole one last look at yourself in the mirror and then marched to the side of the bed. His suit was strewn over the white sheets, and he was in his boxers, slurping noodles like his life depended on it.

“Tell me if this dress is okay,” you said, standing directly before him.

“Why, that’s a lovely dress, you’re so pretty!” He paused to fan his mouth, the spice finally catching up to him. “Hot. Damn hot. You. And the noodles.” He fluttered his hands wildly, coughing dramatically.

You tossed a water bottle to him, giggling at his red face.

“So,” he said, sipping the water thankfully, “why do you even ask that? I bought that dress for you.” He scrunched his nose up, looking at you in mischief. “Are you doubting my taste?”

He got a well-aimed pillow thrown against his face, and he laughed.

“Why else would you ask?” he raised his voice like a bratty child.

“This.”

You pointed to your boobs, biting your lip. He pushed the cushion under his head, ogling at your body lazily.

“I don’t see anything wrong with your rack.” He smiled proudly to himself. “You look awesome.”

“But,” you sighed, nervously pulling at the fabric. “The neckline- it’s too deep.”

“So? It’s even more sexy.”

He didn’t seem to get it.

“Seokjin,” you said, putting your hands on your hips. “What about the rest of the guys? What would they think? Isn’t this more... like… suitable for when we go on a date, alone, just the two of us?”

“Ah.” He finally understood what you were going on about. The dress had a very low neckline, and you found it weird that he had suggested you wear it to the party with his friends.

He cleared his throat as if he were going to say something. He opened and closed his mouth several times, not a sound escaping his lips.

“Y/N, listen. I need to tell you something. But can it wait until after the party?”

He saw the curiosity burning on your face, but you managed to nod.

“Also, don’t forget to wear the fishnet stockings I got you.”

You tilted your head and gazed at him, pursing your lips.

“Are you trying to show off before the guys, Kim Seokjin?” you asked, accusingly.

He shook his head, the smile never leaving his lips. “Just wear it to the party and I’ll tell you all about it later.”

———❖———

You were slipping your heels off, Seokjin was lending you his arm to balance yourself. He had looked stunning in his suit, and you had loved the way his eyes streamed while he joked and kept everyone in splits.

It was a very hush-hush party open only for the label’s artists and their dates. Seokjin didn’t have much privacy in his life, and he tried his best to take advantage of the precious few private parties that came his way.

“Careful,” he said, catching hold of your arm just before you slipped. “I don’t know what you get by torturing your feet like that.”

You simply giggled, pouting your lips at him. “You’re too tall, Jinnie. I need to be able to kiss you whenever I want.”

And there, you had done it. You had made the master of jokes blush so hard his ears turned red. He cleared his throat, his breadcheeks straining hard to contain his smile.

“Let’s go and have a drink.”

He tried to walk ahead, but you caught his sleeve and tugged.

“Jin, tell me what the big secret is,” you mewled, loving how good his toned arms felt. “You know, you said there’s something you had to say.”

He patted your knuckles, nodding sweetly.

“I know. That’s what I need the drink for.”

You huffed, watching him saunter over to the cabinet to pull a bottle of wine. He was so damn hot when he was in suits, but he was hotter when he was pulling his bow loose and mussing his hair. You followed him to the bedroom, tagging along like a lovesick puppy.

The rest of the chaotic group were drinking and fooling around in the living room, rocking the walls with their boisterous laughs. It wasn’t unusual for Jin to bring the boys over; they were always hanging around one time or the other.

“Ahem.”

You crossed your arms, and the gesture didn’t help Jin. Your boobs were squished together and the deep neckline made it impossible for him to focus. He licked his lips and took another sip of the wine to steady his nerves.

But Jin had such an easy relationship with you. He knew that he could talk to you about anything. He trusted you so much that he just knew what he was about to say wouldn’t break your relationship. He just needed to find a way to break the ice.

“Come here,” he murmured, patting his thigh. “Come sit on my lap.”

You glided towards him, settling down on his lap happily. Your cleavage was even closer now, and Jin just lost control.

He placed his glass down, not caring about staining the rug. With a deep moan, he pushed his face into your chest, burrowing into his favorite place in the world. He rubbed his face against the soft flesh, purring in delight.

You let him be, carding your fingers through his thick glossy hair. He would talk when he was ready. Meanwhile, you would enjoy your boyfriend’s attention contently. His teeth were grazing your skin now, sucking soft love bites to show his appreciation.

“Jin,” you breathed, and he lost it completely.

“Fuck, yeah. Say my name like that.”

He lifted his head to look into your eyes, and you saw the rich want coloring his pupils.

“Lemme inspect my girl,” he whispered, pushing his hand between your legs and feeling around for the familiar wetness of your undies.

“You’re soaking already, Y/N,” he groaned, and you saw his nostrils flaring. He gulped at the feeling, and his Adam's apple bobbed enticingly.  It was the most beautiful sight ever.

His finger pushed the fabric aside, easily scooping up your essence. He looked straight into your eyes as he brought his digit to his lips and licked it, curling his pink tongue and making your insides clench.

Jin was blessed with long bony fingers, and they were a bit crooked too. A fact he took huge pride in. Because it allowed him to do things to your pussy that no one else could. He slid one finger inside you, drinking in how bothered you looked.

With a soft groan, you parted your legs wider to give him better access. His finger pumped in and out of you, drawing strangled moans from your shaking body. He slowly increased his pace, never taking his eyes off you.

“J-Jin..”

He slid another finger in, and this time his crooked bony fingers found your happy place and pushed against it, reducing you to a whimpering mess on his lap. He never stopped, his chest puffing with pride when he saw how you came undone on his fingers.

“Wanna cum?” he asked, and you nodded vigorously. His grin made an appearance again.

“You gotta ride me first, baby.”

Smiling impishly, you tore the jacket off his shoulders in one swoop. His shoulders were so wide, and you loved grabbing onto them when you rode him. The white dress shirt underneath had gold-plated buttons, winking at you. Seokjin certainly deserved to be dressed from head to toe in gold.

You could hear the boys knocking things around in the living room, and the little wildcat in you reared its head. You liked the thrill of riding Jin with his friends just outside the room. Jin might never guess it, but you wouldn’t even mind if one of the guys actually walked in on you bouncing on your boyfriend’s cock.

Snaking your hand down to his crotch, you unzipped his pants and fished his dick out. He was rock-hard. Jin always had loads of glossy pre-cum, and you slowly worked his juices all over his shaft, stroking him. He grabbed your wrist, his plush lip caught between his teeth.

“Sit on me.”

You gladly obliged, shifting your hips and hovering over him. He pushed your undies aside with his thumb, and you slid down his length, sheathing him completely. Once he was fully in, you rotated your hips, drawing sharp curses from his pillowy lips.

“Ah shit, Y/N. That’s it. Faster, go faster.”

You picked up your pace, holding on to his broad muscular shoulders and bouncing as fast as you could. Jin usually wanted to see your breasts when you rode him. That day, however, he made no effort to undress you. The red fabric was bunched up unceremoniously around your waist, but your breasts were still clothed.

“Oh gosh, Y/N, allow me….”

He grabbed your hips, pushing himself off the bed and thrusting up into you. You let him take over, squeezing his shoulders and letting him rail you as he pleased.

Jin loved the whimpers escaping your dirty little mouth, the sounds egging him on to ruin you completely. He pounded into you, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling your ears like a crescendo.

“Like my cock stretching you, huh?” He panted between his thrusts. His stamina was out of the world.

“You’re my little cockpuppet, aren’t you?”

His words always had the effect of reducing you to putty. That man had such a filthy mouth, one he was only too happy to unleash on you.

“Oh goddamn, Jin!”

You knew he was close; the taut flesh of his abdomen was quivering with the stirrings of a powerful orgasm. Your fingers clawed into his broad shoulders just in time.

Jin sounded nothing like his ordinary self when he cummed. He had a special sex voice that only you had the privilege of hearing. He moaned out loud, growling like an animal in pain as he shot all his seed inside your walls.

You could feel his cock pulsate inside you, twitching as your pussy milked him for all his worth. His breaths came out in hot pants, beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

“Feeling good, baby?”

He looked into your eyes, and you smiled happily at him.

“Never been better.”

The soft breadcheeks stretched into a smile. Damn, he was so beautiful when he smiled like that.

You hooked your finger under his chin.

His finger was tracing circles over the fishnet stockings, and you raised an eyebrow naughtily.

“Since when are you into fishnets?”

He chuckled slowly, chewing his lip.

“It wasn’t exactly for me... Remember when I said I had something to tell you?”

You huffed in impatience, gripping the hair at the base of his neck and peering at him curiously.

“Come on! Tell me. Now.”

He looked down at where both your hips joined. He slid his softening dick out of you, and you silently helped him tuck himself back into his pants.

The sound of the zipper closing shattered the silence. He bit his lip and peered into your eyes.

“Y/N,” there was a slight shake in his voice. “Have you ever…” His pink tongue darted out to lick his lips. “What do you think of…”

You blew out your cheeks. It was unusual for your ever-confident boyfriend to sound so doubtful.

“Just say it, Jinnie.”

He took a deep breath, and ran his fingers up your thigh, gathering his thoughts.

“Y/N baby, you sometimes moan in your sleep.”

You smiled at him playfully.

“What do I moan?”

He knotted his eyebrows and sighed softly.

“You moan the names of the other members.”

The smile froze on your face, your heart steadily dropping in your chest. It felt like someone had shoved a giant block of ice down your throat.

“I- I didn’t mean to… It wasn’t…”

Jin saw the panic on your face and shook his head hastily.

“Hear me out, Y/N.” He reached his palm to cup your cheek. “Wait, listen.”

He hadn’t meant to make you feel guilty in the slightest. He shushed you and blurted the words out:

“I meant to ask what you thought about sharing.”

You wrinkled your forehead in confusion.

“Sharing what?”

He wiggled his nose, carefully looking at your reaction as he said the words:

“Sharing you with the other members. Like- like a poly relationship.”

Your jaw dropped, and you regarded your boyfriend with a wary look. Was he really suggesting that? Or was it a snide question? You knew the Jin you loved would never be mean to you. He was too straightforward and blunt to beat around the bush.

“Are you… really asking me?”

His finger traveled up your face and traced your cheekbone.

“Of course I am. You can tell me no if I crossed a line.” He paused for a second.” I genuinely want to know if you’d like it.”

You bunched his shirt up in your fists, scared of what would happen next. Would he hate you if you said “Yes”? Would he feel inadequate? Would he feel like he’d been cheated on?

It was a while before you found your voice.

“Am I going to lose you?”

His face became serious.

“Why would you? Of course not! Baby, I’m the one suggesting it.”

He was suggesting it? The thought made your head spin. It was all too raw to process.

“Are you drunk, Jinnie?”

You knew he wasn’t. Your boyfriend had an extremely good tolerance for alcohol. He shook his head without taking his eyes off your face.

“Don’t worry, I am not. And no, I am not going to back out in the morning.”

He really was serious. You chewed on your lips, gazing at his open face.

“And- the guys, how will you talk to them about… this?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, his rare dimple peeking at you.

“I may have already talked about it with them.”

You drew back in horror.

“What?!”

He shifted his hips into a more comfortable position. He had talked about it with his guys, and they had been open to trying it if you really wanted it. Jin knew how your mind worked, and he was sure you’d want to try at least once.

“Sh, Y/N. It’s all up to you now. No one will judge you for it. I know the guys. They all adore you. Just tell me if you want to try this.”

Your hands flew to your hot face in a poor attempt at hiding yourself. Jin’s big palms caught your wrists.

“Don’t hate me,” you whined, your voice so low it was close to breaking.

———❖———

Jin held your hand tight as he guided you to the living room. The six other guys were boisterously arguing about something. A sudden hush blanketed the noise as soon as Jin ground to a halt in the middle of the room.

You refused to look up, staring at the rug like your whole body would ignite and go up in flames if you did.

“Let’s go to the guest bedroom,” Jin said, addressing the men in the room. He jerked his head at them and turned on his heel, pulling you with him.

The bedroom was the biggest in your apartment, and it housed two queen-sized beds. You had originally intended to rent it out to your friends before your boyfriend came along.

Jin drew the blinds and returned to your side, tapping his foot on the floor gently. One by one, the guys made their way into the room, forming a semicircle around Jin and you.

