#lisa's 5.5k follower celebration

[irrelevantwriter]

Feliz Navidad

Pairing: (Mayans MC) Angel Reyes x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, oral sex (female receiving), inappropriate use of a candy cane, a little hand job action, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluid, Angel being adorable hot as fuck, Angel’s ringed fingers (bc that shit is what keeps me up at night)

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: There’s a Christmas party at the Mayan’s clubhouse and Angel has a sudden bout of inspiration that includes a candy cane, EZ’s trailer, and his very persuasive nature your extreme horniness.

AN: This is my contribution to @ne-gans follower celebration. Congrats on the shit ton of followers! And if you aren’t following her, please do! She’s an amazing writer of all things smut. My chosen prompt was “Who knew candy canes could be so erotic?” for Angel Reyes from Mayans MC and it was way too much fun to write. Hopes this puts you guys in the Christmas spirit, and if not, at least in the Angel Reyes spirit because that man deserves. Please read, enjoy, and share with your friends! 

The amazing aesthetic was done by my fellow Angel thirst bitch and homegirl Ashley @negansdirtygirl22.

*Masterlist in bio.

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Feliz Navidad

Feliz Navidad

Próspero año y Felicidad

You hummed along to the music flowing through the speakers as you sipped from the eggnog clutched in your hand. The Mayan clubhouse was alive with holiday cheer and activity, a sight rarely witnessed within the walls. It had been a joint effort between you, the other wives, girlfriends, and of course Letty and Chucky, to bring some much needed spirit to the club. The last few months had been hard on everyone and you and the other women wanted to give the men something special to put their heavy hearts and minds at ease.  

That’s where the Christmas party came into play. There had been plenty of parties around the holidays in the past, but nothing actually dedicated to one of your favorite times of year. This celebration was all about the horrible Christmas music, the way too boozy eggnog, the tamales that one of Creeper’s tias made, and the much needed sense of familia that had been lacking as of late. And it seemed to be paying off.

The space was decorated, all thanks to Letty and Chucky, who chose some of the most heinous looking plastic garland you’d ever seen. But it was the thought that counted. And everyone was having a good time. People were eating, drinking, laughing, and even playing Loteria in a corner. That’s where your eyes settled as they landed on your boyfriend trying to cheat in the game of bingo. His younger brother sat to his right, though he’d been banned from playing because of his unique memorization abilities.

You’d made a move to join him when Chucky appeared in front of you, mouth pulled into a wide grin. The man was obviously having a great time, if the red lipstick caked on his cheek was anything to go by.

“Señorita…” He greeted as he held up a candy cane, one of the larger ones that he’d purchased for the tree set up in the corner. “Para ti.” He held the treat out to you and you laughed, taking it from him.

“I accept that.”

If possible, his smile got even wider as he bounced off. You shook your head and smiled, truly taken by the oddity that was Chucky. Never a dull moment with the man.

You returned on your quest to finally join Angel. You two had rode together in your car, but had hardly spent time with each other once you’d hit the door. You’d been making sure everything was in place, helping El Presidente’s old lady as much as you could. Now you could finally relax and take in all the hard work; the outcome making you feel warm and impossibly cheerful.

“There she is.” Angel announced to the table, gesturing to your approaching figure.

You maneuvered so that you could sit on his lap, your legs pulled to one side and tightly together to keep your red dress in place. His arms welcomed you in, immediately attaching to you like a magnet. His calloused hands landed on your hip and bare thighs, unconsciously caressing the skin there. The motion made a rapid zap of heat shoot up your thighs.

“Baby, tell the guys that I don’t cheat at Lotería.” His voice sounded slightly petulant, like he’d been accused of the crime and teased mercilessly for it.

You sat your cup down and let your fingers dance in his hair, his dark eyes gazing up at you with boyish charm and excitement. It felt good to see him so carefree. It made all the pain worth it. All the late nights and brushes with death; the time you spent worrying that he’d never make it home to you. That all got erased in these moments.

“He doesn’t cheat at Lotería.” You dutifully repeated for him to the table of men. He nodded in satisfaction, feeling as if he’d won. “But he does at Uno.”

A loud series of “Ohhhhhs” and deep chuckles filled the space as they reacted to your statement. Angel looked at you in faux betrayal, his eyes crinkling at the sides from barely subdued laughter.

“Really, querida? Just like that. Telling my whole business.” His ringed fingers landed heavy on your lap, edging the hem of your dress up slightly.

You giggled and burrowed yourself into his neck. “Sorry, baby.” You left a chaste kiss on his neck, knowing your comment would be forgiven with the gesture.

“Hmmm,” He hummed, eyes squinted up at you in scrutiny. “You can make it up to me.” He raised his brows in question, lip pulled into a devilishly handsome smirk.

You let out a girlish giggle, unable to help yourself when he flirted with you. You vaguely noticed that the rest of the table had gone back to their conversations and the game, no longer paying attention to the wrapped up couple.

“Oh, I will…” You teased with a bite to your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement, hands gripping your bare flesh just a little bit tighter in response. He ran his tongue over his own bearded lips and your breath caught slightly, feeling the alcohol and your sudden arousal start to take effect.

“How about right now?” He whispered into your ear, nibbling at the appendage. You closed your eyes for an instant, momentarily lost in the sensation before you remembered where you were. Angel had that kind of influence over you, and you hoped it never waned.

“And where would we go?” You responded breathlessly, only slightly embarrassed by your strong reaction to his minimal ministrations.

He smirked up at you, somewhat surprised by your willingness to go along with his mischief. Angel loved pushing your sexual limitations. He loved testing your boundaries and exploring all facets of pleasure. You felt comfortable enough with him that you found yourself ready to follow him to the ends of the Earth. Not to mention, the man owned your heart, fully and without condition. You were his in a way you’d never belonged to any man before. And you could confidently say the same thing about him. Angel was devoted to you. And he liked to show you just how much on multiple occasions.

“I got an idea.” He looked around you and to the room, inspecting your surroundings. He leaned up again and whispered into your ear, the grittiness in his voice making you shiver. “Let’s go outside.”

You nodded and wordlessly got up with Angel’s help, letting him lead you to the door and outside. No one called out for you. No one even seemed to notice your absence. Excitement pulsed through your blood as he gripped your hand and pulled you with him across the dirt lot. You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t stop him. You let him take control.

He opened the door of EZ’s trailer with a key inside of his leather. He helped you up the rickety steps, your black heeled boots not making the feat easy. He shut the door once you’d made it inside, the space cramped and narrow. EZ hadn’t been staying in the trailer lately so the place was a little dusty. You felt a small sweep of guilt at invading the space for your own personal debauchery. But seeing Angel eye-fucking you like he was right now made those feelings dissipate right out of the trailer.

“Have I told you how fucking hot you look tonight?” He asked from his spot near the small dining table. His intense study of you and his words made you instantly wet, your panties barely catching the residual.

“Yeah, you mentioned something about wanting to bend me over the counter before we left the house earlier. Does that count?” You replied with your own wicked smile.

He chuckled and stepped forward, hand smoothing down his whiskers. You’d started to see hints of grey within the strands and you’d let Angel know how attractive you found that as soon you’d spotted them. He was more than appreciative of your “compliments”.

“What’s this?” He pulled at your left hand, just now seeing the candy cane still clutched in your palm. You barely remembered you’d had it, too concerned with letting Angel get you alone.

“Chucky gave it to me.”

He took the red and white candy and pulled at the wrapper, removing it far easier than you would’ve been able to. He eyed the item closely and seemed to get an idea because his eyes bled into yours, the sizzling tension now undeniably boiling over.

He held out the long end towards you, near you mouth. You didn’t need to be told what to do. You wrapped your lips around the candy, sucking at the flavor. You stared up at Angel through your made-up lashes as you gently tongued the stick, the innuendo more than obvious. His breathing hitched when you took more of the candy down your throat, your mouth nearly meeting his fingers clutching the other end.

“Fuck…” He cursed once you finally released it from your clutches. He let the end dance over your lips, plucking your bottom one down and watching it fall back into place.

He pulled you to him with his other hand and captured your mouth. His tongue immediately sought entrance and you obliged. He tangled himself up with you, tasting the peppermint that now seeped from your mouth. Your hands gripped his kutte, desperate to feel his body pressed against yours.

You both pulled away, chests heaving. You could feel the heat around your mouth, the scratches of his beard burning your flesh. There were remnants of your lipstick smeared on his bearded lips, the sight fueling a possessive streak in you. He brought the candy cane up to his own mouth and sucked, intertwining the two of you.

“Come on, baby…” He grasped your hand and directed you to one of the cushioned benches. “Sit back.”

You had a weakness for Angel’s commanding nature in the bedroom. The way he would demand things of you while never expecting a response made you feverish. He knew he couldn’t get away with that treatment outside of the bedroom, but he more than catered to that desire when necessary. And he did it verywell.

You followed his lead as he gently sat you back against the cushion, kneeling in front of you. Your heartbeat accelerated, centering right between your thighs. His hands widened your legs and pushed your dress up, propping your heeled boots on his shoulders. He stared up at you with such intensity that you had to squirm against the seat to alleviate the ache. He caught the action and snickered.

“Relax, dulce. I got you.”

You nodded and bit your lip when his hands shifted your dress over your hips to expose the festive red lace panties you were wearing. You were exposed to him and you relished the unbridled lust that oozed from his pores and out onto you.

“Goddamn, you look good.” He swept a finger over your clothed slit, causing you to jerk. The material was damp, your body more than ready for his touch. “Feel good too.” He mumbled, finger still tracing your swollen lips.

You let out a whimper, his teasing having a more powerful effect than usual. You rocked your hips against his touch, encouraging him to explore you further. Angel was an impatient man, and while he was a master at teasing, he ran out of patience just as fast. He pulled the lace down your thighs and off, flinging the fabric somewhere behind him. You tugged at his thick locks and arched your back when his mouth finally connected with your opening. His hands split your thighs further apart, making room for his eager mouth. You threw your head back and moaned, feeling Angel lick up your walls. There was a slight cooling sensation and you realized it was the peppermint that lingered on his lips. The result felt amazing against your heated skin.

“Jesus, Angel…” You moaned when his lips attached to your clit. His face was buried in you, your slick coating him, and yet you felt as if he wasn’t close enough.

He pulled away with a smirk and suddenly brought the candy cane into your line of vision. You struggled to center back into reality and not on the neediness of your hunger.

“You trust me, baby?”

“Of course.” You answered without hesitation.

He nodded and moved back down to your spread thighs. “Lemme know if you want me to stop.”

You were about to chastise him for making you wait when you felt the pressure of something hard at your entrance. It was small, but firm and it slid into you easily. A low moan fell from your lips as it shallowly entered you and then traveled back out and up to your clit. Angel blew on your skin and the realization hit you. He was fucking you with the candy cane. The minty tingle left in its wake made you scratch at his scalp, unsure if you wanted more or not. The combination of dueling hot and cold sensations had goosebumps breaking out onto your flesh.

“You good?” He asked with a gentle lick to your weeping pussy.

You nodded, unable to find your voice as he continued to assault your clit with the candy.

“Want me to stop?”

“No.”

His mouth launched into a frenzied feeding as he opened you up to him. His tongue dived in and out of you, making your thighs clench around his head. That rush of lava-like heat started to consume your entire body as he worked you over, never stopping. His goal was clear as he sped up and you cried out when his mouth became too much. You stiffened and shook with each shock as you sailed through feelings of love, adoration, and immense pleasure.

“Shit, mi amor…” Angel rasped with amazement as he stared down at your now lax body. He didn’t let you rest as he pulled you into an upright position, locking your lips against his. You tasted yourself mixed with the sweetness of the candy and you found yourself wanting more.

