#not sure if this needs the mature community tag or not but

[sensitiveheartless]

Here is a fem!skk comic, because I've been seeing so much fun fem!skk stuff on here and it sent my brain down a rabbit-hole — I'm putting most of it under the cut, firstly because it REALLY got away from me, so it's long, and also because of the following

Disclaimer: suggestive and also there is lingerie (albeit lingerie which I made up which doesn't show that much skin, but still!)

Dazai used Direct Affection! It's super effective! (Chuuya has fainted)

(And now they're going to cook dinner together, while Dazai very cheerfully distracts Chuuya at every given opportunity lol)

[whimsydingbat]

…

if you read this and the first post, I sincerely apologize. you’re getting a hard look at the deepest recesses of my mind, open agape and oozing my most vulnerable thoughts I could ever reveal. they’re words that I need to be said, written. I find I don’t ever learn my lesson unless I talk about it. so, I hope those who care enough to read are receptive.

[duchessonfire]

I have been reading a bit on the OTW elections and the whole Tiffany G thing, but most of all, I've been reading comments from people supporting Tiffany saying that she just wants to clear AO3 from all the CSAM (child sexual abuse material) content and I don't know who needs to hear this but:

If someone comes to a predominantly QUEER space (like AO3) and tells you that censorship is necessary to eradicate CSAM... it's not actually CSAM they want to eradicate...

I've seen this type of discourse about Pride and about queer literature and queer movies and queer communities. It's a tried and true technique of the right and conservative movements.

First, they say there is a DANGER to the community through CSAM and they conflate the actual threat of CSAM in the community (we all know someone who thinks that writing a love story between two characters who are 16 is CSAM...), and make you believe that censorship is the only way to PROTECT THE CHILDREN. And since most people are (rightly) mind-bogled at having to explain that of course they don't support CSAM content, they bow down and accept the censorship for the greater good, without anyone actually trying to have a conversation about what qualifies as CSAM (which needs to, you know, actually involve real children and not fictional characters who are 17 and losing their virginity with their crush in a Mature-rated story about high school football and first love based on the author's own experience of losing their virginity at 17 to their crush in high school).

Then, they tell you that there are other forms of DISTURBING CONTENT, and what they really mean is porn that THEY find disturbing, for ex, (and I kid you not, I have seen comments like that) porn featuring disabled characters, which they consider to encourage the exploitation of vulnerable individuals, or BDSM porn (which supposedly encourages violence and lack of consent), or rough porn, or any kind of porn that isn't two (preferably white and skinny) able-bodied people doing it missionary style while lovingly gazing in each other's eyes. SO TO PROTECT VIEWERS, that needs to be banned as well.

And then, they tell you that even that sanitized version of porn is still porn and that people under 18 or under 21 or under whatever age they consider too young to view anything sexual regardless of the fact that not all countries have the same law about the age of maturity, should be free to surf the site without having to *gasp* filter out properly tagged works. So TO PROTECT THE CHILDREN, every explicit content is censored.

And then finally, when all that is left is a sanitized, white-washed, ableist, puritan type of content featuring General-Audience approved gay works of two nice men or two nice women holding hands and chastely kissing each other on the lips... Well guess what? :) CHILDREN SHOULD NOT BE EXPOSED TO QUEER CONTENT SO WE NEED TO BAN THAT AS WELL, and since we've basically done purge after purge before and there are still a handful of people on the website, well surely they won't mind/care anymore, will they?

It's not just a slippery slope, it's something that has been done time and again, and that is why censorship on AO3 will never, never have a positive outcome.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[thornbutch]

One Night Only (Pt. 2) (18+)

check out my masterlist! ♡

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Pairings: Jordan Li x Fem!Reader, (brief) Andre Anderson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Past experiences have wrecked Jordan’s perception of their true feelings. The pretty girl from a week ago isn’t making their situation any better. Cue angst and car sex.

Tags: Jordan Li x fem!reader, Gen V, Jordan Li is a toxic, jealous, sexy piece of shit, cursing, angst, sensitive reader, sapphic make out sesh, Corruption kink, smut, mature content, Jordan might be a little OOC? Sorry. I wrote this in two hours.

Word Count: 2.7k

Jordan Li was probably the most confusing human being she had ever encountered. Ever since that night, he had been ignoring her. She’d see him in the courtyard at lunch, wave, and be disappointed when he didn’t wave back. She knew he saw her. What was his problem?

A week went by since the night she entangled with Jordan. She had finally come to terms with the fact that Jordan didn’t see her as anything but a one-night stand. She couldn’t explain why she felt so hurt by this. Maybe Jordan regretted what happened. Or maybe she was some kind of revenge hook-up? She had dealt with that before; her body being used to make someone else jealous. But that didn’t seem like a thing Jordan would do. On the other hand, she didn’t know Jordan much. She knew he was number five on the list. She knew that he had been Dr. Brink’s TA, but other that, his story was a mystery to her.

The next time she saw him, she was determined to get his attention. She didn’t care if she embarrassed him. How dare he treat her like trash? He owed her an explanation. If she had did something wrong, she’d like to know. If he wished he could forget that night, she had a right to know. She doesn’t know why it bothered her so much, but it did. He didn’t have to fuck her again, but he could’ve at least waved or said hello when he saw her in public.

She had gotten information from Maverick, the dorm’s resident assistant. She demanded to know where Jordan’s room was in the sweetest way. She fluttered her eyelashes and put her hands together in a praying form, begging him over and over to tell her until he finally did.

“God, you freshman are so fucking annoying! Can’t a guy jerk off in peace?” She didn’t have time to wonder if he was jerking off in that moment, due to his invisibility. She’d question him again later on that, because ew.

She made her way to Jordan’s room, knocking on the door once, twice, three times.

“Coming!” She heard a feminine voice shout from behind the door.

Had she arrived at the wrong room? No, Mark was adamant on the floor level and room number.

Plus, she recognized that smell of hefty cologne from the night Jordan fucked her senseless.

So who was-

Oh. She had approximately five seconds to walk, no sprint, away from this situation. She could’ve made it behind a wall or scurried off into a communal bathroom. She had time.

But she stood there, dumbfounded and hurt.

The girl from the other side opened the door, “Can I-“

She stood there.

Her doe eyes brimmed with tears. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? She didn’t own Jordan. She wasn’t his girlfriend. He made it very clear that he didn’t want to be with her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “Wrong door.”

Before the girl had anything to say, she was running down the hallway and exiting the building.

. . .

That was all it took for her to move on. Now, she was back to her normal self. Fuck Jordan Li, and fuck whoever that girl was at the door.

She was undoubtedly pretty, but also handsome at the same time. She kind-of looked like Jordan a bit, but she highly doubted it was a relative. Some guys were into shit like that, fucking the “girl” versions of themselves.

Ick.

She was tired of parties. They were fun, sure. It was nice to get out and get drunk and fuck here and there, but she needed an escape from that environment. She opted to go to a bar instead, one of the local ones near campus that served as a hot spot for the students.

She put on a black, tubed dress that stopped at her mid-thigh. She chose one of her favorite leather jackets to match with it and similar-looking black leather boots that came up just below her knee. It was different than what she’d normally wear. The white dresses, jean skirts, and pink accents made her look cute, but it seemed like people took advantage of that. They thought she was naïve and not aware of their schemes.

She was smart, that much was evident. As pretty as she was, she was also sexy, and she’d be damned if she didn’t own that shit.

The bar was far quieter than the frat parties, but still loud nonetheless. Supes and normals mingled here. One thing they both had in common was their love for alcohol. It seemed to bring them together and offer peace against outside situations.

The moment came when she was asked if someone could buy her a drink. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. He had curly, dark brown hair and deep black eyes. He was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that.

“I’m a freshman,” she stated. The man laughed.

“You say that like I’m old,” he said as he bought himself a drink, “I’m only a junior.”

She smiled, knowing that he was in her age range and a fellow student calmed her. “I’m (Y/n).”

He took a sip from his glass, “Andre,” he replied, “You have a coin on you?”

She nodded, reaching into her black velvet purse to retrieve a quarter. She handed it to him, and he examined it thoroughly.

“Look,” he held the quarter between his forefinger and thumb, “If I could make this-“ she watched as the quarter transformed before her eyes, the metal twisting and bending to create the shape of a bird, “into her drink-“ he looked over at a woman sitting down, holding a champagne glass in her hand, “then you have to come home with me.”

“Oh, I have to?” She smirked.

“I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged and grinned back, “Just enforce them.”

Before she could reply, she felt a familiar presence loom over her. She turned around, met with a firm chest and a heavy scent.

Jordan.

“She’s not into your lame ass party tricks, Andre,” Jordan said.

Andre scoffed, blistering a false offended look on his face, “Lame? C’mon, Jordan, don’t be like that.”

Jordan rolled his eyes, “She’s not interested, got it?”

Andre rolled his eyes as well, his fists bawled up and the once floating medal bird turned into a dense ball, “It’s 2023. Women can speak for themselves.”

“Right,” Jordan looked down at you, finally including you in on the conversation that he interrupted, “Are you interested?”

She was taken aback by the question. She sputtered a little, swapping glances between Andre and Jordan. Whatever this was, she did not want to be apart of it. Fuck Jordan for ruining this.

“No.” She said. Andre held his hands up in defeat, grabbed his drink, and walked away from the bar and into the crowd. She turned back to Jordan then and stood up. “Fuck you.”

“You already did,” he said.

She pushed him then. “No, fuck you. Fuck you for being an asshole to me all this week and then popping up to ruin-“

“Ruin what, exactly? Where you going to go home with him, huh? Fuck him, too? Let him see you the way I saw you?”

“Excuse me?” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it. His grip was tight and bruising. A few bystanders gathered around them.

“Let’s go to my car.” Jordan tugged her towards the exit. She barely had time to register what was going on before she felt the cold breeze of the night air swift through her nostrils and blow on her exposed skin.

He opened the passenger door for her. A gentleman. What kind of gentleman would dare to ask to her that way? Just who did he think he was? Her fucking boyfriend?

She got in, and he slammed the door closed. She stared out the window as he felt the car dip a little with the weight of Jordan getting in on the driver’s side.

The car was silent.

“Are we playing the quiet game or something?” .

She nodded.

He sighed, “Look, you have every right to hate me-“

“I do.”

“-but I need to explain something to you.”

She could feel her anger bubbling up. Her knees bounced against the car floor. She continued to stare out the window. “Explain.”

“The girl you saw, she was-“

Oh, not this lousy and overused excused. He really thought she was dumb. It wasn’t just something she had made up in her mind. This was evidence.

She turned, tears just about to spill past her eyelids, “Your sister? Your cousin? Your best friend?” She scoffed, “You think I’m stupid. You ignore me for a week, a week, Jordan. Then you decide you can whisk me away like you’re some kind of Prince Charming?”

“That’s not-“

“You embarrass me in front a cute guy because what? You’re jealous? You don’t like to see your one-night stand hooking up with other people but don’t mind not bothering to wave back when she waves at you?”

“(Y/n)-“

“But maybe I am stupid. You asked if I was interested, and I said no. You opened the door for me, and I got in. You folded my panties and tucked me in and left and treated me like I didn’t exist.”

Jordan watched intently as she spewed all the horrible shit they had done to her. They didn’t think it would affect her so much. They’d hate to be ignored, too, but they’d get over it. They could tell she convinced herself she was over them, over the entire situation. If she was moved on, she wouldn’t have turned down Andre��s offer, and she wouldn’t have entered their vehicle.

“-and now you’re not fucking listening, great.” She folded her arms and dramatically laid back against the seat. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her makeup was ruined. Black streaks of mascara coated the skin.

“I’m sorry,” they said. “You’re right. Not about the stupid thing, the fucked up thing. It was wrong of me to ignore you, I just…” Jordan breathed in shakily. This was so out of character for them. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

She turned towards the window again, staring at her own reflection.

“And… the girl you saw wasn’t my sister, cousin, or best friend,” They could feel their chest tightening, “She was me.”

She watched in the reflection as Jordan morphed into the girl she had seen earlier. She turned back sharply, completely in shock at what she just witnessed.

“You-“

“Yeah. I’m bigender, or whatever the fuck,” Jordan sighed. They felt vulnerable in this form. They tucked a strand of their longer black hair behind their ear and looked beyond the front windshield, “I didn’t want you thinking that I-“

“That you’re into women who look like you?” She responded.

“Yes,” Jordan snorted, “But I was going to say that I wasn’t using you. Or- I didn’t use you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Do you normally fuck girls and abandon them?”

“I normally don’t get jealous when I see someone else flirting with them,” they looked at her then, “I didn’t like what I saw. When he flirted with you using his medal-bending ability. It was corny.”

She let out a small laugh, wiping away her tears, “It was kind of corny.”

Jordan nodded, “I was… afraid. I’m not used to feeling like this, but I am used to it at the same time. Girls, they fuck me in my masculine form and want nothing to do with me in my feminine form. Guys are vice versa.”

She listened to every word coming from their mouth.

“I guess I’ve grown accustomed to blocking people out without asking if they’d accept both versions of me.”

The car was quiet once more.

“Accustomed,” she whispered, “that’s a big word.”

Jordan rolled their eyes.

“I don’t mind,” she was no longer looking at them, instead focusing on her hands that she held in her lap, “I wouldn’t have judged you. I’m not judging you.”

“You’re not?”

“I think you’re the most handsomest and prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” she said.

They could feel their ears tint with red.

“I understand why you were nervous, but I wish you would’ve talked to me before doing all of this,”

“I’m sorry,”

“I know,” she faced them, bringing her hands to cup their soft jawline, “I forgive you.”

Their lips met with hers, but not like how they did at the frat party. This time was more passionate, sweeter, and less rough. She broke the kiss to climb over the armrest and straddle them. Jordan leaned the chair back as far as it would go to give her enough room to sit on their lap. She took off her leather jacket. Their hands held onto her waist, keeping her in place. She liked being on top and knowing that she had no control. They liked being underneath her and knowing that they were still the dominant one.

They began to kiss each other harder. More hunger. They craved her. She must’ve worn this black outfit in retaliation. She looked pretty in white. She looked pretty in black. She looked pretty naked. She was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen, and now they had her right where they wanted her.

She had been hogging their memory ever since that night. They’d slip their hands into their pants during late hours of the night, fondling their clit and breathing her name in heavy gasps as they imagined her touching them. They pinched their nipples, imagining her biting them. They wanted to see her between their thighs, eating them out with her back arched and her eyes closed because she was so into it.

“Am I doing good?” They imagined she would say.

They’d tell her she was doing amazing as they fucked their pussy onto her face.

They’d have to take a late-night shower, having soaked their boxers in their secretion. Their shirt would stick to their back from how hot they were and how much they were sweating during a simple masturbation session.

They wondered if she touched herself. Maybe she was so pent up with frustration that she couldn’t help but fuck it out of herself. She’d use two fingers right off the bat. Her legs would be spread open, and her clothes discarded into a heap at the edge of her bed.

“Jordan,” she’d moan.

“Jordan,” she moaned.

They were brought back to the present, pulling away from her lips. Both of their chests rise and fell with great intensity. They bought their hand up to her face, placing their thumb on her lip and parting them. She opened willingly, allowing their thumb to enter her wet cavern.

She sucked feverishly, all while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck,” Jordan cursed. They could feel how wet they were in their stiff jeans.

She pulled their thumb out of her mouth with a barely audible pop!

“I want to touch you,” she said.

Yes, yes, please, yes.

She pulled up their shirt, revealing a flat stomach that had the shadows of their abs present. They didn’t wear a bra. She was very understanding of that, too. It’d be extremely uncomfortable for them to shift and feel the hard clasps of the bra digging into their back.

She cupped their breast tenderly, swiping her thumb over the nipple. Jordan couldn’t tell if she’d been with women before. Was she an expert? Or was she just doing what she did when she touched herself?

She pinched and they shifted unexpectedly. She leaned back, her ass hitting the steering wheel and blaring the horn.

It was quiet for the third time.

They apologized for startling her. She told them it was okay.

Then, she busted out laughing, falling onto them. They laughed, too.

“I guess that’s a sign,” she said.

“A sign for what?”

“To take me back to your place.”

She didn’t have to say anything else.

[zepskies]

Wake Me Up - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Welcome back to the BMD-verse! Let me tell you, I’ve had this mini series outlined for months, but now I thought it was finally time to get to it. If you’re not tired of the Break Me Down world yet, I very much hope you enjoy Wake Me Up.

**As a reminder, this story is set shortly after Love Actually, and will contain references from that three-part story. 

Song Inspo: For this whole series it’s “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers. (I pretty much listened to this on repeat.)

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Starting off strong in this one: with mature themes, show level violence, angst, kidnapping, PTSD, mentions of torture (not too graphic), and character death.

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 1: “Familiar Territory”

The start of a new year continued a steady rhythm for you and Ben. Namely, another successful mission for the Supe Affairs team.

While you were patched into the team’s communications line from the safety of your desk back at the S.A. headquarters in New York, your friends were a few states over in Denver, Colorado. They’d just arrested a supe that had been committing a series of bank robberies by literally slipping away from the police, thanks to his particular superpower.

“Somebody better get this shit off of me,” M.M. groused.

He wasn’t too happy about some questionable ooze this particular supe secreted as a defense mechanism. According to Frenchie’s research, it was the same shit that certain frogs could produce to repel predators.

“Need a good hose down, more like,” said Butcher. “You smell fuckin’ foul.”

“Like Satan’s ass crack,” Ben remarked.

You couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement.

“Let’s just get the fuck outta here,” M.M. said, his tone all surly, as per usual. You didn’t envy his plight.

“Good job, guys,” you said, to change the subject. “Now it’s just a short flight back to New York.”

“No layovers this time. I’m not being paid to rot in a fucking airport with a bunch of mouth-breathing assholes and their screaming brats,” Ben said.

Charming. You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips when you imagined his taciturn face.

“Okay, your majesty. I’ll make sure it’s a nonstop flight,” you said. “I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

That last bit, you said with a hint of more behind your words. You drummed your nails on your desk and crossed your legs underneath it. A week was a long time for you and your boyfriend to be apart, and you’d been missing him.

“You better be,” Ben said. His voice was deep and cocky. He was smirking, you were sure, and you knew that he’d understood you perfectly well.

“Anybody else hearing this blatant foreplay?” Hughie quipped.

“I sense cheeks will be cracked tonight,” Frenchie muttered.

“Ugh!” you heard Annie shudder.

You knew she supported you and Ben, but you also knew that she didn’t want to hear about the gushy details. You laughed through your embarrassment. 