They were all still in the suits they had worn to the party. Granted, a few ties and bows were loosened and some suits were specked with pizza crust. But they looked just as fucking handsome as ever, disheveled or otherwise.

Everyone looked slightly nervous, and they waited for someone to break the ice. Namjoon, used to his role of the leader, took the lead naturally.

He cleared his throat, glancing at you.

“Y/N, I… um… understand this is all new, but…”

Jin stared at Namjoon, silently urging him to use his eloquent mouth to come up with something more confident.

Namjoon took a step forward, his palms open to in an attempt to instill trust.

“We all love you so much, and I assure you that there’s nothing to be worried about.”

The rest of the group nodded in silence, and you looked at Namjoon through lowered lashes. This was so surreal. Was it all a dream?

Jin squeezed your hand, and you squeezed it back. Gosh, this was so real.

You saw the polished tips of Namjoon’s shoes advance towards you.

“If you say no, we’ll leave this room and forget that this ever happened. We’d understand.”

God, no. You couldn’t say no. It would be a lie if you said you didn’t want them. But how was it all true? How did all seven of them like you back? Was it right to even think about it?

“No,” you saw the tips of Namjoon’s shoes stop abruptly on the floor.

“No," you repeated, "I can’t say no.”

The gleaming shoes hesitantly made their way towards you again.

He stood directly in front of you, and Jin let go of your hand. A sudden feeling of panic rose up your chest, but it disappeared when Jin’s hand reached to grip your shoulder lightly.

Namjoon reached his hand out, saying,

“Is it okay if I do…” He rested his palm against your hip, “…this?”

You gulped and nodded, staring into his chocolate eyes.

He gently squeezed your hip, watching you in rapt attention.

“And this?”

“Yes,” you breathed out shakily.

“You’re wearing fishnets,” Namjoon noted with barely contained eagerness, and you saw Jin cheekily nod his head at his band mate.

“Just how you like it, huh?” Jin teased, winking at Namjoon, who blushed in return.

Namjoon’s hand slipped around your waist, and he murmured in a soft voice, “Is it alright if we move closer to the bed?”

You nodded your head in a daze.

“Uh-huh.”

The rest of the guys parted, breaking the semicircle and making way for you. It really was happening. The thudding in your ears grew louder and louder.

Namjoon sat down on the edge of the bed and patted his lap.

“Come sit, honey.”

You turned and looked at your boyfriend, seeking reassurance before you let yourself go completely. Jin nodded his head and winked, a little smile playing on the edges of his lips. Drawing a shaky breath, you climbed into Namjoon’s lap, feeling incredibly self-conscious.

“We can stop anytime you want,” Namjoon said, gazing earnestly at your face. “Do you want to continue?”

You bit your lip and looked at the men clustered around you. This was it.

“Yes, I want to.”

A barely audible sigh escaped Namjoon’s lips. Had he been holding his breath too? Was he nervous too? Nothing about his persona gave away his nervousness. His fingers were steady, so was his voice. He had an aura of confidence in every move.

“Are you sure, baby? You are okay with this?”

“Yes... oh yes, please.”

The last word was drawn into a needy whine, and Taehyung chuckled from across the room. A few of them were sitting on the other bed, watching the events unfold. Jin was standing at the foot of the bed, his hawk eyes never leaving you. Yoongi was leaning against the wall, looking unbothered. But only he knew the way his stomach was doing backflips, the thought of having you leaving him shaking in his shoes.

Namjoon gently cupped your jaw, pulling you in and brushing his lips softly against yours. His other hand roamed over to your shoulder blade, a finger hooking under the spaghetti strap. Taking his sweet time, the man peeled the strap off your shoulder, his hand moving to free the other strap as well.

“Ready?”

His whisper was full of lust, and you nodded in urgency. With one fluid tug, he pulled the top of your dress down towards your waist, leaving your lace push-up bra for all the men to see. There was a sharp gasp from somewhere in the room, but you were far too gone to identify who it belonged to.

Your eyes flitted over to Jin’s, and you saw him looking straight at your chest, enthralled. He didn’t look the least bit concerned. Rather, he seemed to be enjoying it, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he gulped at the sight.

There was a deafening silence in the room, it was almost unbearable. Namjoon’s hand roamed over to your thigh-high stockings, and his long index finger slipped under the elastic band, dragging sinful lines along your skin.

He sighed darkly, admiring the way your legs looked. He had only mentioned to Jin about his kink for fishnets in passing. He couldn’t believe Jin had remembered.

His other hand was on your back, his fingers hooked under the clasps of your bra.

Deftly, with just two fingers, he undid the clasps, ridding your skin of the offending fabric.

The cold air in the room coupled with the sudden nakedness gave you such a rush, so much that all the fine hair on your skin stood up in goosebumps. There were a few groans around you, and it became so hard to sit still on Namjoon’s lap.

“Make sure she’s feeling comfortable,” Yoongi murmured from his position against the wall, his palm resting ever so slightly on his bulge.

“Here,” Yoongi said, moving towards you and stooping to look into your eyes. “Are you feeling okay, Y/N?”

You nodded, too enthralled in his brilliant black eyes to answer.

He dropped his voice lower, sliding a finger along your jawline.

“Tell us what you want.”

Your nipples were so hard, painfully neglected by not one but seven men in the room.

“I-”  You looked at Namjoon, and gripped your hip gently, running his tongue over his plump lips. “-just, can you all take your shirts off?” Your naked torso was in stark contrast to their suits, and you were hyper aware of it.

Jungkook’s little giggle reached your ears, and you sighed in relief as one by one, all the suits and dress shirts came off, revealing sculpted chests and hard, taut abs.

God, Jin was fucking ethereal when he was naked, you always had to remember to breathe when he undressed. But now, right in front of you, seven sons of Aphrodite were offering you their shirtless bodies, letting you feast your eyes on godly perfection.

Namjoon’s bare chest heaved perfectly in harmony with yours, the warmth of his body seeping into your pores.

“Please…” you whined, needy for attention. “Please touch me.”

Yoongi groaned, rubbing his face against your neck, and starting to press kisses down your shoulder blades.

Namjoon nodded at the rest of them, and slowly everyone moved towards you, crowding around you like children around an ice cream truck. One strong arm pulled you, so you were sitting sideways on Namjoon’s lap, providing better access to the others.

Jimin dove straight into your chest, attaching his mouth to your breast and suckling eagerly. He gobbled up as much of the flesh as he could into his little mouth, earning shaky moans that spilled out of your lips.

Namjoon’s finger pushed your underwear away, dipping into your core and curling a bit. He popped out his dimples, smirking hard at Jin.

“Guys, hyung has already marked his territory.”

Jin’s ears went red, and he stammered out while waving his hands,

“It’s nothing like that! It’s just impossible to resist her.” He paused, looking down and grinning at you before adding, “You’re all gonna discover that soon enough.”

You giggled, catching sight of his red face and puckered lips. Jimin was still attached to your chest, working his devilish tongue on your breast.

“Show some love to the other tit too,” Jin said, and everyone chuckled, the tension in the air evaporating completely.

Soon enough, Jungkook’s veiny hand was kneading your other breast, and everyone closed in on you, their eager hands running all over your body, sending you tumbling into bliss.

─── ·❆· ───

Present day

“Yoongs?”

He was hunched over some sheets of music, his nerdy glasses making him look wise and serene.

“Huh?”

He removed his glasses, running his hand through his shock of black hair, mussing it up. A genuine smile lit his face up when he looked at you.

“Yeah, baby?”

You knew he was busy, producing music for one of his collabs. But he had asked you to hang out with him in the studio. And that was when Jungkook had entered, his face hostile and sullen, passing by to drop some of Yoongi’s lyric sheets. He had practically glowered at you, slamming the door behind him unnecessarily loud.

“Um, do you think Kook is mad at me?”

He looked surprised.

“No, why would he be?”

You hadn’t the faintest idea why. But something was up. You knew that. You had tried multiple times to talk to Jungkook, but he had just shrugged and slipped out of your efforts to light up a conversation.

“I think he doesn’t like this.” It had been a thought that had started out as doubt, but Jungkook’s behavior made the doubt grow stronger and stronger until you were subconsciously convinced that it was the reason.

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, raising his eyebrows.

“He doesn’t like what?”

“This.” You flung your arms out, tracing the air, frustrated. “Maybe he doesn’t really want to be in this relationship? I tried talking to him many times, but he just won’t speak to me.” You pursed your lips. “It has been weeks since he even smiled at me.”

“Y/N,” Yoongi drawled, reaching to pull you closer. “You know he loves you. We all do. He’s probably overworked and exhausted. Try talking to him after some time, you know?”

You nodded absently, thinking of how Jungkook had sprung up like a startled cat and stomped out of the room while you were watching a movie with all the guys. Just because you had placed a hand on his thigh.

There was something off about Jungkook. But he shut up like a clam, choosing to slip out of the way whenever you tried to talk to him.

“Y/N?”

You snapped back to focus on Yoongi. He was partially right. They were all working their asses off for the new album. You would talk to Jungkook later.

“Okay, babe,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. Your hand reached for the phone.

11:21 pm.

Yoongi had made lunch reservations for both of you. You still had plenty of time.

“You get going on that sexy producer thing you do,” you said, cozying down on his sofa. “We still have some time on our hands.”

So back he went, his serious face poring over the sheets of music sprawled on his table. Yoongi probably didn’t realize, but he looked like a grumpy kitten when he was concentrating hard on something.

You smiled at his bent head, swiping on your phone to check for emails from work. There were none. Good. Maybe you could scroll through Pinterest for new design ideas. You worked for an ad agency as a graphic designer. You had to always be on the lookout for new stuff.

The endless stream of pictures was flooding your feed, and your finger was trying to catch up. Ding. The notification chime wasn’t usually enough to distract you. But this time, it held the title you just couldn’t resist. It was a YouTube notification from your favorite graphic artist.

You were halfway through the video when the suggested section caught your eye. An involuntary chuckle shook your chest when you read the title.

“Boy band BBS talk about DATING and SECRET GIRLFRIENDS?!!”

It was classic clickbait. Something everyone seemed to be doing for views. You knew it was just a clip from the Red Carpet of the MTV Music Awards. You still remembered the hickey you had given Hoseok that had forced him to wear a turtleneck under his suit. Delicious times.

You had watched that video already, but something just pulled you towards the video. You would never tire of re-watching your seven gorgeous boyfriends slaying the red carpet.

Sure, you were right. It was just a clip that everyone who had followed the awards had already seen. The familiar questions about collabs, celebrity crushes, favorite food, every question your boyfriends were already tired of but answered anyway, made up the first 4 minutes. Click bait much?

“Haha we have all the love in the world, we have our fans,” Namjoon was saying, his sweet little dimple flashing at the camera.

“But,” the redhead insisted, her dazzling smile widening. “You boys have any secret dating lives we aren’t privy to?”

The answer was already in the question. No one was supposed to be fucking privy to that information. You pursed your lips, waiting for Namjoon’s sassy reply to tumble out of his lips.

“We wanna focus on our careers, we don’t have time to date,” he said, a small lilt of mockery creeping into his voice.

Damn, you had teased him mercilessly that night, bratty about him saying ‘not having time.’ You remembered how he had begged to lay a finger on you, and a satisfying warmth spread over your belly.

The video was ending, and you grinned at Namjoon’s closeup fondly. But just before the replay button came on, you caught onto something odd.

You had been scrolling down, and a few comments had popped up in your line of vision. People were screaming about how dazzling their bias looked, or how proud they were of the boys. But there were a few ones written by hawk-eyed fans.

“not at how bored JK got of the question at 6:48 lmao he’s so pissed”

“damn, was it just me, or did JK actually ROLL his eyes sfakjfkjfk hahaha”

What?

You hit the replay button, dragging the seeker to the last few seconds of the video.

There, glowering with mad eyes, stood Jungkook. He was well behind Namjoon, a bit out of focus around the 6:45 mark. He had put on a charming smile throughout the video. Until the host popped the dating question, at least.

For anyone else, it would seem like Jungkook was bored with the question. But you knew his quirks. He had been casually gazing at the camera, letting Namjoon answer the host’s questions. The word “dating” left the host’s lips, and Hoseok lightly touched his turtleneck at the exact time when Jungkook’s expression flattened out to a cold hard stare. He rolled his eyes ever so subtly, his face turned sideways. He had been annoyed.