His hands gripped your thighs and lifted you up, switching your positions. He now occupied your spot on the bench while you sat astride his lap, your needy pussy seeking out is hardened cock through his jeans. You pushed down on him, taking pleasure in the way he growled into your mouth. He began lifting your dress over your head and you aided him in removing it. His mouth immediately sought out your pebbled nipples through the red lace of your bra. You pulled him to you, your hands back to tugging at his hair.

He unclasped your bra and pulled it down and off your shoulders. You mirrored his actions by pulling off his kutte and unbuttoning his flannel. His tanned skin beckoned you, the black ink only fueling your want. You ran your nails down his chest, not hard enough to hurt but enough to let him know just how much you needed him in that moment.

“Take what you want, baby.” He taunted, directing your hands to his belt buckle.

You didn’t waste any time, pulling the buckle and button from its confines. He shifted his hips, helping you release his aching cock. At the sight of him you could feel your walls literally pulse, the phantom sensation of him buried inside you making you clamp down on nothing. You licked your hand, coating your palm with saliva. Cum was already leaking from his tip and you used it to pump his rigid cock.

“Fuck,” He cursed with his head thrown back. You took the opportunity to leave bruising kisses on his neck, suckling at the skin and making your way up to his ear lobe. You gently pulled at the appendage with your teeth, feeling his hips buck up into yours.

“Ride me.”

You followed his breathless request and slowly slipped him inside you. Your walls greedily accepted him, seating him inside of you perfectly. You both moaned in unison once you’d taken him in fully, his pulse synchronizing with yours. You sat in his lap, unmoving and soaking up the feel of him. He craned his mouth up, seeking yours. You met him in a slower, more tender kiss than the ones previous. He palmed your ass, rolling your hips against his. You took the hint and began moving, letting him slide in and out of you at a leisurely pace.

“Fuck, keep going.” He panted, fingertips gripping your hips and ass tightly. His mouth moved across your chest and collarbone, his hips attempting to meet yours.

The whine of the seat bench beneath you began to fill the space as you moved faster, chasing the fireworks that were sure to come. The trailer began to rock as you repeatedly fucked yourself on Angel’s cock. The girth of him burned, but the orgasmic bliss that came with it soon overpowered.

“Angel, right there…shit.” You rubbed at your clit as he fucked up into you, white lights starting to dance behind your lids, though that could’ve been the twinkling lights decorating the clubhouse that reflected in through the curtains.

“You gonna cum?” He nipped at your chin, his pace not letting up.

“Mmhm…” You moaned, biting into your lip to keep your enthusiastic screams at bay.

In the next moment, Angel had your hips halted in place above is cock as he rammed repeatedly against your cervix. You gripped his forearms, keeping your balance as he ravaged you. Your whole body reacted to the shift and when his hand manipulated your clit, you came undone.

You acted on impulse as you held Angel to you, gripped tightly in your quaking embrace. You no longer cared about being quiet as you moaned and whimpered, careening through space. He talked you through your orgasm, mumbling expletives and how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you. All of it added to the fire. All of it made both your heart and pussy flutter.

“Mi amor,” He called, his voice still sounding distant in your ringing ears.

You buried your face into his neck as he chased his own end. He grunted, his rings digging into your skin as he finally came. Thick warmth filled you, the feeling of being complete finally achieved. You watched his features twist in ecstasy and in a flash they were relaxed, his body following suit.

The distant laughter and music could be heard over the lot, the party still very much going strong. You both caressed and held each other, not in any hurry to detach. Angel touched you with a softness that made you smile lazily, the leftover oxytocin making you feel more connected to him. He mirrored your expression, caressing your neck and cheeks.

“Te quiero.”

“I love you too.” You confessed, shifting a strand of hair that had fallen against his forehead.

“Fuck...” He sighed tiredly. “Someone’s gonna come looking for us soon.”

“We can pick this back up at home.” You replied with a sleepy smile and wink. You shifted off his lap, hissing at the loss of him. His cum started to slip past your lips instantly and you rushed to find your panties.

Angel found them on the counter and helped you step into them, your legs still feeling unsteady. He smirked up at you once they cleared your hips, a lone finger sliding against your crotch.

“Quit, Angel.” You whimpered, pushing his hand away. He laughed, enjoying how sensitive you always got after sex. He was already dressed and pulling his kutte back on while you slipped your bra onto your shoulders and turned away from him. His fingers clasped the garment in place, hands smoothing down your back. He placed a soft kiss to your shoulder and reached for your dress. You took it from him and pulled it over your head, walking to the small vanity mirror above the sink to check your reflection.

After making sure your hair and makeup were still presentable, you turned to face Angel. He had the candy cane back in his hands, eyeing the sweet with a wistfulness.

“Where’d that come from?” You asked, having suspected the candy to have gotten lost during your activities.

“The table.” He motioned to the flimsy piece of furniture, the thing looking like it was on its last leg, literally.

You both moved towards the door, Angel opening it for you and taking your hand to help you down the steps. You took in gulps of the crisp night air, glad to be out of the stifling heat of the trailer. The thing surely smelled of sex and you made a mental note to air it out before you left.

“Don’t you think you should throw it away?” You gestured to the candy cane as you both walked back up to the clubhouse.

“Nah,” Angel shook his head and popped the thing right back into his mouth, a self-satisfying smile lighting up his face. “Think we should keep it. You can use it on me later.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You laughed as heat warmed your face. Thinking on where that candy cane had been moments before and how much you enjoyed it made you look away from his mischievous expression, the desire already making a fierce comeback.

“Who knew candy canes could be so erotic?” You questioned playfully.

The moment was interrupted by the clubhouse door opening as you both climbed the steps, EZ walking out with an unreadable look on his face. He took a moment to look between the two of you. Angel was sucking on the candy cane, suppressing a smirk, while you tried hard not to meet the younger sibling’s eyes. His gaze shifted to the trailer and he sighed, head shaking.

“Are you guys serious?”

“What?” Angel attempted in an act of innocence. It wasn’t believable.

“You find ‘em, boy scout?” Coco called from behind EZ, cigarette propped between his fingers. He joined you on the porch, eyes taking in the situation. He appeared to find the whole thing comical, leading you to believe that you did not look as put together and unassuming as you’d initially thought when exiting the trailer.

“You owe me.” EZ deadpanned to Coco. You watched in astonishment as Coco cursed and then reached into his pocket for what looked like a twenty dollar bill, begrudgingly handing it off to him.

“What the fuck?” Angel questioned, eyes jumping between the two men.

“I bet boy scout you guys left to handle business. He said you were handling it out here. He won.” Coco explained rather nonchalantly.

Angel scoffed out a laugh, male ego now inflated, while you rolled your eyes. “Are we really that predictable?” You asked.

“Yeah.” Both men replied in unison. They laughed and turned to go back inside to the party.

You went to follow when a hand stopped you. Angel tugged and motioned up, your eyes catching the mistletoe hanging from the wooden beam. You smiled and let him pull you in for a more PG-rated kiss than the series of impassioned ones moments before.

“Merry fucking Christmas, querida.” He whispered against your lips, dark eyes conveying emotion he didn’t have to voice.

“Merry fucking Christmas, baby.”

[cockslutpadalecki]

I promised I’d host another challenge when I hit 5.5K and seeing as it’s the holiday season soon, what better time to have one! (Plus my last challenge was literally a year ago so this is long overdue!) I cannot thank you all enough for following my lame ass, it means the world - especially when I go AWOL for nine months - the fact a bunch of you are still here is everything ❤️

RULES

Characters to choose from: Negan, Supernatural (Sam/Dean/John), Marvel (Steve/Thor), Mayans MC (Angel Reyes).

Any trope is fine. Whether you want ABO, sister!wincest, whatever.

You can pick multiple prompts and many people can choose the same prompt but it’d be cool to have a variance.

Can be canon or AU.

Dark themes are obviously welcome.

Any and ALL trigger warnings must be highlighted. Not much is off limits - except paedophilia/necrophilia and scat play (please for the love of god, don’t look it up).

Can be reader insert, 1st/3rd person, an OC or even from the character you choose POV.

Anything over 500 words needs to be under a cut please. Can be a drabble, one shot or even 100 words - if you can make it work, I’ll read it.

Paragraphs are your friend. I won’t read anything that is just one massive piece of text, it hurts my brain.

Can smut, fluff or angst (but you know I’m a slut for smutty goodness).

Would be nice if you’re following me, this is a follower celebration after all.

Send me an ask to let me know which prompt you’d like so I can mark them off as we go. Replies won’t be managed.

Use the tags #lisasxmaschallenge2019 #lisas5.5kfollowercelebration and don’t forget to tag me in your work!

Reblog to spread the word and most importantly, HAVE FUN. Don’t stress yourself out or commit to anything you feel like you won’t be able to complete.

End date is 1st January. Let’s see in 2020 the way we’ve been spending 2019... writing!

PROMPTS UNDER THE CUT

“I don’t care about tradition, you try and get me to kiss you under the mistletoe and I will punch you.” @elfinmox + Sam

“Remind me why I can’t kill the carollers?”

“My house, my rules. The Christmas music stays on.”

“If you throw that snowball you’re declaring war.” @shotsbyshae​ + Steve

“You’re kidding, right? I’m not going out in that snow storm!”

“You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?” @jewelswrites-ish​ + Sam

“Aren’t you just Santa’s Little Helper?” @multi-fandom-fanfiction​ + John

“What are you doing to that poor wrapping paper?”

“Exactly how much more hinting do I have to do?”

“Please tell me you aren’t searching my room for where I’ve hidden the presents.” @katymacsupernatural​ + Dean

“I thought we weren’t doing gifts!”

“How many Christmas sweaters do you own?”

“You’re wearing the Santa hat, whether you like it or not.”

“Just how much eggnog have you had?” @katymacsupernatural​ + Dean

“No offence meant, but I do not trust you to carve the turkey.”

“I don’t care about anything else, the pudding is all that matters.”

“Suck on my candy cane.” @crashdevlin​ + Dean

“I found a ‘Slutty Santa’ costume leftover from Halloween.”

“You’re on the naughty list…” @letsby​ + Negan

“Come sit on Santa’s lap.” @negansdirtygirl22​ + Angel

“Did you wrap this yourself?” @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes​ + Thor

“You’re drunk. I’m driving you home.” @footballffbarbiex​ + Dean / @crashdevlin​ + Dean

“I don’t do New Year’s resolutions.”

“You know, you’re supposed to kiss someone at midnight.” @evansrogerskitten​ + Dean

“Who knew candy canes could be so erotic?” @irrelevantwriter​ + Angel

Tagging for signal boots and potential sign ups: @negans-lucille-tblr​ @pink1031​ @princessmisery666​ @jewelswrites-ish​ @letsby​ @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​ @kittenofdoomage​ @crashdevlin​ @genevievedarcygranger​ @footballffbarbiex​ @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes​ @warriorqueen1991​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @irrelevantwriter​ @negansdirtygirl22​ @daisysouthmoore​ @maddiepants​ @catharticallysarcastic​ @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @itsjustafeelingthatihave​

[avintagekiss24]

—you can pretend you don’t miss me; bucky barnes

pairing: tfatws!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4049

warnings: 18+ ONLY, knife kink, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, tiny bit of blood, attempted murder

challenge: @cockslut-padalecki a decade under the influence “what if I can’t forget you? I’ll burn your name into my throat”

request: bucky barnes + “i have a feeling i’m gonna get lucky tonight” + orgasm denial

author note: surprise! it didn’t take me two months to write something sjsksjs please enjoy fic #3 of my 5/5.5k follower celebration! also another quick congrats to lisa for hitting 10k!!

inspired by this art ; gif by @zacharylevis ; line divider by @firefly-graphics ; title inspired by billie eilish bitches broken hearts

The taste of bourbon and cigarettes is on his lips and tongue as he licks into your mouth. He moans into you, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh as he hooks your leg right around his waist. Your back is up against the heavy door of his apartment, fingers in soft brown hair, wet lips smacking and sucking, teeth nibbling on his swollen, red bottom lip. He laughs, relaxing into your kiss and lips and teeth as he anchors your weight in his metal hand, flesh hand rummaging in his almost too tight black jeans for his door key.