“Okay, guys. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” you said, before you officially signed off. 

You grabbed your purse that was stowed away in a desk drawer, fished out your cell phone, and you called Ben’s cell. He picked up on the second ring.

“Yeah?” he said. 

“I love you,” you said with a smile. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Mhmm,” he replied. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”

You pouted. “Come on, say it.”

“Say what?”

You sighed. You knew he was being deliberately obtuse.

“You know exactly what,” you replied.

Part of you was upset that he didn’t say it back as often as you liked. God forbid Butcher and the others hear him express his affection for you.

But you supposed you understood that any kind of vulnerability was difficult for him, especially in front of others. As much shit as you gave him, you also knew how to pick your battles with Ben.

“I told you. I’ll see you soon,” he said.

You once again tapped your nails, on your armrest this time. After a moment, you relented.

“Okay, baby. Have a safe flight,” you said, even if you were still frowning.

When Ben hung up with you, he let out a deep sigh.

An entire week with these juvenile cocksuckers was almost too much for him to fucking take. While he often felt your presence with you on the comm line during the actual mission, and the occasional phone call on long nights in between, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.

He was ready to go home.

The flight itself was fine, though dealing with civilians and the tiring experience of a long-ass flight made him even more antsy to land. Because even when they got to JFK, he still had a hired car waiting for him to drive him from the airport to get to Scarsdale, and to the apartment he shared with you. It had already been almost a year of you two living there, in a three-bedroom spanning two floors.

Ben hadn’t thought he would get used to such a small place, but it was all right. It had become his home, far more than the penthouses and party mansions ever were, at least.

When he finally got home and unlocked the front door of the apartment, he stepped into darkness. All the lights were off.

Odd, he thought. He called your name while he shut the door behind him, then flicked on the foyer light. He realized then that he hadn’t seen your car in the driveway. Were you still working? It wasn’t unlike you to get caught up with the paperwork and other logistics after a case.

After a quick look around of each room, from the kitchen to the living room, Ben knew you hadn’t come home yet. A frown marred his face.

He went upstairs and entered the bedroom next. He unclipped his wrist guards and took his gloves off first, followed by loosening the collar of his supe suit. The bed was made, untouched since this morning, he was sure.

Then he noticed the scrap of paper resting on his pillow. He picked it up, and his brows furrowed as he read.

By the time you find me, she’ll wish she was dead.

Ben called Grace Mallory first.

When she didn’t answer, he called Butcher next. Ben’s hand shook the slightest bit while holding the phone up to his ear.

“Evenin’, guv,” Butcher answered with a tired sigh. “What’s this about—”

“We have a fucking problem,” Ben growled.

Ben pushed the limits of his Mercedes Benz while driving himself to Supe Affairs.

The others met him there in a conference room, except for Grace, who was on an active case at the moment. There Hughie and Frenchie tapped into the S.A. security footage on their laptops. 

They eventually found you getting into your car in the S.A. garage, about four hours ago. Then two later, the street cameras picked you up somewhere in the Village. Ben recognized the street. 

You probably had dinner with your friend Yvette and her family, but you intended to make it home on time to meet Ben when you left around 9:00 p.m. 

You had parallel parked at a meter on the street. According to the footage, it looked quiet and empty when you headed back to your car. 

You were stopped by someone before you could get the driver’s side door open. It looked like a man’s height and build; he grabbed you by the shoulder and threw a punch you managed to dodge.

You put up a good fight, but you were eventually knocked out with what looked to be a crowbar, at first glance. When Hughie zoomed in, it was actually a black baton. Ben watched it all with a deepening frown. Anger churned in his gut and ignited his blood as he watched your unconscious body being hauled into a black SUV.

“That looks military-issued,” M.M. said, pointing at the baton that the suspect used to hit you.

Butcher nodded, and also noted the man’s fighting style. “That’s a professional.”

“He would have to be, to take her out,” M.M. said, glancing at Ben. “And the timing. They knew you were coming home. That note was personal, besides the fact that they were casing your place…they’ve probably been watching both of you, waiting for the chance to get the jump on you.”

“The question,” Butcher said, “is who the fuck would wanna tangle with Soldier Boy that badly?”   

“Shit. That’s a laundry list, isn’t it?” Hughie said. M.M.’s glance told him to shut the fuck up.

Ben was silent, but his fury was mounting. His head turned sharply to Butcher.

“Get Mallory on the line. Now,” he barked. When no one moved quick enough for him, his temper snapped at its thinly held leash.

“I said right fucking now!”

Slowly you blinked your eyes open. For a moment, you were seeing in double vision. It soon cleared up to reveal dark, damp, musty surroundings.

It smelled familiar; after that mission to find and subdue Sapphire a couple of months ago, you’d recognize a New York sewer anywhere.

Fuuucking shit, you thought with a groan. Your head was aching. You felt a trickle of blood down the side of your neck, and you found yourself in a familiar position—seated on a metal chair with your hands secured behind your back. Your restraints felt like zip ties.

“You finally with us, sweetheart?” asked a man. His voice was smooth and commanding.

“Jackson, I don’t know about this,” whispered someone else. Another man, though he sounded slightly younger, reminding you of Hughie.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” Jackson snapped.

At least you had a name. He stepped into the light that came from a couple of small lanterns. One was propped on top of a bucket by the wall. The other was on a plastic fold out table that you saw a few feet beside you.

The man who stepped into your line of vision was tall, maybe around Ben’s height, if just shy of his build. He was blonde, just like his skinnier friend. They shared some notable facial features and coloring, but while Jackson’s eyes were dark brown and self-assured, the younger man’s were blue and apprehensive. If you had to guess, they looked like brothers.

“Nice digs,” you remarked, gesturing with your gaze at your surroundings.

Jackson rose a brow, crossing his arms.

“You’re taking all this pretty well,” he said. 

You huffed humorlessly.

“This isn’t exactly my first kidnapping,” you said.

He quirked his head and drew closer.   

“All right. Well, since we’re on the clock, let me tell you why you’re here,” he said. He bent down in front of you so that his face was level with yours. “I need you, sweetheart. You’re going to tell me how to bring down Soldier Boy. How to kill him. How to end him. Then maybe, I’ll let you go without gouging out those pretty eyes.”

You stared back at Jackson with an expression that didn’t change.

Then you spat in his face.

And you expected the hard, back-handed slap that made your head whip to the side. It rattled you for a moment as you caught your breath, but you recovered enough to lean back in your seat. Your eyes met Jackson’s directly after he wiped his face with his shirt. “Tommy” stood off to the side behind his partner. He’d looked away when you were hit.

You focused on the other man, Jackson. He was wearing black cargo pants to match his boots, and a belt with a gun on his hip. He carried himself like a trained killer.

“Military, government agency, or private sector?” you asked.

His head tilted. He studied you, just like you were studying him.

“None of the above really,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He walked over to the fold out table, where he grabbed a black bag and unzipped it. A flash of silver gleamed as he pulled out one sharp instrument after the next. You had to hide your apprehension, and fear that made your insides tremble.

He glanced over at you.

“Let’s get started,” he said.

Hours later, you were teetering on the edge of consciousness.

After the last hit, you spat a wad of phlegm and blood onto Jackson’s shoes. He rotated the ache out of his hand. He looked down at you through furrowed brows.

“Damn, bitch,” he said, catching his breath. “You can take a hit. I’ll give you that.” 

“My dad was a Marine, numb nuts,” you managed to reply, through labored breaths. “He used to hit harder with his open hand than all the strength in that limp-dick wrist of yours.” 

Jackson smirked. “Christ. Daddy issues, huh? Why doesn’t that surprise me.” 

You gave him a droll look. Again, to cover your fear, because you weren’t willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

Angered and frustrated by that defiance, he reached down and grabbed your neck and jaw with one hand. You winced at the force of his grip, but when he started squeezing, this was the one thing that made you truly whimper. You tried not to think about the ghost of your father’s hand around your neck.

“Don’t you get it, asshole?” you gritted out while struggling for breath. “You can’t kill him. No one can. Stronger, smarter people than you have tried.” 

Moments ticked by while Jackson contemplated your words. 

Then he released you. You sucked in gulps of air and tried not to cough out a lung.

“Maybe,” he said. “But Soldier Boy’s got a weakness. If anyone knows it, I’ve got a feeling it’s you.” 

You can’t say anything. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t. 

That had been your mantra for every minute you had spent in this hole. You shook your head.

“Look, Jackson.” You sucked in another breath to steady yourself, and blink a drip of blood out of your eyes. “He’s going to kill you. You and your brother. Take your family and run, while you’ve still got a chance.” 

“…You know what? You’re probably right,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his head with his crimson-stained hand. “But I just realized something.”

He leaned down again, until he was level with your face.

“When he finds you, drowned in your own goddamn blood…I think the look on his face might just be enough for me.”

Your eyes widened. 

It took days. Three painful days to pick up the threads, which led closer to home than anyone could’ve anticipated. 

Grace Mallory put pressure across the chain of command, and even reached out to the FBI for assistance. An alert email finally came to her phone, and she realized that an agent on her own payroll had been flagged for never reporting back for his debriefing on a reconnaissance mission.

That agent was Jackson Rawlins.

The further she read into his file, the worse her frown became. She immediately sent the lead to Ben, Butcher, and the rest of the team to run down. For the first time in years, Grace actually prayed.

She prayed that they would reach you in time. It wasn’t until then that she realized it; she hadn’t thought of you as a cog in her system for some time now—not even as leverage against Soldier Boy. She was genuinely concerned about you.

Grace worried that she was setting herself up for disappointment…if it was too late. However, she also worried about what would happen if you didn’t survive. She considered how Ben might react, with that nuclear power within him that he was still learning to control. The consequences of this mission could very well be catastrophic. 

You were losing track of time in this windowless pit. You knew it had been days, but you didn’t remember how many. The cellar was cold, and the way sound and air traveled, it felt like you were underground. It certainly smelled like it—damp and gross. It made you certain this was a sewer.

Now this is Satan’s ass crack, you thought. You winced at the pain that radiated…pretty much everywhere. Blood had dried from various lacerations across your face, neck, chest, and arms, and bruises were dark against your skin.

Your blouse was in tatters, and your jeans had bleeding rips as well, though at least he’d kept your ankle boots on. You were too weak even for hunger. And a large, heavy chain attached to manacles on your wrists had replaced the zip ties. One end of the chain was fastened between the wall and a line of plumbing.

Footsteps echoed down the hall behind you. You closed your eyes and steeled yourself.

“Are we actually gonna have a conversation today?” Jackson asked.

“Depends,” you replied, your voice dry and coarse. “Are you going to tell me why you hate Ben so much?”

An angry sigh escaped Jackson’s lips. He pointed up in frustration.

“Ben.” Jackson rolled and cracked his neck, like just the mention of your boyfriend’s real name was disgusting to this man.

“You talk about him like he’s a real fucking person. Not like the animal supe he is,” he said.

“He is a person,” you said, both in exhaustion, and in pain. “And he’s trying to be better. Look, he’s done terrible things. I’m not saying he hasn’t. I don’t know what he’s done to you in the past, but—”

Jackson shut you up with a sharp backhand. It made black spots encroach on your vision as you caught your breath.

You noticed his brother Tom come in the room as well, to watch and worry. He didn’t seem comfortable with this way of things. He looked like a civilian. Maybe you could use that to your advantage…

But you lost track of thought after that, when Jackson started in on you with either his hands, or the creativity of the instruments on the table nearby. 

You tried to block out the pain, along with his questions about Ben. If you couldn’t talk about him, you couldn’t let yourself think about him. So you couldn’t say anything.

Not about the Novichok nerve agent, one of the few things that had been found to incapacitate him. Not his imprisonment by Vought or the S.A.—nothing that your captor could one day use against Ben.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

Even though all you wanted right now was him. 

Ben, please…

You zoned in and out of consciousness from there.

When you next registered being awake, mercifully, you were left alone. You raised your head when Tom came to blot at least some of your wounds and give you water. You’d only eaten small pieces of protein bars for days. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered.

“Why does he want Ben?” you wheezed. “Why are you going along with this if you’re so damn sorry?”

Tom looked up at you with pain and grief in his blue eyes. He sighed and dragged a nearby chair from the table. He sat beside you while he fed you half a protein bar. It was a struggle to even get the pieces down.

“Last year,” said Tom, clearing his throat. “I lived in the building that Soldier Boy blew up when he got back from…wherever the Russians had him.”

Your eyes widened as you processed that. “You…but you made it out. Why—”

“I wasn’t home. I was at work,” Tom said. His voice was pained as his eyes became red and glassy. “Our mom wasn’t so lucky.”

You sighed, closing your eyes.

“She was retired, and I was taking care of her,” Tom said. He wiped at his eyes and sniffed. “Jackson wasn’t here. He was on a mission in Colombia. Told me he was cleaning up some cartel shit.”

At that, you had a sneaking suspicion that coiled in your gut. Ben had left a bit of a mess when he peaced out of Colombia, with an entire plane filled with drugs and weapons from whatever cartel he’d infiltrated. (In his words, he’d cut the head off the snake.)

Grace told you she’d sent a team in to handle that mess…

“Your brother—who does he work for?” you asked. Though you had a feeling you knew the answer.

Tom seemed to read your understanding, and his face turned grim.

“The CIA,” he said.

Fuck, you grimaced. So not only had Ben been responsible for their mother’s death, but Jackson had been part of the team that cleaned up his mess in South America. It explained why Jackson was somehow able to find your information; Supe Affairs had become a subsect of the CIA, thanks to Grace. 

“I didn’t know he was planning this. I swear to God. All he said was that he had a way to get at Soldier Boy,” Tom said. You let out a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” you said. Tears welled up hot in your eyes. “But you need to let me go. For your own safety, believe me.”

You saw the guilt, the sadness, the regret on Tom’s face. The brief indecision was overtaken when he glanced down the hall. You knew then that he was more afraid of his own brother than he was willing to do the right thing.

Your tears spilled over, though you tried to breathe through it. You’d tried to save them for when you were alone, those seldom few, cold hours, but you were reaching your breaking point.

“Okay, before I go, do you have to use the bathroom?” Tom asked. There was a bucket in the corner, and Jackson preferred it away from the chair. It was the only time Tom was allowed to unchain you from the wall and let you stretch your legs.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, you nodded in agreement. It was humiliating to know you were going to have to do this yet again, in a bucket, with company. With the manacles still on your wrists, he brought you over to the “special” corner.

Tom sighed and looked away to give you some semblance of privacy.

That was when you used every scrap of energy you had left in you.

You grabbed the chain and yanked it out of his hands long enough to wrap it around his neck from behind. You cut off his sounds of strain and kicked out his knees, so he was forced to kneel on the ground.

You wrapped the rest of the chain around your thigh, giving you the leverage you needed to tighten your grip and choke him out, until he was unconscious. His body fell to the side, and you heaved for breath. Once again, there were black spots in your vision, but you did your best to blink them away.

Now set with determination, you made your way to the plastic table and searched for the key to your chains. After the manacles were unlocked, you rubbed at your raw wrists and rapidly scanned the room. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you calculated which way you should go to try and escape.

There were three possibilities in this clearing under the sewer: left, right, or straight ahead. Every time Tom or Jackson emerged, it sounded like it was behind you. The chair was facing to the east, which meant you had to take the left tunnel.

You ran in that direction and tried to find a metal ladder that would take you to whatever manhole cover these guys had detached. Someone couldn’t just open up any of those iron plates without the right tools, from the inside or the outside.

You walked as fast as you could manage, even though your entire body protested in pain. Then finally, you saw a black duffel bag lying on the ground, against the wall. Next to it was a metal ladder that went all the way up to the top.

“Jackson, don’t!”

You heard Tom’s voice, but you felt the presence behind you too late. Jackson hit you in the back of the head with that damn baton, so hard that even he grimaced at how the sound echoed on the walls. You crumpled to the ground.

Jackson stood over you with a grim set to his face. He turned to his brother with a shake of his head.

“She’s a walking welt, and you couldn’t handle her?” he said.

“This is too much,” Tom said in worry. He bent down and held two fingers to your neck. He still felt a pulse, at least, but when he felt behind your head, he found blood. His hand shook as he stared at it.

“If you didn’t want in on this, you should’ve said so from the beginning,” said Jackson. He spun the baton in his hand and clipped the hilt to his belt, from a small metal loop on the end of it.

“You didn’t say anything about…about this!” Tom argued. He cleaned your blood off on his jacket.

Jackson regarded his brother with disappointment, and he hefted you up into his arms. Tom followed him back to their setup with your makeshift prison. There Jackson left you lying on the ground, and chained you back up by your wrists for good measure. He then literally and figuratively wiped his hands of you.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said. “For good this time.”

Tom looked at you, then his brother in shock. There was even emotion in his eyes.   

“We’re leaving her to die,” he said, his voice unsteady. He knew then, that their mother wouldn't have wanted this in her name. If she saw both of them now, she wouldn't recognize them.

Jackson grabbed his younger brother where his neck met his shoulder. An iron grip.

“And what do you think Soldier Boy is going to do if he finds us?” Jackson asked. His gaze encouraged Tom to explore that reality for a moment.

Jackson nodded at your unconscious form. “Trust me, that bitch was never going to talk. But this is almost better.”

It wasn’t right, Tom thought. He knew it, deep in his heart, but he wasn’t strong like his brother, or even like you.

That was when they heard it. The rumble of engines dying and tires rolling overhead, dislodging a few stray pebbles and dust from the ceiling. Jackson’s eyes widened. 

“Fuck!” he muttered. “All right, let’s go.”

Jackson forced his younger brother to leave the sewer with him, and leave you chained up on the floor.

Ben, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had done much of the legwork in tracking down Jackson Rawlins and his brother Tom (with help from Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie of course). Frenchie had found your likely location with a powerful thermal scanner, courtesy of Grace.

Now, they’d driven up to the wide alley in the city and blocked off all the exits on the block. Ben was the first to get his boots on the ground and stride toward the point of entry, where according to Frenchie’s scanners, more than one body was holed up in the sewer. He held his shield at his side and at the ready when the manhole cover loosened, and slid open.

A small gas bomb rolled out towards his feet, but it was just tear gas, not the kind of thing that could actually affect him. Ben picked up the little round ball of metal and crushed it in his hand. While the rest of the team dove for the oxygen masks stored in the car, Ben stalked forward.

Seeing the silhouette of a man, Ben threw his shield hard enough to rattle a supe.

Jackson Rawlins was thrown clean onto his back with a force that stole the breath from his lungs, even through his gas mask. It also broke half a dozen ribs. Ben was soon bearing on top of him and ripping off the mask.