Annoyed at Hoseok that he was reminded of who he was dating. Annoyed that the question had reminded him of the hickey his turtleneck was covering. More like disgusted. Disgusted at what exactly? At the host for asking that question? Or- was it at what dating meant to the eight of you?

“Y/N, babes?”

Yoongi’s voice finally reached your ears, and you looked up in a daze.

“Huh?”

He scratched his head, his other arm supporting the jacket casually flung over his back.

“I said we can go. We’ll be late if we don’t hurry.”

Oh, the lunch. You had totally snapped out of focus.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” you said, jumping up and slipping into your shoes. Yoongi watched you closely, a bit concerned.

“Are you alright, Y/N? You look... odd.”

You debated if you should tell him what was bothering you. But you didn’t want to ruin the date with your speculations. You’ll talk about it to your boyfriends after you had enough time to sort your feelings.

“No, it’s probably nothing, Yoongs. I’ll tell you later. Let’s go, I’m famished.”

You would have to tackle Jungkook and his surly temper later.

─── ·❆· ───

“How’s the track shaping up, hyung?” Taehyung asked, pouring more wine into Yoongi’s glass. You were cozily settled between Yoongi’s thighs, the warmth of his chest on your back.

“Hm, I worked out most of the chords,” Yoongi returned, picking up his refill and taking a sip. “But I still have some more work to do, especially with the bridge.”

You hummed contentedly, listening to your boyfriends discuss music, sprawled on the floor around the coffee table. It was lovely, watching their serious faces talk about what they loved and lived for. The door opened, and Jungkook walked in, clutching his sports bag.

He mumbled an “I’m home,” directed at his friends, before turning to kick off his shoes.

“…and before I knew it, the time had flown like… phew!” Yoongi was saying, while you eyed Jungkook’s bag. He had been going to the boxing ring too often these days. What was up with him? His hair was damp, and his face was flushed.

“…and then I bundled Y/N up into the car and we rushed off,” Yoongi said, and there it was again. You had been watching Jungkook’s face, and at the mention of your name, the annoyance - no, the disgust flashed across his features. He scoffed to himself, unaware of your attention. It wrenched your heart to see that, and you looked away.

Jungkook picked his bag up again and stormed towards his room. You watched his retreating back, only half-listening to Yoongi’s praise for the lobster frittata.

“You guys keep talking, I’ll be back,” you said, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek.

“Uh-huh,” Taehyung purred, craning his neck and offering his cheek for you to kiss too.

“Clown,” you giggled, dropping him a kiss, and giving him a playful shove. “I’ll be gone just a sec, don’t miss me,” you said, winking and jumping up to your feet.

You had to talk to Jungkook and ask him just what his problem was. You just couldn’t bear his sourpuss charade any longer.

———❖———

Loud music hit you in the face as soon as you opened the door to Jungkook’s room. The guys never bothered to close their doors, but Jungkook had lately started closing his. Another red flag waving right under your nose.

He was on the floor, doing pushups and grunting out at the exertion. His sinewy arms were trembling, and he had changed to shorts that revealed his muscular thighs shining with sweat.

The guy certainly was on the fast track lane to exhaustion.

“Jungkook,” you called out, straining your voice to be heard over the blasting music. “Hey! Can you hear me?”

He went on exercising without any acknowledgment, so you stormed to the stereo and turned it off with a click.

“What the fuck?” he growled, snapping his head up before he caught sight of you.

“Well, you couldn’t hear me,” you said, crossing your arms and standing your ground.

“Of course I could,” he sneered, getting up to his feet and wiping the sweat off his chin. “I chose to ignore it.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief.

“Are you serious right now? You ignored it? What is that supposed to mean?”

He picked up his towel and started dabbing at his forehead, not even sparing you a glance.

“What do you want, Y/N? Why are you here instead of sucking Yoongi hyung’s dick?”

Your jaw dropped.

It was completely out of character for Jungkook to be so prickly. He was always the sweetest and goofiest man out of the lot. What had gone wrong?

“Jeon Jungkook, you dare not speak to me that way,” you said, bristling. “What is up with you? You are so sullen whenever I try to spark a convo.”

He scoffed and threw his towel down. His face was a strange mix of anger and disgust. You couldn’t understand what had ticked him off so bad.

“What is up with me? You tell me, because you’re so smart, Miss. Perfect.”

He crossed his arms and puffed his chest, using his height to his advantage to stare you down.

You huffed in impatience, stressed at his refusal to be drawn out. You had to simmer down and try to make him say what was bothering him.

“Jungkook, tell me why you’ve been so pissy lately. What did I do, to make you so upset? Just tell me.”

He glowered at you, the tips of his ears going red as he clenched his teeth.

“Good question. What didn’t you do?” His eyes swept over your clothes, taking in the wine splotch on your shorts. He averted his eyes, staring at his treadmill instead. “Whose cum are you leaking this time?”

The question was almost inaudible, but the spite in it had already reached you and poisoned the air in the room.

You stood rooted to the spot, shock numbing your senses.

“Did you just-” you struggled to keep the quiver in your voice under control. “-say that…”

You had never been in a real fight with any of your boyfriends, and this was a cold punch to your gut. You had only had the occasional bickering and loads of makeup sex after every disagreement. But this was new. This was raw, palpable and spiteful, and left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You waited for him to rush and say something, to explain and say he didn’t mean it that way. Just anything really.

But he didn’t clarify or even attempt to take his words back. He simply stood there, glaring into your eyes in contempt.

The YouTube video flashed before your eyes. The disgust in his face when he even thought of dating. When he thought of you. The thought crept steadily into your chest, twisting and crushing your heart. He resented you. He resented the relationship.

When you opened your mouth to break the heavy silence, your voice came out in a whimper.

“If you didn’t want to be in this relationship, you could have said so. No one forced you into it.”

He didn’t reply, choosing to glare at his treadmill in stony anger. You went on.

“If I’m keeping you from finding someone else or dating other better people, you could just say so. Instead of insulting me like this.”

He snapped his head to face you, fury painting his face red.

“What the fuck are you going on about?”

“Please, Jungkook,” you said, scoffing and masking the low sob that threatened to escape your chest. “You resent being with me. You can’t even stand me. You don’t have to stay and feel trapped in this relationship. You think- you think-“ You bit your lip, “-you think I’m a slut. You could have just declined to be part of this. None of us forced you.”

His eyes went wide in shock.

“Why would you say that? That’s not fucking true.”

“Are you screwing with me, Jungkook? You don’t even look at me anymore. You cringe when I touch you. Do you think I’m blind to not see how much you hate being in the same room as you? You haven’t kissed me or spoke a kind word to me in weeks.”

He sighed hard, running his hand through his hair. When he spoke, his voice was soft.

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

You weren’t going to cry; you weren’t one to break down so easily. But there was a strange sadness in your tone when you asked,

“Do you love someone else? Are you feeling- trapped with me…with the rest of us?”

He grimaced, the steely look coming back to his features. He shook his head in despair, straining visibly to keep his calm.

“No. What do you… No, what the hell? Of course not. You’ve got it all fucking wrong.”

“Enlighten me then. Spit it out, Jungkook. I’m not a mind reader.”

Taehyung’s voice drifted from the living room, in a muffled sing-song tone:

“Y/N! Starting to miss you here!”

Jungkook’s lip curled, and he stomped to slam the door shut with a bang. He turned to face you, hot rage clouding his eyes.

“This. It’s this. I can’t bear this anymore.”

You had no idea what he was talking about. But you hated loud noises, and the loud slam had pissed you off.

“What exactly is this this you’re talking about?”

He scrunched up his face impatiently.

“God, Y/N. You just- you’re so oblivious all the time.”

This was getting nowhere. He was talking in circles, and you weren’t going to humor him anymore. The slam of the door had already set a headache off, and your patience was wearing thin.

“Just say it already. I’m not interested in guessing games.”

He buried his face in his hands, clawing at his skin. When he looked at you again, you could see the vein in his forehead stand out.

“I can’t do this anymore. This is so stupid. It’s such a dumb idea. I don’t like this. ”

There it was. Out in the open.

“So, you want out? Are you breaking up with me? I already told you that no one is forcing you to stay. And you told-”

“Shut up, Y/N. Just shut up.”

You stopped, jaw open at his interjection. He shook his head, and you could see his nostrils flaring.

“Y/N, I love you. Okay? Don’t be silly.”

“What? Why the fuck do you keep contradicting yourself, Jeon Jungkook?”

He sighed and pulled your wrist, dragging you to the wall. He trapped you between his arms, pressing his warm body against yours, dominance lighting up his feral eyes.

“I want you to be mine. Just mine.” He sighed again, and his hot breath fell on your lips. “I can’t share you.”

“But- “

Your words were cut off abruptly, as his lips crashed into yours, silencing any words that were bubbling up in your mouth.

His kiss was hot and desperate, as if he was scared to stop. Scared that you would say something that would break his heart if he released your lips. The corner of his lip was trembling, and he bit into your lips to hold on just a little longer.

He had strong muscly arms, and they were crushing you relentlessly.

“Stop…” you breathed, pushing against his chest. “Jungkook, stop”

“No,” he moaned, whimpering with closed eyes. “Y/N, please…”

You pushed harder and violently struggled in his grasp until he had no choice but to let you go. Shoving him away, you spat at him with wet lips.

“Jungkook, this is a polyamorous relationship. You know it doesn’t work that way.”

He threw his hands up to hold the sides of his head, a painful look on his face.

“I can’t… it’s not fair. I can’t even stand the thought of the other guys touching you. Kissing you.” He grimaced. “Or fucking you.”

It was your turn to grimace.

“It’s not fair? I’m not just yours. You knew this when you got into this relationship. Jin is the one- “

He snarled and raised his voice cutting you off.

“He’s responsible for this fucking mess. He’s so fucking selfish, and …and…”

“Stop right there, Jeon Jungkook,” you said, your voice raising to a shout. “Don’t you dare call him selfish. He’s nothing but supportive of sharing. Don’t you dare.”

Jungkook kicked the treadmill’s frame, losing his temper.

“He stole you from me. He fucking betrayed me!”

“Don’t be delusional, Jin was my boyfriend longer than any of you.”

“HE STOLE YOU FROM ME!!!”

You flinched at his loud voice, pressing a finger to your throbbing temple. Clutching the sides of your head, you walked away from him.

“I’m outta here. I can’t listen to your deluded screams anymore.”

You stomped to the door, turning the knob to get out. But Jungkook was quicker, and he reached the door to block you from opening it.

“Let me go,” you said, speaking through clenched teeth.

“No,” he said, leaning his back against the door and glowering at you. “Fucking listen to me, Y/N.”

You had no other choice, so you folded your hands and glared at him in stony silence.

“I was the one who fell for you first. I told Jin hyung that I was in love. He told me I was too young, and that it would damage the band’s reputation, and that I would lose all our female fans if the word got out. He convinced me that it wasn’t wise to date.”

You didn’t reply, choosing to scowl instead. He angrily went on.

“And then imagine my surprise when he went ahead and asked you out. And you betrayed me by falling for him.”

Your scoff interrupted his flow.

“I’m sorry, I betrayed you? Have you gone crazy?”

“It would have been me if Jin hyung hadn’t stolen you from me. I would have been your boyfriend, and I sure as hell wouldn’t let any other guy lay a finger on you.”

The disgust in his tone annoyed you to no end.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I chose Jin? Do you think you could just turn back time and replace him? Are my feelings that insignificant to you?”

He shook his head urgently.

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

“And did you tell Jin that you were in love with me? Did you explicitly say my name?”

“No, I- I told him I was in falling for someone. I didn’t say your name,” he mumbled. “But he ought to have known, you were the only girl in my life at that time.”

You blew your cheeks in exasperation.

“Did you think he could fucking read your mind? You’re being so damn stupid, Jungkook.”

He whined again.

“He ought to have known. He knew I liked you very much.”

“He was just looking out for you! He didn’t ‘betray’ you. Why the hell did you agree to be in this relationship then, if you were so against sharing?”

Pain flashed across his face once more.

“Because there was no other way to be in your life. I gritted my teeth and bore it so long just to have a part of your heart. But…”

You tapped your foot, waiting for him to continue.

“…But I can’t share anymore. It kills me to see them look at you that way. It just…kills me.”

There was no response ready on your tongue for that. You had never expected such a situation to arise. You had talked and talked for days with the guys before jumping into the relationship. You had been confident about the success of the talks, but you weren’t sure anymore.