There’s a smirk on your face as you pull away from him. Your lips are still touching. Foreheads resting on one another's. Eyes a little shy, only connecting for fractions of seconds before they’re on the floor or a pair of lips. The jingle of keys fills the hallway, then the thunk of one as it pushes into the slot and stops hard against the rusted metal of the lock. The deadbolt slaps back into the door and with a push of his foot, and a little help from your weight being pinned against it, the swollen door scrapes against the frame as it pops open, swinging back into the wall.

Bucky slips his hands down your sides, grips your hips tight as he starts to back you inside. They stay there, those hands, as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours and dip down to your mouth where he licks his lips and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, like he’s fantasizing about wanting to feel them again. A metal hand cups your face, his palm warm as he sweeps his thumb along your cheek.

His tongue sneaks out just before your lips meet again to tease the roof of your mouth before he grabs your top lip between his. You both inhale deep, breathing each other in, a concoction of soft and sweet and smoke and warmth.

You’re not sure who moves first, whether Bucky is pushing or you’re pulling— probably a little of both— but you’re inside of his apartment before you know it. The door slams shut. Your leather jacket slips off your shoulders and hits the hardwood floor as you back further inside.

Fingers and hands are everywhere. Yanking at shirts, popping buttons, pulling zippers as lips get more desperate. You back into a set of bar stools, knocking them around just a little as you stumble and catch yourself, throwing your head back as laughter spills from you. Bucky pushes out a breath and a small laugh while he eyes you all hungry like as he pulls at his boots.

You tease him a little, putting those feminine wiles to good use— tilt your head, twist your hair around your fingers, push your tits forward. With your shirt crumpled on the floor, the titanium bars pushed through your nipples catch the soft pink, blue, and purple lights of the neon signs pouring in through the kitchen windows through the sheer mesh bralette covering your chest.

Bucky looks a mess. Hair all over his head, pants open— the band of his Hugo Boss boxers peeking out— plain black t-shirt now in a rumpled pile on the floor. His footsteps heavy as he stalks towards you. He stops short, wraps black and gold fingers around your wrist and yanks, collecting you again to crush your soft body against his hard one.

You tilt your head up towards him, eyes turning to slits, lips brushing against his as manicured fingertips push just inside his jeans. Soft tips sweep over a rigid cock, the size making a sly smile curl onto your face. This one is full of surprises.

“Well well,” you purr, kissing him quick, wet and loud, never taking your eyes off him, “I have a feeling I’m gonna get lucky tonight.”

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, a breath pushing out through his nose as a lopsided grin paints his handsome face, “Aren’t you a smart girl.”

You curl your fingers around his neck, digging the tips into his messy hair and draw him in— dragging the wet velvet of your tongue over his mouth real slow, watching as his eyes close, “You, bed,” you instruct, “Me, bathroom.”

Footsteps fill the quiet, surprisingly lived-in apartment, the clicks of your heels and his heavy thumps as he pulls you towards the bed. He just points off to his left as he falls onto the mattress, resting a leaden head on a wide palm as he settles in. Eyes blinking at you slow as you disappear behind a white door.

The bathroom is immaculate. White. Sterile. Nothing out of place— very military of him. You undress slowly, removing your shoes one by one before moving on to your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a see through bra, waist high panties— and a black leather ankle holster housing your six inch, hand crafted, butterfly knife.

You lift your foot, place it on the white countertop and slip the blade from the holster before carefully, quietly undoing the straps. Taking a deep breath, you stand up a little straighter, roll your neck and shoulders as you stare back at your reflection. The pony tail comes down, silky hair falling over your shoulders and down your back— best fifteen hundred bucks you’ve ever spent on yourself.

Gotta look good on the day you finally get to kill the Winter Soldier.

With a soft flick of your wrist, the blade flips out and you can’t help but run a manicured finger over the edge, pressing the sharp point into the pad. You find yourself in the mirror again and tilt your head a little as your brain goes a little empty— except for maybe one thought.

You wanna fuck him. You’ve earned it, and regrettably so, you find Bucky Barnes sort of interesting. Funny. Engaging when prodded a bit but still somehow deadpan and aloof.

His huge cock doesn’t help matters either.

You sigh, oh well.

The door clicks as you open it and pass through. You keep your hands behind your back as your body softens— sinks into itself a little. Hair falls in your face as you feign shyness, batting big, soft brown eyes and sinking your teeth into an ample bottom lip.

Bucky took the time to get completely naked. Hard cock gripped in his flesh palm, slow drags from the base to the glistening tip.

God, you really kinda wish you could fuck this man.

“Come ‘ere.”

An outstretched metal hand accompanies the gentle beckoning. You move soft, a small sound of your feet sinking into the carpet before you reach out with your empty hand and slide it into warm metal, using the sturdy grip to hoist yourself up and over his stomach.

His hands find your hips— big, warm, manly hands. They slip upwards just a bit to grip the soft of your sides. Move down again for thick fingers to graze over your ass and tickle the backs of your naked thighs. Still, you palm the handle of your knife tight and high, in the small of your back, as you use your free hand to push the dark strands of hair out of your face.

Bucky’s eyes meet yours when his fingers push between your parted legs, finding a wet spot in those mesh panties. You inhale deep, blinking back at him as his fingers keep a sweet little rhythm back and forth against your cunt. Hips defy your brain and push forward into those fingers— wanting just a little more.

Maybe you can wait… maybe until after...

You lean forward before your brain can finish stringing the words together— you have to or you’d lose all your nerve and give into that weak devil telling you to taste the sin. Let him spread you open until it hurts. Your mouth finds his hot and swollen and you kiss him hard, so hard he groans into it. You pull back just enough to lick his mouth again, eyes bouncing between his.

“What’re you waitin’ for, sweetheart? You need more of an invitation than this?” Bucky asks low and slow, pushing his cock right into your ass as his fingers creep inside your panties.

You smile, real nice and sweet before swooping the arm from behind your back to push the knife into his neck, “Oh nothing, baby,” you purr, “Just waiting for the right time to kill you is all.”

You lean back a little to see his face, tipping your head to the side. He’s pretty calm for a guy who’s minutes away from bleeding out on his own bed— but he is an assassin. Not much can shake him— should shake him.

Bucky blinks slow at you, hands coming to rest by his sides. His eyes don’t widen, pupils don’t dilate. Steady breathing stays just the same— he doesn’t even shift uncomfortably. Just blinks back at you. Slow. Easy. Without a fucking care in the goddamn world.

An angry heat blooms across your skin at his nonchalance as the seconds tick by. Your chest starts to rise and fall a little harder. Your eyes start to bounce between his as you suck your teeth in indignation, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

A blink is all you get.

“Of course you don’t,” you hiss, “Why would you? I was just one of many in the wrong place at the wrong time, right?” Your grip on the handle of the knife tightens as you push it harder against his skin— this time he swallows, “Who cares how many innocent lives you’ve destroyed as long as you got what you wanted.”

He still doesn’t say a word, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react. Just stares up at you as you crack, laughing angrily as you take his silence mockingly, “Well, I couldn’t fuckin’ forget you. Eight years. Eight years of living in absolute terror that you’d come back for me.” You’re seething now, eyes wild, breath coming harder and faster than the one before it, “Constantly looking over my shoulder, jumping at every bark of a dog and clink of keys and slam of a car door outside my apartment— do you know how it feels to live like that? Huh? Expecting to die every second of every hour of every goddamn day?”

Another silence drops over the room and it’s just the two of you staring at each other. You’re not even sure why he isn’t fighting back— why he’s just lying there and then it hits you, like a ton of bricks.

Of course he knows what it’s like to live like this. He’s used to it.

A trickle of blood slips down the side of his neck, the singular plop staining the white sheets below, “I’ve never thought about after— once you’re dead. What if I can’t forget you? I’ve spent so long hating you— it’s, it’s like by killing you, I’ll burn your name into my throat, you know? You’ll always just,” you tilt your head, digging the knife in a little harder, “Be there. With me always.”

The funniest thing happens as soon as the words slip through your teeth. His lips start to twitch. Curl into a smile— one where those pearly whites are on display— and then he’s laughing. Like someone just told a fucking joke.

It makes you recoil. Makes you squint and has your face twist in confusion, lips separating as a heavy breath passes through.

“Well,” he finally purrs, the laughter rumbling through his chest dying down, “Go ‘head, honey.”

When you hesitate, he pushes his chin forward, arch’s his head back to put his neck on full display, “Come on, baby. Don’t get my hopes up and not follow through.”

“You’re insane.” You hiss.

He leans up a little, another smile curling onto his lips, “In this business, you gotta be.”

The words stick in air like glue as he settles back into the pillow below his head, blue eyes twinkling underneath the soft neon lights pouring in through the windows.

He’s fucking with you. Just do it. The words echo, knocking around your brain as you stare down at him, blade still shoved into the crease of his neck. Another drop of blood plops onto the sheets below. Your lip snarls slightly, eyes narrowing as heat flashes across your skin again. He’s mocking you. After everything he’s done, all the pain— the fear.

You inhale deep, grip the handle so hard your nails dig into your palm and instinct takes over. The hatred, the built up aggression and vitriol guiding your hand, about to slash that pretty thick neck wide open. You are more than ready to see a deep red stain white sheets and blue eyes lose all of the life he’s built into them and fade away into nothingness. Just when you’re about to make your eight year long dream come true, it all flashes before your eyes.

Within a blink— half of a blink— you're off his lap, slammed up against the wall opposite the bed, warm flesh hand around your throat. You gasp hard, nearly choking on the air you can’t grab as you start to struggle, slapping at his face before swinging the knife wildly.

Bucky catches your arm with ease, squeezing your hand until you’re grunting and hissing in pain, grip relaxing around the metal. You blink again, and your knife is now pressed against your throat as you growl, struggling to no avail.

“You’re lucky baby,” he mutters, “Nobody survives that long while holding a knife to my throat.” He kisses you hard, digging his teeth into your bottom lip to drag it back with him when he pulls away, “You’re a cutie tho, so, you get a little reprieve.”

He leans back in real close, eyes roaming along your face as his head tilts, breathing easy. Staring back at him, lip curling again as you huff hard, angry breaths beating out of your nose. But your hands have come to rest on his arms. You can feel the blood coursing through the vein that’s popped out right down the center of his bicep. Your fingers flex around metal and muscle, goosebumps rising on your skin as the cool air conditioning tickles hot skin.

“Of course I remember you,” he whispers after a long time— too long, “I remember each and every face of the last seventy years,” his eyes bounce between yours, “I knew exactly who you were as soon as you popped up on that stupid dating app.”

Another sharp influx of air squeezes out of your throat when he drags the tip of your knife underneath your chin, down the length of your throat, down your chest. Slips it along your stomach before pushing it into the mesh that covers your chest. A flick of his wrist and you’re bare, the thin material giving way to the blade.

Your chest heaves, eyes wide, lips parting as the tip of that blade scrapes along your skin— right between your tits. Brown eyes drop to his red, wet lips quick, then shoot back to focus on his piercing blues.

“I wasn’t sure at first what you wanted,” he whispers, flattening the blade over a piqued nipple, clinking against the metal bar piercing your thick flesh, “If you recognized me after all this time— I mean, with the new hair and everything.”