Jackson cried out as remnants of the tear gas seared his eyes.

“Got us a runner!” Butcher shouted. He intercepted and grabbed up a second man who tried to escape. Tom Rawlins wasn’t the threat, but he still wasn’t going free. M.M. and Frenchie also dove down into the sewer to try and find you after they got their gas masks on.

Meanwhile, Ben hauled Jackson up by his neck and walked him back until he hit the brick wall beside a nail salon. Jackson grunted in pain. Every breath he took was now agonizing, thanks to his now battered and broken ribs.

“Where is she?” Ben demanded.

Jackson actually laughed in his face, despite his now bloodshot eyes.

“All you fucking supes are the same,” he said. “But you…you’re the worst. Quite literally, the original asshole. And what does the government do? What does the world do? Gives you a pass on decades of indiscretions, fuck ups, and straight up murder.” 

Ben didn’t outwardly react, but he knew what Jackson’s problem was. He knew he killed the man’s family. Collateral damage—something that had caused Ben more than one argument with you in the past.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because all he could see in his mind’s eye was a metal bat hitting the back of your head and knocking you clean out. He saw you being taken against your will. Taken from him. And that, he couldn’t abide.

“Where. Is she?” Ben said, as his grip flexed around the other man’s neck. It would be easy. Easier than snapping a toothpick. And he warned, “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

“Dead, probably,” Jackson spat, despite his red and bleary eyes. “Real tough bitch. I see why you’re fucking her…I had me a little taste myself.”

In that moment, Ben couldn’t compute.

His green eyes widened. His breath stilled.

Then his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth were grinding. A fire in his blood and behind his eyes, and fury that burned hot in his chest, almost giving it that nuclear glow.

His hand tightened and choked any salacious words Jackson might’ve spewed out next.

“He didn’t!” Tom shouted out. He was being restrained by Butcher. Ben glanced at them out of the corner of his eye.  

“He didn’t touch her. Not like that,” Tom said. He looked sincere.  

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” said his older brother. 

It earned Ben’s attention back. Jackson had the look of a man who knew he was going to die either way.

Ben’s lips curled into a sneer. He took the man’s head with both hands, and slowly crushed his skull. The scream echoed between Ben’s ears, but he was only satisfied when Jackson’s lifeless body dropped at his feet.

He turned to the other Rawlins next.

Tom had screamed as well to watch his brother’s life ended before his eyes. He now stared straight into Soldier Boy’s, pleading wordlessly for his own life. Ben started toward him.

“Please,” Tom said. He tried twisting away from Butcher, who held firm to the man’s arm. The Brit knew all too well, the rage that Ben had in his blood.

“Ben,” Annie tried, and she even stepped forward. Butcher held a hand out against her with a knowing look. It wouldn’t be wise to stand in the way.

“Hey!” M.M. shouted up from down the open hatch of the sewer. “We found her! Need help getting her loose.”

Ben paused in his steps. Tom was shaking, lips trembling, petrified.

Tilting his head, Ben let out a subtle breath through his nose. He began to turn back toward the sewer.

At the last moment, however, he drew his gun and shot Tom Rawlins between the eyes. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Annie and Hughie flinched, but Butcher and Kimiko weren’t surprised in the least.

Meanwhile, Ben made his way back towards M.M.’s voice, and into the sewer. He heard M.M. and Frenchie arguing about first aid and head wounds, the further in he went. Ben’s dark mood blackened even more along the way.

Once he reached them, he also reached you, held in M.M.’s arms as he cradled your head.

You were unconscious with your wrists locked into heavy chains. The furrow between Ben’s brows deepened, but he got down to his knees beside you and first, broke your chains. He guided you out of M.M.’s arms and into his own, making sure to support your head. Blood was already staining his half-glove and fingers.

It was then that he noticed the small crimson pool lying where your body had been, likely from the wound he could feel at the back of your head. Ben’s mouth trembled the slightest bit, mostly in anger as he drew himself back onto his feet. Your body was littered with bruises, cuts both shallow and deep made by what looked like a blade, and God knew what else.

“I had me a little taste myself,” Jackson had taunted.

No, Ben internally shook that thought from his mind. No, you hadn’t been touched like that, at least, according to the sniveling, cock-sucking brother.

But can you trust that little cunt’s word?

Ben briefly closed his eyes, pressing his lips to your forehead. He continued walking down the hall and towards the light and fresh air of the world above.

You’re gonna be just fine, he promised you, if just within the safety of his mind.

Yeah, you would be all right.

He was going to make sure of it.

AN: 🫣 I'm sorry...BUT, I can promise it will get better (eventually). First, it's going to get worse.

Next Time:

It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well trimmed.

His head soon raised, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”

You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.

“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Welcome to SEVENTEEN World — A SEVENTEEN World Series 

 💼 CEO Edition

✧ Genre: CEO au; SMUT [18+], fluff, angst (+ more will be added in chapters) ♡ Pairing: female!reader x CEO!SEVENTEEN member ♕ Shout out: special thanks to @fugaciousserendipity for the support! And thank you lovely @outromoni​ for all the amazing SEVENTEEN World banners 💜 love them so much eeeeeeep!!! ✎ Note: Make sure to enable the MATURE community label if you want to read the individual chapters!!!! The smut, however, is optional!

☀ if you want to be added to the tag list, leave a comment or send me an ask!  ☑ — completed ✍ — in progress ✖ — not yet started

ღ Prologue ☑

Where Everything Started. (3.5k+ words)

~ How did a drunken thought turn into a multi-billion dollar business? This is how 13 friends turned their dreams into reality. This is the story of SEVENTEEN World and where it all started.

✧ CEO JEON WONWOO ☑

Don't Tell The Boss. [SMUT]  (31k+ words)

Lawyer!reader, Seungcheol’s sister!reader x CEO Jeon Wonwoo ~ You were off limits. Seungcheol had made that absolutely clear from the very start. Wonwoo knew that, the other CEOs did and even you were aware of that fact. But when Wonwoo is tasked to fill in for Seungcheol during his monthly legal consult, he certainly didn’t think that you’d be there, his best friend’s sister, the one person he wasn’t allowed to get close to. Then why did he suddenly find himself asking you out? And why did you say yes?

✧ MANAGING CEO CHOI SEUNGCHEOL ✍

Melon Pang! — PART ONE ☑ (32k+ words)

Barista!reader x CEO Choi Seungcheol ~ The last thing Seungcheol expected was to argue with a random stranger in a bakery after an awfully stressful day. But how could he not when this person was about to take the last melon pan? You were in a similar position. Your boss had been nagging you non-stop at work and all you wanted was your favorite snack, followed by a movie marathon on the couch. Instead, you find yourself having to deal with this stubborn guy who thinks the whole world is his.

✧ CEO XU MINGHAO ✖

IT expert!reader x CEO Xu Minghao ~ As part of his evening routine, Minghao always went on a run to clear his mind and most importantly, escape the two bodyguards that he was stuck with nearly 24/7. That’s when he encounters you, being harassed by a pair of nasty-looking men that seemed to want something from you. And with a reputation like his, he couldn’t just idly stand by. You, on the other hand, were just trying to get home after your late-night shift. But you didn’t anticipate being ambushed by these scary men, and you definitely didn’t anticipate a stranger coming to your rescue.

✧ CEO CHOI HANSOL ✖

Vet!reader x CEO Choi Hansol ~ Vernon and you had been good friends even before SEVENTEEN World was first established. Together, you worked at the animal shelter, with you being the local vet. So, when he became CEO, he asked you to join him at the rescue center, and you saw no reason to refuse such a good offer. As the two of you grow closer due to the nature of your jobs, slowly but surely, Vernon starts to realize that what he feels for you is more than just friendship. However, there is one little thing: you’re engaged. And from what Vernon has seen, the guy is a complete ass. How will he convince you that you’re making a mistake? Or maybe he doesn’t even have to…

✧ CEO KWON SOONYOUNG ✖

Dancer!reader x CEO Kwon Soonyoung ~ There are times when Soonyoung just wants to dance without feeling like he’s constantly being watched. That’s why he has been frequenting a small private dance studio, where he rents a room when he needs to be alone. It just so happens that you also frequent the place for similar reasons. An unfortunate event causes the two of you to meet and from that moment, the both of you start to form a friendship. Well, you’re not sure if you can call it a real friendship when the man who supposedly saved your life doesn’t even dare to show you his face. Who the hell is he and why is he so set on trying to keep his identity a secret from you?

✧ CEO HONG JISOO ✖

Linguist!reader x CEO Hong Jisoo ~ With his busy schedule, it isn’t often that Joshua is able to give seminars. So when a spot opens up in his calendar, he decides to teach a summer course for any students or researchers interested in the history of language. You, a linguist at heart, were planning to travel to South Korea for a few months to explore the culture and the language in particular. Once you hear about Language Lab SEVENTEEN and the summer course given by the CEO himself, you can’t help but sign up for it. There, Joshua encounters you, a woman who is not afraid to tell him when he is wrong, even if it’s in the middle of a packed lecture hall. He knows he’s not supposed to get involved with his students, but you’ve caught his attention and now he can’t stop thinking about you.

✧ CEO LEE CHAN ✖

Photographer!reader x CEO Lee Chan ~ Chan first met you when he was out on a walk and you were wandering through the city, looking for interesting things to photograph. The two of you hit it off almost immediately and it didn’t take long before the two of you started dating. But when a picture of the two of you appears in the media, you suddenly find yourself living your worst nightmare: at the center of attention. Pretty soon, it becomes clear to you that Chan is CEO Lee Chan of SEVENTEEN Productions, which makes you realize that he’s been keeping this big part of his life from you the whole time. But why would he do that to you? And how are you going to get rid of these reporters that just won’t leave you alone?

✧ CEO KIM MINGYU ✖

Food critic!reader x CEO Kim Mingyu ~ Ever since you left a negative review on your blog for the Flavor Factory SEVENTEEN branch in Seoul, Mingyu has been trying to hunt you down. Because who did you think you were to judge his food? And why were you hiding behind your computer? You, however, were just content with your life, with a successful food blog where no one was aware of your identity. So, you certainly didn’t expect the CEO of Flavor Factory SEVENTEEN to come knocking at your door in the middle of a workout session.

✧ CEO YOON JEONGHAN ✖

Junior designer!reader x CEO Yoon Jeonghan ~ From the moment you started working at SEVENTEEN Fashion as a junior designer, your superior seemed to have it out for you. No matter what you did, the woman always critiqued your work or made you work overtime while your colleagues had already left hours ago. Jeonghan has always prided himself in the fact that he treats all employees with respect, regardless of their position. So, when he finds out that it was you, and not your superior, who was responsible for the brilliant idea that got the company’s sales to skyrocket, he decides to get to the bottom of it and ends up taking a special interest in you.

✧ CEO LEE SEOKMIN ✖

Temp!reader x CEO Lee Seokmin ~ Seokmin had always been a little clumsy. And it just so happened that he decided to get a coffee at the same time that you went to get one. What he didn’t expect was to be the cause of you spilling your coffee all over yourself, and the mental breakdown that followed said incident. You were already having a bad morning, so the last thing you needed was a stranger spilling the coffee you’d paid for with your hard-earned money. Or was he perhaps the solution to all your problems?

✧ CEO BOO SEUNGKWAN ✖

Waitress!reader, Childhood friend!reader x CEO Boo Seungkwan ~  It had been years since Seungkwan had taken a proper break from anything work-related. When he is forced to take a break by the other 12 CEOs, he returns to his family in Jeju Island, where he meets you, his childhood friend, working at your family’s restaurant. You? You never thought you’d see Seungkwan again. Not after he became successful and the two of you started drifting apart. So, why did he think he could suddenly step back into your life again?

✧ CEO LEE JIHOON ✖

Office worker!reader x CEO Lee Jihoon ~ Part of being a CEO meant attending social events and unfortunately, that was something Jihoon absolutely hated. After one particular long event, he ends up going to his favorite lookout spot to be alone and clear his thoughts. He didn’t expect anyone to know about that spot. So, he is surprised to find you there, in his spot, and you just won’t stop talking…about your issues, your family, your job and your stupid obsession with HIT SEVENTEEN’s CEO. But then why does he keep coming back, knowing that you’re going to be there too?

✧ CEO WEN JUNHUI ✖

Musician!reader x CEO Wen Junhui ~ It is through Jihoon that Jun meets you. You’d been in contact with Jihoon for a while to collaborate on a music project, and after months of exchanging emails with demos, he finally invited you to Seoul for some in-person sessions. Given your musical talent and the fact that you’ve been living in China for the past 10 years, Jihoon decides that it’s a good idea to introduce you to Jun, who wants nothing more than to find his special someone. When the hotel you’ve booked suddenly cancels on you, you have to decide whether you want to take Jun up on his offer to stay with him for the few days that you’re in Seoul. He was a well-respected man in his field and you trusted Jihoon’s judgment, so what could possibly go wrong?

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

The List (3)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Not Beta’d. Thank you for all the continuous interest expressed in this mini-series. Your comments influence my writing so I’m just as excited as all of you to see how this series ends. Tumblr only lets me tag 50 accounts at a time. If you are not listed blow, you will be tagged in the comments. If you would like to join the taglist for this series or would like to be removed let me know!

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Chapter 3

Tony had been right; every news station had been reporting on the gala for weeks. When they weren’t discussing the night of the gala, they opted to report on Bucky. With her eyes and ears glued to the television and her phone, the days blurred together for Y/N. There was no word from Bucky. She was sure he would use his first call to contact her, but he didn’t. The only update she received was from the reporters who didn’t know Bucky the way she did. They didn’t know the way he would stare at her or bush his thumb over her lips before planting a gentle kiss on her lips. They didn’t know about the sweet nothings he would whisper in her ear as he held her at night. They didn’t know he protected Steve years before Steve worked for him or that Bucky took in Peter to give him a community after the death of his guardian, Aunt May. Instead, the media painted him as a monster, choosing to focus on his involvement with the mob. Loki, however, was never mentioned. He was quick to cover his tracks like a snake shedding its skin.

The number of people sent to assassinate Y/N and Bucky at the gala told her everything she needed to know. Her ex-fiancé knew that she knew it was him. With Bucky’s fate all over the news and Y/N not being one of the bodies recovered at the gala, Loki knew they were still alive. He called her several times over the past three weeks, but she never answered. He wasn’t the one that was supposed to call her. It was supposed to be Bucky. It was always supposed to be Bucky.

Twisting in the bedsheets Y/N ran her hand along the space beside her. The smooth silk that was usually welcomed felt wrong beneath her hand. She longed to reach out and touch Bucky like she had many times before. The soft glow of the tv cast the bedroom in a blue hue. The last time she felt this grief-stricken was when she had been going through her divorce from Bucky. Once again, the man was alive but just out of reach, this time, psychically. Yet, she was sprawled out on his bed like a widow refusing to leave her husband’s grave. He was alive but gone again and she was mourning. The only shade of blue she wanted was Bucky’s eyes staring back at her.

A muffled voice echoed down the hall. Most of Bucky’s men had frequented his house lately. Steve had moved everyone in during Bucky’s absence. Y/N didn’t know how Bucky would feel about that. He had always been a private person, but Steve had assured Y/N that it is what Bucky would do. After all, Bucky had told Y/N to find Steve. He was his right-hand man and Bucky had entrusted Steve to take care of business while he was in prison. That included taking care of Y/N and the rest of Bucky’s men all awaiting their names to become active on the hit list. The voice grew louder, and Y/N knew it was Steve. He was the only one who lingered by Bucky’s bedroom.

“Not good. She breaks down every time he calls.”

Was he talking about her? Y/N pushed herself up, wrapping the sheet around her nude chest. She could hear the dismissal of Steve’s end of the conversation loud and clear followed by a knock. Tightening her grip on the sheet, Y/N forced her focus onto the muted television, pretending to be reading the captions as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Come in,” she called out, her voice hoarse.

Steve trudged into the room, just as exhausted as he had every other day, he checked in on her. It was a stark contrast to the way Bucky always checked in on her. Bucky was resilient, never letting his work consume him wholly. Steve on the other hand, always gave everything he did 110%. Taking over Bucky’s position was no exception.

“You shouldn’t be watching all of this stuff,” Steve grunted, snatching up the remote and changing the channel.

Y/N didn’t have the energy to fight him. She was desperate for information on Bucky. She had shot him the last time she saw him, and all the news cared about was that a mob leader was captured at the site of the crime. Steve tossed the remote on the bed beside Y/N. She stared up at him, his eyes the wrong shade of blue.

“Steve, was that Bucky on the phone?” Y/N questioned; her voice laced with misery. Steve remained expressionless, not giving her any hints as to who was on the other end of the phone. She didn’t blame him for not saying anything. It was part of his job to keep information confidential. If someone told Steve a secret, he would guard it with his life. She just hoped he would keep her in the loop since she was a part of whatever this was now. Y/N’s lip trembled the longer Steve remained silent.

“Has Loki called again?” Steve crossed his arms.

He had been asking her about Loki every day since the gala. At first, she wanted to help so she cooperated, answering his questions but then they became repetitive. He was trying to give her something to do to feel useful. Steve didn’t need information from her. It was a distraction from one man in her life with another. She was spiraling like the loose thread of a sweater; with each question, she unraveled until she was bare.

No longer willing to entertain Steve’s questions, Y/N dropped her shoulders letting just how exhausted she truly was show. “Why hasn’t he called me?”

Steve ran a hand through his darkening hair. His once golden locks had begun to brown at the roots. With his busy schedule, he didn’t have time to shave his beard or cut his lengthening hair. It reminded her of when she first met Bucky. His dark hair was long, and his beard was slightly overgrown. Over time, he cut his hair for a cleaner, more respected look. He no longer needed his intimidating appearance to get ahead, his name alone was enough to scare his enemies. Y/N supposed it was Loki’s long hair and charming personality that had won her over. He reminded her of Bucky when they had first met. It was her longing to reconnect with Bucky that drove her into Loki’s arms. It also was the reason both of their names were on a hit list, and Bucky was sitting in a prison cell.

“Come on, get dressed.” Steve turned his back walking toward the door.

“Where are we going?” Y/N clutched the sheet tighter, scrambling after him.

The corner of his lips lifted in a half smile. “A little birdy told me you could use some practice.”

“You brought me to a warehouse?” Y/N frowned. She squinted, a hand coming up to shield her eyes from the sun. The swish of cars zipping across the bridge above them pierced her ears. The livelihood above a strikingly different atmosphere beneath the bridge. The water sloshed against the pebbles, seeping into her shoes. Her face twisted into a grimace as water expelled from her socks with each step.