You sighed heavily. This wasn’t going to work. Jungkook and you, it was strained beyond repair.

“I love you, Jungkook. But I can’t and won’t choose you over the others. It doesn’t work that way.”

Something inside him snapped, and he snarled at you, bunching up your nightshirt in his fist.

“What if you got pregnant? Whose child will it be? Who are you going to marry? All seven of us? How will you explain it to the world?”

You struggled in his grasp, clawing at his hand to shake it off.

“It will be Jin I marry. And if I got pregnant, there will be eight people to love the child.” You closed your eyes, clenching your fists. “There’s nothing that can change that.”

The repulsion on his face was clear as day.

“You’re a fucking slut, Y/N.”

─── ·❆· ───

“Hey,” Jin called out, smiling at you from his position on the couch. Yoongi and Taehyung were passed out on the floor, the empty wine bottles sprawled around their bodies.

“Hey,” you said, flashing him a watery smile. “When did you come?”

“Just now,” he said, patting his thigh and signaling you to sit on it.

You shook your head, biting your lip.

“I need to-” you winced, gingerly pressing on your knuckles. “-can you get me some ice?”

His gaze fell on your swollen knuckles, and he jumped up hastily.

“Y/N baby, what happened?”

He rushed to get the ice, barreling to a stop in front of the fridge. There, with his head poking into the freezer door, stood a figure in gym shorts.

Jin knocked at the curly mop of hair, complaining loudly.

“Yah Jungkook-ah, get your head out. I need to get some ice.”

Jin was taken aback when Jungkook whirled around, sporting a bright crimson nose, a tiny trickle of blood running down one nostril.

“The fuck-“ Jin started to say, but Jungkook pushed him away, wiping his nose and storming back towards his room.

When Jin came back to you with a bowl of ice cubes, his quick mind had already sensed a problem.

“Y/N, what happened? Did you- punch him?”

He raised his eyebrow, scrutinizing your face.

“Yes.”

He hadn’t been ready for that.

“But why? You’ve got to tell me. We shouldn’t be hitting each other like this.”

You let Jin hold your fingers and ice them, holding your silence and thinking how best to explain it to him.

“I’ll tell you, but not now.”

He clucked his tongue in dissent.

“No, now.”

“Jin, just leave me be. Not here.”

Your boyfriend pursed his lips, and the disapproval was evident on the curl of his mouth. He pulled you up and guided you to your shared bedroom. It was farther down the suite of rooms, out of earshot from Jungkook’s.

“Out with it,” he said, closing the door and pulling you down to sit on the bed. “Now.”

You never kept secrets from any of your boyfriends. And this was a very big issue that you had no intention of hiding from Jin.

“Jungkook... he called me a slut.”

“What?”

He was on his feet, anger rising in his chest. He knew it wasn’t just dirty bedroom talk, judging from your swollen knuckles.

“Y/N, why did he say that? Tell me everything from the start.”

Ten minutes later, you had barely finished speaking when Jin stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

─── ·❆· ───

Namjoon and Jimin had been out all evening, working on the lyrics for Jimin’s new solo. They were surprised when they got back to a living room full of people, all looking stern and pissed.

“What’s up?” Namjoon asked, hanging his coat on the hook. “Did someone break something?” He internally prayed that no one had discovered the burnt pan stowed under the sink.

No one responded.

“What is it?” Jimin whispered to Taehyung, sliding into a spot on the couch.

“It’s Y/N…” Taehyung started to whisper back, and Jimin exclaimed loudly,

“Oh gosh is she pregnant?”

“Shut your damn mouth,” Taehyung hissed, elbowing him in the ribs.

Namjoon’s sharp eyes scanned the scene. There were only seven people in the room. Serious meetings were supposed to have all eight in attendance.

“So, what is this about?” he asked, settling down beside Jin. “And where’s Jungkook?”

Jin remained silent, his face red in a stormy temper. Namjoon looked past Jin at you, addressing you instead.

“Babe, what’s going on?”

You opened your mouth to respond when Jin broke the heavy silence with a piercing shout:

“JEON JUNGKOOK!”

A minute later, a door opened and Jungkook slunk down the corridor, head bent. A hoodie was keeping his head covered, and he sat down on the couch opposite yours. He looked up obstinately, throwing his hood down, earning shocked gasps.

His nose was bleeding, and the blood had dried up in a red streak. His eye socket was a dark purple, and his cheekbone was swollen, effectively sealing his right eye shut.

Everyone was stunned, and indignant voices started talking all at once.

“Who did that?”

“How did this happen?”

“Jungkook, who did this to you?”

Jin snapped at no one in particular, barking out an annoyed “Everyone just shut up.”

He had a sonorous voice, one that commanded respect, especially when he raised it to a shout. The room quietened down, but a low murmur arose again when his shock of hair bounced, revealing a bleeding gash on his forehead.

“I called all of you here to say that our beloved Jungkook wants out of this relationship.”

He raised his palm to silence the babble of voices that broke out again, continuing with:

“He insulted our girlfriend and she broke his nose.”

Jungkook bowed head, choosing to scowl at the carpet.

“And the black eye?” Yoongi’s mild voice asked.

Jin dug his nails into his palms.

“I did that.”

Namjoon shook his head, tsking in disapproval.

“We need to hear both sides of the story, Jin hyung.”

When no one said anything, Namjoon looked at his youngest friend’s bent head.

“Well, Kook? Got anything to say?”

Silence.

Jin stared daggers at the man in the hoodie, his face a hot shade of crimson. His fingers gripped yours, squeezing them protectively.

“Well then,” Taehyung said, breaking the long awkward silence. “If you’ve got nothing to say…”

You couldn’t hold bear the tension in the room anymore.

“He doesn’t wanna share He wants out!” you exclaimed loudly. “He wants me all to himself! And…” you bit out, glaring at Jungkook, “…apparently, I’m a whore for being in this relationship.”

“What?!”

Hoseok was up on his feet, his fists clenched. Yoongi reached his hand out to grasp his hand urgently.

“Sit down, Hobi-yah.”

The murmur of indignant voices was rising to a fever pitch when Jungkook suddenly stood up. Head still downcast, he muttered:

“Save your breaths. I’m moving out.”

No one stopped him, and his dazed surprise was hidden under his hoodie. He dragged himself out of the room, the stares of his brothers burning into his skin.

“The fuck just happened?” Jimin asked, inspecting your swollen knuckles. “Why is this happening?”

You chewed on your lip, wondering the same thing. What had happened to your close-knit boyfriends? Why was Jungkook suddenly discontented with the bond you all shared? Would your boyfriends slowly fall apart and float away like Jungkook?

You looked around the room, watching the intent faces of your boyfriends as they listened to Jin’s account of the day’s events. Would you lose them all one by one?

─── ·❆· ───

It was really awkward to go to your boyfriends’ studios when they practiced. Awkward because Jungkook was there too, dancing and sweating it out with the rest of them. He removed himself from the room whenever you showed up, and the shift in the mood was palpable.

The others confided in you that they weren’t on speaking terms with Jungkook either, and that the practice sessions were becoming too uncomfortable to be around each other. You knew well enough that it would take a toll on the group’s performance as a whole. After all, communication was paramount to ensure they were perfectly in sync for their dance routines.

You wished to attempt one last time to see if you could talk sense into Jungkook. So, you found yourself standing outside Jungkook’s studio one evening, long after the others had packed up and left. You had half a mind to turn around and leave. But a small voice inside your head kept telling you to give it one last try. Your boyfriends were already suffering enough. You owed them one last-ditch effort to try and mend things.

You raised your hand to press the buzzer, still unsure. Was this going to be a mistake?

The door opened even before the buzzer stopped buzzing. Jungkook stood in the doorway, with his grey sweatpants on, his hair swept back with a headband. His eyes widened in surprise, and you saw his muscles flex when he tightened his grip on the doorknob.

You were at a loss for words. It was strange because you were never out of words.

“I-uh…I thought…”

His veiny arm found purchase on your blouse, and his lips came crashing down on your mouth. His mouth worked urgently, claiming dominance before you could oppose. He pulled you inside and gripped both your hands behind your back, slamming the door closed.

“Jung…” you panted out, but he pressed his mouth harder, drowning your words. He nudged you towards the wall with his body, pinning you in place. His mouth never ceased attacking you, while he worked to trap your wrists into one hand.

His other hand roamed all over your skin, clawing and grabbing your flesh in hunger. Jungkook couldn’t believe you had shown up on his doorstep after so many weeks. It felt like a fever dream, and he held on to every piece of skin he could hold, desperately anxious not to let you slip away.

“I knew you’d come back,” he moaned between breaths, “…to me.”

You struggled in his grasp, trying hard to shake his hand off your wrists.

“No,” you breathed, turning your head slightly to stop the barrage of soul-sucking kisses. “I didn’t come back to you…”

He froze momentarily. Just a moment later, his grip hardened around your wrists. The soft emotion on his features evaporated into thin air.

Without a word, he pushed you tighter against the wall, pinning you under his shoulder blades.

“So, you’re telling me…” he hooked a finger into the waistband of your jeans, “…that you didn’t want me? You never thought about…” he pulled the zipper down, “this?” His hand tugged the jeans down urgently and slithered into the crook between your thighs.

“Stop it,” you said shakily, feeling your arms starting to fall asleep.

But he paid no heed. He pulled your leg and hoisted your hips up against the wall. You felt insecure with both your legs wrapped around his body, with nothing to support you except the wall behind your back.

“You’re telling me…” he repeated, lifting your hips and slowly dropping to his knees while adjusting your legs so they were on both sides of his neck, “…that you didn’t miss me at all?”

By that time, you were hovering mid-air with your neck against the wall and the rest of your body awkwardly supported on his shoulders.

Your hands were free of his grasp, but they were still pretty useless because they were trapped under the shoulder joints that were straining to keep you from falling.

He grinned from between your legs, licking his lips maliciously. His finger pushed the crotch of your underwear aside. He bent lightly and blew against your bare core.

You couldn’t help it, your core clenched at the rush of hot air and it drew another smirk on his face.

“See? You want me,” he crooned, laying the pad of his finger against your clit. You jerked slightly, and he shushed you softly.

“Don’t squirm, love. You’ll fall and break your neck,” he added with a wicked smile. “We don’t want that, do we?”

“Stop it, Jungkook,” you started, but he dove into your clit at the exact moment.

`Though his demeanor was relaxed and careless, on the inside he was anything but. He pressed his tongue flat against your bud, lapping all your juices with feral thirst. He saw your thigh muscles tremble at his ministrations, and he smiled into your pussy. Gosh, he had missed you so damn much.

His tongue dipped and swirled around inside you, and it took all your discipline to stay in place without squirming and snapping your neck. You hadn’t forgotten what a master Jungkook was with his tongue.

He started sucking and sloppily slurping up everything you had to offer, so hard that you were sure you weren’t going to last. You were definitely going to break your neck.

“Stop, just…” you moaned, feeling a cramp beginning in your neck. “I can’t… let me down. Just let me down, please.”

He raised his head from your crotch.

“Why should I trust that you won’t run?”

You could no longer feel your arms.

“Don’t you trust that I love you?” you replied, struggling to stay in position. “Do you think I am fine with losing you? Don’t you understand that I love you just as much as I love the others?”

He cocked his eyebrow at the last sentence, the slight sting of the words sinking in. With a reluctant grunt, he put his hands under your hips, slowly peeling you from the wall and setting you down.

You weren’t sure if you were paranoid, but it seemed that he knew your arms were still numb. He took his sweet time tugging your pants further down your thighs, but all of a sudden, he flipped you over and caught hold of your wrists again.

Damn, right when the little pinpricks on your arms had begun and your arms were regaining strength.

He pushed and held you down so your chin was against the floor, while his knee dug into the back of your thighs. He felt your hands struggle, and he grinned to himself.

“Y/N baby, you’re so weak. Don’t fight me, love.”

You cursed and writhed under his body, but a steady hand of iron clawed at your hips and didn’t let go.

“You don’t understand, Y/N,” he said, the slight sound of clothes scuffling behind you filling your ears. “You want me just as much as I want you.”

More sounds of something wet.

Page Break

Jungkook gave his shaft a few furious pumps, coating his thick glossy pre-cum all over his length. Damn, he was oozing so much pre-cum. He licked his lips and worked his dick, thinking of all the times in the past week that he had fantasized about your tight little pussy stretched around his cock.