A hum sounds at the back of your throat, trembling and airy and Bucky picks it up right away— another smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The fingers around your throat peel away slowly but he watches you all the while, fire behind his eyes as he tests you.

“You’re a good little actress,” words still soft but full— maybe amazed that you were able to get as close as you did, “But you knew that already, huh?”

You swallow hard, eyes tipping down to watch his fingers drift down your arm. Light little touches, “You have to be when born— ah,” the edge of the knife catches your thick nipple as he slides it across your tit.

He kisses you again, real sweet this time though. Tongue sweeping along your bottom lip as both his encase it, “I’m sorry baby. You were saying?”

Flesh fingers dance along your stomach, sweeping from hip to hip. Just the tips. Feather light drags so you don’t forget about them. His large palm grips your hip, pushes his thumb into the meat of your side and you have to close your eyes— clear your throat to center yourself. To remember why you’re there in the first place.

Sweet breath washes over your face as Bucky rolls your left nipple now into the edge of the blade— kissing you again when you shriek at the quick, sharp pain just to eat the sound. You lose the fingers around your hip, only to find them again suddenly, jumping in slight surprise as calloused pads cup a soft, wet cunt.

Bucky’s still blinking slow, fingers pushing along a swollen clit, massaging. He’s real close now, prickly cheek rubbing against yours, teeth nibbling at your jawline.

Your own fingers dig into his biceps as your eyes flutter with the tightening of your stomach. A warmth starts to spread through your veins. Hips find a little rhythm against his hand. A sharp prick here and there as he circles that knife— your own damn knife— around your tits and back up to your throat again.

That’s when he sinks two long, thick fingers into you, not stopping until his palm is flush with your sticky folds. His thumb pressed against the sensitive little nub at the center of you.

His eyes are slits, head tilted up slightly as his mouth hangs, dragging in the air you expel. Only then does his fingers start to move, delving in and out, thumb still pushing along your clit.

“God,” you pant, pushing your head upwards against the wall, “Mmm, I can’t—” his fingers push deeper and the words are gone, like they never even existed in the first place, “Fuck.”

Bucky pushes the smooth blade against your throat just a little harder— the sharp edge forcing your chin upward a little more. He flattens his thumb against your lower stomach, starts to pull his fingers, not push them. The heel of his palm starts to slap against your skin as you buck into the motion.

Your hands slip up to his shoulders, both arms wrapping lazily around either side of his neck. The soft hum from earlier is replaced with high pitched whimpers and breathy little squeaks. Bitten off words fall from your lips as you squirm against the wall, wanting him deeper, faster, harder— which he delivers without you having to say a word.

He grabs your cheeks, pinching hard as the blade flattens across your pouty lips. A weak, desperate whimper sounds, all your resolve gone. Whatever leverage you thought you had completely wiped away— and it makes a wicked grin spread on Bucky’s lips.

“You close, baby? Hmm?” he hums, licking at your mouth again, “Oh sweet girl, you wanna come, huh? You gonna come for me?”

He strokes your clit with the tip of his thumb, your walls clenching around his fingers. The gentle encouragement continues, real soft and between sweet little kisses all over your face. A dull ache settles in your belly, a thick heat starting to stir within. Your heart leaps into your throat as your hips pump with Bucky’s hand, the release so close you can taste it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, “‘m gonna fuckin—”

“You want it? Huh? Want me to make you come honey?”

You squeak in response, nodding fast as you bite down into your lip, “Please. Please.”

Heat ripples through your body as you start to tremble, legs going shaky and weak. Muscles start to burn all over as you tense hard, coaxing the sweet agony swirling in your stomach. You cry out, his name hanging on your lips as the rush of it all pushes higher and higher.

Just as you start to unravel, just as the coil begins to snap, his fingers are gone. Pulled from your cunt and clit. You’re whipped around his body, forced back towards the bed. Your mind racing— maybe you’ll be getting some of that cock afterall.

Or not.

Metal slaps around your wrist, bites into the skin as it clamps down, the clink of teeth sliding into the lock housing ringing in your ears. You snap your head towards the sound when it all finally connects in your murky brain. The horror of realization floods into your veins— blood running cold as your stomach drops to your feet.

The handcuffs clink against the dark metal headboard as you fight against it, “You bastard! You fuckin’ piece of shit, let me go!” you shout, thrashing your arm back and forth, pulling as hard as you can, “Goddamn it— let me the fuck go! I’ll fuckin’ kill you, you bast—”

“Ooph,” Bucky jests, octave rising as he slips back into his jeans, “You got a filthy little mouth on you.”

“Fuck you!”

He scoffs, laughing gently as he pulls his black shirt back over his head. The bastard even starts to hum as he plops down on the edge of the bed, taking his time while he pushes his feet back into his boots and shrugs into his jacket.

You keep sharp eyes on him as he stands and turns to face you, dangling a pair of small silver keys next to his grinning face before he tosses them somewhere deep in the apartment. You swipe at him with your free hand as he approaches, just barely catching his chin as he kneals down, “I’m gonna kill you,” you smile, a blind rage engulfing every pore, every muscle, every ounce of your body.

Bucky shrugs, “Not tonight, sweets. Listen, tell Sam I’m sorry about the mess, hm?”

“Who the fuck is Sam?” you hiss.

He looks down at his watch, “Yeah, he should be home in about an hour. It’s not everyday you walk into your apartment to find a naked, wannabe assassin handcuffed to your bed, so, give him my apologies— wait, you know about Sam, right? The new Cap, they made it official a couple of weeks ago.”

Your jaw clenches as you stare back at his smiling face, more humiliation pouring through you as you realize he’s had you pegged the entire goddamn time.

“Oh baby,” he laughs again, “You didn’t honestly think I’d take you back to my place, did you? I don’t even know you— you kids today are so reckless.”

Blue eyes bounce between yours for a few seconds before he glances down at his hands, works them back into his black gloves. He pulls your butterfly knife from his back pocket and starts to play with it, flicking his wrist to close it, and then open it over and over again.

“I’m keeping this,” he offers as he locks it closed and slips it back into his pocket, “Maybe you’ll find the balls to try and take it from me.”

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head, “I’m taking it back.”

Bucky stands, the sound of his heavy boots sounding through the apartment as he moves towards the door, “I look forward to it kiddo.”

***

If there’s one thing you respect about Bucky Barnes, it’s his attention to detail.

Right on the dot, exactly one hour later, you snap your head towards the front door as keys start to jingle in the lock. With the bed sheet wrapped loosely around your torso, you straighten up against the wall, eyes wide as you watch an exhausted Samuel Thomas Wilson walk into his apartment.

“Oh, fuck!” he shouts, jumping slightly and dropping his bag to the floor when he locks eyes with you, “What in the fuck?”

“I can explain… sort of.” you start, holding up your hand.

You apparently don’t need to. Sam’s phone is to his ear within seconds as he starts to pace back and forth, “Bucky, this is not why I gave you a key to my mother fuckin’ apartment!”

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 7: finish strong

previous || m.list || playlist

pairing: college hockey player!mark x college figure skater!reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 5.5k

warnings: swearing

author’s note: it’s finally here, the final chapter :’) I’m both sad and relieved as this is my longest written work ever. huge shout out to my beta readers @skiimmiilk and @writing-frog for sticking with me and making this story SO much better. also, please watch this clip which is the choreography being performed in this chapter. I own none of it or the song it is being performed to! with a full heart, I hope you enjoy chapter 7, finish strong (copyright morkleemelon, all rights reserved)

Soft clusters of snowflakes drift all around, brushed up from their pine-tree-seats, swirling a playful circle around the couple sitting by the lake side before settling in their hair. The early morning cold doesn’t seem to bother them as they sit still, mitten in mitten. It’s picturesque, pristine.

You don’t have to be able to see yourself to know this.

“We should head down to warm up soon,” Mark whispers, cozying into your side.

You hum, leaning your head on his shoulder, feeling the stray snowflakes melt against your cheek. The two of you had come out to your favorite spot to calm your pre-competition nerves, agreeing to stay until the sun reached the tip of the frosted trees. Undoubtedly, from any angle you so choose to look from, that point has been far surpassed and the happy sun beams gold upon the winter landscape.

Bob Ross would have loved this.

“We should,” you agree reluctantly. Giving him a peck on the cheek, Mark shudders at the cold feeling of your lips on his skin. He crinkles his reddened nose, but doesn’t move to stop your second, your third.

Laughter carries across the frozen expanse as the two of you race back to his car.

One hand on the wheel and the other in yours, Mark does his best to strike up different conversations to distract you. You squeeze his hand in appreciation - if anything, he’s the one who should be more nervous for tonight, being a first time performer and a hockey player and all.

You guess it does make sense since he’s used to being in the spotlight all the time, especially from having biweekly games in front of similar crowds. You weren’t exactly a stranger to being in the spotlight either, but the winter festival at Seoul University tends to be a huge commotion, gathering crowds from all around the city. Families, children, recent graduates to senior alumni all come to fill the campus to the brim and there’s no doubt you’ll have quite the audience to impress.

But it’s thanks to Mark that you have fortunately developed a healthy sense of self-confidence, perhaps even enough to convince yourself that there’s a fifty percent chance your performance will go without catastrophe. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll finish the routine without breaking your face in front of 15,000 people.

You managed to sneak a look at the competition sign-ups earlier, and unsurprisingly, are the only participant who will be competing with a non-figure skating partner.

Nonetheless, you study your boyfriend’s face unbeknownst to him. The eyes you grew to love so much, trained on the road in front of him. The slope of his nose and the way it connects to his pouty lips, everything, all the way down to the natural determination rooted in his soul makes you have faith in him despite the disadvantaged odds.

Night after night, practice session after practice session, you worked your butts off to perfect the pair skate choreography the best you could.

After the night that Hillary and her accomplice, Seojung, were caught and sent to jail, the two of you had several deep talks, ultimately vowing to keep no more secrets from each other. Whatever it is, good or bad, you agreed that the other would want to know.

Your relationship flourished as you were no longer held back by your anxieties. Public dates, hockey games, sleeping over at each others’ dorms, you let yourself fall one hundred percent into happiness, unfazed by the rest of the world.

Like a dream, the rest of your life slowly fell into place too.

Yuna is doing a lot better. She’s abandoned the crutches, opting to power walk around in only the boot and cast. Ten follows her around like a puppy, carrying her bag and her crutches in case she ever wants them. You’re so proud of her and you’re really glad she has someone like Ten around to dote on her. Every girl should have a simp.

Lisa and Hope were not happy (to say the least) that they did not get to join the gang at ‘the police station party’. Their words, not yours. Lisa threatened to go to the Seoul Police Department to throw hands with Hillary only to find out the two Lovelee’s presidents have been moved elsewhere, to a more isolated confinement, for ‘bad behavior’.

Not my problem.

The court date approached quickly and the jury ruled the two girls would spend their lives in prison without bail. Additionally, the school dean, more afraid of a lawsuit than anything like student lives, abolished the Lovelees fanclub and updated school policy to criminalize such stalking behavior. The eight of you celebrated the amazing news with lots of champagne (without salt this time) and whilst incredibly tipsy, Jeno told Lisa that he liked her.

You don’t want to get into how loud the screaming was in the suite as Lisa grabbed his face and kissed him. The most efficient thing to do is to reveal what all of you received afterwards: four noise complaints.

Mark pulls into the athletic center lot before you know it. He senses your persisting nervousness and turns towards you, enveloping your other hand in his larger ones.

“You are,” he states, shaking your joined hands up and down with every word, “the most beautiful, wonderful, talented woman I’ve ever met”.