Steve chuckled, untangling a heavy metal chain from the door handles. The chain landed in the pebbles with a heavy thud. “After you,” Steve held the door open ushering her inside.

Her eyes scrunched up as Steve flipped a switch, the light blinding her momentarily. She could feel a slight breeze as Steve moved around her, the door slamming shut behind her seconds later.

“And that, right there is exactly why we’re here.”

Y/N frowned, peeling her eyes open. The blonde’s back was turned to her as he fumbled with something on the table in front of him. Peeking around his shoulder a series of firearms were laid across the table.

“What?”

Steve sighed, turning his whole body to face her. His large cold left hand seized her right. His right shoved a gun into her hand before clasping her left over the gun as well. Y/N stood stock-still, dumbfounded by the gun in her hand. The last time she held a gun she killed a man. She also shot Bucky. “I-I don’t-”

Steve silenced her as his long legs carried him to the other side of the room to set up a paper shooting target. Clipping the paper along a wire Steve began, “You closed your eyes the last time you pulled the trigger.”

Y/N paled at the memory. She didn’t want to shoot anybody; she didn’t even want the gun in the first place.

Steve stalked up to her with a pair of earmuffs in hand. “That is why we’re here.” He slapped the earmuffs over her head, his hands securing them over her ears. He then repeated the process himself.

A million questions scrambled around Y/N’s brain but the only one she was able to voice was, “How?” Steve said nothing, just nudging her into position across from the target. Remembering the earmuffs, Y/N repeated her question louder this time.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes cast downward. “Bucky.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, flinging her hands in the air in disbelief. “You talked to him?!”

Steve ducked, his hands covering his head. A growl escaped him as he stood up, “Watch where you’re pointing that thing.”

Y/N waved the bulletless gun in his face, “It’s empty.”

He knew that. He had been the one to hand her the gun. He unloaded it. A frown crossed Steve’s face, “Rule number one, always treat a gun as if it’s loaded. Your negligence is the reason we’re here. You could’ve killed Bucky when you pulled that trigger.”

“But I didn’t,” Y/N pressed. “He wanted me to shoot him.”

Steve ignored the edge in her voice, picking up a loaded gun he fired three rounds in the exact spot Y/N had shot Bucky. His accuracy was so precise there was only one hole in the paper; the other two bullets followed the first one. Heaving Steve glared down at Y/N, “Bucky told me to take you here. When you can fire that gun without closing your eyes, I’ll take you to see him. Until then, you better start taking this seriously. Keeping your eyes open could mean the difference between life and death next time. You got lucky last time but I can assure you, luck runs out eventually. It always does.”

As promised, Steve had dropped her off to visit Bucky after a thorough explanation of what would happen. She had been searched leaving her feeling violated but that was the least of her worries when Bucky rounded the corner donned in an orange jumpsuit. Even in a prison jumpsuit, he managed to remain attractive. The orange flattered his chocolate locks that appeared to have been buzzed on the sides, his beard fuller. If it wasn’t for his bent left arm preventing the handcuffs from pulling his right arm out of the sling, she would have thought he was thriving in prison.

As Bucky approached Y/N abruptly stood to greet him. Silence permitted the space, separated by a piece of plexiglass as a guard removed his handcuffs. Tears pricked her eyes at the sight. She murdered a man. She should be behind bars with him.

Bucky’s steel blue eyes held Y/N’s gaze. It was intense. For weeks Y/N had only met with the man in her dreams. Which wasn’t many. Sleepless nights swallowed up any time she would have had with Bucky. Now that she was standing a foot away from him, unable to touch him she didn’t know what was worse.

The guard stepped away, his lingering hand shoving Bucky into the chair. Bucky hissed at the contact but other than that, he didn’t react. His focus remained solely on Y/N standing before him. They only had an hour and he intended to use every second of it.

Y/N’s eyes were wild. She wanted nothing more than to yell at the guard’s rough handling, but Bucky wasn’t causing a scene, so she bit her tongue. She wouldn’t make this any worse for him. Her eyes snapped back to Bucky as she finally sat across from him. Her eyes raked his body for any other injuries, but his jumpsuit made it impossible.

After her third scan, she caught Bucky’s lips moving. The silver cord already stretched across his chest; the phone rested in his left hand. “Pick up the phone, princess,” he mouthed, causing her cheeks to puff as she smiled. Bucky’s eyes crinkled in delight at the sight of her red-manicured nails wrapped around the glossy black phone.

After weeks of being in the dark, Y/N couldn’t help but ask Bucky the questions Steve refused to answer, “Are you okay? Did you tell them-”

“Y/N,” Bucky’s gruff voice interrupted. “Anything you say here can be recorded and used in court.” It was his polite way of telling her to shut up. It wasn’t her fault; he had kept this part of his business away from her. It was all new to her and the court would use it against him. They would use her against him. Noticing the dejected look on her face, Bucky's face softened. “Look, all I can tell you is that a lawyer who represents some big names has kindly taken my case. Don’t worry about me baby, he’s one of the best.”

Reading between the lines, Y/N had gathered that Stark had offered his lawyer. Tony usually got his way, and he didn’t settle for less, so a sense of relief flooded Y/N. Bucky leaned forward, his left elbow on the table.

“Good. I um- I brought you a suit for the trail. The guards took it. Said they would have it sent to you on the day of the trial.”

Bucky hummed, “What color is it?” He didn’t really care about the color of the suit. He would have worn anything she brought. It was the simplicity in their conversation he craved. A moment where he wasn’t giving orders or looking over his shoulder.

A dreamy look crossed her face, “Blue to bring out your eyes.” That and Steve had said blue was associated with innocence and honesty in the courtroom.

With a dramatic eye roll, Bucky joked, “It’s not a fashion show, Y/N, but tell me," he cleared his throat. “How was training with Steve today? Is he taking care of you?”

A storm cloud hovered above Y/N as she suddenly remembered their betrayal. “He was mean. You called Steve instead of me?”

“I had some affairs to get in order. I'm responsible for you. Steve kept me updated. I knew you were safe. If I would have called you, you would have distracted me.”

“Distracted you?” Y/N asked in disbelief.

Bucky shrugged his good shoulder, “It’s kind of lonely in here. I would’ve used all my time thinking with my other head.”

A fire raged behind Y/N’s eyes, her knuckles turning white against the phone. Is that all I am to you, Buck? A distraction? So, what if you knew that I was safe. What about me?! All of my information about you came from the news which is hardly fact.”

The brunette’s jaw clenched, “Of course not, Y/N.” Resting the phone on his shoulder, he ran his good hand down his face. “I talk business with Steve. You get the rest of me. Besides, you were the one who asked me to protect you, not the other way around.”

Y/N scoffed leaning back in her chair, legs crossed. “Yeah, and if I remember correctly, I saved you. I don’t want fragments of you Bucky and I don’t won’t be kept in the dark.”

Bucky ran his tongue along the front of his teeth staring her down. They had been caught in a haze the past few weeks. Their latest interaction left a bitter taste in his mouth, a reminder of their fights leading up to their divorce. If he was stupid, he’d make the same mistake twice, but Bucky was a predator, a hunter. He knew it was time to change tactics and give in.

Mirroring Y/N, Bucky settled back in his chair. “Okay, princess. You want in on all of the secrets, you want to meet the dark side of me, I’ll let you meet ‘em.”

Y/N blinked back in surprise. He was giving in. So easily? “What’s the catch?”

Bucky grinned like the devil. Y/N once again found herself ready to make a deal with the devil, a habit she had yet to break. “No catch, baby doll. You want me and my lifestyle, you want to be treated like a big girl, the whole nine, you'll get it. No more playing house. If you wanna be a big girl, then you have to make big girl sacrifices. You want to be a queen, then you gotta marry a king. Just remember, you asked for this.”

The color drained from Y/N’s face. “Bucky, you can’t be serious.”

“I am dead serious princess.” Bucky pressed his left hand against the plexiglass staring her down from beneath his eyebrows. “Marry me.”

Next Chapter

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[guessimwritingficsagain]

I didn't know what I wanted (until I wanted you)

Summary : You save Joel Miller's life on patrol. He owes you and you really wanna suck his dick. And maybe at some point you both fall in love. Joel Miller/Reader.

Warnings : Mature content, MDNI, pining, references to anal.

Tags : Just ask.

———

It was a beautiful, sunny day, when you made the decision. You didn’t know why that was what got your attention- but the sun was shining, no clouds in the sky, and you could feel a slight breeze on your skin. 

That was a lie. 

You knew why the weather got your attention. 

Everything would have gotten your attention, today, because Joel Miller owed you and you were about to collect and that put you on edge, skin sensitive, fingers drumming nervously on your thigh. 

Because the whole thing was about to go very right, or very wrong.

———

It had been a nasty affair, the two of you surrounded by four clickers. Killing the first two had been no problem but the third had been a bit of a beast, with you trying not to get overwhelmed by fear. When you finally got it, you found Joel struggling with the fourth one. 

Its teeth really too close to Joel’s neck. 

You put a knife in its throat before it could sink its teeth in Joel. 

That’s when he grunted :

I owe you for that one. 

When Jackson came into view, he insisted :

‘Seriously, you need anything, you come to me. ’s the least I can do after you savin’ my skin out there.’

When your shower started leaking you asked for his help, and, as an afterthought, a joke really, you said to him : 

‘Thanks, guess your debt is paid.’

Joel grunted, shook his head. Apparently a leaking shower was no match for saving someone from a clicker and he took his debt very seriously. 

And you’d watched him, you’d watched the muscles on his back moving as he easily fixed your shower, entranced by how skilled he was. Confident. Fingers thick and strong around the tools, clearly knowing what he was doing. 

It gave you an idea, all that. 

An idea that could very wrong. Or right.

———

Joel opened the door with a surprised grunt - his favorite way of communication, grunting.

‘Want somethin’ to drink ?’ He asked, already on his way to the kitchen.

‘Actually, I’ve come to collect.’

‘Collect ?’

‘Your debt.’

He froze, shoulders tense, body ready to snap and after a second, turned around :

‘What do y’need, did someone hurt you ? Tell me and I’ll-‘

‘I want to suck your cock.’ You interrupted. 

Plain and simple. Easy. Wrong, also, that was not exactly what you wanted. But Joel was watching you, his face blank, so you added :

‘Actually, no, that’s not quite right. I want you to fuck my mouth. If you’re interested.’

You shrugged, then, as if you were not casually propositioning your favorite patrol partner. You watched him swallow, switch on his feet, his gaze purposely away from you. And just as you thought you were about to get a very awkward but polite dismissal you heard 

‘You want me to fuck your mouth ?’

You shrugged, said yes. 

A beat of silence, then

‘How is that me payin’ my debt to ya, darlin’ ?’

‘Because I really want to.’ You answered. ’’Cause it’ll make me happy.’ 

Joel moved, then. Went to sit on the couch. 

‘Lock the door, will y’a ?’

You did and turned around to see him legs spread, a space between them just for you. 

‘You wanna be dressed for this or you wanna take your clothes off ?’ He asked, head slightly tilted to the side, eyes assessing you like he hadn’t really seen you before. 

Your answer was a breathy

‘However you like it.’

He hummed, looked at you a bit more, and then 

‘Off. Take them off, darlin’’.

Your undressing was not for show- a quick, desperate thing, that was stopped by Joel as you were about to remove your underwear :

‘You’re wet ?’ He asked. 

You nodded. 

He hummed again. 

‘Keep ‘em on, the panties.’ 

You sank down on your knees and reached for his belt buckle, freed his cock and took a second, there, to assess his size and wet your mouth, collecting saliva to make sure to make it good for him, both hands on his thighs. 

‘If you want me to fuck that mouth of yours, Darlin’, you’re gonna put your hands behind your back and open that sweet little mouth and take it.’

You nodded, did exactly as asked and felt his hand on the back of your head, pushing you forward. You opened up, ready for it, when the pressure stopped and you heard

‘Is this really gonna make you happy ?’ 

You looked up to see his eyes looking far away, intent at not looking at you. 

‘Joel’ you muttered, ‘you are going to shove that dick down my throat and I will come, trust me. I really really want that.’ 

So he did. He pushed, and you welcomed the big, fat heat of him into your mouth. One of your hands instantly went to your cunt, inside your underwear, and you shoved two fingers inside yourself as he lead your head into a rhythm that had you gagging a bit. You let yourself feel the weight of his cock, let yourself get lost in the back and forth his hand was forcing his hand to do until he ripped his cock from you and asked :

‘You touchin’ yourself ? You really doin’ that ?’

Your answer was a whiny please Joel and he shoved his dick back into your mouth, bringing your head down as he thrusted his hips up. You came without warning, rubbing yourself to the frantic rhythm of Joel slamming his cock in and out, your orgasm sneaking up on you when Joel babbled 

God, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna- You need to get off, I’m gonna-

And came into your mouth, salty, sweaty, sticky, and you swallowed it all, and kept his dick into your mouth for a beat, you breathing heavily through your noise while he matched your pace, mouth open, head laid back on the couch. 

When you let his cock out of your mouth he asked :

‘You came, right ? ‘Cause if you didn’t we gotta make it right.’

You considered lying, because the idea of whatever he was thinking felt good, but you shook your head, instead, and got up on shaky legs. He hooked a finger in your underwear to keep you in place. Tugged slightly. 

‘Give them to me. Your panties.’ 

You laughed at that, thankful for the absence of awkwardness, and took your underwear off as you answered :

‘You’re a dirty old man.’

He laughed :

‘Baby, you’re the one who saved my life and asked me to fuck your throat as a favor. I’d say you’re the dirty one.’ 

Stark naked in front of him, you took a second to look at him, still dressed, cock out, as he took a second to look at you. You climbed on the couch, then, knees on each side of his frame, caught his jaw, and slowly kissed him before saying thank you. 

You dressed and left. 

———

Patrol with Joel was always quiet, and today was no exception, until 

‘You suck a lot of dicks in Jackson ?’ 

It was said in a very matter-of-fact kind of way, no judgement at all. Curiosity, really. He was watching right ahead, unbothered, as your horses rode along each other. 

‘Nah’, you answered truthfully. ‘You’re the first one.’

He hummed. A beat, then 

‘Wanna do it some more ?’

‘Suck your dick ?’ You asked, genuine (and you wouldn’t admit it but the idea of doing anything with Joel Miller got your really fucking wet so you would say yes to anything but he didn’t need to know that). 

‘Everythin’’, He answered, simply, like he didn’t make your insides burn. ‘I have a feelin’. I have a feelin’ you like being told what to do, right ?’ 

And fuck, fuck, you were- he was right but you were there on patrol riding a horse and he made you wet just saying that.

You nodded and he went on, never really looking at you, jut scanning his surroundings :

‘Listen, I might not be the best option for you. I’m not the best option for anyone. But you wanna someone who has demands, and I have a bunch. We do this ? You take what I give when I give it and however I give it, alright ?’ 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

You nodded again. 

‘Words.’ He demanded, sternly.

‘Yeah, okay.’ You muttered. 

He assessed you for a moment, wistful. 

‘You wet, right now ? Did I make you wet ?’

‘Yeah, you did.’

‘Show me.’

Your brain stopped, at that. Show him ? Joel was just looking at you, patient. After a beat, you fumbled with your belt and dipped two fingers into your wet cunt. When you took your hand out of your pants he grabbed your wrist, inspected the fingers, and demanded :

‘Clean them up.’

And maybe your brain had been rewired because without question you brought your fingers to your mouth and sucked on them. The second they left your mouth a hand grabbed your wrist and put your fingers in his mouth. When he let you go, he asked : 

‘You touch yourself a lot ?’

Startled, you answered a shy yes. 

‘How ?’ He pressed. 

‘I- I like to have- I like to have a toy ? There’s no battery but I like the feeling, and so- well I have the toy inside and I touch myself.’

‘What do you touch ?’

Here he was, Joel Miller, asking you how you got off, looking around, on patrol, like he was talking about the weather.

‘My- my clit. I touch it.’

‘With the toy inside.’

‘Yes- yes, with the toy inside.’

Joel hummed, pondered, and announced 

‘When we go home, you’re gonna go to yours, get undressed. I want you on your bed. No toy this time. I’ll put my fingers in you, to help. But you’re gonna show me how you like it. You gonna touch yourself for me and show me.’

———

You’re surprisingly at ease when Joel showed up. You were as he’d asked, naked, on the bed- trembling with anticipation. The look on his face when he walked through the door-

‘Oh, baby. Wanna touch yourself ?’ He cooed. 

Except you didn’t want to. You wanted his cock. You wanted him and you said so. 

‘No, baby’ he shook his head, stern, ‘I told you, I’m gonna take care o’ you but it’s how I want it, when I want it.’

‘Besides’, he added, sliding in between your open legs, ‘how can I treat you right if I don’t know exactly how you like it ?’

He took your hand, then, and put it between your legs.

‘Touch yourself like you’re alone.’ He demanded. ‘Promise I’ll help but I need you to show me.’ He cooed, a cheek resting on your thigh. 

So you did what he’d asked, you started touching yourself and you were so, so far gone that-

A hand grabbed your wrist.

‘You’re not very gentle with that pussy of yours’, Joel tutted. 

‘You wanted to see how I liked it’, you managed to gasp. 

‘Change of plan, then’ He answered, face serious, taking away your hand. The two fingers he put inside you made you almost cry. 

‘You gonna get your hand back here and you’re gonna go slow.  Slow, you understand ? And while you do that you gonna tell me what you like, starting’ with the fact that you like to do what you’re told. Understood ?’

You nodded, and there was a thought, somewhere, not even a warning but a fact : that man has made me dumb. Could do whatever.

Could do whatever but you trusted him.

Slowly, you circled your clit, and, voice shaking, started :

‘I like to do what I’m told.’

Joel nodded, eyes on your pussy.

‘What else, baby ?’

‘I like- I- spanking ?’

‘Sounded like a question, baby.’

You shook your head, your fingers stopping for a second on your clit.

‘No, I like it, I just don’t know what you like so it’s just- it’s weird you know.’

You shrugged, an awkward thing considering you had a hand between your legs and Joel had two fingers in your pussy. He shook his head, though :

‘Not weird. Wanna know what I like ? Wanna please me ?’ 

You nodded, eagerly, until a harsh slap on your hip made you jump. 

‘Not a very good listener, are you ? I told you : you’re gonna take how I want it and when I want it, and I wanna know exactly what you like. Because that’s what I like. So let’s start again, baby, from the beginning. What do you like ?’