His eyes scanned the pretty little birthmark on your left ass cheek. He smiled fondly, remembering how insecure you had been of it when you first started dating him. And the others. His smile vanished as quickly as it had come.

Jungkook had a lot of girth, and he usually prepped you well before entering. But not today. Not when you were writhing beneath him, trying to escape. With one quick push, he plowed into you, burying himself to the hilt.

A surprised whimper escaped your lips. He gave you no time to adjust, slamming into you repeatedly. The force of his thrusts shook your body, earning gasps that you fought hard to bite down. He kept up the unrelenting pace, pounding harder and harder with each thrust.

“What,” he panted between breaths, “won’t you moan for me?”

“Get off me, Jeon Jungkook,” you ground out through gritted teeth. He only chuckled in response.

His panting grew harder, and his thrusts became sloppier. You knew he was close. What would he do after that? He wasn’t going to let you go easily.

He pulled out and flipped you over, his hand returning to hold your hips down. Aligning his cock against your entrance, he pushed in again.

“Look at me,” he said, voice thick and needy. “Look at me when I cum in you.”

You stared back in defiance. Even though you loved Jungkook just as much as the others, none of them ever violated you like this. They hadn’t ever laid a finger on you against your will.

“You don’t love me,” you said calmly.

He raised an eyebrow, still slamming his hips into you.

“Your mind games won’t work on me, Y/N,” he replied, heavily panting. “You’re not going anywhere.” He licked the sweat on the corners of his mouth. “I’ll never let you leave me.”

With each thrust, your love for him withered and crumbled even more. A deep sense of regret washed over you for ever loving him. He didn’t understand love. He didn’t respect you. You had to get out of his grasp as quickly as you could. Would he take you somewhere and hold you hostage? Would he lock you up in a room and never let you see the light of day?

His thighs began shaking, and his thrusts became sloppy.

“Look here,” he grunted, teetering dangerously close to his release. “Fucking take my cum.”

He closed his eyes, his dick pulsing and throbbing inside you with the force of his orgasm. His grip on your body momentarily slipped, and you seized the chance.

Gathering all your strength, you punched him square in the balls, causing him to hiss in pain and topple over you. Even before he could react, you hit him in the ribs and pushed his body off, hauling your lower body out from under him.

His hand desperately snatched at your legs, but you kicked him and slithered away. He screamed out and clutched at your ankle, not letting go.

“Get off!” You screamed, reaching for the jeans bunched around your thighs.

The anger was bubbling in his face.

“No!” he shouted, trying to pull you by the ankle.

You swung your free leg at him, sending a hook kick that caught him under the chin with a sickening thud.

Without looking back, you scrambled up and unlocked the door, pulling your jeans up and running as fast as you could.

─── ·❆· ───

“Hot chocolate?”

You took the cup from Taehyung’s hand and nestled closer to Jin. Your boyfriend had bundled you up in blankets and seated you on his lap. Hoseok was sitting next to Jin, massaging, and rubbing your feet.

Namjoon and Jimin were sitting cross-legged on the rug, their mugs of hot chocolate forgotten. Yoongi was looking at the sheets of rain outside the window.

Everyone was eerily silent. To be fair, all of you had been shattered when Jungkook left. Over the weeks, a faint sense of normalcy had returned to the household. Until Jungkook cruelly wiped everything away again.

Jin had gone all kinds of crazy when you had run into his arms, your hair disheveled and tears streaming down your face. He had been unable to get a word out of you. He had examined the bite marks and welts with murderous rage, his blood boiling at the sight.

He had maintained his silence when you stayed in the shower for hours on end, curled into a ball on the bathroom floor. He had ground his teeth, bursting at the seams trying to hold his temper. He had soaped your battered body, his heart breaking at the way you tried to stifle your broken sobs.

When you had finally acquiesced to go out of the bathroom, he had carried you outside and dressed you gently. He had then bundled you up in the softest blankets as if they could protect and comfort you.

He had bent to kiss your cheek when you uttered it. Just one word.

“Jungkook.”

You had seen his jaw flexing dangerously. Bunching his shirt in your fingers, you had pulled him closer. Slowly the rest of your boyfriends had returned home. They had all seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere. Somehow, they had realized that something was wrong.

You hadn’t said a word when Jin displayed the welts on your wrists for them to see. He had told them about the scratches and nail marks all over your thighs, and you listened numbly. It had felt like he was talking about someone else.

The sound of someone’s phone brought you back to the present. The notification sound chimed again, and again. Suddenly, all the phones in the room started chiming incessantly, cutting through the heavy silence in the room.

“What the hell,” Yoongi said, reaching for his phone. “The fuck’s happening?”

All of you stared at Yoongi, the notification sounds still going off in the background.

“What the fuck!” he shouted, furiously swiping at his phone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Taehyung went to his side, alarmed at the panic in his voice.

“Hyung?”

“FanLive,” Yoongi blurted out, holding his phone up towards all of you. “Jungkook is on FanLive.”

“What?” Namjoon asked mildly, hopping to his feet and peering into Yoongi’s screen. “What about it?”

Yoongi hit the speaker button, setting the volume to Maximum.

“… I was so nervous,” Jungkook’s syrupy voice rang out from the phone, and your ears perked up. “…but I am so happy that I shared this with you. I love all our fans. I really hope you will make her feel safe and welcome.”

Jin slid his buzzing phone out of his pocket, and a news notification flashed on his screen. You looked at it dumbfounded, not trusting your eyes.

‘BBS BAND MEMBER REVEALS GIRLFRIEND!’

Jungkook’s voice was still pouring out of Yoongi’s phone.

“I love this person so much; she makes me really happy.” You could almost hear his bunny smile. You felt sick.

“… We talked a lot and decided it’s time to share our secret. So, yeah… my girlfriend’s name is…” he paused, and all your muscles tensed, “…Y/N.”

You blinked. The constant ringing of phones in the room grated on your nerves. Jin’s knuckles were white, his fingers digging into the sides of his phone. He was seething, the anger growing inside him like an inferno.

“That. piece. of. Shit,” Jin spat out, his body trembling in rage. “I’m going to…”

Jungkook’s rabbity voice piped up again, he was probably showing something to the camera.

“…this is a picture of us…”

You pounced on Yoongi, grabbing the phone.

“Give me that, Yoongi.”

Jungkook was grinning in a successful attempt at cuteness. A turtleneck sweater was hiding the bruises on his neck that your kick had caused. You knew he had probably used heavy concealers to mask the injuries from the struggle.

He was holding his phone up to the camera, and you saw the picture he was showing. It was a selfie Jungkook had taken with you several months ago. You were both smiling at the camera, leaning against each other cozily.

“… this is my favorite picture, Y/N looks so cute…”

Jungkook droned on about how much he adored you and how lucky he was. He even had the nerve to say how happy his band members were for him. You didn’t bat an eyelid, drinking in all the blatant lies he spewed on live camera.

“…that’s the reason for this surprise live stream. Thank you for your love, please accept Y/N too…”

He kept repeating your name as much as he could, as if he wanted to punch your name into every viewer’s brain. That you were his. And his alone.

The live stream ended, and Yoongi flung his phone down in disgust.

“Sick, pathetic leech…” he began, slamming the coffee table. “I am going to strangle him.”

He rose to his feet, but Jimin gripped his wrist tightly.

“No, hyung. Not now.”

“He violated Y/N!” Yoongi screamed out, and Jin flinched. “And now this? I want him dead!”

“Yoongi-yah,” Jin’s firm voice stopped Yoongi’s angry tirade. “Yoongi-yah, we’re all furious. I get it. But we should take a minute to think what to do.”

The younger man glanced at you, and you nodded.

“He has branded me to the world as his girlfriend. You will tarnish yourself if you go beat him up. And that’s not intelligent.”

Namjoon hummed in agreement.

“I want to wrap my fingers around his throat and feel his life leave his body though,” Namjoon said, an unusual murderous look glinting in his eyes.

The buzzing of your phone briefly broke your attention, and you glanced at the screen. It was Hae Jung, one of the BBS stylists. The texts were already flooding your screen. The latest ones popped up in the notification shade.

Hae Jung: Get out of the apartment quick!

Hae Jung: You can’t be seen with the rest of them!

Hae Jung: Y/N!! Answer my calls just once!

“Uh, Jinnie?” You tugged at his sleeve, pulling him gently.

He was simmering in a cold rage, and his gaze was sharp like knives when he snapped out a “What?”

You had a temper of your own and you found it kindling. Taking a deep breath, you displayed your phone for him to see.

“Hae Jung says I should leave the apartment at once. I can’t be seen with any of you. She’s got a point.”

Jin’s wide shoulders broadened as he placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head. Taehyung’s hand squeezed his shoulder, and he said,

“She’s right, hyung. Y/N has to leave.” He composed himself to mask the little break in his voice. “Just for now.”

Namjoon, whose brain processed things 10x quicker, gripped your hand, alarmed.

“I’d be damned if we sent Y/N straight to Jungkook’s apartment.” He gritted his teeth, “Especially after what he just did to her.”

His eyes involuntarily swept over the bruises on your neck.

“Of course not,” Yoongi said, folding his arms. “We’ll keep her safe at a hotel.”

Jimin’s fingers intertwined with yours, and he gave you a reassuring squeeze.

“Let’s send a few of our bodyguard hyungs to keep her company.”

Hoseok, who had been talking to one of the managers, cut the call and flipped his phone closed.

“It’s already a nightmare on Twitter. We need to secure Y/N as fast as humanly possible. All the tabloids will be raining upon us like vultures soon.”

Namjoon’s leader instincts kicked into action, and before long they were smuggling you into one of their getaway cars.

“Here,” Jimin said, slipped out of his coat and draping it on your head. “Stay low, baby.”

Hoseok slid next to you, and just before he could slam the door shut, Jin’s veiny hand slithered into the crack.

He caught hold of your wrist and gripped hard, as if transferring all his strength over to you. No words were exchanged, but the weight of unspoken words was evident in his grip. You nodded silently, and he let go.

Without losing another second, Hoseok slammed the door and the car raced into the traffic, headed straight to a hotel.

─── ·❆· ───

#WEAREHAPPYFORYOU

#BBSGIRLFRIEND

#WELOVEYOUJK

#CONGRATULATIONS_OUR_JK

The bird app was full of Twitter trends talking about Jungkook’s bombshell. Hoseok’s phone kept buzzing every few seconds from all the posts and hashtags tagging his band’s shared Twitter handle.

He had removed your SIM card and broken it, handing you a new one instead. He had also signed you out of all your social media accounts. You had been essentially cut off from any media that would give your identity away.

“Baby, I’ve ordered room service,” Hoseok said, drawing the blinds closed. He did a routine sweep of the suite, checking for hidden cameras out of habit.

“Do you want anything, Y/N?” he asked, kneeling on the floor, and peering under the bed.

“I just want you to hold me,” you said, hugging your knees and gazing at his bent form.

He looked up, those soft brown eyes emanating so much warmth. Without a word, he dragged himself up and crawled into bed, pulling you into a gentle embrace.

His nose was warm against the side of your neck, and you inhaled deep breaths of his comforting presence. Hoseok had the innate ability to bring cheer wherever he went, and it was probably why your boyfriends had sent him to keep you company.

“Y/N,” he said, drawing the words out. “Don’t… please don’t resent us for this,” he said, and your heart broke.

“No, no, Hobi-” you said, turning slightly to look into his glistening eyes. “-I never will.” Taking his hand, put it against your cheek. “I’d never resent falling in love with all of you.”

He nodded and smiled happily, his fears crumbling to dust.

“Just- don’t let Jungkook ruin what we have,” he whispered, and you hummed in agreement. You had not for one moment regretted being with them. Jin had opened the doors wide open to so much love, much more than you had ever imagined.

─── ·❆· ───

It had been four days since you went into hiding. Your boyfriends took turns to sneak visits, it was a mystery how they managed to achieve that feat without getting caught by paparazzi. To be fair, the hotel you were sheltered in catered to celebrities all the time, and the staff were very discreet.

Your stomach rumbled, and you scratched your tummy. Whether it was due to your impending periods, you didn’t know, but you craved ramen. Especially the kind with tteokbokki – that was your favorite. Did you dare go down to the nearest convenience store and eat some?

Throwing Jin’s hoodie on, you let your hair loose under Taehyung’s beanie. Hoseok’s baggy pants were your favorite, they were oh so comfortable. Your sunglasses took a while to find, they were buried at the bottom of the drawer.