You flush in embarrassment, dropping your gaze, but Mark dips his face down to keep eye-contact. He looks so goofy and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m serious, babe,” he says through a smile, “nobody else here deserves to win more than you do. You made our choreography all by yourself and even taught me, a guy who can’t make eggs, how to figure skate. We’ll do our very best, y/n, so whatever happens, know that I’m proud of you and I love you very much”.

An ‘aw’ draws from your lips and you lean forward to press them sweetly against his.

People walk past your parked car, but you don’t pay them any notice.

Actually-

“Mark, I think we really have to go warm up”. You motion to the other skaters entering the open stadium doors.

Grabbing all of your gear, the two of you rush inside to start warming up.

“There are eight pairs and we’re going fifth,” you report to Mark, checking the performance schedule expertly.

“Uh, okay. Yes… is that good?”.

“It’s whatever. We just need to show the audience everything we have,” you say while smushing his cheeks in between your palms.

“Okay”. His voice comes out adorably from his face being sandwiched in your hands.

Other skaters look on judgmentally, but you stare calmly back until they look away. The music from the routine of the current skaters on the ice ends.

“Calling pair five, Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal. Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal,” the overhead announcer repeats.

“That’s us”. You take a deep breath and grab Mark’s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze as you skate out from the benches onto the ice.

It’s only a rehearsal, so only a few people, coaches and other skaters, were watching. Even so, you blink nervously as you run through the routine in your head.

“Are you ready?,” Mark questions with a smile, pulling you into the starting position. Your heart races against your chest, but you take a deep breath to calm it down. After everything you’ve been through, this is not the hill you’ll die on.

“I’m ready”. You nod to the staff members and the familiar tune fills the stadium.

It’s a song that Mark picked out himself. It’s ‘his contribution’ to the group project as he joked when you were contemplating your music choice. Playing the simple song on his phone, one earbud for you and the other for him, he explained that it says everything that he feels for you. And it’s absolutely perfect.

“Twenty minutes and you’re up, group five! Please be on stand-by,” a staff member peeps her head into the locker room as you touch up your hair and makeup.

All around you, skaters bustle around, frantically stitching last-minute sequins back on their dresses or brushing on copious amounts of blush, surely to stand out to even those seated in the back row.

Pair four is about to go out on the ice, meaning you’ll be out there before you know it.

Mark is in the men’s locker room, of course. He must feel odd being the only one there right now. You texted him asking if he needed help with his costume, but he insisted he’d handle it just fine. It’s more you worrying than anything.

Taking your hundredth yoga breath of the day, you peer into your reflection in the water-stained mirror. Your long, dark hair is half-up and half-down - loose enough to flow with your skating, but also pinned back so you don’t completely choke on it. Natural makeup adorns your eyes and lips. It’s a much different look than what’d you’d usually go for when skating, but after a lot of careful consideration, it would be much more meaningful both to the performance and to you to go out like this.

Your dress is a stunning royal red. After Uncle Joe told your parents about the competition, they all chipped in to buy it for you to wear tonight. You insisted that it was okay, that it was far too expensive and you could just wear your old one especially since money is so tight, but they wouldn’t let you get another word in.

So now it’s on your body with the price tag cut off. You trace a finger over the intricate sequins of the bodice down to the flowy silk skirt. Trusty white skates already laced up, it’s time to go out and meet Mark.

You start to make your way into the hall.

“Hey y/n, you’re getting a call,” one of the other skaters calls out.

Stopping in your tracks, you hop awkwardly back in your skates, thanking her as you grab your phone from her outstretched hand.

It’s a Facetime call from Yuna.

You pick it up, the screen skipping a few times as the signal struggles to connect.

“y/n!”. Metallic voices on the other side come out distorted and the images are no higher quality than 240p at best, but you recognize instantly that your closest friends are all there sitting in the bleachers.

“y/n, you look so beautiful! Are you next?,” Lisa calls over the other voices.

“No, there’s someone going now, but Mark and I will be right after,” you reply, a smile blooming across your face.

“Markos! Markos! Markos!,” the boys start chanting, evicting laughter from your chest.

“y/n your parents are here too! And Uncle Joe”. The camera pans around, revealing the blurry faces of said loved ones.

“No way! Mom? Dad? Joe?,” you gasp, “how’d you come all the way out here?”.

“Honey!,” your mother greets, beaming at the camera, “of course we came! You worked so hard, your friends have been telling me all about it!”

“And we want to meet this Mark boy too,” your father adds.

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You’re a good one, kiddo,” Joe chimes in, “and I have a feeling we’ll be seeing something spectacular tonight. From the skating I’ve seen so far, you won’t have much trouble at all getting that prize-”

“Joe!,” you hush, “I’m still in the locker room! Don’t say that!”.

Looking around nervously, thankfully nobody seems to have heard Uncle Joe’s criticism.

“Listen everyone, thank you so much for coming tonight, it means the world to me. We’ll definitely talk after, but for now, I really gotta go”.

“Okay babe, just wanted to let you know we’re all rooting for you!”. Yuna pulls the camera back to reveal everyone cheering and waving to you. Your heart tingles with butterflies at the gesture. “You’re gonna kill it tonight! Love you!”.

Relaying your affections back, you hang up the call and head out into the hall.

It’s dark. All the lights have been turned off for the sake of the icy stage to stand out more. The curtain less windows provide almost no illumination due to the winter evening nature.

Through the wall, you can hear roaring applause greeting the fourth pair of skaters as they enter the ice. The whole university and more must be here by the sound of it.

“y/n”. Mark’s voice guides your eyes to your right. Squinting through the dark, his familiar form approaches out of the shadows.

“Mark,” you greet back quietly, resting a hand on his arm.

Even in this lighting, your breath draws thin at his appearance. His blonde hair is slicked back instead of tousled in a cute fringe like you’re used to. It’s nothing crazy, but it somehow changes his vibe completely. Your hand feels at his billowy white shirt, tucked neatly into black pants.

“Okay, keep looking at me like this and we’re not making it out there,” Mark mumbles under his breath, smirking slightly as a few stagehands pass by.

You remove your hand only to smack him in the same spot.

“Shut up”

“You love me”

“Yeah, and?”

His familiar giggles tickle your ears.

“Are you Mark and y/n? Pair five?,” a staff member interrupts.

“Oh, yes, that’s us”

“Please head down this way to be on standby. When it’s your time to enter, there will be someone at the gate to usher you in”

“Okay, thank you”. Slipping your hand into Mark’s, the two of you hobble in the direction of the rink entrance. It’s nerve-wracking, but the feeling is so easy to ignore when you’re together with him.

The music of the current performance becomes suddenly louder as you open the door to enter the main part of the stadium. From where you stand (in a random corner by the bleachers), thousands of audience members fill the stands.

The pair on the ice dance together playfully to their energetic piece. Your two teammates, you recognize.

“They’re really good,” you breathe, watching them spin oh-so-synchronously together without missing a beat.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be good too,” Mark states matter-of-factly. You look up at him to meet his gaze, giving his hand a small squeeze in agreement. “And now is as good a time as ever to tell you that I was- and I’m not shitting you- I was standing right here when I saw you for the first time”.

“What?”. You look around at the dark underside of the rink bleachers. The best two adjectives to use for a place like this are ‘dank’ and ‘gross’.

“Yes, I know. Fall of last year, you were practicing at night and I came to do drills. I saw you here and… that was it for me. I dropped my bag and you turned towards me so I completely panicked. I ran away and couldn’t grow the balls to ask you out for a whole year. That’s the truth”.

Mark’s expression is oh so cutely shy and it makes you curl your toes in your skates.

“You complete loser,” you gush over the music, “You should have stayed, asked me out right then and there. Then we would’ve had an extra year together”.

“You’re right,” Mark groans into his hands jokingly. He spreads his fingers to peer through their gap. “But what’s one year of forever, right?”.

“What’s one year of forever,” you echo.

Applause erupts from above you as the skaters finish their routine. The announcer goes over the rules for voting once more, sending them off as they exit the ice.

“Group five, you’re on next. When they announce your names, you’re gonna go through this gate here and when you’re ready, they’re gonna start the music. Any concerns?,” the staff member directs.

“No, thank you,” the two of you shake your heads.

“Okay, this is it,” you state. It’s unclear if it’s directed to yourself or for Mark. In all honesty, it’s to the world.

“This is just one thing, y/n. It’s just one of the many things we’re gonna do together. Let’s just do it how we always do”

He’s always right.

“And now, please welcome our next skaters, sophomore, y/n and her partner, junior, Mark Lee!’.

In the matter of seconds, you’re out of the dark and hit with blinding spotlights from every direction.

Your own thoughts drown out as unseen crowds past the light roar animatedly at your arrival. Raising your arms in the air, hand still laced with Mark’s, the two of you circle around the ice to greet the audience.

“Holy shit, I didn’t get a good look earlier, but y/n, this dress…” Mark remarks, eyes glued on your figure.

“I look beautiful,” you confirm confidently as you stop naturally in the center of the ice. “Are you ready?”.

It’s always like this, rapid fire. As nervous as you are, it's time to go.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, the junior hockey captain moves into the starting position.

“I’m always ready for you”

And just like that, the soft strumming of guitar chords overcome the audience ruckus and all you can see is the man in front of you.

I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Your bodies move on autopilot, muscle memory from countless nights of practice amounting to the flawless execution of your first lift. His hands are strong against your body and you put your full trust in him to catch you every time. The crowd could be screaming right now and you wouldn’t hear it, only focusing on how much the lyrics of this song mean to you.

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

You dance in unison, your bodies so familiar with each other. Jumping easily into his arms, you know he can see the love in your eyes as he holds on to balance you by your waist. Hair billowing in the breeze created by your movement, Mark improvises to tuck it back behind your ear.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

And somehow, by the luckiest of stars, he wants to spend the rest of his with you too.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

The song winds down and you express every ounce of romance you have for everyone to see. The two of you aren’t aware, but everyone in the stadium is silent with awe.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

You look perfect tonight

Completely in a trance, the world fades back into your awareness as you kneel down across from each other, out of breath. Mark’s eyes sparkle like stars under the lights and he brings you in for a kiss. You’re exhausted, but you stand and melt into his hug, hardly noticing the standing ovations from all around.

Roses, plushies, and paper planes come raining down. You pull away beaming, heart bursting with joy. Hand-in-hand, you take a bow, waving to the crowd as you catch your breath.

“y/n, you were so amazing,” Mark exemplifies as the two of you exit the ice. Everything passed by so fast. Months of hard work and roller coaster emotions accumulated to the last five minutes, over before you knew it.

“Me? Look at you, mister hockey. I’m so amazed at you,” you commend.

As you enter the hall again, you are met with congratulations and praise from teammates and Mark’s many admirers. Although the Lovelee’s may have been banished already, the crowd of cooing girls never went away.

“You were so good, Mark”

“Yeah, totally, Mark. That was so hot”

Your day was far too great for you to be annoyed at their blunt flirtatious attempts (despite your obvious presence by his side). Before Mark could muster out a flustered ‘thank you’, you decide to rip off the band aid.

“He says thank you!”

With no intention of hearing their replies, you lead him further down to where your friends told you they’d be to meet you.

“y/n”. Coach Tanya makes herself known.

“Coach!”. You bow to her.

Much to your surprise, when you come up, the older woman pulls you into a firm hug. Your shock is apparent at the warm gesture and you hesitate before hugging her back. Never has she ever expressed anything more than terse compliments to you before. This is like drinking ice water on a hot day.

“That was absolutely excellent, y/n,” Tanya pulls away to shake hands with your boyfriend, “and you, Mark is it? You were wonderful for a beginner”.

“Thank you ma’am”. He nods politely.

“But y/n,” your coach turns back to you, “I am stunned at your artistry. The emotion, the technique, you’re one of my best. How would you like to go to nationals in the spring?”.