‘I- I like- I like to be told what to to’, you answered, your hand back between your legs. ‘I like to be spanked. Could you please-‘

God, how could you be cock-dumb without a cock ?

You took a breath and added, your voice breathy :

‘Could you spit on me, please ?’

‘Spit where ?’ Joel seemed really unbothered by all this, and it was unfair.

‘My pussy- please, spit on it.’

‘What, you think you’re not wet enough ?’

‘No- no, but I want it.’

Joel took your wrist again, and asked :

‘So, that’s a thing you like ?’

You tried to shake yourself out of his grip while you mumbled :

‘Yes, yes I like it.’

As he din’t let go you admitted :

‘I like it. I like you spitting on me.’

And he spit. Your fingers worked you clit again and somehow from then on it was like something so tremendous was building inside of your that you had no control over yourself-

‘Anal, I like it- I mean anal play.’

‘You don’t want my cock inside, then.’ He answered, his face still between your thighs. And you shook your head, because the truth was that Joel Miller could put his cock wherever he wanted- he’d have no complaints from you.

When you came, you came hard.

———

When it happens, you don’t see it coming. 

It’s a quiet affair, Joel and you. You think- you assume- he doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want people to know. You think he’s fucking other people, and maybe you should too. Maybe you should get it out of your system, this whole stupid ‘I’m in love with Joel Miller’ thing. 

You’re at the Bison when it happens. Tommy, Maria, Ellie and Joel are having dinner at a table and you’re- well, you’re on your own, so you go straight to the bar, sit there and order a drink. And then a man, called James or Jim, you’re not sure you know, starts talking to you. 

He’s nice.

Too nice. 

Probably missionary-only.

You talk for a few minutes but when he takes a step closer to you, that’s when it happens.

A hand wraps itself on your hip, and slowly moves to grasp your ass. You don’t recoil because you recognize it- the warmth of it and the sheer size of it. A kiss is pressed to your temple as Joel says :

‘Hey Baby, we’re waiting for you.’

Jim-or-James immediately leaves and you’re left with Joel, whispering against your temple :

‘What the fuck was that ?’

You want to answer

What the fuck are we ? 

But he continues :

‘Wanna make me jealous, baby ? Staying out there at the bar, talking with men who have no business talkin’ to you instead of joining us ?’

You shrug 

‘Didn’t know that I was welcome.’ You offer.

There’s a beat, there- more than a beat, actually. Joel looks at you in a way- well, you don’t understand it. Shakes his head. 

Stares again.

Reaches out. 

Mumbles 

‘I’m a fuckin’ idiot.’

Grabs your hand and make you sit down with his family, arm around your shoulder the whole meal, thumb tracing mindless patterns on your shoulder. When Ellie is distracted by a friend, and Tommy and Maria are gone to get a refill, he whispers into your neck :

‘I should spank you ‘till your ass is red but you’d enjoy it. Should take your ass but you’d enjoy it too. I think I shouldn’t touch you, give you a lesson or somethin’’.

You’re wet. You’re wet and you want him and you know enough about him to know what makes him tick- hell, you know what he looks like in the morning, eyes heavy with sleep, hand absent-mindedly scratching his stomach, so soft it makes you want to cry.

So you’re searching for a comeback, something sharp and smart, when his nose nuzzles your ear and he whispers

‘I love you.’

And really all you want to do is bury yourself in him, never let him go, but that’s not possible. You also want to climb him like a tree and kiss him forever but that’s not appropriate. So you settle with 

‘I love you too.’

And then, because you think you deserve it and it makes you happy :

‘I want you to fuck my mouth.’ 

———

Taglist

@pedritobalmando @amidjarin @ajeff855 @justpedropascal @sara-alonso @sarahjkl82-blog @amidjarin @sara-alonso@justpedropasc@mrsbentallmadge @farfromjustordinary @hnt-escape @kirsteng42

[starstofillmydream]

This may fall upon deaf ears/ears unwilling to listen, but as we go into the last two episodes of TBB ever, the fandom needs to seriously clean up their attitude. I've been watching shit go down from the sidelines and trying not to get involved with the drama—people being so mean to one another and bullying one another into believing their headcanons (which are OPINIONS) as canon truth—and I've been disgusted with some people's behavior on here. I'm not sure what about TBB S3 in particular has brought the worst out in people, but it's so annoying and it sucks the fun out of being part of a fandom community.

So please (and this should be common sense):

For the love of God, BE KIND. If you see something harmless you disagree with (i.e., personal headcanons and think pieces, no matter how stupid and uninformed they may seem to you), move on. Don't react because it almost always ends in a nasty fight. Be mature. I've seen people bullying others into accepting their personal headcanons as canon (e.g., the "Tech is alive" and "Cody is on Tatooine" truthers), so please don't do that either. Differing headcanons can coexist in a fandom space because they're headcanons, another word for opinions. It's not the objective, concrete truth. Don't force them on other people if they don't agree with you.

If you see any racist, homophobic, sexist, and/or xenophobic comments about the characters (e.g., I've been seeing some fucking awful takes on Phee as of late), shut them down. Don't be a bigot.

Stop insulting people's intelligence as your primary counterargument to people's takes. Everyone's critical thinking skills (I've refrained from using the term "media analysis skills" because TikTok has seemed to make it lose its meaning, in my opinion) can be improved upon, my own included. It's a learning curve and we're all growing. Be self-aware in that regard. It's a logical fallacy—the ad hominem fallacy—to attack the arguer and not the argument, so it just looks dumb and makes you look bad.

Tag your spoilers. #tbb spoilers seems to be the most widely used, so I'd go that route.

If you have anything else to add to the list, please do! I want the unity and respect back in the fandom again, especially as we reach the bittersweet end of a beautiful show that has brought us all together as friends.

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (7/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst,

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 5.8k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

a/n: hello hello hellooooo, this one is more of a filler one to get everything started. Still, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. lmk your thoughts and if you want to be added to the tag list!

m.list || series m.list || wattpad

prev || next

10 years ago

The first time you ever met Kim Namjoon, the leaves were just beginning to change in color. The fall season was approaching. The greens of the summer were slowly fading into vibrant autumn hues. Replacing the obnoxious sticky heat, for humid and cooler winds. The leaves still hadn’t fallen, the foliage was at its peak and you were desperately trying to stay afloat. 

Somehow, you had gotten roped into a math class. Well, you weren’t necessarily roped into it. You were forced into it. It was part of the prerequisite requirements and because you had barely passed all of your Algebra exams in high school, you couldn’t plead the advisory board to accept those credits. They would’ve just laughed in your face and sent you away with a list of professors who specialized in the devil made subject. 

Now, you had hoped that college algebra was a bit easier, after three weeks of a summer intensive course you were proven wrong. You weren’t necessarily failing, but you weren’t passing either. Though, in a panic-induced state full of hope you had done the math - ironic, and came to the conclusion that if you didn’t pass the final exam, you wouldn’t be able to move onto part two of the class. 

If you had done things differently, you would’ve taken the classes at the start of your degree, just as your academic advisor had suggested. You didn’t and now you are two semesters away from a beautiful bachelors degree in arts. Achieving an impressive double major in Writing and Rhetoric and Journalism with a minor in International Communications, along with a tasteful three point nine GPA. 

You were almost there. You could savor it as you looked into master degree programs. The looming debt of your student loans was the least of your worries. At least for now. If you didn’t pass the stupid final exam, in one of the easiest math classes you could ever take in college. You would be growing a larger hole in your loan repayment agreement with the prestigious HYBE U. 

At this point you were desperate. Almost to the point in which you considered cheating. A blaspehmous thought that you only ever had in high school during science labs. Those gizmos computer stimulations were a quizlet file away, and the sweet taste of victory was even closer. 

Yet, quizlet wouldn’t work out in this scenario and finally you caved, putting away your pride for a little bit to admit that you needed help. 

A math tutor was the best option for you. Lots of college kids were desperate for another quick buck along with their less than promising part time jobs, while they struggled with juggling school in the process. You only hoped that the ad you posted on the HYBE U facebook group would workout, even if it had been a week ago and still hadn’t gotten any engagement. 

Maybe it was time to accept the truth, what’s one more extra semester. Sure, it interferes with your descriptive five year plan, but you could somehow modify it. Right?

Wrong? So very wrong. 

You needed a tutor quick. Probably in the next hour or so, because you refused to step foot in another math class again. Your life revolved around your rhetorical readings, feminist discoverings in Ancient Greece. You loved research, writing papers on things you found interesting, and developing a new perspective to already made discoveries. It was a rush. Not necessarily the writing part - it was tedious and sometimes you wondered why you even decided to pursue writing in the first place; but the sense of achievement and the ego boost you got when you typed the final sentence and the final period was euphoric. To then scroll through twenty plus pages of times new roman double spaced text that came from your brain, was a thrill. And one you would never achieve when it came to math. 

Ugh!

“You good there?” You knew that voice. It was all too familiar. You had spent countless hours sitting in a lecture hall with him telling you jokes and writing you notes retelling you the rumors he heard about your math professor.

So, maybe, your total inability to see patterns when it came to numbers wasn’t completely your fault. But the fault of the raven haired, toothy smile of the muscle bunny that you had befriended in both your science lab and college algebra courses.

You lift your head up to see Jungkook with his head cocked to the side. His right eye was a bit swollen due to the sty he had developed from scratching his eye too much with his dirty germy hands. So, he had to opt to wear his glasses, his right eye lens was a bit thicker than the left, making his eyes look a bit disproportionate. If you weren’t aware of how successful he was at getting around with both women and men you would’ve thought otherwise, due to his geeky look and fascination with RPG games. 

You groan, messing your hair with your silver ring cladded fingers. “No offense but math is the worst subject in this entire world. Why do we need it? I’m not going to use it to calculate the circumference of the can of beans I’m going to buy at the grocery store. Nor will I use the pythagorean theorem to measure the circumference of my pizza.” You rant, glancing at the time and closing your laptop. 

Your self study session was unsuccessful because all you did was refresh the facebook page hoping someone would take your twenty dollars an hour offer. 

Yes, you were incredibly desperate, even considering upping the price to appeal to more money hungry college students. 

“The fact that you’re using geometry terminology regarding a simple college algebra class tells me everything I need to know.” He grins, partially leaning his body to the side, resting his weight on the umbrella handle he was carrying. 

Fuck, you forgot it was going to rain today. 

Your day couldn’t get any worse. 

“Anyway, I’m guessing the tutor search isn’t working?”

“Bingo,” you snap your fingers at him before proceeding to gather the rest of your stuff. 

This was the part you dreaded the most. The agonizing walk to your math lecture. Honestly, if it weren’t for Jungkook consistently meeting up with you in the cafe that connected to the hallway in the math building to walk to class together. You would’ve probably never turned up after the first class. Hence why you’re not in a sinking boat. Just a partially sinking boat. 

Jungkook sighs, scratching the back of his head, watching you scoot out of the booth. He wishes he could offer you more help other than moral support and a few ‘You can do it,’  air punches. But between his computer science classes, and increasing doubt regarding his degree plaguing his mind, he’s found himself with zero free time.  

That’s when he remembers something. A small passing comment made on his way to bathroom last night as he was getting ready for bed. Maybe he does have a way to help you. His face lights up, alerting you. 

“What, why do you look like you’ve just seen a cheesecake on sale?” You adjust the strap of your leather bag, against your shoulder and make your way to his side, eyeing his umbrella. 

Would it be weird to ask him to walk you home after class? 

Shaking your head at the thought, a problem for later, you decide.

You shift your gaze to meet his. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and you’ve never been so desperate at knowing what goes on in that questionable head of his. He also never takes this long to say something. Once a thought pops into that head of his head, it's out in seconds because he’s afraid he might lose it. 

You can thank his ADHD for that one. 

“I think I might know someone who’s free on Tuesday and Thursday evenings that can probably help you out.” He squints, nodding his head, and you feel your mood turn right side up. 

You knew befriending Jungkook would end up benefiting you one day. Though, you do feel a little bit irritated, couldn’t he have told you this wonderful news, um, I don’t know a week ago as you two sat in this exact same booth, while he watched you make the stupid facebook post. 

You shove him a little, his umbrella buckling under his weight and he stumbles a bit, shock written all over his face. “What was that for?” He complains, taking a hold of his right arm in mock hurt. 

“You’ve seen me suffer and you’re now just telling me that you magically happen to know someone who can tutor me this entire time.” You huff, shoving past him, glancing at your phone screen for the time. Class was in five minutes, unfortunately.

“That’s not necessarily true.” He speaks from behind you, and you throw him a glare making him buckle under the pressure. The dramatics. He’s only been your friend for almost four weeks, but he’s already gotten used to you and he knows he’s hit a vein, and that you’re so stubborn any explanation wouldn’t work. It is always worth a try. 

“Okay maybe that’s true, but they’re pretty busy and I just assumed he would have a full schedule and no time to tutor you.” He explains, keeping up with your steps. The two of you arrive in front of the lecture hall with a minute to spare, you take it upon yourself to open the door, revealing the room full of stressed induced faces, quietly whispering to each other. 

You shake your head at Jungkook’s explanation, making your way to your usual seats. In the middle but on the outside for a quick escape if ever needed. “How do you even know this person? I thought you only had two friends.” You place your bag gently onto your desk and sit down. 

“Actually, including you, I have three friends.” 

“My friends don’t count either.” 

Jungkook rolls your eyes and slumps down next to you, spreading his legs wide, taking up all his leg room and part of yours. God, he was such a guy. 

“Do you want my help or not?” He says in feigned annoyance. 

You unzip your bag, fishing out your pencil and notebook, while he takes out his laptop. You could never understand how he was able to take math notes on a computer, but he was the self proclaimed computer genius. Well, his straight A’s in all of those freakishly hard classes were also proof, so, there must be a method to his madness. 

You sigh, setting your bag down in the empty seat next to you. “Fine, yes, please, my perfect Jungkook. I’m desperate, put me out of my misery.” You plead, hands clenched in front of you as the hushing of the students dies down, and the greeting of your Spanish accent written professor echoes throughout the class. It’s your cue to shut up and hopefully pay attention. 

“First, don’t ever say things like that.” Jungkook begins, leaning in closer to whisper, “it’s weird.” He says in disgust–the audacity. “Second, do you have plans after class?” He finishes leaning away and opening up a new blank document on his laptop. 

You shake your head at his question and click down on your mechanical pencil. You were determined to at least understand one thing in today’s lesson. Jungkook doesn’t answer, your professors voice booming throughout as he begins the lesson of the day, and you’re distracted in seconds by the light tap on your shoulder. 

You look over at your friend, his laptop screen turned in your direction so you can read the tiny invitation written in cosmic sans font. He’s a child. 

Come with me to Serendipity after class and thank me later :p

You look up at him rolling your eyes at the ending emoji. A child indeed. But you nod in agreement, you don’t know what or who is at Serendipity. Except for a solution. At least that is what you hope for because there’s a reason why you haven’t  stepped foot in there since childhood, despite Jungkook raving about it time and time again. The overpriced vanilla lattes is the main reason why. 

Yet, desperate times come along with desperate measures. And if you need to drop a couple more on your favorite caffeinated drink in order to pass math. Then so be it. 

Serendipity stood in between two worlds. It separated the lively college town from the perfect four person familial neighborhood. On weekday afternoons it was mostly frequented by college students who needed a change in scenery or remote workers with their bangs still in rollers and their eyes puffy from sleep. On Friday nights it was home to young adults grabbing dessert after a fulfilling dinner or a late caffeinated drink for a long night out. Tired office workers, likely forced to attend a company dinner, usually took up the long tables in the back wall of the first floor. 

Sunday’s were a favorite at Serendipity, young families would come from different parts of town to enjoy a late brunch. And morning runners would waltz in for a late caffeine kick before the strenuous work out around the lake that offered the cafe it’s  most famous view. 

Dionysus Lake.

Just as its name implies. The lake was a place for celebration, festivities, and madness. It’s where everything would happen for the first time. Your first fall, your first scrape. The graduation ground from a four wheeled bike to a two one. The first time you saw your crush outside of school. The first time you held hands with someone and the downfall of your first friendship with your childhood best friend—Sabrina. I was the breeding ground of impulsive decisions like getting drunk on the steps that led to the bank. With beer and soju you had gotten because you paid a broke college student scrambling in between odd jobs to buy them for you. The breeding ground of many triple dog dares and the place in which you decided what your future would be like. 

It was a right of passage from childhood to teenagehood and finally adulthood. 

It’s where couples that beat the test of time go to enjoy their last moments of humanity. Both the cafe and the lake are full of nostalgia, and so famous that it now became a must see spot from people all over the city. With inflation and the influx of people both the cafe and the lake were places you and your family had started to frequent less, until eventually it was out of your minds completely and the longing for just a fleeting moment to visit before the chaos was gone.

That is until today. 

Everything had changed so much. The rustic decor was now replaced with a mixture of antiques and plants hanging from every possible surface. The windows were now floor to ceiling and they opened up to a very cooling outside patio, where you could enjoy the view of the famous lake. They had even expanded to a second floor, and added a rooftop with fiery lights and wooden tables. It basically looked nothing like what you had grown up with and more like a pinterest board of garden core had thrown up on it. 

It also had more menu options, and gone was your favorite blueberry and mint tea you and your mom would enjoy whenever your anxiety spiked to levels in which you could not control. Everything had been replaced with something more expensive and trendy. A complaint that had been surrounding the cafe for years by everyone who grew up inside the walls. Though you hadn’t really believed it until now because you were finally working up the courage to see it for yourself. And the one thing you can only really think about—apart from the overpriced vanilla latte you had just paid for—was how could a place so familiar feel so unfamiliar at the same time. 

“Hobi always gives me a discount when I come.” Jungkook throws into the wind while he plays with the white buzzer in his hand. 

Unlike you, Jungkook and his family—from what you have gathered—were regulars. As soon as he arrived every worker greeted him with a warm smile and a simple hand wave. Some had added a mention of seeing his mom earlier. And if you hadn’t been convinced, the barista with the high nose bridge, sporting the floral shirt, a bright yellow beanie and khaki pants had already inputted his order before Jungkook could mutter the words “iced americano with a splash of vanilla syrup please.” 

“I’m sorry who?” You move your head closer, eyeing the way his hands wrapped around the buzzer. Desperately hoping for it to ring because although it was almost three and you probably shouldn’t really be drinking any form of caffeine at this time. Your body desperately needs something to keep you alert. Especially now that you were meeting your classmate's brother for the first time. 