Looking at the mirror, you were satisfied with your camouflage and decided to step out. The walk to the convenience store took longer than you had expected. There wasn’t one in sight for a few blocks. It felt good to stretch your legs after so many days. But by the time you entered a store, you were already wondering if it was a good call.

The store was quiet. A bit too quiet for your liking. You’d have much preferred a crowded and noisy ambiance, it would have made you far less noticeable. The heavy oily smell of sizzling fritters wafted to your nostrils, interspersed with the earthy aroma of ground coffee beans.

There were a few girls around the ramen aisle, and you tried hard to be inconspicuous while scanning the rows for your favorite robokki brand. All went well, and you managed to get the packet scanned and billed.

You were waiting in line to use the hot water dispenser, wishing you’d stayed put in the hotel room. The girl standing before you turned with her cup of hot noodles, catching you smack in the eyes. The sunglasses flew off your face, and the hot liquid from her noodles splashed across your neck.

“I’m so sorry,” she shrieked, setting the noodles down in an attempt to help you.

“No, I- it’s okay,” you muttered, deciding to get the hell out of there. In your haste, you bumped into a few more people standing in line behind you.

“Hey,” a girl shouted, picking up your sunglasses from the floor. “You left this…”

You shook your head and tried to dart out of there, but she was quicker. She body-blocked you, extending her arm towards you. You mumbled a quick “Thanks” and tried to move, but she persisted.

“I’ve seen you…”  Suddenly, recognition dawned on her face. “You’re Jungkook oppa’s girlfriend.”

“Er, no,” you said, kicking yourself for ever leaving the hotel.

“Ji Hee! Soo Yeon!” she shrieked, beside herself in excitement. “Come here quick!”

The girls you had seen in the line circled on you, wondering what the commotion was about.

“It’s her! It’s Jungkook oppa’s girlfriend!”

They advanced on you slowly, peering into your shocked face.

“You?” one girl snickered in a mocking tone. “What makes you so special?”

By that time, you were trapped amid four girls, and no one else seemed to care about the bevy of girls in the ramen section.

Another girl took a section of your hair and flicked it in disdain, clicking her tongue.

“Just what did oppa see in you?”

The third one egged her friend on saying, “Good that you threw ramen over her, Min Ji!”

“Empty the rest on her too!”

You started to back away, but the girl behind you pushed you, sending you tumbling forward.

“Let me g-“

The girl had thrown the rest of her noodles on you before you even finished your sentence. Instinctively, your eyes closed for a split second, and you felt your hair being pulled. A weak slap managed to jerk your face sideways before the owner yelled out loudly.

“Hey, no fighting. Take it outside!”

One arm grabbed your hoodie, and another pulled you out by the hair. The one called Soo Yeon threw your sunglasses on the pavement and stepped on it, crushing the glass to bits.

Passersby began to stare, and you had no choice but to make a run for it. You were stronger than your assailants, partly because Jungkook had been your gym partner, and all those arm days came to your rescue.

It was no use to try and keep a low profile now that you were out on the road. Pushing one girl away, you landed a karate chop on the arm pulling your hair. The owner of the arm yelped in pain, and you barreled towards the third one, butting her torso with your head and sending her tumbling down.

You ran like the wind, not once looking back. You hoped fervently that no passerby had recorded the whole tussle on their phone. God, you’d ruin your boyfriends if the little spectacle ever went viral.

Dripping in ramen and terribly out of breath, you made it to the hotel’s private entrance. A car was pulling up, and a startled voice called out your name just as you pressed the elevator button.

“Y/N?”

Jimin bounded out of the car, startled at seeing your disheveled appearance.

“What the hell happened?”

─── ·❆· ───

“But why did you call this urgent meeting, Namjoonah?” the band’s executive PD asked, rolling the paperweight on the table. The conference room in the BBS building was where the group’s most iconic song lyrics were birthed. It had been a room that had witnessed loud arguments about line distribution, heartbreaks over missed awards, and collective joy over record breaks.

“Let the others arrive,” Namjoon replied, his jaw set in determination.

Jin came in soon, followed by a steady trickle of the rest of the band. All except Jungkook of course.

“The fuck is he?” Namjoon bit out, impatiently glancing at the digital clock.

“We’ll get down to business anyway, good that’s he’s not here now,” Jin said, putting an arm over Taehyung’s lap to stop him from fidgeting.

“Well then,” the PD said, dragging a notepad towards him. “What is the purpose of this meeting?”

Everyone looked at Namjoon in unison, expecting him to spell it out for them.

“We all want to terminate our contracts with the agency,” he began, causing the PD to inhale sharply and lean forward urgently.

“What?”

“… effective immediately,” Namjoon said, his mouth set in a straight line.

“But why? Have we failed you in any way? You can tell me your grievances! I can try and resolve…”

Yoongi’s slow drawling voice eclipsed his boss’s.

“We are willing to reconsider if…”

The PD’s eyes widened in urgency. “If?”

“If you terminate Jungkook’s contract instead.”

Right on cue, the door opened and Jungkook walked in, an air of lazy arrogance stamped all over him.

He slipped into a seat, swiveling on his chair from left to right just to spite the men who were glaring at him.

“Don’t own a watch?” Jin asked scathingly, earning just a cool raise of eyebrows in response.

The PD was still speechless from the earlier discussion, so he didn’t participate in the bickering over Jungkook’s lack of punctuality. The babble of voices grew louder and louder around him.

“I don’t care for your disapproval,” Jungkook was shouting, slapping his fist on the table, when the boss shook himself into action.

“Stop!” he yelled, his voice cutting through the cacophony.

He glared at the youngest member, effectively silencing him.

“Now, what the hell is this actually about?” He turned to Jin. “You! Eldest! Speak.”

Jin looked at Namjoon, who nodded encouragingly. He cleared his throat, unsure how to start.

“Well, you know about our girlfriend…”

The boss sighed. Of course, this was about you. He had been privy to the unusual relationship between you and his artists. And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t expected this rift to occur sometime or the other. He had had years of experience working with hormonal youngsters to expect otherwise.

“Personal conflicts cannot influence your contracts,” he said, eyeing Jin sternly.

“Yeah, tell him,” Jungkook drawled haughtily.

“And you, shut your face,” the boss spat out, furious that his multimillion-dollar band was fraying at the edges because of girl problems.

“Personal?” Taehyung asked incredulously. “Of course it’s personal! Our girlfriend got assaulted and harassed because of him!”

“Correction. My girlfriend,” Jungkook said, staring at Jin’s throbbing neck veins. “She’d have been safe with me if she hadn’t been kidnapped and left uncared for.”

“The nerve,” Hoseok shouted, getting to his feet angrily.

Jimin pulled him back to his seat, hissing sharply.

“Sit down, hyung. Don’t let him get under your skin.”

Jungkook leaned forward, his black eyes glowering at Jin.

“I want to know where you’ve hidden her.”

“You’ve caused her enough harm,” Yoongi snapped. “You were the one who violated her privacy. You showed her to the world. You are the reason she got assaulted. You jeopardized her safety.”

Jungkook pursed his lips in stony mutiny. He had no witty response to Yoongi’s allegations.

“Well, PDnim, we want Jungkook’s contract terminated immediately. We refuse to work with him,” Jimin said, getting back on track.

“If you terminate me,” Jungkook said, leaning on his chair and rocking himself gently, “I’ll sue you. Every one of you. I’ll sue the agency till there isn’t a penny left.”

─── ·❆· ───

You knew it hadn’t gone well as soon as you saw the disgruntled looks on your boyfriends’ faces. They had all come to your hotel room with sulky faces.

“Babe?” you asked, holding the coat as Hoseok shrugged himself out of it.

“No go, Y/N,” Jimin said, shaking his head. “PDnim can’t terminate him. And he threatened to sue the agency too.”

There had been only a slim chance of it ever working out, so it wasn’t a big blow. But it did sting your boyfriends to even think of working with Jungkook ever again.

Jin pulled you snug against his body, sighing heavily.

“We’ll figure something out,” you said, squeezing his big arms that were wound around your torso.

“Hmm,” he mumbled half-heartedly. “We got you some lamb skewers,” he said, burying his face into your neck.

“Oh damn it, I sat on it!” Namjoon whined, guiltily eyeing the now squished package he dug out of his coat.

Everyone giggled, a sudden ease settling amid everyone in the house. It felt just like old times. Well, at least partially.

“Fuck you, Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi said, pulling the package from his clumsy brother. “Now I need to operate on this and save it.”

Another wave of giggles. Somehow it felt like you would all survive the situation and turn out okay.

“Mmm, kiss me,” Taehyung said, sandwiching you between Jin and himself. “I love it when you laugh.”

He dipped his head, cupping your cheeks fondly. Jin pressed himself against your back, his hands moving up to cup your breasts.

“Yah, get a room!” Hoseok snickered, slapping Taehyung’s butt playfully.

You smirked in response, pulling Taehyung’s boxy lips towards your mouth, and leaving teasing licks on the corner of his mouth.

“Ah, don’t tease,” he complained, his outrageously deep voice sending shivers up your spine. Jin’s hands squeezed your breasts through your shirt, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Jin was a sucker for your tits, he loved playing with them. They were his drug of choice.

His bulge poked your back, and he slowly moved backward, taking care not to disturb Taehyung’s kissing. The others barely paid attention, they were lounging about, talking, or scrolling through their phones.

Jin was halfway through a doorway when Jimin’s surprised yell stilled him.

“Son of a bitch!” he shouted, furiously swiping on his phone.

Taehyung was just as startled, and you peeked around his head to see what bothered Jimin so much.

“What is it?” you began to ask, just as the others started to crane their heads over Jimin’s phone.

No one responded, so you pulled yourself out of the Jin-Tae sandwich and went to investigate. Pushing Hoseok’s head to the side, you stared at Jimin’s screen. And your jaw dropped to the floor.

‘BREAKING NEWS: BBS Band member’s girlfriend cheats on him with ANOTHER member!

Tap to see SHOCKING pictures!’

─── ·❆· ───

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[ramp-it-up]

It Takes Two

Pairing: Soft Dark!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings:  18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, cheating, breakups, rehab, recovery, deception, lies, celibacy, manipulation, wedding planning, semi-public explicit, rough, sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, dubiuous con (b/c of deception). Darkish! Scott Evans. This is not proofread!

A/N: @lovebittenbyevans gave me a great idea about still dealing with Chris when commenting on The One.  I thought that the Chris in that fic could really go left and get pretty Dark and dirty. And then.... 

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Chris cheating on Y/N …

That made me think up this fic. It is a sequel to The One. I hope you like it!

-----

You left him.

You flew to Montreal to surprise him on set, trench coat and lingerie and everything, and when you opened the door to his trailer, you saw Heidi on her knees giving Chris a blowjob.

You cussed him out, threw the ring back in his face and turned around and left. 

You blocked his number, moved out of his house and cut off all contact.  You were done.

The audacity of Chris being indignant about your warnings about Heidi when he was boning her all along.

You loved Scott, but you had to cut him off too after he tried to explain that Chris was drunk when you found him, and was going to rehab to deal with his issues. 

 It was classic celebrity bullshit and you didn’t have time for it.

You decided to center yourself, and swear off all relationships and sex. You wanted to purge your mind of all that weighed you down. 

You concluded that love, sex, and Chris Evans made you feel heavy as fuck. 

You moved to New York City. It was far enough away from Chris and your folks in Houston to give you some peace. 

You could still run your business and even think about a storefront.  It was the perfect location to live your best life, eat healthy, exercise, socialize and network. 

You fell in love with yourself, and you didn’t think much about Christopher Robert Evans at all.

Only every time you went on IG or Twitter, even though you blocked him and his hashtags.  And every time you went to Target, because his fucking movies and merchandise were everywhere. 

But you were cool, because you were doing you. You weren’t looking for love.

Of course, that’s when it found you.

Six months after you left Boston, you were at a natural beauty products expo in Brooklyn hawking your wares.  

Your business had taken off, with almost a half million dollars in sales, and you were being interviewed by a major news outlet of color when one of the correspondents caught your eye. 

You flirted, exchanged numbers and ended up going on a date. In another three months you were engaged to him.  

Kevin Watts made you feel safe, protected and loved. And he wasn’t just after sex. He was well off, and secure in himself and you.  It just felt right. 