Your hand shoots up to cover your gaping mouth. Tears spring to your eyes and you nod vigorously to confirm your obvious answer to Tanya’s question.

“No way!” Yuna’s voice sounds from behind your coach’s figure. The blonde emerges shortly after, followed quickly by the rest of the gang. The boys waste no time in tackling Mark with congratulations and sharp jabs at his ‘dumbass’ hairstyle.

“You’re here!”. You wrap your best friend in an excited hug. “Coach is sending me to nationals!”. Lisa and Hope join in squealing as the four of you hop up and down at the news.

Tanya chuckles at the scene, “Yes, indeed. And it looks like you’re getting a lot better, Yuna. That’s a relief”.

“I don’t care what the doctor says, I’m gonna make sure I’m on the ice again one day,” Yuna attests.

Coach Tanya leaves you to celebrate as your parents and Uncle Joe come bearing flowers. Many pictures and one uncomfortable interrogation from your parents for Mark later, you get changed and go out to enjoy the rest of the winter festival with your friends.

The results of the competition are to be announced at the end of the night and you elect to not worry about the outcome. What you’ve earned from this journey is more than money could buy. Anything that happens after… happens. You’ll always find a way to make it through and have a great time doing it too.

All bundled up, you hop around the food trucks lining the city streets. Every restaurant in Seoul seemingly sent all their best foods for the festival: spicy rice cakes and burgers to lava cakes and hot cocoa. Live music creates a perfect ambiance to take away all the tension from the day.

The night sky is pitch black, but the whole city campus bustles with life. You swear you’ve seen this exact scenery in a Hallmark Christmas movie - all the cars and buildings wear their fluffy white snow caps, the sparkle of fairy lights in trees reflecting off their glass windows. Nobody cut the cameras because it’s pure magic.

“Guys they’re having fireworks on the roof of the science building. We can watch them announce the competition winners from there too, let’s go!,” Haechan pleads with a mouth full of steaming fish cakes.

“What do you say, you want to?,” Mark asks you, brushing a bit of sauce off the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Sounds great,” you smile. Fireworks are always a win.

You weave your way through the crowded street together, heading up the hidden stairwell only students would know to reach the designated rooftop. The whole time you can’t help but let your eyes linger on Jeno and Lisa’s interlocked fingers. The sight sure brings a smirk to your face, but man are you not used to it.

Mark notices your fixed gaze, following it to the odd couple’s joined hands. Snickering, he nudges you to stop staring.

“Sorry, it’s just so… unexpected,” you whisper to him as you head towards the rooftop railing to overlook the campus.

“I know, I didn’t see it coming either,” Mark agrees, tossing an arm over your shoulders as you moon over the breathtaking city line. Your breath makes clouds in the cold, winter air, but you feel warm as ever inside.

Out in the horizon, each blinking, twinkling light is a person living their life. Thousands of stories all at once, blissfully unique and their own. They’re different colors and intensities, some are from windows and some from cars. Overhead, an airplane soars on by. In reality, they’re moving at an incredible speed. But from where you admire, the little red wing lights inch on by, slow to leave your sight.

The world is full, so full. What looks like a tiny red light is a plane full of people and what must look like a speck of gold to them is the whole city of Seoul gathered together. Everything is different when you understand perspective, you realize, and it becomes so much more meaningful.

“Hey, I think that’s the dean! He’s gonna announce the winners of the skating competition!,” Hope taps you excitedly from your other side.

“Oh my god it’s happening”. You grab her hand and shake it around.

Mark’s grip tightens around you as the Seoul University dean steps in front of a podium set up in the school yard. A crowd gathers around, excited whispers travelling all the way up to your rooftop perch. The microphone screeches with feedback causing everyone to groan and cover their ears.

“Sounds like Haechan’s singing voice,” Mark whispers under his breath.

“I heard that!,” the younger boy retorts indignantly. You bite back your laughter as the dean begins to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming out this cold night to celebrate what Seoul University is about: unity and…,”

“Blah blah blah - tell us who won!,” Yuna whisper-yells, exasperated.

“You’re so hot when you’re bratty,” Ten coos.

“I know”.

This couple I swear. I’m trying to be nervous, but I can’t even do that when I’m laughing.

“... first annual skating competition here at Seoul University. Our students not only excel in academics, but hold a variety of astounding talents as you folks may have seen tonight at the University rink. Each student did a phenomenal job preparing for this competition, so let’s give a round of applause for all the skaters who performed tonight and the staff who made it happen!”

You clap your hands together nervously, bouncing slightly at the knee to fight the cold.

“One pair, by your vote, will be winning a grand prize of ten thousand dollars for their exceptional performance. After I announce the winners, we will wrap up the night with our famous annual firework show!”.

The crowd whoops and cheers excitedly.

“Without further ado, by popular vote, the winners of the first annual Seoul University skating competition are…,” the dean slits open a closed envelope, unfurling the contained page with excruciating tardiness. Pausing for dramatic effect, the excitement builds in the air, “y/n and Mark Lee!”.

Your names ring triumphantly through the whole city as you’re immediately crushed by seven hugs. The festival-goers roar in congratulations and you can’t hold back the tears of joy that spring into your eyes. Jumping up and down, your friends surround you in a cocoon of screaming and yelling.

Mark snatches you up, pulling you into his arms and twirling you around. Pressing a frenzy of kisses all over your face, you squeal in disbelief as he sets you down.

“You did it!,” he yells, sandwiching your cheeks between his hands.

“No, WE did it!,” you yell back, jumping up and hugging him close. Your friends waste no time to shuffle into a group hug, enveloping you like a love-flavored bao.

“y/n! No fucking way! Actually, we all saw it coming,” Yuna smacks your butt as an I-told-you-so gesture. You don’t even mind right now.

“I can’t believe it,” you cry into Mark’s fuzzy, black coat, “I can’t believe it. I- this means I can come back to school next semester”.

“Hell fucking yeah you can,” Haechan whoops.

The freezing air is knocked out of your body as a firework cracks across the sky, the booming sound resonating deep in your bones. Everyone’s attention is turned towards the brilliant shower of purples and pinks as they light up the darkened sky.

Mark sets you down, swiping his sleeves carefully over your cheeks to catch your fallen tears.

“My baby, always crying,” he jokes softly. You breathe out a short laugh as you sniff down your running nose. “But they’re happy tears, right?”.

“The happiest,” you nod, resting your ear to his chest as the two of you marvel at the shimmering sky. An especially big firework sets off, smaller ones following all around, drawing awed gasps from all who see.

“I love you,” you mumble.

“I love you too,” Mark hushes into your hair.

“I love this. I love today. I love this school. I love Yuna. I love Hope. I love Lisa. I love Jeno and Haechan. I love my parents and Uncle Joe. I love Coach Tanya and I love skating”.

You pause your rapid-fire declaration as you turn to face him. In his eyes, you can see the whole firework show.

“I love these fireworks and I love everyone who came to see us skate. I loved meeting you all those months ago by the basketball courts and I loved getting hit on at Yangyang’s party so we had our almost-first kiss by the lake”. You choke back a happy sob as you continue.

Mark has his eyes closed with a wide smile spread across his lips as he recollects the memories.

“I love going to church with you and I love when you pick me up from work. I love how you always zip up my jacket without asking and how you never wake me up early in the mornings because you know how much I hate it. You’re always there for me, Mark Lee”.

Fresh tears dribble down your chin and although he remains in pensive silence, shining streaks adorn his face too. You don’t notice it, but your friends have stepped back to let you have a private moment.

“Oh, y/n”. Mark’s voice comes out thick, swallowing back tears. His hand caresses at your face and it’s ever so warm. Moments pass before he’s able to continue. “Always”.

And you don’t need a fairy tale narrator to tell you that his promise is true for you to believe it with your whole heart. You’re here with him, fireworks all around, and it’s as true as the plane in the sky and the lights in the horizon.

You’re surrounded by friends, new and old, and most importantly, friends who are here to stick around.

You were wrong in the beginning: this wasn’t a story about how two souls come together.

It wasn’t only two, you see. It was you and Mark and all your friends and the professors you say ‘thank you’ to after class and the man who sells you green tea in the morning. It’s your parents and Uncle Joe and the stranger girl who fell in love with your skating tonight, sure to beg her parents for a pair of skates. The first of many.

It’s all of them and so much more.

And god, you’re so in love with who they’ve shaped you to be.

[13lov]

heaven. (m)

# pairing. manager!namjoon x idol!reader

# genre. late 90′s - early 00′s au, idol au, smut, fluff.

# word count. 5.5k+

# warning(s). house party [ alcohol usage ], smut [ soft dom!namjoon, virgin!reader, semi-public setting, fingering, edging/orgasm denial ], blackpink is featured within the fic along with jackson wang. | unedited as of sept. 13

# summary: being apart of the world’s biggest girl group had its struggles, especially when your members could barely stand the sight of you. it’s not all bad though, at least your manager, namjoon, is always available to comfort in any way you need him to.

↳ a/n. this is only part one 1 ! there will be multiple parts!

↳ m/l. fic masterlist | full masterlist

“So, that whole thing was a lie? We aren’t really getting a break?” Jisoo asks, being the first to break the silence after twenty minutes. Her eyes are still closed shut, patiently waiting for the makeup artist to add the final touches of her eyeliner.

Within this current situation, she was the one who had been least upset; maybe it was because it worked out in her favor.

You, on the other hand, were pissed.

When promised an extended break for the first time since you were a trainee, you were ecstatic to have the opportunity to rest, make time with your closest family and friends, and “enjoy the ordinary life of a young person in their 20s” as Big Hit had officially stated.

The announcement had only gone public a few days ago, and your publicist, Seokjin, already had an event scheduled for you and the rest of the group; a house party.

“You get a break from practicing and performing,” Seokjin mumbles, only slightly interested in the conversation as he flips through the tabloids in his hands, “but, we just can’t let the public forget about you five while you’re on break. We need to make sure you’re seen and out there.”

“Bullshit,” Lisa swears, standing up from the white plush couch, “after two months you think everyone is gonna forget the biggest group in the world?”

“Current,” Namjoon speaks, so quietly, you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been staring at him this entire time. He’d been considerably silent since the moment he entered the dorm along with Seokjin and a team of makeup artists. He hadn’t even made eye contact with anyone, not even you.

“What?” Lisa asks.

Namjoon clears his throat nervously, “You’re the current biggest group, that could easily change in a matter of time.”

“Don’t tell me you agree with Seokjin…” Jennie trails off from her spot on the couch, a hopeful expression on her face as she turns to face Namjoon. 

His energy was completely off today, and in return, it was making you feel weird. Maybe it was because he had indeed lied about your group being able to take a break. A part of you hopes it was the company’s decision and not his specifically. 

Well, with the number of times you’ve cried to him about you and the girls were constantly being overworked, you really were hoping this wasn’t his idea of a break.

“You’ll still get to rest, we just need you to do a few events here and there; little things,” Namjoon had been slowly walking towards you as he spoke, completely forgetting about the hairstylist who had been adding the finishing touches to your curls.

He stares at you, intensely, and you stare right back. His gaze his somewhat amused, and you wonder what had changed within him in the past few seconds. The discussion wasn’t going well, so there was clearly something else on his mind. But, what was it?

“Still giving me the silent treatment?” he whispers, only a few inches away from your face.

You remain quiet.

“Gonna have to open that mouth sooner or later.”

On any other day, you would’ve fallen to his commands in an instant. But, today was different. You just let his words give you goosebumps and call it a day.

You turn towards your hairstylist, who is staring at your manager with a confused expression on her face. Namjoon notices your gaze and follows it, then feels flustered that he had forgotten your hairstylist was right in front of him and had heard every word he said.