A brother who could possibly save you from failing your college algebra class. He had told you a little about him. Apparently, he wasn’t really his brother, but his mother remarried his father when Jungkook was young, so to make matters easier for everyone involved. He would just introduce him as his older brother. He called him Joon and he was currently working on his masters in philosophy. A real pretentious nerd if someone were to ask you. They lived together in an apartment just outside of the college town, and according to Jungkook, who you have noticed likes to input his opinion where it really doesn’t matter. He was still a virgin, because he lived and breathed philosophy like one of those weird philosophers from ancient times. The only thing he needed was a laurel crown and a toga. 

His words not yours. 

Basically he didn’t really do a very good job at painting a good image of his older brother. And you were already having some negative opinions regarding him because you have dealt with a handful of pretentious boys in many of your classes that you really didn’t feel like adding another one to the mix. But again, you’ll push your preconceived notions aside. This was for your four point zero GPA and your five year plan. One more insult to your psyche and intelligence wouldn’t hurt.

Right? 

“The one that rang us up. He gave you one too, vanilla lattes are usually seven and you only paid six.” He points out before jumping at the sound of the buzzer going off. “I’ll get it.” He smiles standing up faster than you can protest, and walking off to the pick up counter. 

It’s strange that the two of you became friends or clicked so well. And you like to think that it was mainly because you shared a few classes more than anything else. He was a little energizer bunny, a right arm sprinkled with a few tattoos and a scar right above his eyebrow where a piercing had been. You were not far from the opposite, but you did have a social battery that would often run out before the end of the day. You valued the quiet and apart from the many earrings decorating your ears and the hot pink peekaboo dye job you had your mom do. You were deathly scared of needles and didn’t look nearly as rebellious as Jungkook did, even with his stupid nerdy glasses. 

“Hobi gave us cookies, on the house.” Jungkook says as he sets down the tray in front of you. “I think he might want your number.” He adds with a nonchalant tone before taking up his previous seat and getting a head start at setting the table.  

You tilt your head in confusion as he pushes a plate with a matcha cookie your way. “You’re talking nonsense. I heard you ask for a chocolate chip cookie before you paid.” You roll your eyes, grabbing your tall glass of coffee. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, pushing the brown tray to the side. “I ordered a cookie but I didn’t order two.” He points to your cookie. “Plus he couldn’t take his eyes off you while you ordered.” He finishes and takes a long sip of his drink. He finishes with a refreshed ah and smacks his lips together in satisfaction. 

The drama. 

That’s probably another thing the two of you did have in common. You’re both dramatic in your own ways. Something the two of you discovered about each other two weeks into knowing one another. It was a long story that involved a stubbed toe and a papercut. One that wasn’t worth reminiscing about now because it added nothing to both of your lives. 

“I doubt that Kook, he’s just doing his job and he knows you.” You raise a finger at him and you take a long awaited sip of your coffee. 

Jungkook crosses his arms in front of you. “Okay then why did he ask me if you were single.” He adds in a matter of fact way. Cocking an eyebrow to prove his point. 

You narrow your eyes at him and kick him under the table. He recoils in pain, whispering explicits to not draw any more attention to the two of you. “You’re lying and I know you’re lying because I saw you order another cookie when you went to pick up our drinks.” You say leaning in closer so he can hear your whispering. 

Here’s the thing. Jungkook has been trying to set you up with every guy he deems is cute. You on the other hand are not interested, mostly because you’re still young with your whole life ahead of you. And right now the only thing that matters is your degree. 

What’s the rush?

He pouts, uncomfortably cradling his shin. “Fine, he didn’t give you a cookie on the house, but he did say you were cute. And he’s a nice guy. My brother is friends with him and he’s really funny.” 

You sigh, breaking a piece from your cookie. “I'm happy to hear that but you know that’s not a priority of mine now.” 

Jungkook rests his elbows onto the table and leans forward. “Have you ever heard of a work- life balance?” Because all you do is work and you should be out and partying. Your twenties are supposed to be full of fun.” 

“I do have fun, Jungkook.” You point out, putting the piece of cookie into your mouth before crossing your arms in annoyance. If you had a coin for every time someone in your life tried having this exact same conversation with you, then you’d probably be able to afford more of these over priced lattes. 

Jungkook sits back with his arms crossed, tonguing the inside of his cheek in suspicion. Sure, he’s only known you for a short amount of time, but every time he sees you around campus or meets up with you. You have your head buried in either a book or your fingers are flying across your laptop keyboard. He’s positive you don’t know how to have fun. 

“Fine name one instance in which you are not doing school work.” He challenges 

“My friends and I have board game nights every Wednesday and Sunday night.” 

Jungkook sits up a bit straighter, a look of shook written all over his face. “Wait, you actually have friends.” He says before lifting a hand to cover his mouth in disbelief. 

Before he can stop you, you kick his shin one more time and this time harder than the first time. This is exactly why you are surprised you’ve chosen to be friends with him. Sometimes he could get under your skin by just existing. 

“You know I have friends, Jungkook. You’ve hung out with them.” 

He doesn’t answer, instead he nods his head while he once again cradles his shin in pain. Maybe he crossed the line this time. He met Taehyung and Jimin more than once. And from what he was able to gather in the few times he’s hung out with the three of you. Is that Jimin might have a huge crush on you and Taehyung’s jokes aren’t nearly as funny as you make them out to be. Still, he thinks they’re cool. 

“Sorry I’m late, I missed my bus.” An unfamiliar voice speaks up and it makes the man in front of you sit up so straight you’re positive he’s going to break his back.

You raise a brow in confusion before turning your head to look towards the person who has the energizer bunny fix his posture and shut his mouth. 

The first thing you see is the flowy khaki pants, then his simple t-shirt topped with a blue and white checkered flannel. And finally your eyes land on his face, and the black framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. His hair hides under a navy beanie and your mouth almost falls open in disbelief. 

Holy fuck, wait a second. This is the man Jungkook was describing. The nerd of a brother who could possibly still be a virgin and has his nose stuck in philosophy textbooks? Out goes your preconceived notions of the man in front of you and now you’re downright confused because this man was hot and reeked of chillaxed energy. He probably owns a few plants, and bike rides on the weekend and visits a few buddhist temples for the experience. 

Nobody says anything as the man—which you perceive is now Joon—slides into the spot next to Jungkook’s. He hasn’t really looked in your direction, except for the short glance he sent your way when he first appeared. 

Jungkook scoffs in annoyance as he scoots over making it a huge show like it’s inconvenient for him to move over. “This is Joon.” 

“Namjoon.” The older one corrects before he extends his hand for you to shake. You hesitate for a second before shaking it and telling him your name. 

He nods, retrieving his hand and sets it down on his lap. There’s a brief silence as he looks in between you and Jungkook probably trying to make sense of the situation himself because if you were being honest you’re still stunned yourself. Though you know Jungkook and his brother aren’t blood related you can’t help but feel like good genes simply run in the family somehow.

Namjoon shrugs once he’s silently done making his assumptions and sets his arms on the table, clasping his hands together. In an instant his face is replaced from a pleasing and welcoming one to one that screams he’s honestly here for business and not to fuck around. 

“Are you the one that Jungkook tells me needs help?” He questions, earning a jab from the younger one. He doesn’t react and instead keeps going. “Have to ask because he’s been trying to set me up on blind dates thanks to our mom, so if this is what this is then I’m sorry but I’m not interested.” He nods before leaning back. Joon, or Namjoon doesn’t let you respond before he stands up and walks towards the order counter. There you see him greet the same barista who you now know is Hobi thanks to Jungkook. 

You don’t linger on his figure before you turn to face Jungkook. Who looks mortified beyond belief and you can’t help but laugh because things are simply just making sense. All of Jungkook’s backhanded praises involving his brother made so much more sense. He did mention he was an asshole but you just assumed that was a simple sibling thing. No, he was most definitely right. And he fit more into the description you had once assumed before even meeting him, minus the typical nerd look you had conjured up with the brief descriptions Jungkook had provided. He was hot, and could probably crack your heart open into two, but he was exactly like those pretentious classmates you’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of encountering all throughout your degree. But for some reason you aren’t as bothered by it, because in a way it was hilarious. 

Jungkook whines, “He can’t even try to be nice for a little bit.” 

You throw your head back laughing even harder, while Jungkook continues to grumble underneath his breath in annoyance. You laugh until your stomach begins to hurt and until someone clears their throat making your giggles die down slowly. 

“Why is Hobi giving out free cookies?” He points out before setting his tray down and taking up the seat next to his brother again. To which Jungkook silently gestures to the cookies and you as if to prove his earlier point. Namjoon rolls his eyes at his brother's actions before turning to face you. 

“He also told me to give you his number but I told him that I didn’t know you and that if he wanted your number he should just ask you himself.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his dark liquid and making the same satisfied noise Jungkook had made earlier. 

Ah, maybe dramatics also run in the family. 

You stir the liquid of your latte with your straw. “Um thanks I guess.” You take a sip of your drink as he nods. 

The atmosphere is so awkward that you want the entire cafe to fall through a hole in the ground. The three of you are silent before Jungkook’s phone lights up and starts buzzing. He quickly grabs it and silences it before standing up. “Sorry, I have to go. I forgot I had this thing to do.” He says inconspicuously before grabbing his book bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

You scramble eyes going wide as he adjusts the straps and straightens his black long sleeve. “Wait where are you going? I thought we had plans after this.” 

Jungkook bites his lip, silencing his buzzing phone again when it goes off a second time. “Sorry Bun, I have to really go, it's important. I’ll see you at home Joon.” He salutes before basically running out of the cafe. 

“Typical.” Namjoon catches your attention and rolls his eyes. “I knew he had something planned when he asked me to meet him here last minute. I’m really sorry about him but I’m really not interested in dating right now.” He says before grabbing hold of his bag and going to stand up. 

Your body is filled with panic as you watch him. You do have a few choice words for the person that just ditched you with his brother. But this could be your last resort and you weren’t going to let him walk away. “Wait.” You extend your arm in his direction. He stops slipping on his bag and raises a brow at you in curiosity. 

“I actually do need help. I’m close to failing my college algebra course…well I will fail it if I don’t pass the final exam.” You begin to explain, finally grabbing his full attention as he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his pants. “Jungkook mentioned you could probably help out.” You bring down your hand, circling both of them around your watered down latte. “That’s why I’m here. I promise this isn’t a blind date or anything.” 

Namjoon nods, looking at the entrance before sitting down again, sighing, his shoulders relaxing instantly. And you’re once again met with the same nonchalant demeanor he had approached you and Jungkook. Once again things started to make sense, why he had made the switch so quickly. It was something he was probably so used to by now, but now as he adjusts himself in the seat in front of you. You can see that maybe he could not really be that bad. 

“In that case I can stay.” He grins, pushing his iced coffee to the side. “I should warn you I’m not the best when it comes to math but college algebra is easy so I can help you out.”

You let out a big sigh of relief and nod your head. “Thank you so much you don’t understand how much you’re already helping me out by agreeing.” 

Namjoon chuckles lightly before reaching into his side bag and taking out a plain black notebook with a pen. “In that case we should figure out our schedules.” He opens the notebook to a blank page and uncaps the pen. “Does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work for you?” He tilts his head in question. 

You nod rapidly. “That’s perfect for me.” 

He hums and writes down your name with the agreed days and times next to it. He closes it quickly and puts it in his bag. “Great, I'll see you next Tuesday.” 

That’s it? It was that easy? Then why the heck did it take such a long time for someone to respond to your Facebook post. Especially when you had increased the payment. 

Payment. Oh you had forgotten about it, and from

What it seems like so did Namjoon because he was already getting ready to go again. 

“Wait.” 

He stops, eyeing you in confusion but you decide to continue. “How much do you charge?” 

Namjoon opens his mouth and closes it quickly. He puts a pensive hand on his chin before snapping his fingers in front of him. “I think you’re the one Jungkook mentioned about studying writing.” 

“Writing and Rhetoric.” You correct before he can continue going. He nods in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, that’s what he said. I’m sure he mentioned what I was studying and if I’m being honest I hate revising my own writing. So, instead of paying me in money you can just revise my work in exchange for tutoring lessons.” He offers with a shrug. 

You would be a fool to not take up this magnificent offer, so quickly you agree, extending your hand for him to shake. He takes it and for a second you swear you feel your heart drop down to your belly from just his touch. But you brush it off quickly when he retrieves his hand. It’s probably just the caffeine anyway. 

“Great, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.” He smiles, and this time it is wide enough in which you can see his cute little dimples. “See you on Tuesday.” 

Before you can respond with the same statement he’s already rushing out of the cafe. Leaving you alone in the booth, with three unfinished iced coffees and cookies. 

You can’t really make out anything, just that this was probably the longest day of your life. And that unbeknownst to you, you can slightly feel the light crack in the corner of your heart. One that you will later on learn was the moment Namjoon had started to infiltrate it.

hope you liked it!

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | mature | 2.1k | tags: mutual pining, Eddie/OMC (nothing explicit), memory of the past | second part to are you still mine? where Steve remembers another moment from their shared past | @steddielovemonth prompts Love is keeping a spare sweater/blanket in the car because they always get cold by @steddieasitgoes and Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask ❤️by @steddieas-shegoes | AO3)

Steve thinks that making out with Eddie on the dance floor at Dustin and El's wedding is probably not the most polite thing to do. Especially as the best man.

But boy, is it hard to stop once they start kissing, twenty years of longing and dreaming all flowing into an almost desperate need to get closer and closer. Eddie kisses Steve like he wants to crawl inside him so he'll never have to leave again, and by God, Steve wants him to. Now that he's finally feeling Eddie, tasting him, he's not sure he can ever give it up.

It reminds him of Christmas Eve '93.

He was in Hawkins for the holidays, staying with Claudia and Dustin, as he had done every year since he and Robin had moved to Chicago in '87. His parents usually spent the holidays in Florida anyway, claiming the weather was more to their liking. He had a standing invitation to join them there, but Steve never took them up on it.

He'd rather spend Christmas with his real family.

So every year, on the day before Christmas, their little close-knit group would come over to Joyce and Hopper's house and gather for a family dinner. It was a tradition, almost an unspoken rule. Christmas Eve was spent at the Byers-Hopper residence.

Even Eddie would come, come hell or high water. In fact, he once told Steve that it was part of every contract he had signed since their first record deal in '88. Eddie would have time off between December 23rd and New Year's. The rest of the year was pretty unpredictable; they never knew when they would get a chance to talk to Eddie on the phone or even see him in person, but Christmas Eve was set in stone.

The last time Steve had seen Eddie in person had been at Dustin's graduation in May. Eddie had come all the way from LA just to see Dustin graduate, and Steve had been so excited to see him. More so than usual, since Steve had just graduated from teaching after drifting aimlessly for a while before deciding to go to community college to become a teacher.

He was also single for the first time in a long time. And he had thought that maybe this could be their chance. For a future together. Because Steve could teach in LA just as well as he could in Chicago. Or maybe Eddie could make music while living in Chicago; the city had a great music scene and recording studios as well. It wouldn't matter where, just that it was them.

Steve had never stopped hoping.

That's why he'd wanted to ask Eddie out while they watched the kid they kinda co-parented graduate. Only the words had died in his mouth the second he realized that Eddie hadn't come alone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Tom. Tom, these are my friends, Dustin, Mike, Will, Lucas, Max, El, Robin and Steve."

"You're a friend of Eddie's too?" Dustin had asked the guy, and Steve marveled at how dense their token genius could be sometimes.

Tom had smiled at Dustin and taken Eddie's hand. "His boyfriend, actually. Is that okay with you guys?"

No, Steve had wanted to say, piss off.

But he hadn't. Instead, he had avoided Eddie and Tom altogether, barely exchanging more than a few words with Eddie and ignoring the hurt look Eddie gave him whenever Steve pretended to be too busy to talk to him. It was for the best, really.

Their Christmas Eve gathering was a family affair, no outsiders allowed. It meant that Steve would at least not have to deal with watching Tom all night, enjoying what Steve himself had hoped to have one day: Eddie's love.

But even without Tom physically being there, he was like a ghost haunting him. It wasn't even that Eddie talked much about him or anything like that. In fact, he was too busy asking Steve questions about his new job as a middle school teacher and about the cat he and Robin had adopted and how their crazy neighbor was doing.

It made it easier to forget about Tom. The eggnog helped, too, and by the time he had finished his fourth glass, he was leaning heavily against Eddie's side, warm and cozy and surrounded by his still familiar smell. It almost felt like back in '86, before LA. When they drove Eddie's van to the quarry and lay on a mattress in the back with the doors open, looking at the night sky.

Eddie always kept a spare blanket in the van, just for Steve, because Steve always, always forgot his jacket. By the end of September, when Eddie had left, the blanket had begun to smell of them both.

"This is nice," Steve said, his tongue loose and his inhibitions low. "Just like the van, remember?"

Eddie's arm was on the back of the couch behind Steve, and he used it to pull Steve even closer. "Yeah."

And then, in a lower voice, "I missed you, Stevie."

When Tom stood in the doorway to pick up Eddie, reality came crashing down on him.

Everything went downhill after that.

Because after Eddie and Tom left, Steve decided he couldn't stay a minute longer either. He couldn't handle the laughter and joy, and especially the worried looks Robin was sending his way. So he told everyone that he was walking home to get some fresh air and to clear his head of the eggnog.

"Are you sure? I can drive you. Or you can stay with me at my parents'; you know they wouldn't mind."

"Thanks, Robbie, but I want to be alone for a little while, okay? Just for tonight. We'll talk tomorrow, I promise."

She gave him a long, searching look before nodding and pulling him into a tight hug. "Take care of yourself, okay? I need my best friend."

His downfall was the bar on the way to the Henderson house, because he had just enough money in his pocket to get sufficiently shitfaced.

And just enough spare change to call Eddie from the pay phone outside.

It rang for several long minutes, and Steve was almost ready to hang up and try again when a sleepy voice on the other end grumbled, "This better be important."

"Eddiiieee," Steve cheered, "thought you wouldn't pick up. Thought maybe you were too busy screwing Tom to answer the phone." Steve slurred his words badly and wondered if Eddie could even understand what he was saying.

"Jesus, Stevie, you're drunk as a skunk! What happened?"

"You," Steve whispered, and then louder. "'Nothin'. Just, y'know, spending Christmas Eve alone and drunk. Got to get used to that, I guess."

There was a long silence on the other end, and Steve would have thought Eddie had hung up if not for the sound of his breathing.

"Eddie?" Steve had to ask, the silence between them worse than anything he could imagine.