When Kevin proposed, it was just you and him at your favorite restaurant. So romantic. 

Not like the rowdy family 4th of July party at which Chris asked you to marry him last year, in front of both your parents.

The laughter and the joy was just a little much. 

This was perfect. You didn’t miss Chris at all. You set about planning your wedding with a profound sense of peace and safety.  

You and Kevin were meant to be.

----

Chris was nothing without you.

Nothing but an award winning actor and producer, a multi-millionaire and founder of a major organization dedicated to bringing opposing political viewpoints together. 

All of that was cool, and it kept him going, but when he lost you, he lost his motivation.

Chris didn’t take any more roles after the sequel with Heidi, and he dumped her post haste. He did enter rehab and realized that he depended way too much on alcohol to dull his emotions. 

He got drunk off his ass when he was away from you because he missed you so much, and that led to him letting Heidi think that she could have him.

She’d had him physically, but never his heart. Or his mind. You owned those.

Chris followed your business closely, and was proud of your success. 

Of course he followed your social media on burner accounts and saw that you were doing well. 

You looked like you enjoyed being single and seemed healthy and happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more for you.

Except to be his again. 

Chris was just biding his time for your reunion, deciding to give you a year before he made his move. 

Now he felt every emotion, and he knew that you must still love him too.

You just needed to realize that your life would be even better with him back in it.

The year apart would be just punishment for what he’d done to you, and when you came back together, it would be better than before.

Everyone speculated on his bachelorhood, wondering if he would settle down, speculating and gossiping about who he was with, but he just played coy and kept quiet.

No one would know that he was yours and yours alone, and that you were still his.  

You just didn’t know it.

But you weren’t going along with the plan that you didn’t know about. 

About seven months into his self-imposed purgatory, a complication started popping up on Chris’s feed. 

Kevin. 

And a couple of months after that, a post of a proposal, in a restaurant.

The asshole probably didn’t even ask or involve your folks.  Chris was in a rage for a week. 

He almost started drinking again, but as he got ready to drive to the liquor store, Kevin’s face flashed on his screen doing a report on the election.

Instead of making him even more angry, he smiled, elated at the thought that came to him.

Chris had a new plan, and it was going to be even better than before.

-----

The last three months had been a whirlwind, and you never thought it would turn out this way.  

You were planning your wedding with your mother, discussing the seating at the reception, and you deciding where Chris Evans and his date would sit.

What a time to be alive.

Your mother only let it slip a couple of times that you should be marrying Chris, but for the most part, she kept it cute.

You explained to her that everything was squashed between you and Chris, and that he and Kevin had a great relationship, were friends, even.  

They’d bonded over politics when Kevin interviewed him, and became buds before Chris even realized that you and he were together.

Kevin knew, but he wasn’t the jealous type, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. Surprisingly, Kevin insisted that he be at the wedding. 

You thought about it and decided it would be the ultimate closure for Chris to watch you marry someone else. 

You were pleasantly surprised at Chris. He was handling this very well. He never tried to contact you, and according to Kevin, never even mentioned you. That was growth. 

Maybe you too could be friends. 

You felt good about it. So much so that you unblocked him and started a dialogue.

-----

Hi.

Chris saw your number come across his apple watch and he practically did a dance. It was 9:24 pm.  He picked up his phone and stared at the word, forcing himself to wait and not respond.  He went to work out.

47 minutes later, he responded.

Hello?

This time, he sat and waited for your response, which came 7 minutes later. 

I just wanted to say, I appreciate the way you're handling this.

Chris bit his lip, imagining you sitting there, thinking of what to say and staring down at your phone.

I’m sorry, I don't know who this is. You may have reached a wrong number?

He grinned at the play. 

----- 

Your heart dropped. Did he no longer have your contact?  

Why would he do that?

You don’t know why you felt some kinda way; you’d blocked him. 

Maybe he had changed his number and this was no longer his. Your heart was beating fast when you texted back.

Is this Chris?  This is Y/N.  I was just texting about Kevin Watts.

You anxiously watched the thought bubbles on imessage.

----

Even though you’d texted back almost immediately, Chris kept you hanging for just a couple of minutes. His dick was hard at the thought of communicating with you. 

Fuck, you were such an aphrodesiac.

Oh shit! Y/N I’m sorry.  I got a new phone.. You know how it is…

He knew you wouldn’t believe that. That’s why he said it.

You just stared at the phone. That was bullshit. You can easily port your contacts into a new phone.  You just never believed that Chris would really move on.  And you didn’t know why. 

You had.

You took a deep breath and continued.

Lol, No worries!  Just wanna say thank you for being cool with my Boo. I’m gonna turn in now. Check you later.

You tried to keep it light.

Chris ignored the ‘my Boo’ comment and focused on the thought of you in bed. 

You usually slept in a tank top or t-shirt and panties, and the top would invariably come off because you got hot. 

And then things would invariably get hotter if he was in bed with you….

Cool! Sweet dreams. Check you later. 😉

Chris made sure to exit your message thread and come back so that you wouldn’t see the thought bubbles that he saw when you kept staring at the text.

You  were lost in the times that Chris always used to say that to you, and when he whispered “Sweet Dreams” in your ear when he was far away, you always had wet dreams about him. 

And that wink. 

How could a fucking yellow emoji turn you the fuck on?

You reached for your bullet vibrator as you continued to stare at the interaction.

Chis had already started stroking himself when you told him you were going to bed. 

Knowing that you were thinking exactly what he wanted you to got him close, and he didn’t even have to pull up your old videos to get off. 

Not tonight.

-----

Over the next few weeks. you’d texted a few times, Chris ‘made amends’ and you accepted his apology. 

Then, you started texting more regularly, mainly joking around about sports, your Celtics/Rockets rivalry ever raging. 

From your perspective, Chris was always appropriate and respected your relationship with Kevin.  You were glad because you’d missed your friendship with him.

You felt giddy that your life was working out so well, and you traveled to your weekend getaway in the mountains for your bridal shower with a light heart.

Chris attended Kevin’s bachelor festivities with only a week to go until the wedding.

——

From Chris’s perspective, things were working out better than he’d hoped. 

Scoring an invite to the wedding was more than he’d imagined, and Kevin inviting him out to his Bachelor party was just icing on the cake.  

Maybe he could make Kevin slip up enough so that you would dump him before the wedding. Chris was hopeful.

If not, Plan B was the nuclear option. 

-------

Kevin was following the stripper’s ass like a puppy. He was lit on booze and pills (that Chris provided) and his guard was down.

Kevin considered Chris a friend. 

Chris just wanted to keep Kevin close because he was the enemy.

They were talking about you.

“She’s so fucking innocent. A sweeter angel there never was. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck.”

Chris almost choked on his water.

“I'm sorry. What now?”

Kevin just barreled on, ignoring the question.

“That's how I know I need to wife her.” He was talking to Chris, but still staring at the stripper.

“She would never chase the D. Hell, she won’t even touch mine. You know, her being celibate and all.”

Chris raised his eyebrow and smiled, which Kevin never noticed. Chris shook his head at your antics.  His little beautiful love.

“That’s why I was never pressed that you are her ex. I mean, I’m impressed you were with her as long as you were.”  

Chris just smiled and nodded, curious as to where this was leading.

“A man like you don’t have to put up with that. You must have punani lined up for days, bro.”

Chris’s heart lept. This dullard did not have access to your pussy. HIS pussy.  Never has.

Chris could fuck a lot of people a million ways from Sunday with one text. Except for you. And you were all that mattered. 

“I don’t know about all that.” Chris put on his best, ‘aw shucks’ act.

Chris was over the moon. You were still his. In every way.

Kevin kept tipping the stripper and was trying to call her over. He asked her about a private lap dance.  Chris’s eyes lit up. This asshole was making it too easy.

The stripper nodded and went back to finish up her set.  Chris walked over to the bar.

“Aye!” Chris summoned tha bartender over. 

“What can I get you, Sir.” 

“I don’t need a drink.  I wanna take care of my friend over there. He’s gonna have a lap dance with Star. It’s his bachelor party.  I need it to be extra special.”  

Chris started peeling off hundreds so the barkeep could see. 

“And I need him to have some keepsakes, so he’ll remember it always.” 

More hundreds came off. The bartender’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “That’s no problem.”

Chris flashed his famous smile.  

“Great, let me tell you where to send them. Wanna make them a wedding present.” He wrote down an address on a napkin. 

He was now on Plan C. And it was perfect.

------

A week later and the rehearsal at the church was more fun than you thought it would be.  You weren’t allowed to participate, just watch, as the result of an old wives tale.

The church secretary found you in the pews. She handed you a manila envelope.

“This was mailed here yesterday, probably an invoice of something for the wedding, I put it aside for you, sweetie.”

You smiled back at her and tucked it into your purse, not wanting to distract yourself with more wedding bills. 

Later, when you and Kevin were in the back of the car to the restaurant for the Rehearsal Dinner, you pulled it out and opened it. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“What the ENTIRE FUCK KEVIN!”  

You threw the pictures of him fucking a stripper in his face, startling him out of staring at his phone.

He picked one up, his mouth dropped open and started talking. 

“Look, Baby, Baby! I can explain!...”

“DO NOT FUCKING LIE TO ME KEVIN!  WE HAVE OVER 300 PEOPLE HERE FOR OUR WEDDING TOMORROW MORNING.” 

Kevin was on his knees in the back of the suburban. 

“Listen to me.. Listen.  I’m a man. I have needs…”

“Kevin, I swear to god….”

“Okay, okay… I admit it…”

You listened to him and your heart went silent.  You couldn’t even absorb what he said.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you straightened your dress and looked at him coolly.

“I am NOT going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a fun celebration of our wedding. I will decide later if it's still going to happen.”

Kevin was terrified.

“Right now, you and I will go into this place, greet our friends arm in arm and pretend that you are not a fucking narcissitic asshole who just ripped my heart to shreds. Got it?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Do NOT speak to me unless I speak to you first. Or it's automatically off.”

Kevin just nodded and cleared his throat.

You raised your chin and said, “Let’s go.”

-----

Two hours later, dinner was over, and you were lit on your way to TURNT.

Chris observed you, from the moment you entered holding hands with Kevin to the second you dropped his hand in disgust, to the way you held yourself away from him at dinner, but then put on a sweet face when everyone spoke, to Kevin, who was an absolute mess.

He figured you got the pictures. He suppressed the glee that was coursing through him.

But he couldn’t figure out why you were still going on with the charade.

Chris didn’t make a beeline for you like he wanted to, he just let the natural flow of the party lead you to him.  He was talking to your cousin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey you.”  

You cocked your head at him in that way and looked up at him, your smile brightening your face.  Damn, he had to plant his feet. You smiling at him like that made him feel faint.

You both heard your cousin say something, but you didn’t pay attention, caught up in your own orbit.

“Hey.”  

Chris crossed his arms, and you swore that he was recalling the time when you told him your forearms made you horny. Fuck. Chris made you wet and you were fresh out of fucks tonight.

“So, I can’t have a hug?”  

Chris shook his head at your line and opened his arms to embrace you, keeping a respectable pressure and distance until you hugged him tight and pressed close.  

He couldn’t help but pick you up, but he put you down immediately, cleared his throat and backed up, looking uncomfortable.

That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of his scent, his warmth, his HIM. You pouted unconsciously in your buzzed state.

Chris’s cock stirred.  That fucking mouth had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He was pleased that you were flirting, but he had to work the plan.  Couldn’t go too fast.

“You look… great.  I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. You will be a beautiful bride.”  

Chris broke his voice in just the right place to convey a wistfulness, making you think that he thought he lost you.

You felt bad.  Chris was so sweet.  You thought about him and you thought about Kevin. 

What was the difference between what Chris did and what Kevin did?  

And who did you have more chemistry with? Chris.  

Why were you even marrying Kevin?

You looked over at him looking at you and Chris like a lost dog.

You had no idea why you were marrying him.

“You look… Like Chris fucking Evans.” You two laughed.  

“I bet you’re fighting them off with a stick.”  You sideyed him.

Chris reveled in your interest in his sex life.

“Well, you know. After rehab, I’ve laid off the... physical part of my life. It only brought chaos, you know. I’m trying to be more… zen. Haven’t really had… that  for the better part of a year.”

He watched your eyes get big.  

“Word?”  You smirked. “So you…”

Chris held up his hand.  The one you knew he jacked off with.  You grabbed it and started drawing on his palm.  Chis pulled it back and cleared his throat again. 