Namjoon clears his throat, standing upright, “To practice your singing, of course.”

The stylist shoots him a dirty glance but doesn’t say anything else. The scene had (thankfully) gone unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t involved.

“Why are we going to a house party? And, who’s throwing it?” Rosé questions, breaking her own vow of silence and letting curiosity get the best of her.

Seokjin and Namjoon exchange an amused glance that only made you and the girls worried. Even your stylists had their share of little giggles.

Your stomach was turning.

“I’m sure you all know Jackson Wang,” Seokjin says, earning a groan from the five of and an annoying smile on your publicist´s face.

Jackson Wang was a rapper, actor, and your current fake boyfriend...in a way. It was all Jin’s idea, of course; to the public, it’d look like you were only friends who were dating in secret. Doing little things like wearing one of his shirts out in public, making sure to speak at him and every public event the two of you had attended, and now, showing up to his house party where paparazzi would definitely swarm. 

It kept the paparazzi on their toes, thinking they’ve caught onto something that was supposed to be secret. So, in a way, Seokjin’s plan was working. Everyone was definitely intrigued. 

“Don’t make that face, doll.” Jin is standing in front of you now, a fake pout on his lips, “You, of all people, should be excited. Kim Taehyung will be there.”

Kim Taehyung was yet another boy who you weren’t interested in but had to maintain some type of relationship with. With you making your acting debut soon, there was a movie you had already been set to film. Some type of horror-romance movie with your co-star being none other than Kim Taehyung. You didn’t mind starring with him in the slightest bit, but there was speculation that he was interested in making your relationship more personal than professional. 

“Oh, so it’s _____’s fault we’re going to this? So she can promote her stupid movie?” Lisa barks. You weren’t exactly offended by her questions, it kinda was your fault. As the leader of your group, you had been offered more opportunities than your other members. Did you think it was fair? No, not in the slightest. But, there was nothing you could do about it except ask that the other girls get opportunities as well. In return, it made your members act cold towards you. It was ironic in a way that no one liked their leader, you don’t blame them much. In fact, you’ve accepted the fact that they don’t like you and most likely never will.

“Watch your mouth,” Namjoon says, looking out of the dorm’s window to stare at the limousine parked outside. “You don’t think we forgot about the rest of you, did you?”

Jennie sits up in excitement, now fully ready to go, “There’s gonna be stuff for the rest of us to do?”

“Of course! What kind of manager would I be the leave you guys out?”

“I dunno,” Lisa speaks up with crossed arms, “that’s the way things have been for a while now.”

As much as you hate to admit it, Lisa was right; and Namjoon knows it.

“Play nice at the party and you’ll see what Big Hit has in store for you. Deal?”

There’s a reluctant silent, then, “...Deal.”

You had never even seen Jackson Wang’s house, let alone been to it.

It was a mansion, located in the middle of nowhere. A small part of you feels he has so much money and doesn’t even know what to do with it.

The drive to his home is long and quiet, the only sound being music coming from the radio. At your every attempt to make small talk, you were shut down immediately. There was no point in even trying anymore.

Finally arriving at Jackson’s house is a relief, though you hadn’t wanted to go in the first place. But, who knows? Maybe you will have a good time, though this was simply just a promotion opportunity.

From the limo’s tinted windows, you’re able to see the luxury cars all parked around Jackson’s fountain; each vehicle owned by some sort of celebrity. Paparazzi is already here, of course, not even letting their camera flashes slow down for a second. It’s overwhelming, but it was the price of fame.

The stretch limo comes to a halt and within a few seconds, the driver has made his way over to open the door.

Being closest to the exit, you move your leg to step out until Lisa stops you by putting her own leg over yours. “You always get out first,” she says, a smile on her face so paparazzi can think the two of you are having a friendly conversation, “let someone else go for once.”

“Does the order really matter that much?” You reply, copying her smile.

“It does when you’re always first,” she adds a friendly laugh to her smile before using her leg to push you back only slightly and step out of the car. Rosé and Jennie don’t even throw a glance your way as they slide past you, and you don’t expect them to.

Jisoo is the last to leave before you, but she pauses before she steps out, “It really isn’t a big deal, but she has a point.” Jisoo chooses not to look at you when she’s done speaking, deciding to slide out of the limo with a smirk on her face as if that little exchange didn’t just happen. You remind herself that even though she was the nicest to you out of your fellow members, she still wasn’t quite fond of you. 

You take one last deep breath before stepping out.

Standing at the end of the line, next to Jisoo, you let the photographers take as many pictures as they wish. All while ignoring the questions and comments thrown at your each and every way.

Seconds pass, and Jackson has finally made his way through his crowd of guests to greet you properly. He gives a polite hug to each of your members and decides placing a kiss way too close to your lips is enough to drive the paparazzi crazy. His large hand finds the small of your back as he leans down to speak into your ear, “I’m glad you could make it.”

Looking up at him, you notice the purplish bruise on his neck. It’s faded only slightly, so you assume there was a terrible attempt to cover it with makeup, or the marking was a few days old. Either way, you definitely weren’t the one who had planted it there. And yet, everyone would think otherwise.

Fighting the urge to tell him that you didn’t have a choice to visit his party, you only smile and ask that he bring you inside.

His house is packed with people, nearly all of them being A-list celebrities; you wonder how Jackson is able to live a lifestyle like this and how different he is from you. Sure, you enjoy being famous, but not all the time. For you, it’d be nice to do something as simple as take your dog for a walk without being swarmed with cameras. Jackson, on the other hand, made sure the press knew when he was going to the grocery store.

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask out of curiosity.

“Who?!” Jackson replies, yelling over the commotion of people.

“Taehyung! Kim Taehyung! I heard he was going to be here!”

“_____, baby, you know it’s rude to ask for another man when you’re at your boyfriend’s house.”

“You’re not my--” the metaphorical jazz music in your head stops playing for a moment, “I just...he’s my future co-star.”

Jackson completely ignores you, letting the arrival of his best friend captivate his interest. The rest of HEAVEN has gone about in their own way, leaving you alone in a crowd of people you don’t know.

It’s ironic. It’s so ironic to the point where it’s almost humours. 

You vaguely remember something about Jackson saying there would be snacks in the kitchen, so you navigate yourself to where the food would be. You’ll relax after you’ve had a bite to eat, right?

Everything that had happened since the moment you entered the kitchen (exactly one hour ago) had been complete and utter shit.

To reiterate, Jackson did have snacks in the kitchen: Jello shots. Nearly every single flavor of Jello in existence had made its way into his home. You’re pressured into taking one, then another, but you stop at three because that’s when Jennie walks in.

“We leave our leader for ten minutes and she’s already getting drunk,” she snickered, “that’s not very responsible of you, now is it?”

“Ease up on ‘er, Jen,” Taehyung suddenly enters. His outfit is laid back and casual, all black except for a red bandana wrapped around his hairline. He’s even more handsome in person than he is on screen, but you still find yourself thinking of Namjoon; wondering what he was doing while you got tipsy off of Jello shots.

“The break just started, she has a right to let loose if she wants to,” Taehyung adds, now pulling you into a side-hug. “How’s my future co-star doing?”

A high-pitched, sarcastic laugh sounds through the kitchen. You immediately recognize it as Lisa’s without having to even look.

“That’s not gonna last long,” she states, hopping up on the marble kitchen counter.

“What won’t?” Jackson asks, who had only been a few steps behind her.

“The two of them being co-stars.”

You’re confused by Lisa’s words, but you don’t ask any questions. You instead wait and see where she goes with this.

“And why won’t that last long? _____ is an amazing actress,” Taehyung compliments, nudging your side slightly to earn a smile from you.

“Oh, I agree,” Lisa replies, “she is an amazing actress. But, doesn’t this movie involve a sex scene with the two of you?” Lisa shoots you a devilish glance, and it takes everything in you to not let your jaw drop to the floor.

You already know where she’s headed with this, and you can’t believe she’d even stoop to a level so low for the sole purpose of embarrassing you. 

“Yeah, so? We’re both adults.” Taehyung says with an arched brow.

“If this is about me, I honestly don’t care that there’s a sex scene,” Jackson adds, “it’s all scripted.”

Lisa waves a dismissive hand in Jackson’s face, “No one cares about you. I agree that _____ is an amazing actress. But, oh...she’s still a virgin.”

A short silence falls over the kitchen, and Lisa still looks amused. You take a second to note that even more people have entered the room.

“You don’t need to have had sex in order to film a sex scene, Lisa. As Jackson said, it’s all scripted; we’re being told what to put where and what moves to make. Even I was a virgin when I filmed my first sex scene.” Much to your surprise, Taehyung had been sticking up for you the moment he had arrived at Jackson’s home, despite it being your first time to officially meet in person. 

“Yeah, but she’s gonna have to fake an orgasm, right? You can’t fake something you’ve never had.”

There’s another silence, and even Taehyung doesn’t speak up to defend you.

Everyone is at a loss for words. Even you.

“I...that’s...wow…” Jackson sputters, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe the information he was given. “You’ve never had one? Like, not even from--”

“Oh, my God,” you cut him off and realize how foreign your own voice sounds.

This entire situation was childish, you felt like you were back in high school. There are tears threatening to fall from your eyes, you’re trying to figure out if their tears from anger or sadness.

“This is just…” you began, but can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence. Your anxiety is at an all-time high, the walls feel like they’re closing in on you and every glance in your direction feels like a judgemental one.

You exit the kitchen in a rush, and without a word.

With a house as big as Jackson’s, it takes you a while to make it outside. You search for your designated limo in the darkness and finally manage to locate it.

Your steps towards the car start to feel far too slow as soon as the paparazzi from earlier see you and immediately pick up their cameras. You keep your head down and try your best to not get blinded by the camera flashes, but that doesn't stop you from hearing all the questions and comments being thrown your way.

“Hey, _____ ! Why ya leavin´ so soon, babe?¨

“_____! Are the rumors true? Does Jackson Wang have a sex dungen in his basement?¨

“Where ya headed, dollface? Off to see a secret lover?¨

The last question sticks in your mind as you enter the limo, closing the door as quickly as possible to avoid the paparazzi.

“Are the other girls coming?̈ ̈ The chauffeur asks, starting up the car ́s engine.

“No, just me wanting to go back to the dorm a little earlier than expected. You´ll have to come back for them later; I´m sorry.¨

“It's not a problem” he glances at you through the rearview mirror, “it's what I'm paid to do, remember?” He adds a comforting smile to his words before driving out of Jackson ́s parking lot.

Once you're halfway down the street, it hits you that no one had bothered to follow you out from the party, or make any attempt to comfort you when you were obviously in an uncomfortable situation.

Though Jackson was tolerable at most time, he still wasn´t someone you were close with regardless of what the media thought. You definitely hadn´t expected your members to follow you out, but, you were hoping Taehyung would be a few feet behind. Maybe he would follow you all the way to the limo and even get in with you. The photographers outside definitely would´ve made a show of it and created some other type of dating scandal. But in the brief time you had gotten to know Taehyung, you´ve already figured a dating scandal with him wouldn´t be too bad, plus, Seokjin would love it; it´d make for great promotion in your upcoming film with him.

But, alas, no one had followed you out. 

Shortly after ‘HEAVEN’ had debuted, it seemed as though the other members formed an unspoken cult to hate you. The reason being so is absurd, you try not to let it bother you.

But it’s hard putting on a ‘girl power’ persona in front of the cameras then going back to being high school enemies when no one was watching. It’s hard knowing the ones that should’ve been your best friends mentally rolled their eyes whenever you spoke yet faked a laugh on the outside.