"Where are you?" Eddie had asked suddenly, and Steve had just enough time to tell him before the line went truly silent and the dial tone rang through the speaker, the phone demanding more coins Steve didn't have.

Cursing under his breath, he leaned his head against the glass of the phone booth and pinched his nose to keep the tears at bay.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Eddie's hand was on his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Steve, hey. Stevie, come on, wake up. Time to get you home."

Blinking up at Eddie, Steve was sure he must be dreaming. "Eddie? What -?"

"You sounded like you needed someone, so I came. Come on, you must be freezing, man, you're shaking."

"Am I?" Steve asked, his voice sounding dazed, and Eddie sighed. With an arm around Steve's waist, he led him over to his old van. The one he'd left behind after his first visit to Hawkins after moving west, realizing it wouldn't survive the trip back. Wayne was taking care of it so that it would still be able to drive short distances in and around Hawkins, ensuring that Eddie would always have a ride when he visited.

"Your chariot awaits, my prince," Eddie said, helping Steve inside. It still smelled like it did back then. The inside of the old van had a distinct aroma that mixed the musty scent of the worn upholstery with the lingering hints of herbal sweetness and Eddie's cologne. It felt like a snapshot from his memory, as if no time had passed since he had last sat here.

God, Steve had missed this car.

He patted the dashboard clumsily but lovingly. "I missed you, baby."

"Did you just tell my car you missed her?" Eddie asked incredulously.

Steve pouted at him as Eddie turned the ignition and the engine roared to life. "She's a lady, Eds. You said so yourself. And she was always there for us."

Eddie's eyes were soft as he looked over at Steve.

"You're right, Stevie. She was." And then he leaned to the side and turned in his seat to rummage in the back until he emerged with a burgundy blanket. He draped it over Steve with gentle hands until only Steve's head was sticking out. "You're still shaking."

Steve was too stunned for words, and maybe that was better, because Eddie had shifted into drive and pulled onto the blissfully empty streets of Hawkins.

It was Steve's blanket. The one Eddie had put in the van for him.

The drive over to the Henderson's was a quiet one, both men lost in their thoughts. It was only when Eddie pulled up to the curb in front of the house that Steve spoke again, his brain a little more alert than when he had called Eddie.

"Thanks, Eds. You didn't have to do that," he told Eddie as earnestly as he could while feeling like the car was still moving underneath him.

"I know. I wanted to, though. I'll always want to, you don't have to ask."

"Why?"

"'Cause it's you." He said it so simply, as if it were just another fact. The sun rises in the east, monsters exist, and Eddie would always be there when Steve needed him, even when he didn't ask.

"Kiss me," Steve begged, suddenly desperate in a way he couldn't understand. All he knew was that if he let Eddie go right now, this moment between them would be over and he would have lost Eddie.

Again.

"Please, Eddie." His voice broke at Eddie's name.

A soft touch on his cheek, feather light as calloused fingers caressed his skin before a warm hand cupped his cold face.

"I can't," Eddie whispered even as he leaned in, his eyes so dark they looked almost black.

Steve leaned forward as well, willing to meet Eddie halfway, something he wished he'd done so much sooner.

"Why?" Almost inaudibly.

"Because I don't think I could stop if I kissed you now," Eddie replied, pressing a tender kiss to Steve's forehead, right between his eyebrows. "Go inside, Stevie. Sleep it off. You'll feel better in the morning."

And Steve went, if only to hide the tears on his face.

He didn't feel better the next day. Or the day after that.

It was a year before he spoke to Eddie again.

"Remember Christmas Eve '93?" Steve asks Eddie after they finally break apart.

Eddie's eyes are glazed and it takes him a second to get his bearings. He makes a questioning sound, clearly trying to catch up with where Steve's mind had gone, but then his face clears.

"Of course. God, you have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you that night. It took everything in me to let you go."

"I wish you had. I wanted you to."

"I know, sweetheart. But you were also really drunk and upset, and I had a boyfriend. And even though he wasn't you, I didn't want to hurt him. He didn't deserve that. But most of all, I didn't want to make you the other guy. I remember how much you hated your dad cheating on your mom, and I couldn't make you a part of something like that."

Steve kisses him again to show Eddie that he understands and that he's grateful. Because it's true, he wanted Eddie to choose him, but not like that. Not by hurting someone else like that.

"But I loved you then. Which I guess wasn't fair to Tom either, but I just didn't know how not to."

"I know. I think a part of me knew then, too. Which made it hurt even more."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. What did you say in your toast? 'If you're willing to take the long and winding road, you know that whatever's at the other end is worth it.' You are worth it."

Later, in Steve's hotel room, sweaty and sticky and still catching his breath, Eddie vows to show Steve every day that he's worth it. That they're worth it.

[poppy-in-the-woods]

Overcoming The Past

Plot: Reader was sexually assaulted as a teen, which resulted in her having a fear of oral sex. Now, years after the incident, she enlists her boyfriend Noah to help her overcome her fear, leaving the past behind once and for all.

Pairing: Noah x Female Reader

Word Count: 1276

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tags: smut, oral sex (male receiving), mentions of sexual assault and related trauma, some angst and hurt/comfort at the end (does it still count if the hurt was years before the comfort?), overall Noah being the best boyfriend ever.

Author's note: So this is a reader insert, but let's be honest, that's me, that's what I went through, and I wish someday I'd find someone as understanding as Noah is in this, so I can try some exposure therapy with. In the meantime, I'll just keep on trying to heal.

Noah had known of your trauma pretty much since you two started dating, you even told him before you had sex for the first time. He had reacted predictably when you told him (“I want to kill that bastard!”), like other boyfriends before him, but in the moment of truth, he didn’t act like your previous boyfriends, he was much more understanding and caring. He also didn’t want to hear about not giving you oral.

“I am fine with you not giving me head, babe, but you’re not going to forbid me from doing one of the things I like the most when it comes to giving you pleasure,” he had said. You had tried to protest, but he was having none of it. “I don’t care about equality, I just want to make you feel good.”

But you knew he missed it, even if he didn’t say it, and you wanted to give it to him. It was time to overcome your stupid fear and worship his cock like he deserved. So, you talked to him about trying to do some exposure therapy with his assistance, and he agreed to your conditions: baby steps and no touching your head.

At first, you just kissed his tip and shaft with your lips closed, all while Noah praised and reassured you. This went on for several weeks until you felt comfortable with it. Next, you progressed to open mouth kisses and kitten licks. When you decided that you were ready for a somewhat proper blowjob, three months after the beginning of the experiment, you communicated it to him.

“You sure about this, babe?” Noah asked, looking at you. You nodded. “Okay, but we can stop whenever, if you feel you can’t do it anymore, just say it, there’s no need to put yourself in more stress and trauma.”

“I know,” you said. “That’s why I am going to ask you for something.”

“Sure, babe,” he replied enthusiastically. “What do you need?”

“Can I tie your hands? Either above your head or behind your back, so you can’t grab or move my head,” you asked. “It's not that I don’t trust you, but I’d be more relaxed if I knew you can’t do it, no matter what.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said.

If he expected you to use a scarf or something like that, he was very, very wrong. You had been thinking about that a lot and you were prepared; he swallowed when he saw the leather handcuffs you had bought.

“Is this okay?” you asked him, somewhat insecure.

“Yeah,” he said.

After undressing each other while making out, you handcuffed him to your headboard, making sure he was comfortable with a couple of pillows behind him to protect his back from the cold and hard metal.

“Are you comfy?” you asked. He nodded. “Okay.”

You took a deep breath, looking at his erection. He was very big, and his size intimidated you. How were you supposed to take all of him in?

“Babe, look at me,” he said. You lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to deepthroat the first time, or ever, for that matter. Focus on the tip, like it’s a lollipop. Use your hand to stroke the rest and you’ll be fine, okay?”

You reminded yourself why you were doing this. Not only for him, but for yourself, to feel you finally left your trauma behind.

I’m stronger now, and he loves me, it’ll go fine, you thought.

“You’ll tell me when you’re close, right?” you asked, closing your hand around his shaft and stroking lightly.

“I won’t cum on your mouth or face, I promise. I’ll let you know when I’m close,” he assured you.

You darted your tongue out to lick the tip, feeling the velvety skin, salty because of the pre-cum. It didn’t taste bad, though. You swirled your tongue around the glans, making him moan, while pumping him with your hand.

“Oh yeah, babe, like that,” he praised you.

Encouraged by that, you put him in your mouth, still just the tip. You did as he had instructed, swirling and lapping at his skin like he was your favorite ice-cream. He moaned again, closing his eyes and throwing his head back in pleasure. His breathing was also beginning to race. A throaty groan escaped his parted lips. He looked fucking delicious like that.

“Fuck, babe, I’m close,” he said after a while, looking at you.

“Yeah?” you asked. He nodded. You stretched to grab the tissue box on the nightstand while still masturbating him. You swiped the pad of your thumb over, and he hissed. He was past the point of no return and you could tell. With your free hand, you prepared a tissue.

“Shit! Fuck!” he cried, coming undone. “God, babe, you’re seriously good at this,” he added, panting.

“I know you’re lying,” you said, getting up to free his hands.

“Lying? You just saw it, I came! How can I be lying?” he asked, rubbing his wrists in an effort to reactivate circulation.

“You came, alright, I got you to orgasm, but that doesn’t mean I am ‘seriously good’ at this, and you don’t have to lie to make me feel better, or whatever,” you said.

“You underestimate yourself, babe,” he said, cupping your head, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Anyway, this isn’t about me, how are you feeling?”

“Well, the exposure therapy worked, I think. As long as I don’t feel your dick is blocking my airway, or you don’t touch my head, I can suck you off no problem,” you explained. “I feel it’s still a work in progress, though, so next time we should try with your hands free, see how I react.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, babe,” he promised you, kissing your cheek.

“I know. But I refuse to let that jerk has power over any aspect of my sex life anymore,” you replied, determined.

“You’re so strong!” he sighed, kissing your forehead. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you!”

“You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had,” you replied. “You’ve been so understanding and patient with me, with this issue. All of the others came to resent me and… they wanted everything, no middle ground possible, and I…”

You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. He hugged you.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with so many jerks, but I promise, you won’t ever have to,” he said, rubbing your back in a soothing way. “Can I do anything right now to make you feel better?” he asked.

“Can we cuddle for a bit?”

“Of course, babe!”

You lied next to each other under the covers, to keep from getting cold, but the truth was Noah’s body heat could have maintained you two warm enough already. You shifted, putting a leg over his, hugging him and resting your head on his chest; his steady heartbeat was very calming.

“So, you weren’t lying before?” you asked after a while, propping up on your elbow to look at him.

“I’ve might have had exaggerated my praises,” he admitted, stroking your hair. “But you got so much potential. I really liked it.”

“That sounds a lot more like the truth,” you replied, smiling, resting on his chest again.

“But you don’t need to become a pro,” he said, caressing your back with light fingers. “I’m happy with what we have, with whatever you can give me. You don’t have to become a porn star or whatever to satisfy me,” he assured you.

“I know, and I’m grateful for that,” you said. “I love you, Noah.”

“I love you too.”

[seangelfish]

Can I request jealous headcanons for cozmez? let's say his f! s/o is very kind and naive with the people around her

JEALOUSY HEADCANONS (w/ cozmez)

Featured characters: Kanata Yatonokami, Nayuta Yatonokami ♡ Tags: Headcanons, established relationships, she/her pronouns ♡ Word count: 742 ♡ Summary: Headcanons of how jealous the Yatonokami twins get when it comes to their s/o.

KANATA YATONOKAMI

Kanata knows how kind you are to people, that's how you managed to steal his heart. He doesn't really mind it because that's just the way you are. You're the complete opposite of him after all – kind and friendly, outgoing and energetic. However, he does have his limits to this attitude of yours.

He won't admit it, but he hates how too friendly you are to people – especially towards other guys. Seeing you smile so radiantly like that to other people other than himself will often have him heated.

And what's worse is that you're so naive.

Because of his past, he's able to recognise people's true intentions. It is no different when it comes to you. Your kindness is easily taken advantage of and this frustrates Kanata immensely. He either has to tell the other person to fuck off or drag you away from the conversation.

But the real reason he's doing this is because he's jealous. He's jealous that other people are able to experience your kindness – that he isn't the only one who gets to be treated that way.

He won't upset you and confess any of that. He vows to take those feelings to the grave.

But Kanata is extremely transparent when it comes to you, so you can immediately tell that he's jealous. His eyebrows are crossed and he has such a sour expression on his face. His voice deepens a bit and he becomes too clingy that it can be deemed insufferable to others, but cute to you ♡.

So when he does get jealous, he would hold your hand more often. Sure, he holds your hand occasionally, but Kanata seems to be the type that dislikes PDA. However, when someone else steals your attention away from him, his dislike for PDA is thrown out the window.

He makes the other person know that you belong to him by pulling you close and touching you up, glaring at them like a feisty cat. Though, he won't go too far to kiss you in front of them... not when it's not needed, of course.

Ultimately, he's just outward with his jealousy that it can be seen as possessive. He isn't afraid to cuss people out or to tell them that they're taking too much time with his girlfriend.

NAYUTA YATONOKAMI

Nayuta, as spoiled as he is, expects you to only act like that around him. No one else deserves your kindness. He wants you all to himself.

He makes sure that these feelings of his are obvious to you whether it be directly communicating it to you or being a little bit more touchy.

He will always sulk about the way you speak to others, but he isn't too hurt by it unlike his brother.

He's more chill about your kind personality even when you're so oblivious to people's ulterior motives. So, he'll indirectly help you out when that happens. Usually, he'll butt into the conversation and say no on your behalf or he'll question you whether you really want to do xyz.

He won't cuss out the other person, but his word choice is still considerably harsh. They immediately back away after his confrontation.

But when things go too far for his liking, he'll resort to excessive PDA. Compared to Kanata, he loves PDA – it's second nature to him, so he isn't afraid to wrap his arms around your waist and give you a few kisses here and there to get the message across. When the two of you leave the situation, he would look back at the person and stick his tongue out.

However, Nayuta is more mature when it comes to his jealousy. He's not one to make a scene, but he's witty with it. Sometimes, you can't even spot when he's jealous because he either finds the situation cringey or 'not worth the hassle.' He knows that you'll always be his and nothing can change that.

But that doesn't mean you should completely ignore him for someone else. He's one to get upset and possibly give you silent treatment. You would have to apologise and reassure him when he's lying in bed, his back turned from you.

Thankfully, he doesn't get aggressive when he's jealous though. He never takes it out on you, but he just can't help but fall quiet. So, he'll always appreciate it when you stay by his side and draw patterns on his skin. It comforts him in a way and shows that you didn't mean to neglect him like that.

Intro page | Paradox Live masterlist | Request rules

[holdmytesseract]

New Old World [EoH]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader feat. Teddy Dixon

Summary: Being stranded in the Commonwealth changed the life for you and your little family. Adjusting to this new, yet old world wasn't easy. Neither for you, nor Daryl and certainly not for Teddy...

Warnings: Alternative Ending/Different Timeline! TWD things? fluff, talks of babies, swear words, Daryl being the smol insecure bean he is, age gap

Set in the Commonwealth!

Word Count: 3,2k

a/n: This story is part of the EoH universe, but has an alternative ending with a different timeline. 🤗

Tagging: (in the comments ☺️)

Life in the commonwealth was strange - and yet so familiar. It felt like getting thrown into another dimension. Another world. Well, perhaps it was normal to feel like this after five years of fighting for survival every day in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. You had seen every cruelty this world had to offer and now... Suddenly you landed in this community, where the most people's worry wasn't the undead anymore, but how to… earn money? It felt wrong and nevertheless you couldn't deny that it was somehow... right.

Two strong, yet soft hands on your waist ripped you out of your thoughts and daydreams. "What yer thinkin' about, sunshine?" You smiled at hearing the gravelly, loving voice of your husband from behind you. Reaching up your hand, you buried your hand in your lover's hair. It had grown so much the past years. The dark brown strands reached in soft curls over his shoulders by now - and you absolutely loved it. "Just about this... What we have here..." The answer you got was nothing more than a low grunt. You knew Daryl didn't trust this place yet - and you understood why. Money, jobs, restaurants and Halloween? Oh please...

But on the other hand... A piece of normalcy and not fighting the dead, other people and death itself was what you all wanted - and it broke your heart that Alexandria couldn't be that for you at the moment.

"I still dunno 'bout all this... Feels... weird." You nodded. "I know, but... Until we can go back home, let's make the most out of it, yeah?" Daryl didn't answer, just huffed out a breath. Not unusual for the man who didn't need much words. Instead, he gently moved; went to press your back against his chest - which felt hard and not really comfortable, like you noticed instantly. Turning in his embrace, you realised why... Daryl wore his commonwealth uniform. Right, you remembered. Your man had suddenly a job again and was working. "Are you off to work, cutie pie?" You witnessed, how Daryl's cheeks reddened softly at your chosen pet name. "Yeah... Jus' wanted to say goodbye, 'fore I leave." You nodded; scanning his handsome face with your eyes. He had grown over the years - of course. Got even more mature and responsible-minded. You sensed major DILF energy radiating from him.

"How sweet of you," you said, leaning closer to place a soft, quick kiss on his lips. "Have fun - I guess, and don't let yourself get stressed so much. I know Sebastian Milton is an asshole, but you and Rosita will make it. Think about picking Teddy up from school with your cool stormtrooper armour. He's going to lose it - and he'll be so proud, seeing his dad being one of the 'cool soldier guys'."

School... Another crazy thing. Sure, you tried to teach Teddy a few things and there had been a lot of small education thingys in the past five years. Be it in the prison or Alexandria. It had always been there but this? This was a whole other thing. This was a real school. With real teachers and actual classes. Something you hadn't seen in over seven years.

"Ya think so?" You smiled and gently scratched his slightly grey goatee; feeling the hairs tickling your fingertips. "I know so." You then stood on your tiptoes, in order to involve Daryl in another loving kiss. But a firm knock on the door of your sparse, small apartment caused you to jump apart; ending the kiss way too early. "Daryl?" Rosita's voice sounded from the other side of the door. "We gotta go!" You sighed; wrapping your arms tighter around your husband's neck. "Seems like duty calls..." "Mhm..." Daryl grumbled and turned his head towards the door. "'M comin', Rosita!" He lifted his hands to your arms, trying gently to loosen them from around his neck - but you kept on holding on; not budging. "I gotta go, sunshine." You pouted, but eventually let go of him. "I know, 'm sorry. But I promise, I'll be back soon." You nodded and watched with crossed arms, how Daryl grabbed his helmet; ready to leave. "What are you up to today?" You shrugged your shoulders. "I dunno. Perhaps I'll visit the rest of the fam." Daryl nodded; knew of course what you meant, and walked towards the door. "I love you. Be careful, yes?" "Love ya, too. Don' worry. I always am. 'Sides, Rosita's gonna hold me back from doing some stupid, headless shit." With those words, he opened the door and marched out. It stayed long enough open for you to see your friend. "Hey Rosita!" You waved at her. "Y/N," the black-haired beauty answered; smiling at you, before the door fell in its hinges.