You pouted again. Him being hard to get made you wet.

And Chris knew that.

“So… you ready to marry the love of your life?”

 Chris’s sea blues looked you deep into your cocoa browns. You were transported back in time.

“Yes.” 

 Then you snapped out of it.  

“I mean… the church is set up, the dress is bought, everyone’s here. I guess so.”

Chris laughed as if you were telling a joke.  

“I miss your sense of humor.”

You all made small talk and you caught up a little before you asked what you wanted to know.

“So what are you up to tonight?”

Chris looked at his watch.

“I’m actually about to go to my condo an turn in. I get up early to work out.” He felt your eyes sweep up and down his body, and he flexed even though he was fully dressed. It was true. Working out was a regimen. He wanted you drooling for him. 

“It’s the Marvel condo in Brooklyn?”

You nodded, remembering good times.

“So you have a car picking you up?”  Your mind was whirring.

“I actually have a rental.” 

You gulped your drink down, not daring to look in his eyes. Now, not only was your pussy wet, your nipples were hard as hell. 

“It’s in the parking garage down the block.”

“Well, I need to clear my head. I’ll walk you there, and you can drop me back?”

Chris looked down at your cute face, and then around the room, spotted Kevin and gave him a nod.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”  

You looked at Kevin, too.  You wanted to stick your tongue out, but you just took Chris by the arm and headed toward the door.

“I’m a big girl. Nobody owns me.” 

You looked up into Chris’s eyes and instantly regretted that statement. You played it off and pulled him through the door.

You didn’t talk at all the entire way, both of your heads deep in the clouds of you and him.  The chemistry was crackling the air between you.

You held on to his arm, and he let you, reveling in your touch.

When you reached the parking garage, Chris pressed the button with his knuckle and you got in, headed for the top deck.

You just stared at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chris chuckled.

“You’re dangerous, night before your wedding, you probably have cold feet, I’m here. Maybe you want to be sure that you’re sure…”

You cocked your head. “Who said I wanted to fuck you, Chris Evans?”

Chris cocked his head too, mirroring you.  “Who said ‘fuck?’ I was thinking you wanted to talk.”

He smirked and you scowled as the door opened.

Chris left you in the elevator stewing as he walked over to the black Tesla he’d rented. There was no other car on the deck.

You scoffed, and followed him out.

He was about to walk around to the driver's side door when you grabbed his arm before he made it. He stopped directly in front of the car.

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want me?”  You were hot, in more ways than one.

Chris leaned back against the hood.

“That’s not what we’re talking about, y/n. You’re getting married tomorrow. To someone else.”

You smiled and reached up, fingers grazing his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. You ran your fingers through his beard.  Kevin’s couldn’t compare.

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m single as fuck.” 

You stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, reveling in the moan that came from his throat.

Chris fought to control his urge and continued with his act. His fingers tightened around your waist and you thought this was it.  He turned you around in front of the car and then let you go, stepping back to pace back and forth.

“What? What is this? You’ve had almost a year. Kevin’s my friend. What do you want from me?”  

He advanced on you, and you had to remember to breathe.  He knew what you wanted.

“You. I want you, Chris.”

Chris attacked your lips with his own.  He took two seconds to savor them before he ravaged your mouth with his tongue.  You moaned and he broke from your mouth to re-discover your face, your neck, your cleavage.  He had to control himself not to rip the bodice of your blush pink chiffon dress.

He had a raging hard on, which you were feeling up, remembering how you always struggled to take him.  You wanted him to hurt you with it now.

“Give me this Chris… please…”

You were reaching into his pants, thumb caressing his wet, thick tip. He was leaking for you.

“Remember when you told me that I would meet you in a parking lot, and let you fuck me over the hood of your rental car? Even if I was with someone else?”  

You pulled your hand out and started sucking your thumb, closing your eyes at the taste of Chris after so long.  You pulled it out with a pop.  

“You were so right.”

Chris practically growled, grabbed your arm and spun you, pushing your back until your chest hit the hood of the Model X.  He leaned over you, pushing his covered crotch into the back of your dress, you moaned, wanting more.  His mouth was at your ear.

“Oh, so you want to be my cock whore on the eve of your wedding to someone else.”  You moaned because it was true.

“It’s been so long, Chris…”

He reached down in between you and flipped the flouncy skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the wind of New York City.  He looked at it for a minute, your ass always his favorite.

He caressed it with both hands, pressing into you with his thumbs.  

“So you want me to feel you up?”  He pulled his hand back and sucked one of them, practically jumping for joy when he tasted you. 

“You want me to pull your panties to the side….” and he did so, seeing your slick shine in the moonlight, and playing in it for a minute, tracing your lips and making you quiver around nothing.

The way you were moaning his name was everything right now.

Your face was pressed against the cool metal of the car, and it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

“Oh yes, Chris…. Please please yesss...fuck me… damn...stretch me out…”

Chris’s dick pulsed and he needed you around him. He moved close again and unzipped his pants, the sound making your knees weak.

He teased your cunt with his tip, collecting your arousal and smearing it not only around your pussy, but around your asshole.

“I know you’ve fucked him, but have you let him have your ass?  Am I still the only one…?”

Chris was still playing the game. 

“No, no, no… I haven’t let him… I haven’t given him anything. I’ve been celibate, too.  It’s still yours Chris. All of me is still yours.”

Chris almost came just hearing you say it out loud. He already knew, but hearing you say it was the shit.

He pushed into you with a grunt, and it was difficult.  He didn’t make it. Your cunt squeezed him out.

“Ffffuck, y/n. You’re practically closed down.  Is it true?”  

He started rocking his tip into your pussy slowly, both regretting and reveling in the fact that he didn’t stretch you out with his fingers beforehand.  Then he decided that he wanted you to feel this fully.

You couldn’t answer, only responding with moans has he painfully breached you. You welcomed it, though.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah… yes Chris.  Only you.. Since you and I….”  Talking about it and the fact that you were taking him again made you wetter, and eased Chris’s way, although your pussy was already stinging with his girth. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

You would never get over this and were so grateful for the feeling again.  

Chris watched you and had to grit his teeth to hold back from the reality that he was taking you again. 

He leaned over you, hot breath huffing in your ear, puffing and groaning as he fucked you slowly.  He was trying to feel every sensation. He wanted you to know that each and every millimeter of your glorious wet, tight pussy was his.

‘Ohhhh. Fuck Chris… YESSSS!”  Your voice echoed off the concrete walls, and Chris wanted you louder.

“This what you wanted?  You wanted your thick cock inside you again. Hunh?  You wanted me to stretch your walls and fuck you raw, hunh?”  He started speeding up in time with your moans.

“Such a fucking filthy cockslut for me, baby.”  Chris grabbed your neck from the back. “Why didn’t you let Kevin hit, hunh?”  

You didn’t answer, you just moaned and Chris smacked your ass, hard.

“Chris! Fuck!”  

You screamed. You missed his ruthlessness when you fucked, you missed him making sure that you knew that he knew that you knew. You belonged to him. 

 “Please!”

“I know why.” 

Chris stopped fucking you and pressed down harder on your back, reaching around to find your clit.  He swirled around it once, then started to press down slowly. 

“Because you would never beg him for that subpar dick that he has. You’re MY whore. You belong to me.”

He pressed down roughly, and you detonated around his dick.  He didn’t have to move.  Chris pulled out, leaving you cold and bereft.

You turned around and leaned up against the hood, panting and still desperate for him.  He stood there in front of you, dick sticking out of his pants, which were ruined, and still rock hard and ready. He was in a quiet rage.

“Why did you leave me?” 

You searched his face.  He sounded like he was about to cry.  You couldn’t quite see his entire face, but his eyes shone, bright with liquid.  You went toward him.

“You hurt me Chris.  I couldn’t stay. But let me take care of you now.”

You got on your knees in front of him, the hard concrete of the parking structure digging into your knees.  

Again, you welcomed the physical pain, distracting you from what you were doing to Kevin, to Chris, and to yourself.

Chris felt like he could fly.  You on your knees for him again was a dream. 

He took his cock in his hand, stroking it, while moving close to you. In no time, the back of your head was in his palm, and you opened wide to accept him, hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit.

“Ah, ah. Let me.”  

You looked up at him to see an evil grin shine down on you. 

Chris looked down on an angel trying to swallow him whole. He brushed the tears away from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You were perfection.

Moaning around him, you relaxed your mouth and throat and let him use you.  It was difficult, because you were out of practice, but you welcomed the letting go of all thought. 

You dripped down your thighs as Chris pumped into you, ready to accept what he had to give. 

After a few minutes, he stopped, and pulled out, grabbing you up to your feet. 

Then he bent down and grabbed you by the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him and trying to grind down on his still-erect cock as he backed you to the car.

Your ass hit the hood, and Chris reached between you to first tear your panties off. He put them in his pocket as he swiped his dick up and down your dripping wet folds.  

He looked back up to watch your face as he pushed inside you, now, an easier path to nirvana.

He pulsed as he watched the pleasure take over your face, with your mouth slack and your eyes glassed over. This was his main purpose in life and he almost lost it.

He brought his hand up to bring you closer, breathed into your mouth as he squeezed your throat. You were high instantly, and clamped down on his cock as your body was wracked with waves of pleasure.

Chris let your body descend back down to the car as he pumped his seed into you, his mind fantasizing that he was impregnating you. 

He shook your body as the last ropes of cum spurted out of him. He ran his hand down your body as he pulled out, zipping up his pants as you came back to your senses on the hood of the car.

You stared at the stars as you realized what you had done.  You sat up and adjusted your dress, gingerly climbing back down to the ground.  

Chris kissed you on the forehead, and this time you let him get into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger side and Chris reached into the glovebox and handed you some wet wipes.

“Fix your face. And your knees.” 

He nodded down to your legs, which were dirty from the parking structure floor.  He watched you wipe your knees off, but stopped you as you went higher.

“No. I want you to feel me all night long.”  

You wanted to be a brat, but you didn’t feel like sass right about now. You felt kinda terrible.

You got another wet wipe and fixed your makeup as best you could as Chris drove you back to the restaurant.

“Chris, I…”

“I know.  None of that meant that we’re back together.  That was for some kind of something, I dunno, something Kevin might have done?” 

You looked down, ashamed. Chris lifted your chin up with his hand.

“I want you to come to me on your own.  You’ve gotten that out of your system, and I’m glad to be of service.”  You looked up into his eyes and at his wry smile.

“But remember, you still have a choice. I’m here if you choose me.”  

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss in front of the restaurant.

You smiled at him and climbed out of the car, watching as he drove off.

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched you turn and go back inside. He fought the urge to turn around. It was better this way.

----

You walked in the restaurant, and pulled Kevin over to the side of the restaurant in dark alcove. 

“Listen. Do you still want to marry me?”

He looked you up and down, taking in your state, from the faint marks on your neck to your scuffed knees.  He knew exactly what was up.

You raised an eyebrow at him.  

-----

Three hours later, a sleepy Chris answered the doorbell in Brooklyn.

He smiled at you, in the Captain America t-shirt and jeans that you’d stolen from him after a photoshoot, looking like his favorite Disney princess. You.

You took him in, clad in grey sweatpants that hung off his magnificently cut body.  He blinked at you sleepily.

“The wedding is off. Chris, I….”

He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you in the brownstone and shutting the door behind you.  He had you pinned up against the wall as you tried to speak.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”  

You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs.

--- 

The next morning, Chris was on the phone with Scott.

“Yes, tell the workers at the warehouse to dump all the products….I don’t care, the river, the landfill…. Y/N can’t find out that I bought up all her stock…. We’re going to be married..... I know what the fuck I’m doing Scott. We leave for Aruba this afternoon. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

Chris hung up and turned to find you in the doorway, frowning and rubbing your eyes.  

“We’re going to Aruba?”  

You smiled and yawned, sleepily stretching.  That was all that you’d heard of the conversation.

Chris gave you his stunner smile.  

“Yes. It was going to be a surprise.” 

He reached down and swung you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom bridal style.

“Now let’s get in the shower.  You’ve been very naughty, gotta get you clean for your wedding day.”

You giggled as you relaxed in Chris’s arms. “It takes two to be naughty, Chris.”

He winked at you as he turned on the shower. “Don’t I know it.”

-----

I know it’s different. Let me know if you like it. Like, comment, reblog! 

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