And it’s frustrating how no one picked up on their bitter and petty actions towards you; anytime you brought up the members not liking you to someone, they always dismissed it or assumed you weren’t being serious. Essentially, you’re alone. It’s ironic and honestly a bit humorous that you were among one of the most famous people in the world and yet, there was not one person you could go to with all your problems.

But wait, there is someone: Kim Namjoon, your manager. Any problem you had could be brought to him, whether it be work-related or personal issues, he was always there.

So, you decide to call him.

Beside you is your Louis Vuitton handbag and in it is your small, pink Nokia cellphone. You scramble to get it out quickly, having to work out the numerous amount of lip gloss tubes you were able to stuff in such a tiny bag.

Namjoon is first on your speed dial, right above your own mother, and he´s the first contact you press on before bringing the phone up to your ear.

¨_____?¨ he picks up on the fifth ring, ¨Is everything okay? Are you still at Jackson ́s?¨

¨Nope, something happened so I decided to bounce,̈ you reply. There's a lump in your throat from trying to hold in a sob, so you keep your voice as quiet as possible to avoid Namjoon from worrying. He already has enough stress on him, he won't have much time for your childish habits.

̈ ̈What happened?¨ he asks, and you immediately regret there was an event that took place that caused you to leave.

¨Uh...someone brought in coke and everyone started doing lines of it,̈ you manage to lie. Sure, you could ́ve come up with something else, but this one was believable with the amount of celebrity house parties that was surrounded by some sort of illegal substance. 

¨Oh shit, fuck,¨ Namjoon swears again under his breath, and you question if your lie was a little too believable. ¨Well it’s good that you left, but did you leave the other girls behind to? That won´t be a good image. You can´t just leave your members behind like that, it´s not a good look as the group´s leader. Next--¨

¨Namjoon, please,¨ you interrupt, because you already feel bad enough as it is, and being scolded by the only person you can trust right now isn´t how you planned for this night to go.

¨Are you…?¨ He doesn't finish his question and decides to sigh instead, and you do the same.

¨Just tell the chauffeur to bring you to the office, and let the front desk know you´re here for me, I´ll have the door unlocked for you, okay?¨

He doesn´t wait for a response from you before he hangs up, leaving you with no choice but to go see him.

You lean forward into the front seat and tell your driver that your original plans for the night had changed.

“Oh, _____! I wasn't expecting to see you here so l--”

“Tell Namjoon I'm here to see him.” You cut off the receptionists’ enthusiasm with your bratty attitude. You feel bad for so blunt with her, but you’re not in the mood to deal with anyone that wasn’t Namjoon.

Your handbag swings in the loose grip you have it in as you make your way to the elevator, and the price of it reminds you how hard you worked to be able to buy something like that with your own money. All the countless nights you spent, practicing your singing, dancing, and language skills just to make it all the way to the top, and be completely alone there.

It was so pathetic.

You call the elevator down with the press of a button as the receptionists alerts Namjoon of your arrival. The trip to his office is short, and you ignore any and everyone who had made an attempt at speaking with you.

You knock on Namjoon’s door twice, and a faint ̈come in ̈ sounds through the wood.

He's at his desk when you enter the room, slouched over, writing something down as his phone is pressed against his ear. You notice how the platinum blond of his hair makes his skin pop, as if he were a glowing. His all white outfit helps with the fact that you believe he was truly your guardian angel sent down by God himself.

Kim Namjoon was beautiful.

He looks up at you when he heard the door shut, and his eyes glimmer when you make contact. He can't help but smile at your current state, a hand on your hip with your handbag dangling in the other, pink cat eye glasses pressed up against your eyes while an evident pout was on your lips; you looked like a spoiled brat.

He beckons you over with a wave of his hand, making space for you to sit on his desk. You stomp the entire way there, Namjoon takes notice and forces himself to hold back his laughter. He's focused on this call, so you take the opportunity to lean over and see what he had been scribbling down.

Heaven cute comeback vs dark comeback ??

Contact suga regarding songs for comeback

Late fall / early spring 

Nothing written down makes any sense to you, but Namjoon seems to know what everything means as heś finishing up his call.

“Yeah, I’ll set up a meeting over lunch with Suga. Yeah...got it,” he writes something else down, “alright bye.”

He hangs up the office phone, sets his pen down, and looks straight up at you. “You don’t look so happy,” he comments.

“I’m not.”

“That's fair, but first things first,” Namjoon reaches up to carefully slide the glasses off of your face, revealing the black mascara that had been running along with the dark circles that surrounded your eyes. “Why are you crying?̈” His voice is so soft and caring when he asks, you can cry again just from how sweet he is towards you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble with a pout, staring down at your heels.

“Again, that’s fair,” he says, moving your legs slightly to access one of his desk’s drawers. From the cabinet, he pulls out a pack of facial cleansing wipes, and the fact that he has them doesn't surprise you in the slightest. It would explain his glow. “You’re gonna have to tell me at some point, though,” he takes one wet wipe from the pack before bringing up to your cheek, gently using it to caress and wipe at any leftover makeup until you were left completely barefaced.

“I’m crying because I´ve never had sex before.”

“Oh…”

“I’ve already told you a million times I want you to take my virginity.”

“_____, your virginity is a special thing.”

“Come on, Namjoon,” you groan, tossing your head back, “I’m twenty-one and you’re twenty-four; can we not talk about this as if I’m a child?”

“Then let's stop talking about it completely, babe,”  ever so gently, he pulls you down only slightly to plant a kiss on your lips. As mad at him as you were, you can't help but erase all the angry thoughts the moment his soft lips collide with yours. You force yourself to pull away.

“Are you gonna give me more context on why you’re suddenly so upset about never being fucked?” He asks casually as he boots up his bulky, beige computer. 

“No.”

“Okay then,” he smiles. You can tell he wants to know more, but doesn’t want to pry you for more information if you didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, he just watches his computer load up. “Have you eaten today?” Namjoon questions.

You think back to lunch, and remember that you, “had a salad for lunch.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

He shakes his head, sliding you a white container that had been hidden on the other side of his computer. “Eat up,” he says as you open the box to reveal a half-eaten cheeseburger. You stare at it for a few seconds without saying anything, causing Namjoon to roll his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you care about the fact that I ate half,”he says, typing his login information into the computer.

“No! It’s just...thank you,” you say picking the sandwich up and taking a bite out of it. Namjoon looks genuinely happy that you’re eating, you can tell by the way he’s staring, as if you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Are you gonna at least tell me why you wanted to go back to the dorms so soon?” he asks after a few minutes of silence, letting you peacefully eat your meal until you’ve finished.

“I was gonna cry for an hour then make myself orgasm since everyone seems to care so much,” you say honestly. Though it would probably take some time, you just wanted to get this “never-had-an-orgasm” mess out and away.

Namjoon is smart, so it only took him a minute to piece everything together and figure out what actually happened at the party.

¨I’m sorry, baby,” he says, putting a comforting hand on your thigh.

An idea forms in your mind the moment his hand makes contact with your thigh, and you call yourself a genius. 

Placing your hand on top of Namjoon’s, you look at him for any type of response or reaction, but he doesn’t move; completely focused on his computer. Using your own hand, you move his up only slightly until his fingertips come in contact with the brim of your skirt. Still, he doesn’t react, and you grow frustrated. 

You keep moving his hand until it’s on your inner thigh, and finally he realizes what’s happening.

He looks up at you, as if he were asking “you seriously wanna do this?”. Your response would’ve been “yes”.

Namjoon glances towards his door, aware of the fact that it was unlocked and not caring in the slightest. On his own, he continues the path up your skirt until his fingernail is lightly scratching at your clothed cunt, the delicate touch giving you the familiar sensation you had longed for.

He does this only for a few more seconds, eager at the fact that a touch so simple already has you soaking through your panties. And, speaking of panties, he slides them down only slightly, just enough for him to do as he pleases.

The pad of his thumb finds your clit, you try your hardest to keep your reactions to a minimum as starts to move it in slow circles. Namjoon changes his pattern every few moments, going from circling your bud to using his thumb to stroke it in a straight line. 

His chin is resting in the palm of his free hand, and he’s watching you as if this entire situation was amusing. And, in his eyes, it really was. It was so easy for him to get you worked up; his words alone could make you wet. Namjoon wasn’t exactly the “secret lover” the paparazzi would’ve thought of (with him being your manager and all), but there really was no one else you could see yourself with.

There’s muffled talking outside of Namjoon’s door, and you’re suddenly snapped out of your daze. The talking continues on, and you’re worried whoever’s on the other side will be barging in unannounced in a matter of seconds. Even if Namjoon had completely removed himself from you in time, would you have a reasonable explanation as to why you’re sat on his desk? With your legs wide open? And panties on the floor?

Suddenly, you can’t even think straight; while you were in mild panic, Namjoon had slid a finger into you. Remembering there’s people right outside his door, you don’t allow yourself to make single sound. Namjoon is impressed with your actions, and his reward to you is a slow thrust. His long, delicate index finger does a stellar job at keeping you pleased for the time being. A second finger is added only seconds later, and you’re starting to feel stretched out.

The feeling excites you because maybe, just maybe, he was stretching you out to prepare yourself for him. His office isn’t exactly the place you imagined your virginity being taken, but you’ll settle for anything as long as it was with him. 

The muffled noises outside is office are long gone, but you still limit the amount of noise you’re making. Especially now when his thrusts had gotten faster, and the look in his eyes had turned dark and full of lust.

A feeling forms in your neck, making its way up to your cheeks. You can’t find the words to describe it: like a tingling sensation with a little extra, and it feels so good.

“You okay?” Namjoon asks, noticing the change in your facial expression.

“Something feels...strange…” is all you’re able to make out.

“Where?”

Your hand taps on your abdomen, and you’re then aware of how weak your body feels. “Here,” closing your eyes, you reach up to touch the side of your neck, then your face, “and here. It feels good.”

Namjoon chuckles, automatically knowing what you’re speaking of, “It’s not a strange feeling, you’re about to have an orgasm.”

That catches your attention. “I am?!”

“Well,” he slides himself completely out of you, “you were. Not anymore.”

And, like you had felt earlier, there were no words to describe how you were feeling. Namjoon, however, seems like he just can’t stop talking.

“Remember earlier when you gave me the silent treatment? This was punishment.” He sets his attention back to his loading computer, watching the screen set up all of his important information. 

“Maybe you finally get your reward if you act nice on your break.” He slides you a folded piece of paper, and written on it is everything expected for you to do while on your break. It was long and tedious, definitely a lot more than your members would be getting.

But, if Namjoon was going to make you cum as long as you did everything with a smile, you’d do the whole list twice.

[cockslutpadalecki]

Thank you to everyone who participated in my latest challenge, I had the best time reading all of your entries.

❤️

Winters Treat - @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes​ (C: Thor. P: “Did you wrap this yourself?”)

Getting Ahead - @letsby​ (C: Negan. P: “You’re on the naughty list.”)

Santa’s Little Helper - @multi-fandom-fanfiction​ (C: John. P: “Aren’t you just Santa’s little helper?”)

December 26th - @katymacsupernatural​ (C: Dean. P: “Please tell me you aren’t searching my room for where I’ve hidden the presents.”)

Eggnog at Midnight - @katymacsupernatural​ (C: Dean. P: “Just how much eggnog have you had?”)

Christmas Present - @crashdevlin​ (C: Dean. P: “Suck on my candy cane. It’s really good.” & “You’re drunk. I’m driving you home.”)

All Kindsa Trouble - @twistedanddecayed​ (C: Dean. “You’re drunk. I’m driving you home.”)

Unforgettable - @shotsbyshae​ (C: Steve. P: “If you throw that snowball you’re declaring war.”)

New Years Kiss - @evansrogerskitten​ (C: Dean. P: “You know, you’re supposed to kiss someone at midnight.”)