While your son was at school and your husband at work (It still sounded crazy in your head.), you spent the whole morning with cleaning up the apartment - which mostly consisted of collecting Teddy's small carved artworks. Since his father showed him how to carve something (mostly spears to hunt fishes or other weapons to defend himself) out of wood, he was obsessed. Whenever the opportunity was given, you'd find the boy sitting somewhere underneath a tree - or even up in a tree (the safer option), carving. He practiced year after year and by now, he was really talented. If Teddy just wouldn't leave his little figures and weapons laying all around the apartment...

After that, you decided to take Dog out for a walk. The fluffy Belgian Malinois with the brown-black fur was a faithful companion of your little family, since the day Daryl brought him back from a hunt. Teddy fell for him immediately anyways, so... And as much as Teddy loved Dog, Dog loved Teddy in return. They were a great duo.

"Dog, come on, let's go out. Time for walkies." Dog's ears perked up at your mention of 'walkies'; head lifting. "Come on!" You tapped your thigh - which was his sign to literally jump up and run to you. You giggled; petting and scratching the fur behind his ears. "Let's go." You opened the door and out Dog ran. He was a very loyal and well-behaved animal. Daryl had trained him well. He'd never run off or leave your side - unless he had a good reason.

It was quite a beautiful day today. The commonwealth was bustling with people. Some of them working, some of them enjoying their day off. You hadn't a specific destination in mind, when you took Dog out. Most of the time, Dog decided on where to go. Today, the faithful Malinois led you to a very good friend of yours. A member of the family - without a doubt...

Dog already saw him from afar, grooming a white-brown patchy pony. Dog announced his - and your presence with a loud bark. The man with the black, greyish dreadlocks turned on his heels at the sound. A smile crossed his features, as he saw you and your four-legged companion approaching. Dog ran up to him; tail wagging in excitement. Ezekiel squatted down, in order to welcome Dog. He literally jumped Ezekiel; paws landing on the King's shoulders, causing the man to laugh heartily. Dog liked Ezekiel and Ezekiel Dog. There was no doubt about this. It was fact.

You came to stand beside the pair; Dog still enjoying Ezekiel's petting. "Hey Ezekiel." The King straightened; stood up again, in order to properly face you - much to Dog's disappointment. "Greetings, Y/N. What a pleasure to see you! Tell me, what brings you to my modest, little farm?" You shook your head, smiling. "Dog decided to bring me here. I think he wanted to visit you. Nevertheless, it's great to see you, too." Once again, the man laughed, scratching Dog's head in an affectionate manner. You adored Ezekiel. You really did. He was always so positive. A true ray of sunshine. A very kind man - and now, here at the commonwealth, he was able to do what he loved again... Being a zookeeper.

"How are you feeling today?" You asked him then, referring to his medical condition. "Oh, I'm feeling great, Y/N. Thank you. Better every day." "That's really great and reassuring to hear." He nodded; one hand still petting Dog, who was sitting beside the man now. "Well, if it wouldn't have been for Carol and Tomi, I probably wouldn't be walking this earth anymore as a living man." "That's why we are all a big family. We help each other." The King nodded, "Truer words have never been spoken, dear friend." giving you one of his brilliant smiles. "How is Teddy doing in school? Carol told me he had quite a rough start?" You sighed, nodding. "Yeah, he had... It was after all the first time for him to go to a real school. Sure, he had his friend, Nick. But unfortunately, Nick is in a different class. So many new children and all so much different from him - and Nick. Most of them weren't on the road. Anyways not as long as we were. He never had an easy time adjusting to new, different things. He was quite afraid of attending school."

The corners of Ezekiel's mouth twitched into a small smile. "Well, this sounds to me quite like someone else we know..." You understood that reference, of course. Both, you and Ezekiel knew exactly who you were talking about. You giggled; shrugging your shoulders. "Like father..." "...like son." The King finished your sentence, laughing. "Well, I hope Teddy is able to adjust soon." "I hope so, too. Just have to give him some time..." The man nodded. "I'd say so, too. If you're looking for a little distraction for him, you are more than welcome to send him - and Nick over to me. I promised Teddy to teach him how to ride a horse already quite a while ago. Now, I finally have the time - and opportunity." "Sure, I am definitely going to do that. Thank you." He smiled; nodding. "Of course."

While you were still out with Dog, walking through the whole commonwealth, Daryl made his way to the elementary school, in order to retrieve his son. After all, he had promised him - and since Daryl went to school directly after his shift, he was still dressed in his commonwealth armour. The archer was really looking forward to this. It was his personal highlight of the day.

"I need to pick Teddy up from school," he told his friend. "See ya later?" Rosita nodded. "Sure. I have to look after Coco as well." With that being said, the two long-term friends parted ways.

Daryl made his way to the school then and waited in front of the rather big building for Teddy to come out. It was quite a bit ridiculous for the archer - and also a whole new experience. He would have never thought, that he'd pick up his son from school one day. Not after the world went to shit. Back in the early days, everybody had different problems than sending the kids to school. Surviving, for example. Getting enough food on the table for his family - and all the people who became his family.

"Daddy!" Teddy's happy, relieved voice urged to Daryl's ears; announcing his son's arrival. A soft smile spread over Daryl's face, when he saw his son running towards him. He squatted down; waiting. Teddy ran straight up into his awaiting arms, hugging him. He may be ten years old by now and would soon grow into a man, but for now, he was still Daryl's little boy - and he'd enjoy every hug he got. "Hey, buddy! You good?" Teddy didn't get to answer the question his father asked him. A group of three other boys had approached them.

"Your dad is a commonwealth soldier?" One of them with glasses and bright blonde, tousled hair asked; eyes wide. Teddy nodded proudly; stood beside his still crouching father and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Yep, he is!" "Wooow..." Every boy of the group was stunned. Teddy started to smile proudly; his shyness suddenly forgotten, as the boys finally noticed him. Due to his cool dad. It made the young Dixon happy - but he also knew, that they were probably just going to like him because his dad was one of the countless commonwealth heroes.

"Let's get goin', huh? I bet your mother already waits for us..." Daryl noted; noticing immediately what game those boys played. Teddy nodded and turned to his seemingly new friends to say goodbye.

After that, Daryl and Teddy walked home together. "So... How was school?" The little boy shrugged his shoulders; his mood suddenly changing fast. The school topic wasn't an easy one... "Okay, I guess..." "You get better along with them other kids?" Another shrug. "A bit." That didn't sound convincing. Not at all.

Daryl stopped in his movements and turned to face his son. Once again, he squatted down and placed both his hands on Teddy's small shoulders. "Alright, talk ta me, buddy. Don't bottle everythin' up. I used to do that too, y'know. 'S not good. Spit it out." Teddy sighed and bit his lip nervously - a habit he copied from his dad. "I just feel so lonely... 'Specially without Nick... The other kids think I'm weird." Tears were shining in the young boy's blue-grey eyes. Daryl saw it. Despite his long, softly curled bangs of brown hair. "Why?" "Because I'm not as good in school as they are. A-And because I know more about gutting a fish, then our home country..." Daryl's heart ached, as he heard that. He knew how his son felt. He knew the feeling of being an outsider.

"Hey, Teddy... Don't listen to 'em. Ya hear me? I know it's not easy, but always remember... You're so much better than them." Teddy looked up at his father through teary eyes. "H-How?" The archer smiled. "Firstly, 'cause you're a Dixon and secondly, 'cause you're a survivor. You know how to handle a walker. I taught ya everything ya need ta know - except hunting. But we'll do that as soon as you're a bit older. That's why. It might sound hard and cruel, but those kids would never survive out there alone. You do." At those words, Teddy's eyes lightened up again - and he smiled. The same, sweet smile you always smiled. A smile Daryl loved above everything and would never tire to see.

"Really?" The archer nodded. "Really." The boy threw his arms again around his father's neck; hugging him tight.

You were already back home again with Dog, when you heard the front door getting opened and closed again. The barking of Dog echoed through the small apartment, followed by your son's giggles.

Unfortunately, you couldn't spend the rest of the afternoon together, since Daryl had to go back to work. Nevertheless, you had a great day; took the boys out for some riding lessons with Ezekiel and prepared some dinner together with your husband's mini-me. That's what Teddy was - and it hadn't changed over the years. The boy was still his father's spitting image. Even the tattered, ripped jeans hadn't changed. He only had grown into them by now.

Now, you were sitting at the small dining table, together with Daryl and Teddy; eating dinner. Dog was laying on his little blanket; sleeping. Everyone was eating in silence - until Teddy came up with a conversation both, you and Daryl didn't see coming. Like, not at all…

"Mom, dad?" "Yes, sweetie?" You asked, while Daryl only grunted in response; needing to chew first. "We, uh, talked about our families today in class and... Almost every other girl or boy told us about their siblings and how much fun they have with them. I-I know I've got Dog and Judith and RJ and even Coco, but... Can I, uh, can I have my own little baby brother - or sister?" Daryl almost choked on his foot, hearing this, while you blinked rapidly at your ten-year-old. "I-I promise I'll look after him or her a-and protect them and play with them!" "Teddy... Sweetie..." You started; having to swallow hard and take a deep breath. "This, uh, this isn't an easy decision and not just to be made within a few minutes. Especially not in this dangerous world. I- We, your dad and I will have to think and talk about this first, okay?" Teddy looked at you with his soft, blue, greyish eyes - and nodded. "Okay." "Can you understand that?" "Uh.Huh, yeah." The conversation had turned someway, somehow slightly awkward, so you left it at that. Daryl had said absolutely nothing; didn't even make a peep.

Later on, once Teddy was in bed; sleeping safe and soundly with Dog in his arms, you approached your husband, who stood at one of the windows; having a smoke. Wrapping your arms around his now black sweater clad torso, you pressed your cheek against his right upper arm. "What do you say?" "What do I say to what?" You decided to not beat about the bush. "Having a baby again." Daryl took a drag of his cigarette, before puffing out a small cloud of smoke. "I dunno if this is a good idea, honestly." "Why? I mean, we're safe here now. Soon in Alexandria hopefully as well. If not now, then when?" Daryl merely shook his head and you could swear that he was chewing on his bottom lip. "'S not that, sunshine... Even though I don't trust this place. I trust in Alexandria." "What is it then?" You asked; rubbing his sides affectionately. He paused; didn't answer you straight away - almost hesitating.

"'M not gettin' younger, ya know..." You frowned and adjusted your position, in order to look at him. You were hugging him now more or less sideways. "What does that mean now, cutie pie?" "What I said." You were still confused by his words. You clearly didn't understand - and Daryl noticed. "Y/N, 'm in my mid almost late forties now..." "So? I'm sorry, my love, but I don't really see the problem? You don't have to worry about a biological clock, unlike I... And as we speak, the time is running out so slowly." Daryl took a last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out. Then he turned to face you; biting his lip again. He was clearly troubled by that topic. You could see it in his eyes. "You think 'm not too, uh, old for that?" You shook your head, smiling. "No, absolutely not." The corners of his lips lifted slightly into a crocked smile. "So..." He started; turning to face you wholly. "You really want that? With me?" You cupped both his cheeks with your palms; nodding. "More than anything. I thought about it for quite a while, honestly."

Daryl blinked; was quite a bit surprised. "Wha'? Really?" "Mhm. You're such a good father for Teddy, so why not make you a daddy again?" The arched blushed at your words; and he couldn't help himself but to smile even brighter. "Ya think we can handle a newborn and a soon-to-be teenager?" You giggled; now running your hands down his chest. "I thought we can handle everything, Mr. Dixon? After all, we handled the end of the world. I think there's nothing that can better that." "Well... I guess yer right." You giggled once more. "I'm mostly right, cutie pie."

[danime25]

Silent Night

ao3 //normal masterlist // christmas masterlist

*Summary: Lars and his real girl go to a Christmas party hosted by one of his coworkers

*Rating: +18 for explicit mature content

*Content/Tags: Semi-public blowjob, female dom aspects, orgasm control, holiday party

*Status: Oneshot/Complete

“Welcome!” His coworker greeted the couple standing in the entryway, “Oh this must be the girl you’ve been talking about at work! Lars has said so much about you.”

“Only good things, I hope.” She giggled, hiding her smile behind the back of her hand. Lars looked at his girlfriend with a smile and nodded

“Well come on in.” Their host motioned for them to come in. They walk into the entryway and Lars takes their coats, throwing them into the convenient pile next to the door. She pressed a hand against his back firmly. While the host and her husband walked back into the living room she whispered into Lars ear,

“You remember our rules Lars?”

“Yes.” He shivered

“Good. Let me hear them.”

“I’m yours. I only listen to you.”

“Yes.” She bit the bottom of her lip as he said it in neediest borderline whiny voice

“I can’t react.”

“Yes.”

“I’m subservient to you.”

“Such a good boy.” Her hand works its way underneath his hair and over his ear. She pulled a tiny remote from out of her purse and discreetly pressed the power button. Lars crossed his feet as the toy inside of him slowly pulsed away. It was too slow to really get him worked up, but he knew it’d be uncomfortable for him when she flipped it any higher. “Let’s go have some fun now, okay?”

“Yes dear,” He replied, pressing his lips onto her forehead. With a gentle graze of her hand across his cheek, he wrapped his arm around her back and began to introduce her around the party.

“I’m going to get us a drink, okay?” She broke away from him and flicked the vibrator up two levels. She looked over her shoulder carefully and saw the way that Lars squirmed as he tried to finish his thought. She grinned as she heard his voice catch in the back of his throat, and poured herself a cup of the communal punch. She came back and handed a beer off to Lars who thanked her quietly. She leaned up against Lars, making him shift again to open his stance up a little bit more. His arm hooked back around her and his fingers dug into her side as she “accidentally” turned the vibrator up one more setting. “Did you want some food, love?”

“I’m fine.” His teeth were gritted as he tried to say those words. “You get something if you need to.”

“Okay.” She smiled and kissed his cheek, “I’ll go in a moment.”

“Okay.” He went to sit down at the side of the room. Just somewhere he could get away with letting his eyes roll to the back of his head and suppress a moan. She stood over him and feigned concern for his condition. He crossed his legs and took a sip from the can. He looked at the can and jittered a bit.

“You’re not doing a very good job.” She whispered, “You want to cum when we get home, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He bit down on his lip

“Then act like it.”

“Okay.” He stood back up and she turned it up again for him. He desperately resisted the urge to rut against the wall. She saw the sweat starting to collect at his hairline and smiled as she kissed him. His lips quivered ever so lightly as she broke the contact. He needed more of her. She still had at least two more levels to go up on the vibrator before she got tired of toying with Lars, but Lars couldn’t focus on anything but his need to have her hands roaming all over his body. Her touch. Her breath swept along his skin. He whimpered and felt himself start to leak into his boxers. His eyes went wide and tried to think of something chaste to make sure he didn’t displease her.

“Oh honey.” She rubbed his back, “You normally last so much longer, but I guess you couldn’t help yourself.”

“I couldn’t…” He whined

“Let’s get back to the car.” She moaned into his ear and he practically ran to grab their coats. She made the rounds across the party to apologize, and said Lars just wasn’t feeling too well. He wrapped her coat around her shoulders and they said a quick ‘bye’ to the host. He walked down the steps leading to the driveway and she turned it up one more level as he made a dash to the car. He unlocked the door to the back and she slid in next to him. Her hand rested in the center of his lap as she leaned in to give his cheek a quick peck. She playfully palmed his bulge in the jeans just to see how close he was to cumming. He let out a grunt and bucked up into her hand. She smiled and slowly unzipped his fly, letting his cock pop out of his pants. She lowered herself so her mouth could wrap around his dick. The warmth of her mouth made him pull on her hair as her head bobbed up and down and back again. He leaned back against the seat more and bucked his hips up carefully. She used her hands to keep his body down, and looked up at him. From the way his moans kept getting broken by needy breaths, she knew he was close. She kept at her current tempo until Lars threw his head back and moaned as he felt a bead of cum drip from his dick and onto her tongue. She swallowed every last drop until Lars was soft again. She pulled away, laid her head on his shoulder and rested a hand over Lars’ belly. He carefully zipped himself back up before wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“Love you Lars.” She smiled

“Love you too.” He kissed her head and fixed her hair, turning it into a beautiful waterfall across his sweater. He kissed her head once more before letting his eyes flutter shut. She’d probably have to drive the two of them home, but he felt safe with her.

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

ANNOUNCEMENT — SEVENTEEN World

✧ The first chapter — Don't Tell The Boss (Coming soon!!)

— CEO au, SMUT, fluff, angst, best friend's sister, family drama, slow-burn; word count: 10k+

 💼 Part of the SEVENTEEN World Series ღ Make sure to read the prologue first :)

Lawyer!reader, Seungcheol’s sister!reader x CEO Jeon Wonwoo ~ You were off limits. Seungcheol had made that absolutely clear from the very start. Wonwoo knew that, the other CEOs did and even you were aware of that fact. But when Wonwoo is tasked to fill in for Seungcheol during his monthly legal consult, he certainly didn’t think that you’d be there, his best friend’s sister, the one person he wasn’t allowed to get close to. Then why did he suddenly find himself asking you out? And why did you say yes?

Preview

“Sir? Managing CEO Choi is on line two,” Wonwoo’s secretary, Park Hajoon, called from the door to his office. Almost immediately, a puzzling frown made its way onto Wonwoo’s face. As far as he knew, Sungcheol was on a business trip in Japan and he always let his secretary manage his business while he was away. This included any form of social interactions with the other 12 CEOs. According to him, he “needed to focus and didn’t want anything to distract him”, so it would have to be important if he decided to call during a trip. What could be so urgent that he had to break his own rule? 

“Thanks, Hajoon. Close the door please.” Wonwoo watched as his secretary nodded and shut the door per his request, followed by him lazily running a hand through his dark brown locks. It took him a few seconds to move from his position, mainly because he needed to mentally prepare himself for what was about to come. Though he didn’t really want to admit it, this phone call made Wonwoo a little nervous. What could Seungcheol want from him specifically? Did he forget something? Did he do something to damage the company name? What the hell was it? 

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